Part 2
Several hunters had responded to the urgent yell but most stood still. They waited until their resident doctor could be nearby so that they didn't hurt Cas any more while trying to pry his skull out from between the broken glass and the cracked steering wheel.
"What the hell went wrong?" Bobby asked as he stared from his position a little further off.
He made a mental note to have the grass cut, or burned out of existence completely. He turned to look at Chuck with an expectant face. All he got back was a shrug and a look that screamed panic and a need for an alcoholic beverage. There was a small crowd starting to gather around them which only irritated the man more. "Move it you idjits! We can't get him moved with ya'll gawkin' and crowdin' him like it's a damn parade!" he shouted at them and although they didn't disperse they cleared a path that they could get him through.
Yagger and Donald tried to prop up Cas's body as gently as possible as the doctor attempted to get in close to the large shards of glass sticking out of his head. There was a tremendous amount of blood loss and if it had been anyone else he would've declared them dead on the spot; if they weren't already dead. The head trauma alone would have them gone within minutes. Their camp angel seemed to be breathing still and angel physiology was a little different he assumed, although he knew very little about it.
"Move him very slowly, I don't want to remove the shards just yet until we're in the controlled environment of the hospital wing. It could cause more bleeding." They all nodded at him and slowly turned Cas around, prying him away from the wreckage and the bent metal, laying him on a stretcher someone had remembered to bring. As they made a hurried pace towards the hospital compound Chuck and Bobby vaguely heard "Does anyone know his blood type?! He's lost too much!"
Chuck held his arms close to his body and bit his lip in worry. There was something he'd never thought he would witness, an angel needing a blood transfusion because he couldn't repair himself. It was an almost poetic addition to the soundtrack of the apocalypse, if it weren't so awful.
"Well?"
Chuck jumped a little, clutching at himself tighter having been spooked by Bobby's voice. "Well what?"
"Angel boy's blood type, do you know it? You're a prophet right, you're supposed to know everything about these guys?" Bobby asked gruffly.
"No I'm afraid not. These types of things don't really come up in the visions. And we'd be looking for Jimmy Novak's blood type, Cas technically doesn't have one," Chuck answered with a sad shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not sure I would remember or wrote down in the books contact information to his family either. Last time I had a vision with them in it was when Cas took back Jimmy's body. Although the visions are coming less and less they haven't been in them since."
"Damn it," Bobby cursed slamming a fist down onto the armchair of his two wheeled hell trap.
He sighed and grabbed the edges of the wheels and began to follow the slow trail to the hospital room, shooing people away and telling them to get back to work on the way. "We can do one thing tho', before you get yourself cozy. Go grab my phone from the cabin to the far right over there, that's mine. We don't have internet or anything here but maybe we can get Dean to work some magic and get to that info."
Chuck nodded and ran to grab the item in question. Bobby wheeled his way up the ramp that had been attached to every camp building and stopped before the door, not going in. "How's it going in there Whiskey?"
"I'd tell you if I had any clue," the doctor replied as two nurses and another doctor bustled about with trays and towels and water. "So far we've safely removed three of the shards from his head but there is still a massive field of smaller shards embedded in his upper torso, arm, and along his neck as well as the last two shards that slid neatly under his skin severing some of scalp. Foxtrot's done the best she can with the smaller pieces, but." He shook his head. "Then we have to get in and stop the bleeding along his chest, I don't see more broken bones but judging by the flow something may have splintered into his lungs. I'm really kinda out of my pay grade here tho'. "
Bobby gave a short nod, not like he had been expecting anything else for an answer. Angels were complicated to begin with and the team they'd sent out to try and heard more medical supplies hadn't come back yet. Filching them from hospitals was easy with so many places getting abandoned but it was hard to find something that hadn't been touched by Pestilence's influence. They needed more doctors in the camp too. Whiskey could stitch up a few cuts, remove a few nasty things but he'd mostly worked pediatrics. Foxtrot was their resident surgeon though her specialty was with cancer patients.
Bobby gave the remaining hunters a few instructions to get to securing their items and to get the camp whispers under control. Cas had been banged up before but nothing quite like this. Panic was the last thing they needed. Chuck came running up behind him and dropped the phone into Bobby's lap in his haste to give it to him. He only gave the squirrely prophet a raise of his eyebrow before dialing Dean's number.
"What?"
"Well that's one way to answer the phone. Now shut up and listen. This is urgent. Cas is hurt, bad. We don't know what happened or why but he just plummeted out of the sky and managed to bang himself up straight into a car. We need you to get Jimmy Novak's medical history, specifically his blood type. Dunno how much time we have or if we'll even need it but better safe than sorry. We've got -" he glanced at Foxtrot who was holding up a bag at him "-one more universal donor left. Medical team hasn't gotten back yet."
"…. What the hell happened?!" came the angry and poorly disguised panicked voice on the other end.
"I just told you we don't know knucklehead. Now shut up and get that information, Whiskey here has a feeling that we may be needing to refill him with how much he's losing but we need to know what to give him."
"God damn it!" was the last thing out of Dean's mouth before he slammed his phone shut.
A few states away, Dean had been busy exploring a lead about the colts location, would always help to have it. At first they'd bounced around other ideas, Bobby even bringing up the other pantheons. Dean couldn't say he'd ever had a run in with a god of a different flavor but Cas assured them that they were real. He also assured them that they would either stay out of it for their own sake or fight on their own. Bobby had wondered about a coalition, getting a fighting force back against Lucifer. Castiel had told him he could find a devout practitioner and ask them to pray on their behalf but highly doubted it would work. Dean had never asked if anything had been done about it. He assumed not since cities were still burning to the ground and people destroying each other at whim. So, he searched for omens and the colt. He'd had to take the long way round to a potential source. Rumor mill said War was busy marching towards them from California and not even Dean wanted to tango with him alone. What hunters they'd managed to rope into believing the universe was ending and Lucifer was walking the earth he tended to leave at camp or on supply runs. They needed to prepare.
He felt like throwing his phone across the dingy motel room as his body became ice cold and his palms started sweating. How the hell was he going to get that information? What the hell had happened to Cas? He was going to kill him the second he got back to the camp, providing he wasn't dead first. He ran his palms through his short hair and looked around the room with wide eyes trying to calm the hammering in his heart. "Okay, get it fucking together Dean. You're a seasoned hunter not some fucking kid. Fucking think."
He reached over and got a tumbler out of the cabinet and poured himself a nice strong cup of bourbon. How did they usually get medical information? He paced around the motel until he stepped out, going to the trunk of the Impala and digging out his suit. Medical information was always available to agents, especially in these times. Lots of places didn't even check badges anymore if the request seemed urgent enough. "Knew you could do it Dean," he told himself with a tense smile, just like any time they've ever needed any information.
He would just find the closest hospital, ask them to make some calls and bam, Cas would be ok. Dean dressed himself as fast as he could, took a look in the mirror to make sure that he was at least somewhat presentable and tore off in the direction of a large hospital he had seen on his way into the town. Even though he had finally gathered a plan his palms would not stop sweating and he couldn't shake off the clammy feeling that was taking over his body. He had shoved Cas in a neat little box and stored it away for later examination, even if he never intended for a later to happen. That little box was slowly getting scooted from the shelf to the forefront as he scanned his memory for reasons this could've happened. As far as he had been filled in, it was just a routine pick up and retrieval. Yes Chuck had been involved so that had made it more complicated but still, it had taken forever for them to find the prophet so the hoards of hell should've had the same issue. And Cas could handle a few demons.
Had they run into angels?
That was always an option but through their brief conversation, before the plan to fly him down had been created, Cas had made it seemed like the angels had bigger things to worry about than Chuck or a renegade angel. Then again, who said Heaven didn't have a hate on for a soldier abandoning his post in the biggest prize fight since ever.
He slammed the steering wheel with his palm in anger as the box began to bust at the corners, unfolding everything out and into his brain as he drove. He should've paid more attention to Castiel, because there was a good chance this was related to his relatively mortal lapses. Had they been occurring more often? He couldn't quite remember. Dean bit his lip as he cut off what few cars were on the road, trying to make it faster. If Cas died that would make it the third fucking time that the little tax accountant would have kicked the bucket and he didn't feel confident at all that he would be zapped back this time. God was either gone or busy. Another cold chill washed over him. Cas might not make it.
Three blasted through red lights later the Impala screeched to a halt in front of the main general hospital. He hopped out of it flashing his badge at an approaching officer attempting to tell him that he couldn't park there and rushed in through the doors and stopping at the nearest front desk. "Turner, FBI. Listen, this is kind of an emergency I need someone's medical information asap Miss," he glanced at her name tag "Rosanna."
The nurse blinked at him confused, stuttering for a few moments before raising her eyebrow at him. "Can I see that ID again please?"
Dean cursed at handed it to her, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as she examined it. He sighed in relief as she handed the ID back to him seeming satisfied. "I'll see what we can do, what is the name?"
"Jimmy," he paused for a second forgetting the vessels name. "Jimmy Novak." The nurse nodded and started typing. "I'm sorry sir, we don't have a Jimmy Novak in our system."
Dean ran another nervous hand through his hair, this was taking too long. "I know he's not, but I need access to the file. I thought you guys could get in contact with each other and get it sent from wherever his files are located."
The nurse shook her head with a confused look on her face, "I'm sorry sir that's not really how it works. We'd need to know what hospital we're requesting the information from and then have it faxed here."
Dean cursed and spun around frustrated, stomping through the entrance hall and back outside to his car, ignoring once again the officer on duty who tried to question him. He peeled out of the parking lot and dialed Bobby.
"You got the info? He's not doing so hot and we don't want to make it worse by giving him a blood type he can't handle. We don't got a lot of donations anyway. Foxtrot said we'd be lucky if we had his blood type still on hand."
"No I don't have the fucking information. I got to the hospital and the stupid fucking nurse told me that they don't just have some mass system with medical information. I figured FBI would get me in but the damn thing doesn't even exist. How the hell am I supposed to know what hospital Jimmy went to?"
There was a sigh on the other line, "You idjit! You're pretending to be an FBI agent, just go to the station and request it. Just give them a good story and you'll have access to all the files pronto."
Bobby listened to the dull beep of the phone that told him the line had been disconnected. He shook his head and sometimes wondered why the Winchester line of men just had no god damn sense. Sam had had the most, and he'd ended up holding hands with Lucifer. He was roused from his thoughts as Chuck stepped out from the surgery room.
"How is he?"
"Uhm… not good. He's hanging in there the doc said but I don't know much more. They've got everything on stand by the second we get the info but he's really running out of time, I think. I don't know, he's really pale but we can't tell if he's healing or not or replenishing his blood. We don't know anything, they're stitching up his head right now, they're worried the head trauma will leave him in a coma IF he survives," Chuck said stressing the if and sitting down a bench that was set up out on the porch.
"Dean'd better hurry," Bobby muttered as he passed the small flask he owned to the prophet. "Any news from the angel network?"
"Nothing. Last few whispers I heard was when they released the four horsemen. Since then it's just been random little screams and flashes of some of their fights." Chuck said as he took a swig. He flinched at the memories. A few nights he'd woken up shaking from the onslaught of battle in his brain. They were losing heavy hitters, and fast. They were scared. "They're keeping pretty quiet. I think it's 'cause maybe when they broadcast Satan gets it too? I dunno." He handed the flask back to Bobby.
"That sure is helpful as all hell," he responded shaking his head and taking another swig. They sat in silence, having nothing more to say, passing the flask back and forth. Bobby's phone rang finally after what seemed an eternity. "Yes? AB-; damn. Just had to be one of the rarest blood types didn't it. Call you when we know more." He turned to Chuck with a small wave towards his wheelchair, "I'm a little slow these days, could you go tell the good doctor the news?"
… … … …
It seemed a little harder to breathe than it should have. And it was dark, very dark. Everything felt hazy and it felt like the world was spinning and tilting and it was awful. It felt like his heart was about to explode. And then, Cas was gone again.
Whiskey walked out of the surgery room wiping his hands clean of blood. He stepped out of the cabin, it was in the late AM's at this point but Bobby and the prophet, Chuck he remembered his name being, were still there drinking quietly. They both looked up at this entrance. "We got lucky. Real lucky. I feel it would be redundant to say he's got an angel watching over him. Last bag went to him. He's got a little more color on him than five hours ago. There was a hole in his lung, small but enough to nearly collapse his lung. A lot of his bones were shattered or broken, we've got 'em on splints. All of the shards have been removed, if he were a normal human being he'd have scars for the rest of his life but with him we don't know. I will also add that with the amount of head trauma he received, Foxtrot thinks he might not wake up." Chuck's face dropped as Bobby grunted in response, watching the doctor start to walk away, "Oh, and we'll need a supply run. We used most of our resources on him. I also suggest we stock up on more blood and expand on our little excuse for a hospital wing. If angels are dropping I fear we'll be dealing with worse soon."
Before they could discuss it any further they noticed headlights in the distance driving up to the camp.
"Dean?" Chuck asked.
"Could be, we don't know. He shouldn't have gotten here this fast tho'," he mumbled taking his gun out of his holster and wheeling down the ramp and towards the gates they had put around the compound. Chuck shadowed him closely. "Who is it?!" Bobby yelled up at the few higher towers they had set up for watch of the border.
"Looks like the Impala!"
Bobby and Chuck shared a look and got closer to the gate. They had system. No one could come in without being checked over first. To start with they had etched a huge devil's trap into the ground and that had to be driven through first. Dug up with concrete poured and dirt shoveled over it. Around it in a bigger surface area was an angel warding sigil so that they couldn't get in through a person they possessed. Bobby stared at the modified sigils and wondered if that's what had brought Castiel crashing down. They'd figured that the modified version would keep him safe but it was all speculation.
There was also a little way station, buckets or hoses filled with holy water, silver knives on the ready. Although they'd heard talk, and Cas had told them that the purge would include most every creature, that Lucifer was clearing out a lot of the regular flavor monsters it didn't hurt to be safe. They watched as Dean stepped out of the Impala holding his hands up, letting himself be cut with silver and go through all the other basic tests. Everyone in the camp had at least one scar, more depending on how often they left and re-entered, and mandatory tattoo's. He stepped back and as they opened the gate and drove the Impala in, not bothering to move it much more past the point where they could close the gate before sprinting out of it towards them.
"Cas?!" he said breathing heavy as he stopped in front of them, letting the worry and concern seep into his features.
"Stable," is all that Bobby got out before Dean took off towards their medical area disappearing in through the door.
The first thing that Dean registered was that the place smelt awful. That sickly sterile smell that all hospitals had. He nodded hello to Foxtrot, still left attending, and stepped into their little rest room. It had been a cafeteria for the original camp grounds once. It didn't take him long to find the angel, there was only one bed in use and it had partially drawn curtains around it for privacy. He stepped forward with determination and drew them back, clutching to the curtain tightly as he tried not to punch something with what he saw lying in that bed. 'This isn't Cas' he thought numbly as he stepped closer to bed, looking at the broken and beat up man nestled in blankets on the bed. 'Cas would never get hurt like this, he's an angel. Angels' don't…' he rubbed his palms against his tired eyes and found a chair to pull over next to the bed. He sat there staring for a good hour before he heard the squeak of wheels coming towards him.
"Got Chuck settled, we've been hashing out something for him to do while he's staying at the camp. We figured inventory and management would be a pretty good spot for him," he said in a quiet voice, trying not to spook Dean. The boy may have had walls of stone and steel but he had also raised the kid, he knew those shoulders and those white knuckles, he was not in a good place. Dean didn't even respond, just gave Bobby a quick dart of eyes and then focused back on the bed.
A few moments of agonizing silence passed before Dean finally spoke, "What'd Whiskey say?" His hands shook where he had them grasped together, preparing for the worst.
"Short version is he's stable, no clue what's going on with angel healing, and he's worried about a coma. If angels can even have those."
Dean scoffed lightly, Bobby never did beat around the bush.
"Can angels even get coma's? Wow."
"Son," Bobby paused.
Dean was finally coming around to the real world, Sam hadn't been mentioned publicly to him in more than a forever, those who knew him were very careful about what they said. Mentioning Lucifer always put him on edge. The remaining Winchester had been buried in his own sorrow for far too long and no one wanted to send him spiraling back by saying something too harshly. "Castiel… he's been, more vulnerable for awhile now. Never this bad but he has been. I don' think his siding with us has won him any favors upstairs, and as far as I can hear the angels ain't doin' so hot."
Dean swallowed, he felt like the entire camp heard that stone crawl down his throat. "I see. So even the angels are losing?" Dean coughed again. "Could you check on the camp?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Bobby sighed and tossed his flask, now refilled, it making a smooth arc before landing at the foot of Castiel's bed.
"Yeah."
He waited until he couldn't hear the squeaks of the wheel before getting up and shutting the door, nodding for the last remaining people in the building to clear out. He watched out of the window as they dispersed, before moving back to the chair he had pulled up next to Castiel's bed. He grabbed the flask and started chugging, trying to chase away the burning in his eyes and the void in his chest.
"You really are a stupid son of a bitch," he whispered, staring at the make-shift cast around his angels arm. The box had been torn up, at least for now until he could mend it back together with his usual tactics. "I told you I'd ruin you." And Dean sat there for hours, staring at the soft rise and fall of Castiel's chest, the loud beeps of the heart monitor they had hooked up to him. He made a mental note to make sure replacement parts were included on the next trip. Every time he heard those beeps his entire body fought to get up and destroy something. Whatever had happened had to be big, the damage too great. He spent the rest of the night whispering apologies and drunken confession of pain before finally getting up and stumbling out of the building. Dean managed to make it to his own cabin before he finally fell, landing in his bed and clutching tight to the flask Bobby had given him. This really was the end of the world, and he didn't know how much more of a part he could play in it.
When Castiel awoke, he was lost. And confused. The first thing he registered was the invasive feeling of something sharp and long in his veins. His breath quickened in panic, he felt smothered and restrained. Before he could manage to move around so much he felt a hand on his shoulder. 'Dean' he thought, but then immediately realized that it did not have that special tingle that he received from his touch. Fighting through the haze he tried his best to concentrate on the figure gripping his shoulder. A shudder of a breath escaped him as he struggled into consciousness.
"You're awake!" the person exclaimed in relief. Castiel could only give a small grunt of confirmation that he was coherent before having his head sink further into the pillow under him in exhaustion. "Don't move, I'll get Dr. Whiskey and the others."
Cas gave a small whine of pain as the person next to him moved too fast and jolted his arm, jostling what he felt like was a puddle of pain inside of his arm. Slowly gathering his thoughts together he tried to figure out where he was. After his eyes adjusted to the prickling light that was attacking his eyes he found he recognized a few objects. Their infirmary. He had brought enough people here to recognize it so quickly. He wasn't sure how long he'd spent fighting the haze but eventually he heard a familiar squeak of wheels and timid footsteps.
"Mr. Comatose awakens."
Castiel couldn't help but smile at Bobby's voice. He attempted to speak, but all he got out was a dry whine from his throat and a loud crack in his voice.
"Water, he needs water," a softer voice said. Chuck. Chuck had made it safely, he had been worried he'd dropped them from too high up and too quickly. He felt something cold pushed against his lips and at their instruction began drinking. It felt almost like a glimpse of heaven.
"What happened?" he finally croaked out after a few cups of water and one cup of something sweeter, he thought it had honey in it.
"You've been out for a few months now," he heard Bobby say as he finally managed to regain his vision. As he listened to a brief explanation of events his eyes roamed across the ward and finally to himself and all the tubes coming in and out of his body as well as the wrappings squeezed around his limbs.
"I apologize for the inconvenience," he said once the story was over. An awful feeling he had come to identify as what humans called "uselessness" enveloped him. He wondered how many set backs he'd caused by being out of commission for so long.
"Oh shut up," Bobby said wheeling himself closer, "you needed some rest. Should've told someone you were past your limits you idjit."
"I thought I could handle more," he said solemnly as he attempted to sit up more. Everything felt so slow. "What is wrong with me?"
"You've got a ton of drugs in your system right now, they put a bit heavier of a dosage than they would to human beings in you since you seem to have a much faster metabolism even when knocked out," Chuck explained. "You gave us all quite the scare man."
Castiel nodded still a little lost. "Dean?"
"He's fine. Been out for a while now. Should be coming back at some point," Bobby muttered.
After that night, the night that Dean had sat next to Castiel's bed the man had more or less disappeared, fire in his gut and anger in his eyes. He checked in, made sure the camp was running smoothly and did what he could but never stayed more than necessary in the area. The hunt was on and the news of a few more lost cities hadn't helped anyone. Chuck's personal opinion was that he was running from something, but he kept that to himself. It wasn't that he had publicly run away, but every job and every lead on the colt (which had gotten around the camp; who didn't want to go after something that might be able to kill the devil) that took him as far away from the camp and Cas as he could reach he took. No one but Bobby and Chuck paid it any mind, but then again no one knew of how much these people had gone through together, and the sacrifices that the little angel laying in their shit for an excuse hospital wing had done for that one little human being.
"Oh."
Castiel did not say much else after that as he was recovering, at least not until Dean made his first visit to the angel. Dean was satisfied he was alive but had found excuses not to be near the camp until they were stretching to the end of the winter season. They needed to regroup and they'd finally gotten word from other settlements. A few of them had wanted to take a look at theirs, especially the ones that knew the Winchester name from his father's legacy. He was grateful that for now Sam being Lucifer's prom dress hadn't reached anyone. Which, while he was thankful for, he found strange. After almost three years of hell on earth he figured there'd be something out there. More morbidly he'd thought that no one probably lived to tell the tale. He was okay with that. He also had news for Bobby, the grapevine told him that Ellen, Jo, and Rufus were alive and kicking. They'd taken off into different corners of the the great U.S. of A but settlements were springing up as more people took off to the countryside. Cities were filled with guns and poison.
He'd heard for the most part Cas had healed. His shattered bones had, with help of his grace, mended themselves perfectly to their original state (although he was still working on re-creating all the lost blood cells) and he was coherent and able to participate in conversation and planning, even if the doctors had confined him to the limits of the hospital building. A fainting spell had revoked his wandering rights. Finally Dean could avoid it no longer and bit the bullet to visit him. He was back at the camp and it would seem out of place for him not to visit the angel now that he was awake.
"Hello Dean"
The only thing that ran through the hunters mind was that some things never change. The way Cas said his name never changed. That was comforting.
"Hey Cas."
For awhile neither of them knew what to say as they stared at each other, then again Dean was never one for many words and Castiel didn't have the skills to hold up a well placed human conversation yet. "So uh… you seem to be recovering," Dean finally mumbled.
"Yes. My body is recovering at an increasing angelic rate. I may have underestimated my abilities to help out but that will not happen again." And Dean couldn't help but let his smile slip into something bitter. Of course the first thing the angel would worry about was how they're cause was going, a cause he had forced this holy creature into. The guilt that he had been running from roared back to life again. Castiel noticed.
"Why are you cringing?"
Dean ran a hand across his face and pulled the chair that had been left near the bed closer and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring down at his loosely clasped hands. It had been a long time since he'd done the talking thing, been years since he was comfortable enough for their little confessional moments in the Impala, small as they were. He wasn't sure if he still could do that, and knew damn well he didn't want to.
"Dean?"
A small laugh made its way out of Dean's body. He glanced up briefly taking in the expression in those very blue eyes but looking away as fast as he could. His eyes scared him. For one he felt like looking into them for too long would give Cas access to the nut house that was his brain, and for two, there was too much in the angel's eyes. Somewhere along the line, one of the other things he had failed to notice; Cas had started displaying a wide range of emotions. He was used to wise, old eyes, mildly curious, and capable of only glimpses of love, regret, and sadness. In those blue eyes he saw loneliness and a mild spark of hope that glittered the way only a human beings eyes can. Dean clasped his hands together tighter, he knew why the loneliness was there, that was his fault too. It had been months that Cas had been awake and he had been too big of a coward to be at his side when he woke up, they were best friends if nothing else, and Cas had no one else left. Bitterness swept across his once more, and Cas had too kind of a heart (especially towards him) to ever ask or point that out, he would've waited quietly and in pain forever for him to come back.
"When do you think you'll be back on your feet and flying around?" Dean asked finding something practical and solid to focus on, finally looking up. He frowned as he saw a part of Cas lock away and polite, neutral expression make its way to the angels features. It'd be dumb to share his thoughts. Besides, wouldn't Cas be fighting anyway? 'Not if you'd said yes' crept into the back of his mind. He stamped the thought down and tried not to vomit. No. He couldn't spiral now.
"I am gaining more of my power back every day. It should be only a few more days before I can be of use," Cas replied evenly.
Dean made a mental note to give himself a swift kick in the ass if he ever had the opportunity. "That's not what I meant Cas. I just now from a few trips being stuck in a hospital bed for forever is not fun. I'd think you'd wanna stretch your wings a little bit and move around. Go outside ya know, do stuff," he finished awkwardly with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, looking out of the window that was a little further away from the bed.
"Oh," Cas said and a small, very pleased smile spread over his lips as he curled his hands around the blanket in his lap. "Good." Dean looked up and felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He had never seen that expression on Cas's face. It was very shy, as if he wasn't sure if he should be doing it, and filled with… he couldn't quite place a finger on it but something that resembled unabashed happiness, and it was fucking adorable. "You are correct in that assumption. My apologies for being so strategically focused. I am eager to get out of this bed and be healed, I do not enjoy this human slow healing, or being cold. I have found that I really dislike the sensation."
Dean laughed and a little bit of pressure eased inside of him. He didn't know if it was laughing itself that did it or the fact that he hadn't completely butchered everything about Cas. It was funny how just a few words could ease the anxieties. Dean wasn't going to jinx it by saying it out loud or saying it to himself, but he trusted Cas and he had never failed him, never would.
"Yeah, there are definitely better sensations to experience. Here," he said as he went to grab a second blanket and carefully placed it over Cas tucking in the edges a little bit as he had done when Sam was a kid and sick. Their hands brushed as he did so and Castiel reacted on impulse, letting go of the sheet and taking Dean's hand into his own. Panicked green eyes shot up at him and although his body did not stop tensing up his eye soften a bit at the look in Cas's eyes. He couldn't exactly yank his hand away when the look in those eyes had begun to fill with one of the best feelings anyone could experience, safety.
"I also do not like sleeping," he admitted after they had stared at each other for awhile, "I find it unsettling and dark and sometimes I see glimpses of things that do not make sense."
"Those were dreams Cas," he said feeling unsettled once more. Angels don't sleep or dream. Castiel noticed this and gripped Dean's hand tighter.
"I am still an angel Dean, I have not fallen. I am simply 'low on battery'," he said, smiling at his ability to use a human phrase. It also pleased him that this made Dean laugh and his shoulders relax some of the tension in them. "I worry their from my..." Cas let the sentence trail off and fixed his eyes to the ceiling. The other angels. Right.
"Okay… all right," he said with a nod, "uhm, you should probably get more rest, those dark circles under your eyes need to go." A frown spread across Cas's face. 'Oh yeah,' Dean mentally gave himself a slap 'sleeping scared him.' "Hey man, you need to sleep if you wanna get to doing that stretching your wings thing. It's not like you had trouble sleeping before?"
Cas's frown deepened as he took his hand away from Dean's. "It was not the same. It did not feel like falling into a dark void and I did not have 'dreams' of co-eds and sweet things. My visions are unsettling and do not contain pleasant things."
'Nightmares,' Dean thought. Those he was very familiar with. He couldn't even begin to imagine what a few thousand years of living would give as fodder for those dreams. "You on any medication right now?"
Cas tilted his head confused as to what this had to do with their conversation, "A little bit of hydrocodone. Two little white pills, I do not recall much more."
Dean nodded, he knew a little bit about drugs, prescription or not. Bouncing around high schools as a kid had exposed him to a lot. He took out his flask, "Here. Take a few swigs, but no more. Although really with your angelic tolerance you could probably go through a bottle and still be fine. It takes a bit of the sting of those nightmares away."
Castiel took the flask and took a few drinks but did not seem convinced. He handed it back and dropped his hands back to the bed spread. Those little blue eyes looked far too lost for Dean's comfort. He walked across the infirmary, noticing the little stiffness that built its way into Cas's shoulders. "Relax buddy," he said as he grabbed a pillow and a random magazine they had lying around, and walked back to the bed. He tossed it onto the chair he had as he sat down moving the chair to where he could comfortably tilt it backwards and put his feet up. "My fine ass just needed something comfier if I'm gonna be here for awhile."
"Dean I don't quite understand."
"You said sleeping scares you right? Well I'll be right here, I can wake you up if I see the nightmares get too bad that way you can get more actual rest," he said gruffly flipping through the magazine in his hands. "We gotta get you out of bed as fast as you can, you're kinda needed around the camp so you need sleep, someone has to make sure that happens." 'Yeah, this is strategic, not you being a gigantic fruit and wanting to take care of him' Dean told his brain as he took a sip from the flask making a mental note to refill it first thing in the morning.
Castiel smiled to himself and settled into his bed and the layers of blankets. Sleeping seemed a little less scary, and the warm thrum of Dean's soul next to him swept a warmth over him that he felt no cold could penetrate.
END PT 2
A/N: Don't always expect updates this fast. Some of this is already written and I'm just dusting through it. Let me know if there's a scene or something you wanna see play out and I'll see what I can do. It's really interesting going back to one of the FIRST supernatural stories I ever wrote (if not the first, I think it might be) and getting back into it. [/Don't worry, Alibi is still being updated, just working through a writer's block.] It's also fun adding new stuff to this version that wasn't in the original. Wohoo, still no beta.
