Out of the Lake and Into My Arms
Chapter 2: The Discovery
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel (Dean/Castiel)
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Mild language, angst
Castiel didn't hear Dean at first. At least, not until Dean had him in his arms and was dragging him back to shore.
Then he could hear, alright.
"Cas! Cas, oh my God, you're alive-" Dean pulled Castiel away from the water as gently as he could and laid him on the shore with Castiel's head cradled in Dean's arms. "Cas, please, please don't move, you'll hurt yourself more- SAM!" Dean turned his head as he shouted for his brother desperately. Castiel stared at Dean confusedly- they thought he was dead. How long had he been gone? Castiel tried to sit up and fell back into Dean in a haze of pain.
"No, dammit, don't move!" Castiel obliged- moving hurt, a lot. "Cas, can you hear me? Cas, please, say something," Dean pleaded with him. Dean was… concerned? Worried? Yes. Worried. Dean was worried about Castiel's wellbeing. The thought gave Castiel a strange, fluttery feeling- what was that? "Cas," Dean snapped, "Say something, dammit!"
"…Dean." Dean let out something like a laugh and a sob and held Castiel close to his chest. It was… comforting. Warm and sturdy. More than that, it felt right- like this is where Castiel was meant to be. Right now, though, Dean was shaking violently- was Dean crying?
"Dean!" Castiel heard something vaguely like a large animal running through a forest, then- "I heard an explosion or something, then splashing, and you yelled my name and- is that Cas?" Castiel caught Sam's voice through the layers of Dean's clothing and the fog in his own head and struggled to reach out to Sam. He was met by a searing pain in his torso.
"Don't move!" Dean turned to Sam. "Help me!"
Each brother took one of the angel's arms and draped it over their shoulders. This hurt much more than laying on the ground. Castiel felt Dean grip his hand tightly. "We're going to get you out of here. You'll be fine," Dean insisted.
"Dean," Castiel groaned painfully. The only response he got was Dean's hand tightening around his own, as if to hold him on this plane of existence.
Castiel was slipping away. He began to miss whole gaps of time. From being carried by the Winchesters, to laying across the backseat of the Impala where Dean was still holding his hand and telling him "you will not die on me you son of a bitch", to being wheeled into a blinding white room with people in masks that weren't Dean.
And then blackness.
Dean paced the hospital waiting room restlessly, barely in control of himself. Every instinct screamed at him to go be with Cas NOW, don't let him be alone, not with all those people, he'll be scared and alone…
"Dean," Sam said quietly. Dean ignored him and went for another turn around the waiting room. "Dean," Sam insisted.
"WHAT, Sam?" Dean whirled to face Sam, who shrunk back a bit at this display of raw emotion from his brother. Dean wasn't one to show it, usually.
Sam took a deep breath. "You're not doing Cas any good, wearing yourself out like this. Sit down."
"Go to hell, Sam."
The retort, while swift and expected, still hurt more than was strictly necessary. "Already have been," Sam reminded Dean.
Dean paused in his pacing. "Then go fuck yourself with a rusty butter knife. I don't really care either way." Sam stared at Dean, shocked, and- while he hated himself for admitting it- slightly impressed.
Dean hadn't even had time to resume pacing when a doctor pushed open the doors to surgery. Dean's eyes widened in fright, and he moved toward the doctor, but stopped himself at the last second.
The doctor sighed as he removed his plastic gloves, which, Sam noticed, were covered in blood- Cas' blood. "Your friend will be fine… eventually. I have a few questions for you two."
Dean didn't hear anything past that. He visibly deflated as he let his breath out in relief. Cas will be fine. Time wasn't an issue, as long as Cas would be okay. Nothing else mattered. Dean was vaguely aware of Sam telling the doctor about themselves and Cas- well, the best he could, anyway. New names, new identities. He kept their first names the same- people had heard them use their names here- but there were new last names. Dean registered that he was now Dean Smith, and Sam was his half-brother Sam Swesson, and Cas was now Castiel… Harding. It fit, somehow. And their new last names sounded familiar, for some reason. He'd figure it out later.
"Can I see him?" Dean interrupted. Sam had been telling the doctor about how he knew Cas from Stanford, where they were pre-law majors (complete bullshit- Cas would be a terrible lawyer). "Please. I just… have to know he's okay. I have to see it."
"Well, it's past visiting hours, son, and we really can't allow you- but in light of the circumstances," the doctor backpedaled hurriedly, taking in Dean's expression, "I can give you fifteen minutes, tops."
Dean relaxed. "Thank you." Dean turned toward surgery, ignoring the surprised look on Sam's face- Dean didn't apologize to anyone, ever. It took Dean less than 10 seconds to reach the door to Cas' recovery room- number 666. Dean only had time to think exactly how ironic that was before he realized he was on a time schedule and he had to see Cas now.
Dean pushed open the door.
"So, son, you said… Castiel Harding, correct?"
"Yes sir." People in the hospital had heard Sam and Dean- well, Dean, mostly- call each other and Cas by their names. For some reason, the names "Smith" and "Swesson" came to mind for Dean and himself. They seemed familiar. Cas, though- Cas never had a last name, so that one was hard. Sam had quickly run through last names and chose "Harding" because it had a nice ring to it- Castiel Harding. Named after the Angel of Thursday and a president. Hah.
"I've still got questions, Sam," the doctor said, briefly glancing up.
"Of course, sir." The Doctor continued writing on his clipboard before Sam got the nerve to ask: "Um, Dr. Ripkee, can you tell me… what happened to Cas? Like, what's his condition, I guess you could say?"
"Well…" Ripkee flipped over a couple sheets on his clipboard. "Broken ribs, at least 5- we didn't want to put him in the x-ray in this state. One of them pierced his lung, which, by the way, was completely water-logged. Broken ankle, sprained wrist, lots of minor cuts and bruises, but the most alarming thing- it looked like something had forced its way out of his stomach." Sam swallowed nervously. So the Leviathan had nearly killed Cas, and they left him there, assuming he was dead. What kind of friends were they? "Tissues were completely torn apart," Ripkee continued, oblivious to Sam's reaction. "Massive blood loss. Between you and me," Ripkee said, lowering his voice and leaning forward, "he shouldn't even be alive. That amount of blood loss, combined with being dumped in a lake? Jesus." Ripkee sat back tiredly. "How did you say you found him again?"
"Well… You know, we were all concerned when he went missing a couple months ago, and it was the last place they'd seen him, the lake, I mean. And the police weren't doing anything, or if they were it wasn't working, so we went down to the lake ourselves," Sam said carefully. "I went back to the car to get my coat- it was colder than I thought- and I heard Dean yelling for me, so I went back and he was dripping wet and he had Cas, said he saw him floating on the lake." This was close enough to truth. Avoiding all mention of wings, angels, Leviathans, and Purgatory was good. Sam had already been in a mental hospital once and wasn't eager to try it again.
"Mm." Ripkee glanced over his glasses. "Was I correct in assuming that your brother and your friend are…?"
"Partners. Yeah." Well, not technically, but… close enough. "Me and Cas met up after finishing undergrad stuff and he met Dean at my house and it all basically went from there."
"Yes. Well, just remember, 15 minutes, that's it," Ripkee said, standing.
"Yes sir," Sam said easily. They'd need to leave before the feds got there anyway.
"And, Sam," Ripkee said, pausing at the door, "take care of him. Your brother, I mean."
"Of course." It wouldn't be the first time anyway.