The hum of the machines is a constant deafening droning. While he could push it to the back of his mind, it's not something that he's exactly capable of right now. His main focus, the main reason of his existence is currently lying in the stark white and pristine sheets of the hospital bed, relying on those machines. It's a welcome droning, because it's a reminder that while he's not in perfect health, he's still alive.
That he's still breathing.
It started as a small thing, something so common place, so normal. A slight cough, trouble breathing, sudden flares in temperature. But what had been deemed a twenty-four hour virus has suddenly exploded into this, this awful horrible thing that was leeching away at him. Corroding him away until he couldn't walk, barely talk, and needed a ventilator to breathe.
The Doctors couldn't place it, couldn't even begin to dream of what it might be, something that had developed so quickly and become so devastating.
Cas felt utterly helpless, he'd tried to do what the doctors hadn't. Used his Grace at full power, drained himself until he couldn't stand, and still...nothing. It continued to eat away at him, and it was vicious. First attacking his motor skills, then his vision, and now finally it was disintegrating his mental state. He flickered often, in and out of consciousness, he had good days where he was capable of speaking full sentences, and then there were the bad days where he stared at the wall and called to his mother, begging his father to come and banish the nightmares that plagued him.
Sam couldn't take being in the same room as him for long periods of time, often flitting in and out in search of food and coffee. Seeing Dean like this, a shadow of what he used to be, it had nearly broken him.
Cas stayed, day and night, keeping watch, listening for the drone, keeping the time and praying over the prone form of his Charge. He never stopped trying to help, sometimes laying a hand on a shoulder or a hand, to calm Dean when he woke in his feverish dreams, screaming out in dead languages.
It was much the same this day, Sam had just left for a refill on coffee and to track down a Doctor to inquire on Dean's treatment. Cas was sitting in the chair pulled as close to the bed as possible, head bowed in prayer when he felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked up slowly to see Dean looking at him with a determined expression of concentration.
"Yes, Dean?" He inquired solemnly.
"C-Cah…," His voice was harsh, gritted from strained vocal cords. Cas turned slightly and proffered a sip of water that was sitting on the bed table. Dean drank obediently before motioning that he was done. He screwed up his face and tried again, "Cas.."
The Angel nodded waiting for him to continue holding onto Dean's hand tightly.
Dean's eyes glazed slightly and he leaned back against his pillows, exhausted from his attempt at sitting up.
"Never, I…I never said..." A hacking cough wracked his body and he groaned when it had subsided before trying once more, "I-I, you…" The machine beside the bed went haywire, the line that recorded Dean's heartbeat skyrocketed. An alarm went off and suddenly Cas was jostled aside by an influx of bodies that pushed him aside, trying to get to Dean. He fought back, worming his way back to Dean's side and gripped his hand tightly.
"What Dean, Dean, Dean what!?" Cas nearly shouted, struggling to be heard over the cacophony of noise echoing the small room.
Dean tugged him forward and Cas lowered his head to his face, "I love you…" and from the same machine another alarm triggered, Cas turned to confront the noisy machine only to find that instead of the jagged pulse of a heartbeat, it was registering absolutely nothing. Flat lined.
He was pushed none too gently from the bed, and he let them, his body going cold. Alarms and yelling screaming echoing in his ears. Too much, it was too much. He was led out and thrust into Sam's arms. Frozen. Shock. He could see through the windows people bustling around the body on the bed, a nurse preparing paddles, the jolt that swept through Dean. A buzzing sound in his ears, his body was so cold, any minute now, any minute. He would sit up, and shout, Surprise. He'd smile, and laugh it all as an elaborate joke. It was a joke, it had to be.
Time moved slowly and in a rush all at once, and when he was able to focus there was a Doctor standing there, talking to Sam.
"Nothing we could do. Heart Failure. Gone. I'm sorry.." snippets of half heard sentences, more lines in a prank, more of a joke. He couldn't, no he couldn't.
He could hear screaming again, one long unending piercing noise that caused the lights to burst and the windows to shatter. And then he realized…it was him, he was the one who was making that noise, and he wasn't able to hold himself up. Sam was holding him, Sam who's tears were dripping onto his face, and just beyond reach, he saw his Dean. His Charge. Still, eyes closed, hidden smile gracing his lips, looking peaceful. He was gone...
Dean had gone home…