Disclaimer: I don't receive any payment from this, it' just for fun!
Well, it's fun for me and for my readers – I hope.
Definitely, it's not fun for the characters but... whatever.
PS: as usually, I wrote this as a gen, but feel free to read it as a slash, if you prefer.
Enjoy your reading, folks! ^.^
"Next time I won't miss!"
Those last word still lingered in Castiel's distraught psyche as if Dean had engraved them into his brain with a burning iron.
As the hunter stomped away, the angel cried.
Too weak to even muster a sob from his destroyed chest, he just turned his head toward the book where his blade was still stuck.
Hot, salty tears poured down his pained eyes, but he didn't find the strength to moan when the liquid came in contact with the open cuts on his face, making them burn.
He registered the pain of every bruise, of every broken bone and wound but couldn't react: the shock of being beaten so cruelly by the man he considered a brother was so painful that his Grace had shut down.
He was, by all ends and means, human.
While all his wounds were bleeding and his broken bones were sending unbearable waves of pain all over his body, he couldn't tore his swollen eyes from the silvery knife that could've put an end to his existence.
He kept staring until everything dissolved into a confused blur, effectively trapping him in a bubble of never ending anguish.
Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
Until he became aware of a bulky hand that was shaking him with a certain urgency.
Only then his glazed eyes left the book and focused on the man bent over him. Chocking over another lump of blood that poured out of his lips, he managed to answer: "S-S'm?"
The younger Winchester stopped moving him, took his bloodied face in his hands and started lightly caressing his hair away from his brow.
His fingers were shivering so much that Castiel didn't think the man was completely aware of what he was doing. But it felt oddly reassuring and he let him go on, even if it caused more tears to pour from his eyes.
Finally, also the shaken words of the hunter managed to overcome the hiss into the angel's ears.
"C-Cas...Cas! Thank God! Thank God you're alive! I was so afraid! Dean did this, didn't he? The Stynes...even that poor boy...I thought...I thought you were..." he couldn't bring himself to finish: even the thought of Dean killing their guardian angel, their brother, terrified him.
But Castiel was still there. A crying, bloodied mass beaten to a pulp, but still alive and breathing.
Sam had to get himself together and focus on this now, the Stynes' corpses and his MIA brother would've come later.
Quickly, he proceeded to asses the angel's injuries: his right arm was definitely broken, his face swollen and bloodied, his chest looked smashed and by the sounds he made while breathing one of his lungs might have been punctured, plus - given the blood that kept coming from his lips – he must have had others internal injuries as well.
With a sigh, Sam cupped the back of the angel's head into his hand and kept caressing his hair back with the other. The creature wasn't healing and he was at loss of what to do.
"Cas, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, buddy. Please, try to heal: I cannot cope with Dean alone. I can't...I don't want to lose you too."
At this point the hunter felt some moisture pickling at the verge of his eyes but squeezed them shut and clenched his jaw: he had to be strong now, for Dean, for Cas.
He had failed them, and now their angel was dying.
"S'm?"
"Yes. I'm here, buddy. I've got you."
Castiel's pale hand landed on his wrist and the hunter took it in his: it was cold and clammy.
He was clearly in shock and getting worse.
Absentmindedly, Sam stroked the shivering limb with his own thumb trying to infuse some warmth in it.
The angel left out a wet, chocked sigh and tried to return the grip but his fingers were so weak that couldn't even bend.
It made the Winchester's heart ache and the awareness that the responsible was Dean made him feel even worse.
"I'm s-sorry...Dean...I c...couldn't...I t-tried to...reason...but...couldn't...st-top him..."
Castiel's attempt of speaking dissolved in a harsh coughing fit and more blood poured from his mouth.
"Shh, shh. Easy, Cas. Don't talk."
Gently but swiftly, Sam tilted Cas's head on the side to prevent him from chocking.
The dense, red rivulet stained the already soiled floor but it wasn't of import.
All it mattered was help Cas to recover from those wounds.
As the angel fought to recover his breathing, the Winchester massaged gently the contracted muscles of his neck helping him to relax a little.
The meaning of his message was clear: there was some kind of problem with his "mojo" and he couldn't health himself.
This concerned the hunter more than anything else.
"Why can't you heal? What's wrong with your Grace, buddy?"
The angel shivered violently but managed to whisper: "I...can't...r-reach...it...I d-don't know..." the pain and fatigue took his voice away.
He never felt so helpless before and it scared him beyond words.
He coughed again: another rivulet of blood flew to the floor and his shivers worsened.
His fear stricken eyes met Sam's and the hunter felt his chest constrict at the sight of his raw dread.
Then his eyelids began to drop.
"Hey! Stay with me, buddy. Please!"
"Tired...pain..."
"I know, I know. But you have to fight it, Cas. Stay awake!"
This wasn't leading them anywhere, Sam had to take a decision.
"Listen, Cas. I'm going to take you to a hospital, ok?"
"Ok...ok..."
"Do you think you can walk?"
The creature nodded but the hunter was aware of how stupid his question was in the moment he asked it: obviously his friend was in no shape for standing, let alone walk.
He had to be carried.
How was an even bigger problem: though shorter than the hunter, Cas was too heavy to be held bridal style all the way and he definitely couldn't carry him on his back and risk to cause further damage to his lung and broken arm. He was going to have to stand, even if it would be excruciating.
As carefully as possible, Sam stripped him of his coat and suit jacket to remove some of the weight and give him more freedom of movement.
He had already loosened his tie to ease his breathing, now he used it to secure the angel's broken arm to his chest. His original plan was to make a sling out of it, but while removing the jackets he found out the elbow and wrist to be partially dislocated and didn't want to risk moving them.
Sam enveloped the hurt angel with his arms and propped him against his chest in an half-sitting position.
Dizziness overcame Castiel and everything turned black for a moment. With a grunt, he slumped against the broad shoulder of his friend, who supported him, waiting patiently for it to pass.
A couple minutes later, he managed to open his eyes again.
"There we are, buddy. Ready?"
The angel gave him a clipped nod and the hunter helped him slowly to his feet.
As predictable, his legs gave out immediately and Sam was forced to almost drag him to the staircase, where he was forced to pick him up and carry him to his car.
The whole process must have been agonizing for the creature but he emitted no sounds until the hunter laid him into the passenger seat and reclined it.
Then the Winchester removed his jacket, folded it into a makeshift pillow and placed it under the angel's head.
Castiel moaned softly under his ministrations and the hunter stopped to bend over him and cup his cheek into the palm of his hand: "Hey, you still with me, buddy?"
"Yes...S'm..."
"How do you feel?"
"Hurts...cold...tired...so tired..."
"Ok. Ok. Sit tight for a minute: I'm fetching you something."
The angel slumped in the seat and kept shivering until he felt something warm being laid over him. He opened eyelids that didn't realized were closed and found Sam's concerned face above him as the hunter tucked a light blanket around his shoulders.
Their gazes met and the hunter gave him a smile that he forced his abused muscles to return before the man closed the passenger door and moved to the front seat.
Sam had just started the engine that Castiel's breath became ragged.
At the first curve he whimpered from the movement jostling his injuries.
The sound caught the hunter's attention. He tore his right hand from the wheel and locked it with the angel's undamaged one. Cas squeezed it with all the strength he had left, like a lifeline.
His wounds kept throbbing painfully and he could sense his lungs filling with liquid while his stomach's spasms sent waves of nausea all over him and his head seemed to be splitting in half.
But Sam's hand was warm and strong in his, comforting him as an anchor trough the pain and the feel of the hunter's thumb stroking his knuckles soothed his aching heart.
He could trust his friend: Sam wasn't going to hurt him, nor he wasn't going to leave him alone in his ordeal.
Author's Notes:
In the words of Jared Padalecki: "Blaaah! Not dead!"
I just used this gap year to write a lot before publishing! So brace yourselves: bunnies are coming!
A lot of them!
Anyway, have you got any thoughts, opinions, corrections?
Just write 'm down: I'm all ears!
