Dean felt light, or empty, he wasn't sure. He didn't even feel real. He looked down but there was nothing. Sheer dark emptiness all around. He reached his hand out in front of him, or at least, he felt like he moved his hand, but there was no proof his hand was even there. Was it simply the darkness? He tried to look at himself, but it was like his physical form was gone. He felt panic rise in his throat, a crushing on his chest, but Dean wasn't even sure he had a chest to have the air squeezed out of.
He tried to grab a hold of himself, but he felt no sensation anywhere, no matter what he did. Everything was closing in, it was terrifying, so Dean tried to run. The space around him wasn't changing, but somehow he could tell he was moving. As he drifted, he noticed a subtle change in the void, had it gotten lighter? There was a distant flicker. A far away light just out of reach. The nothing slipped around him like water in a deep, cold pool, and Dean tried to reach the welcoming glow.
In a daze he moved closer, the light bobbing and flickering far away, gradually growing as he glided towards it. His heart felt like it was being tugged at and squeezed, if it was even there at all. It warmed as he grew closer, the tugging became stronger, but an otherworldly heat seemed to engulf him, the light was comforting somehow. It was big, small, scary and soothing all at the same time, and even though all it was was a weakly glowing figure floating in the dark, Dean felt attached to it, concerned for it.
Suddenly veins of black began to creep over the light, as if to snuff it out. Dean brushed them away with his invisible hands, swiping them at them, only to have ten times more creep back every time. He would shout at them to go away, but he had no voice in the dark realm, so all he could do was scratch and claw at the encroaching shadows. It was a futile battle and soon the light was almost completely covered, Dean cried out, but only silence escaped, and he plunged forwards, grasping blindly over the rapidly dimming form.
An enormous warmth engulfed him, the shadows flew off the entity, it looked up at him, it was vaguely human shaped, and eerily familiar. A pair of piercing blue eyes flicked open and an almost burning heat flared over his formless body. But Dean was not pained, he was mesmerised by the bright blue eyes, by the infinity of the glow and the feeling that gripped him when he embraced the figure. He tightened his grip, but as he did, the figure slipped from his grasping fingers like a wisp of glowing smoke, fading into a weak glow. Dean cried out in silence and grappled at the fading light, but the void had sucked it away, leaving him alone in the dark.
Dean's eyes flicked open, he found himself curled on the floor; face down in the shaggy carpet, a taste of something metallic and bitter on his tongue. His body tingled as feeling returned to his nerves, but he was drained and empty. He sat up, an action that made his head spin, and squinted in the darkness of the room, the lights must have cut out. The lights. The light. A light? Dean struggled to think, why was the idea of a light sticking in his mind? But the thoughts were no sooner in Dean's head then they had left it, creeping back into the furthest corners of his subconscious. There were much more pressing matters at hand.
Like Castiel.
Dean turned, the angel was still sprawled out to his side, his body moving peacefully with the rise and fall of his chest. Though, his form did not look like it should have been peaceful. His coat was tattered and his skin covered in ugly, bloody scars. Dean lifted his hand and shakily rested It on the angel's shoulder. He tightened his hollow feeling fingers around it, unable to stop himself smiling. He sighed in relief. Castiel was still alive. Torn, weak and unconscious, but miraculously alive.
Loosening his grip on the shoulder and sliding his hand up to Castiel's neck, he pressed two fingers to the clammy skin. It was slippery to touch, covered in a sheen of sickly sweat, and it felt far too hot. The comforting relief in Dean's chest was replaced with a sudden tightness and chill. A fever was not a good sign.
"Cas, can you hear me" he croaked, crawling closer to Castiel and nudging him gently on the shoulder. The angel's head lolled to one side and his jaw tightened for a second, but no further response was made.
Dean carefully pulled back the tatters of fabric that had once been Castiel's shirt off the angel's torso and ran a hand over the scarred flesh. Most of the wounds had sealed, but Dean's hand soon found a patch of fresh, sticky blood. The stab wound on Castiel's hip was still bleeding and open. It wasn't bleeding quite as much as before, and to his relief, there was no pale glow escaping the torn skin, but it was still just as deep and grotesque.
"What the hell happened to you man…" he sighed as he rose to his feet. Dean steadied himself on a set of drawers as he blinked back dark specks. He almost felt like he was going to pass out. But he couldn't do that, Castiel was still hurt, and he needed someone to care for him, tend to his wounds, keep him alive. He'd have to shake off the dizziness for now.
He flicked on the lights and searched the room for his battered first aid kit. Usually, it would be in his duffel bag, but Castiel's thrashing had thrown everything into a mess.
The shaggy cream carpet was no longer cream, the tacky wallpaper was smeared with broken black feathers and sticky blood, the bed covers were strewn all over the floor and Sam and Dean's possessions were littered amongst the mess. He dropped to his knees and started rifling through the clutter, throwing aside all sorts of random things he didn't even remember owning. Really Sam? He thought as he pulled a can of hair spray from beneath a pile of blankets, Really?
It took him a while, but eventually he found the kit and returned to Castiel's side. He clicked the box open and pulled out a clean towel. But Dean would need to get some water to wash the wound with first. He carefully stepped around Castiel's wings, which Dean noticed were looking swollen at the joints and twisted, it was a sickening, blood chilling sight. Dean couldn't imagine how much they must be hurting, but he had to deal with Castiel's more pressing injury first.
Standing in front of the sink, Dean was confronted with his image. His skin was pallid; his eyes glazed and dewy. Wow, you look like crap, thought Dean to himself, seeing how his body shivered in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face, closing his eyes and sighing. He turned the tap and felt the towel go heavy and hot in his hand. The water was stinging his fingers, but he took a while to notice. Steam was wafting from the tap and collecting on his skin before Dean finally removed the towel from the scalding flow and twisted the handle. He tried to squeeze the water from the cloth, but his hands and arms drained of energy, so he carried the dripping towel as it was over to Castiel.
The angel flinched when he began to dab at the cut, so Dean pulled his hand back. "Cas?"
Castiel's eyelids screwed up as he turned his head slightly. A violent shiver shook his body and he whimpered.
Dean felt something light and wispy brush over his bare foot, and a strange tingling sensation shot up his spine. Looking behind him, he saw Castiel's wings twitching back and forth, he was obviously trying to move them to a more comfortable position, but their jerking was making Dean cringe. "Cas, stop." Dean tightened his hand on Castiel's shoulder, the light rustle of feathers on the carpet fell to silence. "You need to relax."
Castiel whispered something indistinct and Dean removed his hand from his shoulder. He patted it gently before picking up the warm towel. "Okay, brace yourself, this might sting a little."
He pressed the cloth over the wound and squeezed some hot water from it onto Castiel's skin. Castiel gasped and Dean felt the feathers brush over his skin again. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. "Calm down Cas, it's just a little hot water" Dean could almost feel the waves of betrayal radiating off Castiel's skin.
"You said it would only sting a little" Castiel whispered hoarsely, he lifted his hand and weakly rested it on Dean's arm.
Dean pressed the towel down again, wiping it over the torn flesh. Castiel winced and tightened his grip on Dean's forearm. Dean curled the corner of his mouth into a sly smile before saying "I said it might sting a little, i never said it wouldn't sting a lot." He dabbed at the edges of the tear, the wound looked so much smaller when it was clean. "Rule one about people, Cas," He rubbed the towel into the middle of the wound, Castiel tensed, "We lie."
"But why, Dean?" the angel's voice was hurt, "Why lie?"
"Well, on the one hand it's easier", Dean folded the towel over and rubbed it over the inflamed skin surrounding the cut. "And in all honesty, if I'd told you that what I was about to do was gonna hurt like hell, would you have let me do it?"
Dean took Castiel's silence as his way of saying touché , but he was wrong, just as Dean was puling the towel from the wound, Castiel said "I would have let you, Dean", The angel's hand on his forearm slid into Dean's palm, "Because I trust you."
Castiel turned to look Dean in the eye. His face was ashen and covered in veins of crimson red blood. His eyes, half opened and glazed, shone out from beneath his shadowy brow and stared at Dean in that strange, alien, way Castiel always did. The skin on his face was stretched and thin, Dean could almost see blood pumping weakly beneath it. Castiel's mouth curled at the edges in a frail smile, and his gaze softened into something nearly human.
"You really shouldn't Cas..." Dean felt his face going hot, why was it doing that? Oh hell no, he wasn't... Castiel was making him blush, CRAP. He shifted his gaze from Castiel's stare and looked at his hand. Damnit Dean! Stop being such a teenage girl!
"Well I do, Dean. " Dean's 'chick-flick moment' senses were tingling, Cas was going to start rambling on about how he'd 'looked into Dean's soul and knew he was a good person' or some dewy-eyed crap like that, but the angel simply said "Thank you, for everything."
Castiel's hand started to slip out of Dean's, but the hunter instinctively tightened his hold.
"Don't go thanking me yet," Dean said, patting the angel's shoulder, "You've got a long way to go..." The sentence went unheard, however, as Castiel had slipped back into unconsciousness before Dean even opened his mouth. Dean sighed, squeezing Castiel's hand before turning back to the first aid kit. Dear god that was a touchy-feely moment worthy of Dr. Sexy. Dean mentally scolded himself while he dug around in the first aid kit for some antiseptic. He applied it generously with a cotton ball and covered the wound with a large gauze pad. He secured it with some ancient medical tape and wrapped a bandage around Castiel's hips, applying pressure to stop the wound from bleeding.
Stepping back from the angel, Dean suddenly felt just how tired he was. Faintness swept over him again, but Dean still struggled to stay on two feet, swaying on the spot. He stumbled over to his phone, which was still turned on, and dialled in Sam's number. There was no reply, just Sam's answering machine. Dean would've been furious if he had the energy, but as he was, he simply said, "Okay Sammy, I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but this is important." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, Castiel zapped in here last night and- he was really, like really messed up and," Dean paused again, suddenly angry.
"-and I think I've stabilised him but, but he's still not healing and I'm-" Dean could feel the irritation seeping into his voice, "I need help, okay? So just- just come back already." He flicked the phone shut and almost threw it to the ground out of spite. Where could that giant possibly be?
Dean paced around the room, half expecting an apologetic Sam to call back, begging for forgiveness, but the other half of him knew he wouldn't Things weren't exactly cordial between the two of them right now, but Dean knew he would be back. Eventually.
Dean was about to put down the phone when it vibrated In his hand. His loud ringtone made him jump, he dropped the phone in shock. Swearing profusely, Dean scrambled to pick it up from the floor, and his flicked it open a bit more violently than he should have.
"Dean?" Bobby's voice blared out of the phone. "What the hell happened?", Dean remembered how he'd put Bobby on hold before trying to stop Castiel's grace from leaking out of him, Bobby must have waited for hours.
"I think I passed out or something Bobby, but I don't really remember" Crap thought Dean, Here comes the lecture.
But on the other end, Bobby just sighed, "Well if you're calling, you're okay. What about your angel?"
'Your Angel?' What the hell was he implying? Dean shuffled uncomfortably on the spot before saying, a little too quickly, "Not bleeding to death, but he's not much better." Dean looked back down on Castiel, it was striking just how fragile he looked.
"Are his wings still there?"
"Yeah, big, black and bloody as ever." Dean had to admit that they were pretty awesome, even as twisted as they were. He wondered what they looked like in action, it must be pretty damn cool having wings. "Still have no clue how I'm gonna fix them," Dean chuckled, "You think I could take him to a vet and tell them he's some kind of exotic parrot?"
Bobby laughed heartily, "Well if you do, record the poor sap's reaction, will ya?" It took him a while to compose himself, "Though you probably should google a bit of basic bird first aid, he sounds like he needs it."
"Noted," Dean sat down on the corner of his bed, " I'll call you back later, Bobby"
"Sure, you just make sure you get some shut-eye"
"Amen to that", Dean fell back on the bed, "Good night I guess, or good 'whatever the hell the time is'…"
Dean hung up and closed his eyes. Sleep came instantly, and soon he was lying on the bed, breathing deeply and peacefully, his mind filling again with the bizarre dream of the night before.