Hullo one and all! This is a random fic that I just came up with. I was always wondering how Castiel got to the boys in time. Obviously it's something we'll never know, so I just made my own version of it. Please read and review! It would be much appreciated. My muse is starving.

And yes, Castiel = John Doe

I do not own Supernatural.

Chapter One

John Doe

Chelsea stared at the newest patient, or at least tried to. There were so many instruments hooked up to him that she could hardly get a good look at his face. Disbelief was written all over hers. She had heard some pretty strange stories before, every nurse had a few up their sleeves, but this one was downright inconceivable.

"You're telling me he just…'appeared' on a boat?"

The other nurse, Tamara, nodded. "They were shrimping just off Delacroix. One minute everything's fine, the next John Doe here is in their midst."

She looked at Tamara then back down to the man lying on the bed. "You sure they weren't drunk?"

"I hope they were."

Chelsea looked at the man more intently. People did not just appear out of thin air. Unfortunately, that did seem the case for most John/Jane Does, though not quite as literally. She began to wonder who he was and if anyone was searching for him. The fact was, she might not ever find out. The doctors were giving him another 24 hours before they pulled the plug. Part of her hoped he would wake up just so he could give them hell for it.

Snapping back to reality, Chelsea looked up to see Tamara staring at her, more specifically at her left hand where she was twirling an engagement ring around her finger. Instantly stopping, she moved her hand behind her back as though nothing had happened.

Tamara gave a loud and obvious sigh. "Why are you still wearing that thing?"

Shrugging, Chelsea stepped out of the room and headed for the nurse's station. "It's not hurting anything." She quickly sat down and started to look over some charts, trying to look busy and end the conversation. Clearly it was not going to work but she thought to give it a go anyway.

"Except you," Tamara replied, sitting across from her. She did not speak again. The seed of doubt had already been planted.

Chelsea tossed the charts aside, having never read a single word on them. She looked down at the ring, hearing a small, taunting voice coming from it. That could not be good.

Everything in her life had been perfect. Her hours at the hospital were busy but stable. On the best of days she even considered becoming a doctor. She had the perfect fiancé who was a lawyer at a local firm. Well, he had been perfect until she caught him making out with some nameless woman on his work desk. Needless to say, she had promptly broken off the engagement. The last thing to take care of was the ring, but honestly she was scared. That would be the end of it. Her romance that she thought would last forever gone in a moment.

Chelsea sighed. Standing up, she decided to go on her rounds, making certain she went extra slow. The last thing she needed was time to think.

Night had fallen and the hospital had grown very quiet and still. This meant that Chelsea had about 5 hours left in her 12 hour shift. And despite what she wanted, she now had plenty of time to think.

She was walking around the hallways for fourth time that hour when she passed by John Doe's room. Pausing at the door, she watched him a moment. It was a rather sad thing. He actually should have been in ICU but with the string of storms that had passed through the area as of late, they had no room, especially for a man who was good as dead.

Walking in his room, Chelsea grabbed his chart and flipped through the pages a moment, sitting down on the chair next to his bed. She looked up, finally able to get a good look at his face. He was young, though probably a little older than her, and frankly rather easy on the eyes. She and Tamara had a habit of rating their patients. He would have gotten a ten.

Standing, she noticed how different he looked. Normally patients in a coma just looked like they were sleeping. They were completely calm as though nothing could disturb them. John Doe, however, looked like he was battling something in his head. Strange, considering he was supposed to be brain dead. The man had many weird things about him.

Weirder still was a red mark she spotted just below his neck. Moving closer, Chelsea reached out for his hospital gown. A red triangle was revealed when she pulled the fabric down, carved into his skin. She gasped and nearly let go, feeling a chill creep down her spine. Somehow her grip remained and she actually moved closer as more 'carvings' were revealed. She witnessed the beginning of a large circle and some other symbol that she did not recognize. Who could have done this to him and why?

Chelsea threw a look toward John Doe's face, filled with sympathy and wonder. In that moment she did so, his eyes flew open, revealing a vibrant blue that may have fascinated her if it had not scared her so much.

Her head flew up quickly and she may have backed off further if the man had not grabbed her by the wrist. His grip was strong and painful but she tried her best to ignore it. The first step was to get him to calm down before she tried to free herself. But when she looked at him, he appeared as calm as could be. She most likely would not be for much longer if he kept staring her down the way he was.

"Okay, sir, you need to relax," she said, resting her free hand on his. "You're in the hospital. I'm here to help you. Can you please let go of my wrist?"

He made no response, not that she would have been able to hear it through the breathing tube, but an attempt certainly would have made her feel better. Instead he continued to stare at her and keep his grip on her wrist. She could not help but notice how her skin was starting to feel much warmer than it should have.

"Sir, let go of my wrist!" she shouted, sounding desperate and afraid. The burning on her skin was growing far more intense, as though his hand were made of fire. She pulled, struggled and attempted to use her other hand to take his off but nothing would budge him. All the while he simply continued to stare at her as though nothing else were going on.

Chelsea was panicking and was about to shout for help when the pain suddenly shot into her head. Heat filled her entire body and she was blinded by white light. Images burst into her conscious, streaming so fast she could hardly register them. Words were whispered from different directions, all in a language she did not know. They grew louder and louder as the pain and brightness increased until it all culminated in what felt like a blast and she collapsed onto the floor.

She would awake several minutes later feeling no different physically than she had earlier. And John Doe remained where he had before, still unconscious, brain dead as far as the doctors were concerned.

Sorry the beginning was a bit slow, but I think (and hope) I made up for it at the end. 2 1/2 hours to the new episode! Woot! *dances*