Inside an automobile. Night. A steady rain. The windshield wipers squeak faintly, back and forth, back and forth. The dashboard lights glow a dim green. The driver's face, damp from the rain, is illuminated by them. The driver's clothes are also a little wet. It is warm and cozy inside, in contrast to the cold, wet conditions of outside. The bucket seats are soft. I'm in the front seat, next to the driver. My feet are cold and my shoes are wet. But I can feel the heater blowing warm against them. Outside, through heavy sheets of rain I observe the countryside passing by in the dark – rural farmland with occasional billboards and highway signs. On the radio, a station is playing a country song that keeps fading in and out, with an increasing amount of static and dead air. The driver turns to you as if to say something, but then looks back to the road and remains silent. Instead, he reaches for the dial on the radio and switches the music off, a look of frustration from it had crossed his face.

I look at this man. His chin stubbed with a five' o clock shadow. He definitely was in need of a shave. His damp clothes only consisted of a black hoodie and some old rugged boot cut jeans that were tearing at the bottoms. They lead down to some even older looking boots that were worn but still in pretty good shape. His skin was as tan as sand, golden and beautiful with freckles across his face faintly. His physique was close to toned, but was more average than overly buff like some guys were. The dark shaggy follicles on his head were thick and dirty blonde, shadowing over his most striking features, his eyes. Unlike the dark attire and even bleaker expression, his eyes were the most shocking. The hue of the greenest forests. It was almost as if the eyes themselves had sucked it out of the bleak saturated grass outside the car. Had he taken better care of himself he may have passed off as handsome, despite the slight crook in his nose which suggested he had broken it in his younger years. This man though…while most would pass him up was so much more than given credit for. He was intelligent, easy-going, somewhat cocky even goofy at times, and yet kind at heart. Unlike others, he kept to himself not out of spite or anything like that, but just out of sheer introverted shyness. One wouldn't know his personality unless they had gotten to know him. I had only began to talk to him in the past year because of his younger brother having told me about him, yet he claimed to have known of my existence two years beforehand but hadn't tried to make a move or anything. In truth I had met him earlier according to him, we even hit it off however I had trouble remembering doing so as I had met so many people on account of my job as a teacher's aid. Meeting different people was on a daily for me at our university.

He didn't glance at me again, though it was easy to tell by his facial expression that he wanted to ask me something, though he kept quiet, still. Hands on the wheel, eyes looking straight into the rain.

"How did you know I was out there?" I asked, confused and yet too exhausted to actually put effort into my sentence. Holding my side, it was heavily bruised from the earlier rendezvous with a gang of drunk guys. Despite their looks, they were all in their late teens or early twenties. Now these guys weren't fond of gay men and I knew…because I had went to school with most of them a few years back.

Dean said nothing. It was almost deafening, the silence that lingered between us. The rain was the only thing to make sound as we drove through the farmlands away from my hometown.

Wiping my nose a bit, blood dripped from it and my mouth, partly down the side of my face. I had went home in order to get some things for school that I had needed and decided to pay a visit to an art teacher on the way back. Bad move. I had lingered a bit too long and by the time I was outside, it was dark. In the parking lot, the men had attacked from behind, having been throwing taunts and such earlier, I paid no heed to them and now I had found myself face in the pavement with them hovering over me, screaming words of insult and laughter as they spat on me and drove their feet into my sides. I had clutched my side with the other hand over my head protectively as I tried to shield myself pitifully from their abuse. It was almost like the time way back when I was younger, kids had done the same thing. Now, it was much worse. They had weapons this time. They were going to kill me. It was by the look in their eyes they gave me. That petrified, horrifyingly hateful and cruel look that I knew I was going to die.

There had always been moments in my life when I wished someone would have stood up for me. When someone besides myself would try and stand up for someone like me. I would admit to it that I had been waiting for that person for so long. For someone to actually step in front of me and protect me from hurtful words. It was a selfish desire to want someone to do something so incredible, but I couldn't help myself. I've always tried to push it down, to bury it beneath my arrogant and sassy attitude. Yet no matter how many times I tried, I couldn't help hoping for that person. Still, I was just an average person after all. Perhaps even lower than average though. Someone who wasn't supposed to exist. Maybe this mindset came from the bullying in my younger years, but half of me truly believed it. I wasn't worth saving. I wasn't worth anything…

And this moment would prove that people like me, people who went against the word of god, against all catholic beliefs and even human beliefs, would die by the thing I so desperately tried to deny.

The Truth.

And yet…

That weird thing called fate, or whatever it was…reared its surprising head…because there he was. Standing in front of me. Crowbar in hand, scaring the men away from where they left me, rain pouring down on the sidewalk.

"Cas? Cas!" The man called out my name. It fell on deaf ears though as the rain pounded overhead, my own pulse roaring inside my head. As he knelt next to me, I groggily moved an arm as if to swat him away, but it fell as soon as I had lifted it.

My drenched body remaining stiffened and tense as I awaited another blow. Instead, a warm hand touched my shoulder. I flinched out of reflex, before I saw the man who was looking down at me. That same, green eyed weirdo who I had barely begun to get to know. His arms came around my shoulders before lifting me up with ease, holding me against his chest as he helped me over to his black impala '67. As I got into the passenger seat, he had pulled his leather jacket off and draped it around the front of me, the extra warmth welcoming to me.

From there, we were now inside his car, heater blasting against cold skin. His expression twisted with worry and tense as he drove as fast as he could in the rain, wanting to get me to a hospital as soon as possible. I shifted in my seat a bit, stealing a glance at him before letting out a sigh.
"I'll be alright. Hell…I've been through worse. Don't look so…worried." I replied, shutting my eyes to keep from showing any pain or exhaustion that I was feeling. I really hated to worry him. Dean just looked at me, his deep green eyes looking down at the dashboard and back up at the road again. His silence was almost intimidating to me. Finally, he spoke.

"You're an idiot. You should have asked me to come with you instead of going off on your own." He scolded. At that moment, I grew angry. "Well who the fuck asked you to come play hero? I didn't. Should have just left me alone" At that point I thought he'd stop the car and throw me out or something. I always did have a bad attitude when people got mad at me. Instead, he kept the argument going. "Castiel! Don't talk like that. I just can't…stand the idea of seeing you like this. I'd have killed every one of those sons' of bitches if I had the chance. Don't you think I'd be there for you if you called?" Dean replied, having used my full name for the first time ever. During the few months we had begun to talk, he had always only ever called me Cas. At first I disliked the short name, finding it to be annoying that he wouldn't say my full name, though now that he did end up using it…it felt surprising and uncomfortable. As I sat there, I thought about what he said. Though what he said didn't make much sense, it was almost like he was so tense and nervous that he mixed two sentences into one. At this point I couldn't really argue with him. I was hurting and exhausted. Sinking into the seat, I closed my eyes and slowly found myself passing out.

"Cas? Hey…Hey! Don't you fall asleep on me bastard, wake up! Cas! … shit!" Dean was panicking now. He didn't know what to do. They were still a ways out from the hospital and Castiel was passing out on him. Reaching over with his hand, he grabbed beneath his chin and shook his face a little, rousing the tired man a bit. "Don't you dare go to sleep bastard. You still owe me for saving your ass." Dean growled, though he wasn't serious. He just wanted him to wake up. To argue with him, to tease him or be sassy towards him again. Dean wanted to hear his voice say his name one more time…that's all.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they arrived at the hospital. From there, Dean picked up Castiel bridal style before running inside.

"HELP!" Dean shouted, shouting for help, for anyone to help. Heads turning towards him and whom he carried, the staff immediately got to work, taking Castiel from Dean's arms and placing him on a bed before wheeling him away. Dean followed after them as far as they would let him before having to stop him from going any further. At this point, it was all just a waiting game for Dean. Hours passed, and they were still working on him in the ICU. Dean couldn't sleep. Despite how late it was, the boy was not tired, but he was exhausted from his nerves. Once they were finally done, they spoke with Dean, letting him know that it was up to Castiel to fight the rest of the battle. He had been seriously wounded and the doctors weren't sure if he'd make it.

Walking inside, he sat down at Castiel's bedside. Sleeping, the boy looked so peaceful. Dean felt tears threatening to come up from the edges of his eyes, but instead he pushed them back, rubbing the ducts of his eyes with his thumb and index finger to keep himself from crying. Reaching out a shaky hand, he slowly rested it over Castiel's, clutching it gently.

"Please…I'm begging you to wake up man." He spoke in a hoarse, broken voice. Castiel didn't respond.