This is at once an appeasement fic for taking so long on my Heroes story and the product of the wee hours of the morning. I love it a little too much. I mean, who doesn't like Dean being mommy? XD And yeah, there's also a lot of Destiel subtext. Yes, I do it on purpose. Yes, I know you love it.
Comments much appreciated.
~I do not own Supernatural or any of these characters, but I bet I could sue the show for ownership rights due to severe emotional trauma…~
oOoOo
Dean considered the one shortcoming of his precious car as he cruised down the open, deserted road: though it was beautiful and faithful and functional and a veritable tank, it was just too small. It rarely bothered him; if he really wanted a nap, the back seat would suffice. It was Sam who had the most trouble cramming into the Impala, and God help him if he wanted a nap.
Dean glanced with pity at Sam's legs. One was thrown over the back of the seat. The other lay limply in the floor. The elder Winchester again took to smoothing the hair off his brother's too-warm forehead that was conveniently located in his lap. His left arm, the support for Sam's pillow, had gone numb hours ago, but Dean dared not move. Sam had been beleaguered with a very nasty bug and he needed all the sleep he could get.
They were en route to Bobby's, where a very screwed over Castiel resided. He'd come off the worse in an angel fight, Bobby had relayed over the phone, and only had enough juice to pop into Bobby's living room before dropping unconscious. Dean had been reluctant to travel with Sam so under the weather, but he figured it would be more economical to set Sam up with Cas so he could look after both of them.
Sam stirred groggily and coughed. Dean was automatically ready with a pop-top water bottle, from which Sam drank eagerly. Dean would have made a joke about Sam needing to be fed from bottle had he been in a better mood.
"We almost there?" Sam asked hoarsely once the water bottle was dry.
"Got about twenty more minutes. Hang in there."
"I'm not dying, Dean," Sam said with good humor, considering. He sat up slowly and worked the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. "Is Cas okay?"
"As okay as he can be for getting jumped by five angels," Dean replied with an eye roll. "Wish he woulda ran, or called, or something. I'm getting pretty good with those angel swords, you know..."
"Yeah, that's great. Then it would have been him beat up and you scattered over a five-mile radius."
"Cute." But Dean knew Sam was right, though it didn't change his feelings on the subject. He felt somehow that if Cas made it to them, he could have done something...
They arrived at Bobby's place in good time. Bobby greeted them at the door and made Sam comfortable while Dean went to check on Cas.
It was a pretty pathetic sight, Dean decided when he opened the door. It was certainly the first time he'd seen the angel out of his trenchcoat. The coat, along with the suit jacket and shoes, lay in a chair in the corner. Castiel himself was curled up amid six pillows, dead to the world. Apart from the moderate facial damage, gratuitous bandages peeked out from his chest, arm, and neck, and that was just what Dean could see.
Dean gingerly nudged the first unbruised spot he could find, and Cas, seemingly in a deep sleep, opened his eyes so quickly it was unnerving. "Dean." Castiel's voice was heart wrenchingly quiet, full of obvious pain.
"Yeah, Cas, 'm right here." Dean leaned forward so as to hear him better.
"You came."
"'Course I came. What, you think I'd leave you to Bobby's hands? Man's a sadist, believe me, I know from experience. Now what the hell were you thinking, taking on five angels by yourself? Are you cracked?"
In an amazing moment of metaphor comprehension, Cas replied wryly, "I suppose I am now. It was not a choice I would have made under different circumstances."
Dean raised an eyebrow in askance.
"They were coming for you," Cas explained, ever blunt but innocent. "It was a very poorly-constructed plan. They sought to kill Sam and use the time it would take for Lucifer to resurrect him to convince you to say yes to Michael. So, naturally, when I got wind of it, I had to stop them."
Dean was uncharacteristically speechless-and full of guilt. "Cas..." He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. "You shouldn't have done that, man, not alone. I could have helped."
"That would have been counterproductive," he stated as though it was obvious.
"Still. I really prefer you alive."
Castiel's eyes softened with insight. "Do not feel guilty, Dean," he told him as gently as Cas ever could be. "The family I have in heaven...it's different from the one I have discovered here. You and Sam and Bobby, you would fight and kill for each other. This example gives me faith in humans. I believe that if more people were like you, perhaps the other angels wouldn't want to exterminate them."
"Okay, you are *really* cracked." Dean stood up abruptly and clapped Cas carefully on the shoulder. "Me and Sam are here now, so just call if you need anything. Get some rest, sparky."
"Our angel is an idiot," Dean announced upon entering Sam's room. Sam looked up in groggy askance. "Seems he felt the need to foil a crack assassination-kidnap attempt. As if we couldn't have done it ourselves."
Sam smiled sleepily. "That's Cas for you. Maybe you should teach him about self-preservation next."
"Don't think I won't," Dean muttered more to himself. He set a fresh, cold water bottle on the bedside table. "Here's some more water. Go to sleep and text if you need anything. I'll be downstairs."
"Dean," Sam protested, "you gotta get some sleep yourself."
"'M fine. Besides, Cas might need me, and I'm sure Bobby's doing something..." Dean trailed off vaguely and tromped down the stairs.
Sam frowned after his brother. Dean was already doing it. Whenever something highly stressful rocked their lives, he would go off sleeping and eating until he either dropped from exhaustion, caved to the hunger, or the issue was resolved. It was utterly unhealthy but Sam was in no position to force Dean to do anything.
