Note: This is my first try at writing for Supernatural, so I'm a little worried they might be a little ooc. I had to figure out a way to get Cass to actually act on comforting Dean after one of his rants instead of just saying a few things and disappearing. Hope your Enjoy.
Here's the song I had on repeat: Nyctalgia - Mira ( http :/ www. /watch? v=wRBpJMXXieo )
This is the pic that prompted the scene: ( http :/ melete. deviantart. com /art /untitled-deancastiel-3-184045914 )
A hospital; a place neither Winchester liked in any way. Always last resort and the paper work was never fun, but sometimes you just didn't have any other choice.
After a bad run in with a couple demons in Idaho, they were ambushed by some opportunistic vampires. During the scuffle, Sam had been thrown out a two story window and managed to come out of it with a concussion, two broken ribs and a punctured lung. Knowing full well he couldn't patch his brother up alone, Dean was forced to take him to the closest emergency room.
Really it was just another day in a life, but for some reason the events of the past few days had plagued his already troubled mind. Old memories resurfaced and the feeling of being crushed under all of it made it hard to breath. Hoping for release, he took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. It only seemed to make it worse.
Raking his fingers through his stiff hair, he glared down at the cheap bottle of whiskey in his hand. He'd gone over a week without having to drink himself to sleep. The nightmares were still there, but at least they had become tolerable. Tossing the bottle into the back seat of his Impala, he slammed the door shut with a touch of frustration.
On his way back to Sam's room a nurse stopped him and offered to patch up the few cuts and scrapes he had. He politely declined.
After checking the general perimeter and exits, Dean flopped into the corner chair of Sam's little room. Pulling off his jacket, he tossed it on the end of the bed. Hoping he could actually get some rest, he let his head lull back and his eyes close.
Unlike the usual dreams that came and went every night, where your mind took your daily life or things you'd seen and twisted it into something else, these were not fiction. They were memories that by all rights should be only known as nightmares, but Dean knew the truth. It wasn't his own mind and flesh being toyed with and carved up that racked his body with fear. No, the reality that he could do the same to other souls in his place terrified him far worse. The screams of those he put the blade to yanked him from his sleep every night to gasp for air, soaked in his own cold sweat. Reliving the disturbing pleasure he took from it shocked him to his core. Reminded of what evils he had dealt to those that, for all he knew, were innocent.
Tonight his subconscious did not fail to remind him of his deeds, and he remembered a little more of life in the Pitt. A place were being blind and deaf would be a blessing.
Lately however, near the end, before he would wake up, a bright light would assault him. He could actually feel the fear of those who dwelled there. The blade would fall from his charred and bloody fingers, whether by choice or not he might never know. The sudden sensation of his arm burning caused him to jerk awake.
"Dean. . ." His eyes flew open to take in a familiar face. Brilliant blue eyes seemed to be searching his soul, not his face.
"Jesus! Cass, what the hell are you doing here?" The hunter's voice came out raspy from lack of use.
Castiel politely ignored the use of his Lords name. Removing his hand that he had placed on Deans shoulder, he took a step back out of habit from Deans constant lectures on personal space.
"I heard Sam was severely injured." Sighing, Dean sat up from his seat. He rubbed his tired and sore eyes, as if to bring some life back to them.
"Bobby?" The angel confirmed with a curt nod. Dragging himself out the chair, Dean went straight for a glass of water by Sam. Once settled on the side of the bed, he took a sip and directed his attention to studying the patterns on the tile floor. Castiel stood in place, observing Deans actions. Once he lost his interest of the floor, Dean gulped down half the cup and sat down what was left on the small table. Twisting around towards the window, he noticed the soft rainstorm that had started outside. Finally his gaze reached the ever patient angel.
"He took a nasty fall, but the Doc said he could be up and around in a few weeks. Hopefully we'll be out of here and out of the state in three days. . . I hate hospitals." His last few words ended with a bitter tone. Castiel took a few steps closer to the bed, his eyes scanned over the sleeping Winchester.
"I'm sorry I cannot help to make his recovery quicker." A regretful expression washed over his face.
"Thanks, Cass, but you've given enough. I'm the one that should have been watching him closer. . Might have nailed that Vamp before he could get to him."
"There are somethings that are not physically possible, Dean. You did your best." Deans gazed jumped to the angels who met him half way. His tired expression hardened.
"I know all too well what I can't do. . I've told you before Cass, I can't do this. I'm not strong enough and that hurts the people around me." He jerked his head towards Sam as if to stress his point.
"Dean-"
"No don't 'Dean' me. ." Jerking up from his spot on the bed, the hunter began to pace the room. Emotions that had been locked away and suppressed had reached their breaking point. Castiel sat himself down in Deans previous spot, as if to say he had no intention to up and disappear on him.
"Everyone's pushing us around , tellin' us there's no way out of this. I mean what if I had just let Sammy go. . What if me making a deal and bringing him back started all this." Crossing his arms, he turned his back to the angel. Old thoughts of possibilities and what-ifs resurfaced. Such thoughts and questions had obviously been in his mind a long time. Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt down. He could feel the strength just drain from him. The lack of sleep and constant stress hadn't helped
"Dean. . . The past can't be changed. . And dwelling on it is unwise.." Castiels words did not seem to reach the hunters ears. Letting his arms fall to his sides, Dean turned to stare right at Castiel. The sorrow and guilt inside played out on his face.
"He could have been in Heaven, Cass. . . and I ripped him from it. ." Slowly his feet brought him back to the bed. His tired frame fell back to sit next to the angel.
"I brought him back to this messed up world. . And now I don't think I can set things right. . I just. . . " His words trailed off to a soft mumble. Giving up on trying to keep his composure, he let his body hunch over and his head fall to his hands. Running his hands over his face and scalp he let them fall to sit idly in his lap.
Through all of it the angel had not moved. Listening to every word and watching every movement. He understood the need for Dean to 'vent' as he once put it weeks ago.
A million thoughts seemed to run through his mind before he decided on what his next action would be. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Deans still frame. The angel momentarily tensed when Dean let his weight lean towards him. Resting his head near Deans shoulder, he spoke softly as if not to drown out the storm.
"The burdens of this Earth are not yours alone, Dean."
The hunter did not resist when Cass slid his hand to the back of his head and gently lowered it to his shoulder.
"There are those around you who are more than willing to bear it with you." His head now bowed and his soft blue eyes long since closed, Castiel sought to calm Dean's troubled mind and comfort his scarred soul. Whether Dean realized it or not, his soul recognized the angel's warmth.
Dean had an idea of what Cass was doing, but at this point he didn't really care. Tense muscles, old aches and even the headache he had just seemed to melt away. Letting out a long shaky breath, Dean let his full weight sink into the angel.
Time lost its importance and the storm outside softened. On hearing the steady beat of the hunter's heart, a relieved smile graced his vessels shadowed face. Looking out towards the window, he watched as the rain blanketed the cool glass. The melody of the storm outside washed over the once awkward silence. Gently he slid away from Dean, letting down his body to lie beside his brother.
Grabbing the hunter's jacket, he laid it over him, knowing from experience he preferred it that way.
Bidding them both good night and good dreams he disappeared with the telling sound of unfurled wings.
The rustling of hospital curtains and the assault of bright light roused Dean enough to crack his eyes open. Squinting against his blurred vision, he lifted himself up onto his elbow.
"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." The nurse quickly apologized and went back to recording Sam's vitals. Dean gave a weak smile and nod before she excused herself. He didn't even need to scan the room to confirm the angel's absence. He could still feel a bit of warmth inside even though he remembered little of the previous night. Only that he had slept dreamless and he felt like the lead on his shoulders had been taken away.
Turning to his right he saw Sam still quite asleep. Feeling lighter and in a much better mood, the hunter squeezed his brother's shoulder.
"Be right back in a minute, I'm going to see how bad the coffee is here." Hearing a mumbled reply, a wide grin found its way on Dean's scruffy face.
No world is perfect, but it's the little things that made this one worth fighting for.