Entwined
Chapter 1: His Hunter's Gorgeous Hazel Eyes
Castiel was scared…
Castiel already knew what he would see as he walked into the Winchesters room. Sam had told him what was wrong and begged him to come down to help. He was shocked that not even his brother could do anything about this. And he was scared. He was scared because he could not heal him, he could not heal the nightmares that plagued him, the past memories that let him get no sleep. His physical and mental state had been deteriorating the last few months, and Castiel never knew anything this bad would happen. He was scared because what he saw before him made his blood turn ice cold.
Sam had taken him to Bobby's a few days ago, realizing he needed somewhere more comfortable than a motel. The angel knew how happy Bobby was to see him, but he could see the fear as clearly in his eyes as he could in Sam's. He had been given a quiet room upstairs, and Sam had been watching over him from a distance, knowing he needed the comfort but also needed to be left alone to try to mend. But the hunter had not been mending, he was getting worse. And the angel could not heal him this time.
He remembered the way Sam had screamed at him to do something, anything. And Castiel could not begin to fathom, let alone express the guilt he felt by just looking at the hunter and his gravely ill brother. All he could do was shake his head and at least offer to stick around. He couldn't leave him with his brother like this anyway.
He remembered the whispered voices between a crying Sam and a frantic Bobby.
"There must be something we can do."
"We just need to keep him comfortable. That's all we can do for him."
He had turned away from them, just like the coward he was. He couldn't, wouldn't admit to himself that Dean was getting worse. But he didn't need to, because he could see it right before him.
Dean, in a matter of speaking, was still trapped in hell. He had been okay for a long while, ever since he rescued him, only experiencing little nightmares, nothing this terrible. But now, he couldn't escape it, he could get no rest, no sleep. He was becoming delirious, and Cas had no idea how to fix this. He had tried to take him away, but he couldn't for more than a few minutes. They just wouldn't stop. There was no way to fix this. Dean was dying, and he was fighting but even Sam knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He saw Alistair everywhere, heard Alistair everywhere, he felt pain and rage and hell drag him under once more. Castiel could not even imagine how hard and much he was fighting, a never-ending battle that he could not win.
Sam was forced to sit there and watch his dying older brother, feverish and shivering with exhaustion, collapsed on the bed before him, rarely even able to open his gorgeous hazel eyes and hold on to Sam's hand, which was tightened around his as often as Sam was able. Bobby came in every once in a while, but knew more than anything Dean needed the quiet, so it wasn't for long. Sam, more often than not, fell asleep in his room, hand still grasping his brother's weak and hot one. These continuing nightmares weakened Dean's body steadily to the point where he couldn't get up anymore, could not talk anymore, and could barely keep down food and water. Castiel was scared at the once beautiful, still beautiful hunter before him. He was probably so weak that he couldn't even sense his angel enter his room and walk towards the bed.
Castiel just stared down at Dean's shaking and limp form under the thin covers. He could see the creases of pain etched in his delicate features, hear the whimpers emanating from his barely open mouth. His eyes were closed but he knew he was awake. He would get no sleep as long as Alistair was there. He tried hard not to startle him.
"Dean?"
No answer.
Cas sighed and very very carefully lowered himself onto the bed next to him. He lifted him up gently, securing and holding him, pressing him gently against his own body. He sat there for several minutes, looking down at Dean, who probably still was not aware that Castiel was there and was caressing him. He ran a hand through his spiky hair and it came back slick with sweat. He could feel the heat emanating from the hunter, could feel his sweat soaking and fusing into his own clothes and body. But he didn't care. All he wanted to do was hold the hunter through this. He needed this, needed comfort, needed to be held and loved and treated like he was the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world. He leaned down to kiss his check and touched his forehead. Castiel knew where to take his hunter.
To be continued