PART TWO
"Fine… can I go see him now?"
"Yes, he is awake at this time."
"Yeah ok…"
"Dean… I'm sorry. I really am."
"I'm sorry too…"
Sam listened to the banter as he stared out of the waiting room window, chewing his lower lip fervently. The moment he heard the confirmation to go and see Castiel, he turned and nodded to the doctor, smiling slightly. The doctor –he believed his name was Chaiver- nodded to the younger Winchester before laying a hand on Dean's shoulder and leaving the room quickly.
Dean stared at the floor in front of him for a moment, before taking a shaky breath. Sam watched his older brother bury his face in his hands, his shoulders slumped in defeat. No matter how old anyone was, it was still a sight to behold, seeing one's older sibling, the one who was supposed to be so sure of life… look so lost.
Sam sat down next to Dean, rubbing soothing circles into his back, eyes locked on the sandy head next to him.
After a few moments, Dean finally looked up at Sam, his eyes wide with shock. "He's… God, Sam. He's going to die…" he managed to croak finally, voice breaking halfway through the sentence.
Sam sighed, pulling his older brother into a gentle hug. "I know, man… Dean. I'm sorry." He looked to the opposing wall, trying desperately to ward off his own frustrations for Dean's sake. Dean needed support right now, and if his own emotions got in the way, Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
Dean took a quaky breath, resting his forehead in his palms. "I can't lose him…"
Sam stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to answer that statement. This was the first time he had heard Dean openly admit that he was scared of being alone; the first time he had admitted that he couldn't do this on his own. It was then Sam realized exactly how much in love his older brother was with what they still considered his angel.
"Dean… come on. He's probably waiting for you…" Sam managed to choke out.
A slight pause, and Dean was on his feet, striding over to the door. Sam followed, the both of them heading towards the room the hospital staff had deposited Castiel in.
The two brothers stopped right in front of the room, steeling themselves. The ward was filled with the stench of illness and despair, nearly crushing the two of them where they stood. Never in a million years did the two of them even think that Castiel would end up in a place such as this.
It was Sam who moved first. He reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open before them, and the younger Winchester looked to Dean. "Go on…"
Dean swallowed hard and entered the room, ready to see a frightening sight of machines, tubes and wires, hooking his lover up like some deranged, cancer stricken creation of Dr. Chaiver's. He was slightly relieved that that was not the sight that met him.
Castiel was lying on his side in the hospital bed; having been stripped from his soiled clothing, the pristine white blankets pulled up to his chest as he lay there. There were wires hooked up to him and IV's indeed, but nothing as horrifying as Dean had expected. He did not expect to see the oxygen line that fed life giving air, hooked up to Castiel's face, the sides of his nose slightly bruised where the nurses had run the line through his nostrils.
Dean shivered at the sight. This almost innocent scene made him sick with rage. To look at Castiel, one could hardly tell that a fatal disease was slowly ravaging his body, eating him away from the inside. Aside from the slightly yellowed skin, Castiel looked as if he mere dozed.
"Cas?" Dean said tentatively, walking over to the bed. He looked back at Sam, who waved him on, leaning his hip against the far counter to watch quietly. This wasn't his time. Dean needed every moment he could get with Castiel.
Cas stirred slightly, opening his eyes and looking up to the sound of his disturbance. He blinked slowly, eyes slightly dilated from the morphine drip the doctor had hooked him up to. "D-Dean…" he slurred, shifting slightly on the hospital bed. "I-I broke the dishes, I'm sorry."
Dean gave a half-hearted laugh, his heart wrenching in his chest. "Don't worry about it, they were ugly anyway…" he joked weakly, sitting down next to his partner. He reached out and took Cas' hand in his, running his thumb gently over the cold knuckles of his partner's hand.
They sat like that for the longest time, none of them saying a word. After a few awkward moments, Sam excused himself and left his older brother with his lover, striding out into the hallway to occupy himself .
Cas shifted again, moving to sit up. Dean sighed, reaching out to steady him as Cas turned over onto his back and sat up weakly. A terrible silence hung in the air between them, broken only by the meager beeps from heart monitors and drips.
Minutes crawled by, and finally the ex-angel turned his head drunkenly to look at Dean, his yellowed eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting. "Dean… I'm going to die aren't I?" He asked in such a pathetic voice, that Dean found himself swallowing his despair with difficulty, looking up at Cas.
"The doctor said that we could transfer you to a cancer clinic out of state." He offered unhelpfully, evading the response as best as he could. But the knowing look on his lover's face broke him, and he looked down at his feet with a quaking breath, nodding once. "If we move you, there's a better chance you'll survive…"
Cas' hand tightened around Dean's, causing the hunter to look up at him quizzically. There was a look of pure determination on Castiel's face that Dean recognized instantly. His old sense of pride was strong in his tired eyes, and Castiel shook his head.
"No Dean. I do not want to go to a clinic to live out the rest of my days. If I am going to die… I'd rather die in my own home, not amongst strangers."
Dean stared at Cas with utter adoration in his eyes. He smiled at Cas, his heart heavy. But this was no time for his own emotions. Castiel needed him to stay strong. With a sigh, Dean leaned over and kissed Cas gently, running his fingertips across the pale skin of his lover's face. "Ok Cas…"
Dean woke one morning, feeling groggy and strained. Another long night of restless sleep had Dean on edge once again. He sat up, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face before turning to look at the sleeping form of his lover, curled uncomfortably under the blankets next to him.
It had taken long hours of debate before Dr. Chaiver finally released Castiel from his care. He had been reluctant, at best, but finally swayed to the dying man's wishes. A few days after his admittance to the hospital, Chaiver released him from his care with a prescription and a promise on Dean's part that if Castiel's condition became unmanageable, he would return him to the hospital.
Dean swore to this and soon Castiel had signed the forms and was on his way. He had refused the proffered wheelchair and stumbled from the hospital, leaning heavily on Dean's side as they walked. He had still been heavily drugged on morphine, the painkillers warping his sense of balance and coherency. It became clear that even as a fallen angel, Cas did not take well to the drugs, but they became a necessary part of his day.
Chaiver had warned Dean about the pain, but it wasn't anything the hunter had expected. Abdominal pain was a constant in Castiel's life from then on, ranging anywhere from a dull ache to raging agony that had him bedridden for hours. The pains would wrack his abdomen and radiate to his back on his worst spells, nearly crippling him. Of course, Castiel had his good days and bad days. It was all part of their new life cycle, and Dean was determined to do what he could to help his lover before…
Dean shook his head violently, hurrying into the bathroom. He splashed ice cold water on his face, trying to ward of his now daily panic over Castiel's condition. Dean looked up at himself in the mirror, staring intently at the dark circles under his eyes. He looked weary, but his appearance was nothing compared to the ex-angel's.
Castiel grew gaunt and drawn, weight peeling off of him in an unnaturally quick pace. It was rare to find him voluntarily eating, but he managed to choke down the special diet Chaiver had ordered for him. It was bland, simple, but the only food he could really keep down at all. And even then, a week's supply would last the man nearly a month.
Dean shivered, thinking about the prone figure in the next room. Jaundice discolored the once pale, supple skin, his eyes a sickly shade. It was rather frightening to behold; every venture outside of the home that Castiel would partake in on his good days left people staring, giving the sick man a wide berth incase whatever illness he had was violently contagious. It made Dean sick with rage; how could people be so cold and cruel to a man who was clearly suffering? During these ventures, Dean always made sure to make it well known to the general public that no matter what, their opinion on a dying man didn't matter, PDA or not.
Shaking himself from this revere, Dean left the bathroom, padding quietly across the carpet to Cas' side of the bed. There, on the side table, lay the syringe and vile of prescription morphine. He would let Cas sleep as long as he needed to, but first he needed him to sit up.
"Cas… babe, come on. You need your meds…" he said quietly, gently shaking the ex-angel's shoulder. Cas groaned slightly in his sleep, shifting weakly. Dean sighed. "Come on, Cas. Just long enough for your shot then you can go back to sleep…"
Cas finally opened his eyes, blinking drowsily up at Dean. He shifted before slowing sitting up, wincing in pain that already throbbed in his stomach and mid back. Dean sighed. This was going to be one of Cas' bad days, he was sure of it.
Once he was seated upright, Cas sat quietly, his head hanging weakly as he shivered in pain. He made no movements, paying no attention as Dean unsheathed the new needle and fitted it to the syringe. Then Dean inserted the needle into the vile of morphine and drew the prescription amount before recapping the needle for now.
"Ok, Cas… arms up." Dean said to the half-dazed man, tugging on the bottom of Castiel's t-shirt. The ex-angel complied, raising his arms gently as Dean pull the shirt off of him. Depositing the soft cloth to the side, Dean reached up and ran gentle fingers over Castiel's chest, tugging gently at the bandage on his right side just below his collarbone. Underneath the massive white bandage was a small plastic tube with one end exposed and the rest fitted under his skin to the vein; having been surgically inserted into his body before he had been released, the catheter was a permanent part of Castiel's life now.
Catheter exposed, Dean then unsheathed the needle and inserted it into the open end, injecting Castiel's first dose. He winched, hearing Cas groan as the drugs flooded his system. "I know you hate this, Cas, but it's gotta be done…"
Cas didn't reply, merely nodded as Dean quickly replaced the bandage over the open ended catheter in his flesh and depositing the screw-top needle into the biohazard bin next to the bed. Job finished, Dean sat back on his haunches, smiling at the man with feigned reassurance.
"You wanna try and eat something?" Dean offered, placing his hands on Castiel's knees. The ex-angel simply shook his head, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. Dean sighed; of course he wouldn't.
"Alright. Well, Cas, you can go back to sleep now. I'll wake you up later, but when I do you have to try and eat something, ok?"
Cas nodded in response, curling back up underneath the blankets, shirtless. Dean sighed and leaned over, pressing a kiss to the exposed temple before running a gentle hand down Cas' back. Fingertips met raised bumps of his spine, and Dean sighed, tucking him back under the soft blankets gently. It was going to be a long day already. Good thing it was Saturday. He didn't really want to leave the man alone if he was going to be going through one of his bad spells that day.
Of course, the boss wasn't too keen on Dean's attendance of late. The hunter tried to keep it on the down low, but when his work day started shortening, and on certain occasions, called off completely, the manager of the garage was beginning to lose his patience.
Fuck him, Dean though, making his way silently to the kitchen. If he didn't care about what was going on in Dean's life, then he didn't care about his boss' temper either. Dean flipped the coffeepot on and reached for the refrigerator handle to pull out the egg carton, when something caught his eye. There was a box sitting next to the door that he didn't remember.
Making his way over as if the box held some sort of explosive, Dean picked it up gently and placed it on the table. He slashed the tape that was thrown haphazardly over the top, sealing it and pulled the flaps apart. He didn't expect what he saw.
Inside the box was a brand new digital camera, a healthy supply of memory cards and photo albums. Confused, Dean lifted the items from inside the box and noticed a small piece of paper taped to one of the photo books. The hand writing was unmistakable:
Use these items wisely. They'll come in handy later, especially for you, Dean. And if Cas seems to be a little camera shy, then sneak the pictures; I know you have some stealth left in you. ;-)
Sammy
Dean smiled, folding the paper and tucking it into the back of the photo album it had come from. "Sam, you sly dog, you…" he mumbled, grinning brightly. Leave it to Samantha to think of the terribly sentimental plans. But this time… Dean was grateful for his younger brother's soft heart.
He flipped the camera on and saw the very first picture on the review screen. It was a picture of the front of their house. Dean blinked, opening the album labeled "Book One" and saw that picture already printed out and fitted into the first slot.
Dean blinked hard, warding off the swell of emotions as he reached for a Sharpie, and uncapped it. His first entry in the book of Memories was labeled as such:
Our First Home.
As the months ticked by, the memory cards filled to the brim with each opportunity Dean had to snap a picture for his Memory book. Dean and Cas kissing (MySpace-esque, to be sure but Dean liked that one particularly). Cas sitting outside on the back porch in the sunset. Dean and Cas at the park (on one of his good days). The list grew with each passing day, the hunter documenting every moment he could.
One of Dean's particular favorites in the album was one of the photos snapped at the park. That particular day had gone very well for Castiel. After his morning dose, he had actually fared relatively well. He woke on his own and found Dean sitting in the kitchen staring at the wall absentmindedly. Castiel had snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, careful not to bump the catheter in his chest and pressed a little kiss to the back of Dean's ear. "Dean. I'd like to go to the park today."
Dean was elated. He immediately abandoned his coffee and dressed quickly, happy to see Cas take an initiative and actually want to go out that day; even if it was only for a little while.
The drive was mostly uneventful, windows rolled down to allow the warm breeze inside the car. Dean thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, the slightly windswept black locks of his partner's hair framing his sickly face almost perfectly. He didn't care how grotesque others thought his sallow appearance was. Castiel was and always would be his shining angel.
At the park, the two sat by the pond together, fingers laced together in the grass as Castiel leaned his head against Dean's shoulder, smiling slightly. The sun's warmth spread over his cold skin, making him feel better than he had in a long time… even if it was only temporary.
Dean's joy grew when the proffered ice cream by the park vendor was accepted by Castiel. Dean took his own cone and nibbled quietly, watching Castiel happily as the ex-angel savored the taste of the cold ice cream. He wasn't sure if it would make him sick later, but it must have been a step in the right direction.
After a few slow bites, Castiel had had enough and offered the remainder of his chocolate treat to Dean, licking the sticky residue from his fingers. "I shall miss this…" he said quietly, making the knot growing in Dean's stomach wrench painfully.
Before the waterworks could form, however, a curious thing happened. A small grey squirrel that was hardly bigger than Dean's hand approached the two of them, sitting on its haunches as it chattered quietly to them head cocked in a very Castiel-esque manner. The ex-angel smiled and took the empty cone from his confused lover and began breaking pieces of soggy shell off in his hand.
Clicking his tongue slightly, Castiel urged the squirrel closer, smiling slightly. When the squirrel finally made contact, the little creature took a piece of cone in his hand tentatively and nibbled before its tail flicked happily at the sugary taste. It then ate graciously from Cas' hand, tail tickling the soft flesh of the man's under-wrist, making him chuckle slightly.
It was amazing. Dean immediately whipped out the camera and snapped some photos of this event, knowing exactly where it would go in the Memory book. "Wow, Cas. That squirrel really likes you." He laughed, watching the glowing expression on Castiel's face practically light up the area.
Cas nodded, looking up at Dean with a rare grin on his face as the squirrel finally finished its treat and scampered off. Dropping his hand to the side, he leaned back against Dean, nuzzling into his arms quietly.
Dean couldn't help the thoughts that ran through his mind then. Even during such a hard time for the two of them, small miracles were present, and Dean welcomed them happily. For the briefest of times, life was perfect again.
