"Cas?" Dean opened the door to the spare bedroom next to Sam's room with a small squeak. He peered inside: just as he'd suspected, he'd needed to sleep. Cas hadn't even climbed under the covers as he was curled around this egg thing, his black hair spilling onto the mattress as his chest rose and fell shallowly.
Dean already saw some of the filth rubbing and smudging off onto the covers. Oh, well. He'd need to do laundry sooner or later, and Cas couldn't just angel-zap himself clean anymore. Dean swallowed as he remembered. God, things were going to be so different now. He felt a kind of achy feeling when he came to that realization.
He closed the door and stepped a few feet over to Sam's door. He felt his heart squeeze as he heard a very wet coughing coming from inside. Dean felt he had a lot on his shoulders to take care of these two men, his brother and his best friend. At least they were both here, in the same house. Didn't mean his job was going to be any easier.
"Sammy?" He called out, quickly opening the door and striding to his bedside.
His face was still pale white with an unhealthy yellow, wan look to it, and he had purple smears under his eyes and a flush of veiny violet on his sharp cheekbones and concave cheeks. Believe it or not, he looked a little bit better than "that day".
"Hey Dean," Sam choked out, forcing a smile as he coughed into a rag. Dean reached out and had to push all that damp hair off his face in order to feel his forehead. It felt like his fever had gone down a little. That was good.
"I swear to God I'll give you a buzzcut." Dean mumbled, as Sam's eyes flutttered closed at the touch of his cold hand.
"You wouldn't have to if you just put Nair in my shampoo again," Sam joked, but his voice was strained. Dean let out a huff of air, a sad excuse for a laugh, and dampened a different rag in a little bowl of water by his bedside, pushing aside those long brown hairs again and dabbing his forehead, clearing away the sweat that was beading on his cheeks and nose and chin.
"So, you found Cas." Sam spoke up quietly, his vocal chords sounding a little worse for wear.
Dean took the flask of cold water from his pocket and held it up to Sam's pale, cracked lips. "Drink," He commanded, tipping it back slightly as Sam swallowed slowly. Dean knew it hurt his throat to drink water but he didn't care, he'd been making him do it every hour or so. He needed to be hydrated if he was going to start healing.
He finally took the flask away and rummaged around for another thing in his pocket. "Yeah," He all but grunted. "I found 'im."
"Well, is he okay?" Sam rasped, concerned.
"I guess so. He's sleeping." Dean tried to dismiss it. Sam shouldn't be worrying about anything but himself right now.
Sam made a face as Dean brought out a little baggy of many different pills. "Hurts."
"C'mon, Sammy. We discussed this. You gotta take 'em."
He continued to frown a little. "'Kay." He said quietly, his mouth peeking open just a little. Dean gave him anything he could think of, really. Iron supplements (I mean, he lost quite a lot of blood injecting into Crowley, right?), One-a-day Men's, some painkillers, Vitamin D (who knew what causes scurvy?).
"Can Cas come in here? When he wakes up?" Sam asked meekly, his eyelids slipping closed as he gripped the top of the covers. Sam had been sleeping a lot himself these days, healing was taking a lot out of him.
"Sure." Dean said, straightening up again. "Sure, I'll send 'im in. I don't know if he'll want to answer your questions, though." He lowered his eyes, just staring at the prints on the quilt spread over Sam. "He hasn't said a word to me yet."
Dean sure as hell didn't want to see Crowley, locked away with those cursed handcuffs, and have him curse him out and beg to be released, screaming he'd changed. No thanks.
Instead, he put the newspaper on Sam's bedside table, he left the flask in case he got thirsty, and quietly peeked into Cas's room. He was still in a deep sleep, hugging that little egg tight. Dean quietly pulled up a chair, wincing as it scraped along the floor.
The room was stuffy and Cas smelled bad, like soil and body odor, but Dean didn't mind. He kind of got where Cas was coming from when he watched him, curled up like a cat: knowing he wasn't in any danger, that he was just here, safe and sound, peacefully-
Cas gasped and his eyes flew open, his body moving to sheild the egg, scuffling back on the bed and pressing himself against the wall.
Okay. So not peacefully sleeping.
"Don't worry. You're just back in the Men of Letters HQ, remember?" Dean shot out. He knew that look on his face- the ghost of a nightmare still ramming his heart against his ribs. He said nothing as he steadied his breathing, just looking at Dean with his blue eyes half-lidded.
"Uh..that yours?" Dean asked awkwardly, clearing his throat. "You do a little fooling around without a condom?"
Cas still said nothing as he lowered his eyes to the egg, resting his hand gently and tenderly on its top, still keeping it pressed to his body.
"C'mon, man, why don't you talk to me?" Dean asked. Maybe he can't. The thought crossed his mind. I mean, there was no way all that could go down without at least some mental scarring. Dean was even feeling a little shaken up himself.
Cas's stomach suddenly let out a loud, gurgling rumble, and his eyes flicked down to his belly, where he pressed the hand that had previously been resting on the egg.
"C'mere, we'll go to the kitchen. I'll fix you up something to eat." The dark-haired man hesitantly stumbled off the side of the bed and waited, his eyes boring into Dean. Dean felt extremely uncomfortable as he began to make his way to the kitchen, the mute man silently shadowing him.
Dean peeked into the cabinets, calling out for Cas."Uh, we got plenty of cereal, some canned stuff like beans or soup or something, 'course, I could cook you the good stuff if you want. You want that?"
He turned to look at Cas, who was sitting down at the table, his eyes lowered to that egg again, he was smoothing it down tenderly with the slight shush of his palms against the shell. "Seriously, Cas, is that your kid or something?"
As expected, he got no response.
"Well, look. I think I got some cheese and bread and butter, and I make a mean grilled cheese. Is that what you want?"
Finally, Cas nodded just a little. Dean couldn't help but feel bad- he was acting like a little kid after something horrible. Dean remembered he didn't talk for close to two weeks after his mom was killed.
"Okay. I'll make one for me, too, Kevin, and hell, I guess I better make one for Crowley." He locked his jaw and his hands curled into fists. He hated that he needed to take care of the man that was the reason Sam was so sick.
"sam." He heard Castiel say in an extremely tiny voice. Dean's eyes widened- he'd finally spoken up. He was stunned for a second before he replied.
"Uh, I haven't forgotten about Sam. He just can't get solid foods down right now." He looked Cas up and down; he was filthy. Maybe he could jump in the shower as he cooked.
"Do you want to..uh, clean up before lunch?"
Cas's eyes were lowered to the egg again. Maybe he didn't know how.
"Okay. Maybe we should clean up before. Trust me, you don't want to get sick. One of the worst things about being human."
Cas again stood up, waiting for Dean to show him where to go. Dean closed the fridge and the pantry, and made his way to the bathroom, Cas following him silently.
"Okay, if you want to hop in, I can hold little Eggy out here for you until you're done." Dean offered. Cas shook his head forcefully.
"Okayy. So, you don't want to let go of him. That's okay. I guess." He cleared his throat. "I can wait outside for you if you want." Shit. Is that creepy? Dean flushed pink and went out.
He didn't even hear the sound of the tap for at least a minute. Finally, he rapped on the door. "Cas? You okay in there?"
The was a beat of silence. "dean." His voice was small and muffled behind the door.
How in the hell Dean had even agreed to this he never knew. But next thing he knew, he was scrubbing shampoo deep into Cas's grungy dark hair as the ex-angel sobbed in the bathtub.
The egg and the soapy water were obscuring anything from veiw, thank goodness. Cas was holding the egg in his lap, curled protectively over it. His shiny, wet chest was jumping with sobs as he breathed in choppy breaths and tears mixed with the bathwater as they ran down his face.
Dean worked his fingers deep into his hair as he felt a little grossed out by the brownish suds that emerged. "It's okay, Cas. It's okay."
He hiccuped wetly and couldn't bring himself to look Dean in the eye as he tipped his head down obidiently, letting Dean wash his hair for him like he was two years old.
Dean jumped as he realized the bathwater was tinged with red, not just the grimy brown. "Cas?" He didn't expect a response.
"w-wings." The ex-angel stuttered out. Dean bit down on his teeth. What was he talking about?
"Let me see. Cas, let me see." Dean's voice lowered. "Turn around."
He obeyed, splashing a little as he turned around. Dammit, two long lines along his back were blackened and crusty with scabs, a little red trickling out, the skin around it very pink and puffy, puckering along the edges, the clear signs of infection.
"Dammit." Dean growled as he gently touched one of the thick scabs, earning a sharp intake of breath from Castiel. He dipped a cup into the bathwater and brought it up to the man's soapy hair. "Close your eyes. Tight, Cas."
He poured the water over his head, the soap running down his bare shoulders, some suds snagging on the crusty scabs, and Cas sputtered as the water got into his mouth.
"Sorry. You'll learn how to bathe or shower on your own soon, okay?"
The ex-angel turned back around to face him with a series of small splashes. He was frowning, holding on to the egg tightly, which was shining with water.
"Don't worry about it, Cas. I used to bathe Sammy all the time when we were little, he was way less cooperative." Dean chuckled a little when he remembered how much Sammy used to splash around and whine and complain.
"is it bad?" Cas whispered, running his hand along the egg's shell. "wings."
"They're...the gashes are infected." Dean spoke up. "They're hurting you, aren't they?"
He nodded, and Dean dipped the cup in the warm water and poured it over his skin. "Okay. Let's get you out and we have to clean those cuts, Cas."
He let Dean wrap a towel around him, and Dean was reminded of what he was on bath duty for Sam when he was little. His black hair dripped onto his face and the towel and he shivered.
Dean gave him some boxers and turned away when he changed, and he had him sit on the edge of the tub as he got a better look at the wounds.
He only hissed a little as Dean dabbed onto the scabs with a washcloth. They were filthy, and Cas barely made even made a noise when Dean softened the scabs with water and pulled the blackened scabs off, falling in pieces like petals to the tiles on the bathroom floor.
And once he'd dressed the wounds, putting an copious amount of neosporin and using up almost all of his bandages, Cas's body began to wrack with sobs again, as he covered his face with his hand. "My f-fault.." He choked, as Dean frowned and rubbed his dark hair dry slowly with a towel, the messy tufts and wet spikes sticking up everywhere, Dean finally draped it over his shoulders.
Great. He had a sick brother, a half-cured demon in the basement, a prophet of the Lord, and a mostly-mute baby in a trenchcoat. Not to mention Eggy.
What could possibly go wrong with this situation?
Hi! Thanks for all the follows! I have a question for you guys...Destiel, or not? It might be cuter without, but I'd love to hear feedback.
I've decided there are either going to be 3 or 4 little angel babies inside "Eggy"...and I'll probably adjust when they hatch according to whether I include Destiel or not! Please let me know :)
thanks for reading!