Ringing.
High, clear and sharp.
Blaring over everything.
A sound like a ship moving through water, a crashing static crawled under the piercing tone.
Crashing heaves of sound became more crisp, varied in pitch. One body of noise became two, then three, then four, then five. A rumbling crackle split from closer, acute sounds. Beeping. There was a definite high beeping rearing its head in the muffled collection of sound. Something almost like a voice, or voices, began to blur into focus, one higher, panicked, others lower, yet frantic.
Who are they The hunter's muddled brain had gathered itself to think that one thought. Everything was black and numb, the sounds around him pounded into him in a confused blare. What's happening?
Random words were processed by his brain, words like critical, fast, fading. What was critical? What needed to happen fast? What was fading? Who was fading? Am I fading?
Only as his shaken brain put itself back together did each voice, each word take a personality. Most of them were foreign to him, but one was familiar. Sammy
With his brother's voice as a starting point, His memories slid back into place, rolling together in a messy way. A scared voice, a choking smoke, an intense heat, a friend. A mangled, bloody, dying friend.
Cas
Cas was critical
Cas needed help fast
Cas was fading
The numbness crept away, his hearing sharpened, his head banished that confused haze. He channelled all of his strength to his lips, parting them to force a strangled croak from his suddenly burning throat.
"Cas-" The voices around him exclaimed, something, someone? touched his shoulder, causing a wave of searing pain to sweep over his skin. "Ah-", even simple sounds were excruciating. "Where-".
He needed to see Castiel, see he was alright. But the effort it took to dredge the words out of his chest slammed into his brain like cinder blocks.
"Calm down honey, sleep" A sickly sweet female voice crooned to him, something pricked his skin. "Just sleep."
"Shut up!" He was trying to sound firm, trying to scare the woman away from him, but his voice was weak, sounding fearful, not fear inducing. "Cas-"Pushing feebly against the hands now holding him in place, Dean tore his eyelids apart.
It was so white. so painfully white. Pain licked through his eyes at the sheer brightness of the tiny room. Room? Ambulance. That's what the rumble was. It was tightly packed and stank of antiseptic and blood.
A crowd of people to his left surrounded a rectangle of space, hiding whatever it was from Dean's speckled sight. A person, young, brunette, dressed in simple light blue pyjama like clothes turned to face him. Her hands, gloved and bloody, held a scalpel. She met Dean's eyes for a fraction of a second before shouting something to the others.
The group pulsed, moving together like a strange amoeba. Each figure blurred into the next in an eerie, scary way. Faces melded into other faces, clothing blurred into other clothing. It was like his world was suddenly transforming into a twisted, Salvador Dali painting.
Lights snaked, he felt light and heavy headed. Eyelids drooped shut, but not fast enough to miss the warped crowd shift to one side, not fast enough to miss that splatter of red that was hiding behind them.
That splatter of red mixed with slithers of torn skin, with fragments of unrecognizable fabric, with ribbons of silver light.
And a pair of shining blue eyes.
Fire.
Castiel.
Ambulance.
Castiel.
Blue.
Castiel.
Cold.
Castiel.
Cas.
"Cas!"
Dean's eyes flung themselves open to meet a whitewashed ceiling. A tangy, chemical reek flowed into his lungs with a sharp breath. Sharp being the key word as something jabbed into his chest as he forced the air into his lungs. Shit Dean exhaled slowly and painfully. Broken ribs, well fuck me...
As his senses sharpened, Dean realised that a chest full of broken bones wasn't his only problem. His entire body seethed with a hot pain. Literally every inch of skin as burning, stinging, screaming. The hunter was used to pain, hell, his life revolved around it, but this, this agonizing aching, was so much more than he was used to. His eyes welled up and his cheeks stung as salty tears rolled down them and onto his bed sheets. Stop fucking cryi- mother of fuck- Dean nearly swore when the tears found their way into a cut in his cheek, sending scorching jolts through his nerves. He tried to turn his face, shake the water out of the crack in his skin, but a tight brace on his neck held his head firmly in place. Whoop-dee fucking doo, a sprained neck, lucky me.
He then decided that since movement was futile, his next best option was to get somebody's attention.
"Hey!" A husky voice managed to sneak its way past the tubes taped to his mouth. "Sammy?"
A nasally snort and a shuffling sound emanated from somewhere to Dean's right.
"Morning princess" Dean croaked, his lips turning up at the corners in a sly smile.
"Dean?" Sam leaned into Dean's line of vision, his hair tousled, sticking up comically on one side.
"Live and in the flesh, bitch." Not that his flesh really felt much like flesh...
"No thanks to your stupid ass rescue attempt, jerk." A bit of relief glimmered in Sam's eyes. Obviously if Dean was trying to be funny, he wasn't too fucked up. "You nearly killed yourself."
Attempt? A seed of anxiety planted itself in Dean's aching chest. But Cas was in the ambulance, right? "Where is he?" Dean tried to make himself sound casual, but a knowing look from his little brother told him he'd failed epically.
"ICU"
"How bad is it?" Dean was relieved that Sam didn't say the morgue or avoid the question, but being in the Intensive Care Unit was never, ever good.
"They didn't say much, but he looked like he'd been put through a wood chipper" Sam turned to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a slightly shaky hand. "I think they were operating on him" He looked at Dean apologetically, as if this was his fault somehow.
"Well they better fix him up, or so help me..." He clenched his fist and tried to sit up, a decision he regretted instantly.
"Whoa there-" His brother's hand pressed him gently, yet firmly back into the mattress. "I'm sure they're doing their best, just calm down and rest, Dean."
Dean's jaw twitched and he exhaled sharply. Fucking damn it His ribs complained at the sudden movement by digging into his lungs. "I'm fine, Sam" He hid his doubt in a stoic tone, "And Cas will be too, he's tougher than he looks..."
Sam gave him a 'whatever gets you through the day' kind of look and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Dean knew he was giving himself a false sense of security, but he didn't want to ponder on the thought of Castiel dying.
A stiff silence took hold of the room as Dean stared at the ceiling, trying not to think, and Sam leaned back into the stiff , faux-leather seat by Dean's bedside. It was broken, however, but an all to familiar whip of wind.
"Cas?" Said Dean hopefully, jerking back into attention.
"Close, but no cigar, darling." The smooth, British accent told Dean that, no, Cas hadn't recovered suddenly and teleported to his bedside, but that Balthazar had decided to pay a visit. "How's the..." Dean assumed the angel was making some kind of hand gesture in the silence. Balthazar wasn't close enough to Dean to be seen, "Well, everything?"
"Shitty."
"Pardon your French, Winchester" there was a hint of a smile in Balthazar's voice, "You do look quite..." Another hand gesture, "for lack of a better word, well done."
Dean snorted, despite his occasional (well, more than occasional) douche-bagginess, Balthazar could make some funny remarks. Even Dean had to admit that. "Mind coming over to where I can see you, asshat?" Again, Dean tried to feign nonchalance or humour, but it was impossible for a voice as croaky as his to sound casual.
"Oh, asshat, sheer class, Dean." Said the angel sarcastically as he wandered over to Dean's bedside, leaning over him and smiling in his usual smirk.
"I do try."
"Antics aside," Balthazar shot a quick glance at Sam, who looked a bit stunned at the angel's sudden appearance. "I came here to thank you."
"Well that's a change" Dean raised an eyebrow, not that there was much eyebrow left, "For what?"
"For saving my imbecile of a brother," Strangely, there was an earnest tone in his voice, he really meant it. "Cassy can be a real idiot sometimes, especially recently..."
"Recently?" What was Cas doing?
Balthazar waved his hand dismissively, "It's nothing, never mind." the remorse was gone, an unfamiliar gentle tone took over, "Anyway, i checked in on him, he's pretty... torn up to put it lightly."
"But is he okay?"
"Depends what you consider okay," He slumped onto a chair next to Sam. "He's still alive."
Dean sighed.
"But his grace is all but vanished." Balthazar hooked one leg over the other and leaned his elbow on his knee. " So he'll heal at a human rate, which, considering his injuries, means he'll be in a coma for months."
Crap. "Wait, so you can't even heal him?"
"You really are thick," Balthazar's jaw twitched, "If I could, I would have, but unfortunately for him, Castiel is the best healer in the family, not me."
"So you can't do.. anything?"
"I wouldn't say that, I can heal you."
"Why not Cas?"
"Angels are complicated, consider it like this." Balthazar raised one hand, " In comparison to him, your injuries are like grazed knees, something a five year old can deal with" He raised the other hand. "But Cassy, well, his wounds are like leukemia, something even trained professionals can't get rid of."
Something in Dean's chest tightened. "Is he going to be... shredded like that... forever?"
Balthazar scoffed. "Of course not, he'll heal up eventually, but he'll be scarred, definitely." Balthazar cocked his head and rested it on his palm. "Pity, his vessel was rather nice."
"hmm?" Sam made Dean jump after being silent for so long. The elder Winchester was taking a long sip from a glass of water.
"Well, not as heart stopping as mine, but definitely handsome." the angel looked from Sam to Dean "Not that you need me to tell you that, eh Dean?" then the bastard winked.
Sam spluttered, nearly choking on the water as he chuckled. Dean froze up and was instantly grateful for the burns on his face, they were a pretty effective cover for the deep blush that flushed into his cheeks. He wanted to tell Balthazar to shut his pie hole, but his mouth was dry and his tongue was kind of stuck in place.
Something devilish glinted in Balthazar's eyes and he thumped a hand on Dean's shoulder. He snickered when Dean hissed at the contact.
"Well then Winchesters," Balthazar squeezed Dean's shoulder, which surprisingly, was no longer hurting. "I'll have to be off, I'm late for an appointment with a few dozen burlesque dancers."
"Hey wait, didn't you say you were going to heal Dean?"
"I did, and I have."
Same gave Dean a quick once-over, " Well he doesn't look better."
Dean would tell Sam that he actually was feeling a bit less like Death incarnate, but he was still tongue-tied over Balthazar's comment.
"The spell speeds up the healing process, I can't make the problem vanish like dear old Cassy." He dramatically clutched his chest and screwed up his face in a very theatrical expression of despair, "Oh, my pride!"
Both brother's laughed, a rare occurence, and Balthazar grinned. Then with the sound of flapping wings, he was gone.
A/N: hey guys, sorry for the ridiculous wait, and this is such a short chapter too :L , I've been having a lot of technical difficulties with getting this written, my laptops really acting up so I can only write this when I have access to a monitor or the home computer.
But anyway, if anyone still keep track of this and is still reading this, then thank you so much! I love all of you, and if you have any feedback at all, reviews are welcome, I friggin' love getting feedback, good or bad~! Especially since this is the first time I've tried writing Balthazar and Sam, please tell me if I haven't written them right.