Away From You
Prologue
His favorite trench coat was lighter than he remembered. He was warm and comfortable, the cold concrete floor underneath him felt softer than expected.
He opened his eyes slowly, trying to rouse his sleeping body from its slumber. He realized he was on a bed in a stranger's room, which was dark except for the moonlight that shined through the translucent curtains.
His body was covered with a warm duvet. When he sat up pulled away the covers, he's only in his boxers, his abdomen and arms covered with bandages. His eyes roamed the small room and found the door slightly ajar, the light from what he presumed the corridor, streaming in.
"Dean." His first initial coherent thought flew to the older Winchester. The memories from his last awaken moments came flooding in, and he felt like he's been hit by a truck. The stake out on a lead on a bunch of vampires went south after he (impatiently) trudged in, smiting a few bloodsuckers without a single peep to Dean. He was tackled by 4 bear sized dudes, one of their fangs dangerously close to his neck. Suddenly Dean was in sight, the sigils on the wall painted with Dean's blood lighting up like a Christmas tree.
He felt dizzy, and his hands reached out for the cup of water conveniently placed on the bedside table. He moved his heavy legs, and toppled out of bed.
His left leg was heavy, covered with bandages, and they hurt. He must have broken his leg when they tackled him down. A pair of footsteps shuffled closer to the room, and the door opened fully to reveal a young woman with waist long brown tresses, her eyes set on him.
"You shouldn't be moving, you know. You'll upset your leg." She said, her soft low soprano voice filled the room, loud enough for him to hear.
He heard more shuffling, and suddenly he was hoisted up and into the bed. She went around the room, opening up a wardrobe and throwing him a shirt. With a knowing look, she went to the bedside table and dropped a few pills on it as he hesitantly pulled the shirt over his bandaged abdomen.
She sat on an ottoman by the bed, and motioned for him to take the pill. Once done, she just sat there, looking at him curiously.
"Wanna tell me who you are and what happened?"She asked kindly, before continuing, "It's okay if you're not ready. I just wanna know if I didn't just haul in some random psychotic killer at large or something."
He smiled at her question. Taking a sip of his water, he cleared out his throat.
"Cas-Castiel." He said, his voice low and scratchy. "I'm not a psychotic killer."
She smiled even wider, hearing his reply. "Well hi there, not a psychotic killer. I'm Stargaze. How are you feeling?"She said warmly, like a mother Cas never had.
He touches his broken leg, feeling the numb pain when he tapped his knee. "I hurt." He says, observing the feedback his vessel gives him. His stomach rumbled audibly, and she chuckled under her breath.
"No duh."She blatantly rolled her eyes. "I'll get you something to eat, before your stomach threatens to gobble me up again. Don't move."
The woman, Stargaze, left him alone then, pulling the cover over him and smoothing it out, tucking him in comfortably. He felt odd that this stranger was babying him, reminding him of that one day Dean was tending one very sick and whiny Sam Winchester, what seemed like a millennia ago.
He opened his eyes to a finger tapping him on the cheek, realizing that he fell asleep. The kind woman was hovering above him again, holding a mug of mushroom soup.
"Sorry I was slow. Anna woke up and I had to put her to bed. When I came back you were already asleep." She explained animatedly, handing him the mug.
"Anna?" Cas looked at her in askance. Curiosity piqued at his mind, a strong urge to know all about this Anna Stargaze was talking about.
"My daughter, Annaise Sofia." She said proudly, sitting down on the ottoman she left earlier. She smiled sleepily, and he wondered about the time. It was obvious it was night, judging from the moon outside the window.
"You are a mother?" He finds the words slipping through his mouth. For a moment there he thought it was a rather judging question, suddenly knowing his place, but the lady was calm and relaxed.
"Yeah I am. I got married legally and had her legally and all so don't you start putting weird thoughts in your head." She answered, taking his finished soup in her hand. Her other hand fluffed up his pillow and settled him in, taking a few steps to the door.
"There's a crutch underneath the bed, and the toilet is right outside your door. It's 3 AM Saturday morning, so no funny business!" She warned, her hand already on the doorknob.
"Thank you." He found himself with an odd sense of gratefulness. She paused for a moment, before continuing, "Sleep, Castiel."
She exited the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He has not a single clue to where he is; it's been the same night he was blasted away by that sigil, and currently in a stranger's bed with no idea of Dean and Sam's whereabouts.
But the bed was warm and comfy that his thoughts melted away, leaving a blank canvas which he paints with colorful dreams.