Castiel was unprepared for the sight he saw when he was finally allowed into the hospital room where Hannah had been admitted. As he approached her bed, taking in the sight before him, he felt sick. She looked so frail, laying there hooked up to all of these human devices. Her left arm and leg were both in casts; an ivy was attached to her arm, she wore a thin hospital gown.
Castiel came to stand over her bedside, looking her up and down. He could hardly believe he was looking at an angel, at a once brave and valiant warrior, now turned into this fragile, broken, whisper of a being.
"Hannah…" he whispered into the space between them as he leaned over the bed and gazed into her bruised, pale face. There was no response. She was unconscious and she gave no indication that she'd heard him. "This should not have happened," he murmured, voice heavy with uncharacteristic emotion. "I shouldn't have let this happen."
She was so still. So pale. Castiel had never felt so helpless in his life. All the powers at his fingertips and he couldn't do anything to save her. He still wasn't sure why. He'd noted the blood on her angel blade and suspected it to be the main reason. It still didn't ease his feelings. To have walked in on what that man had done, what he had tried to do, to have to be forced to rely on crude human technology to save a graceless angel whom he should never have allowed to get hurt in the first place. He was the reason she was so vulnerable; he should never have let her out of his sight.
"Mr. Riken?" Castiel turned around at the sound of the alias Dean had given him when they got to the hospital. The doctor entered a wire haired man with a grim look on his face.
"Yes?" Castiel waited for the man to approach Hannah's bedside. "How is she?"
"It's not good," the doctor replied. "Your wife sustained multiple lacerations all over her body. Some of them were deep and showed signs of infection. She was exposed to the elements for an extended period, and we are treating her for hypothermia. Her blood pressure is dangerously low."
Castiel took that news and glanced at the sleeping angel. He flinched slightly at the mention of her being his wife. This was a cover-up that Dean had insisted on, saying the doctors wouldn't have allowed Castiel to see her otherwise. And Dean had been correct; the doctors hadn't let the Winchesters to come into the ICU where she was being held, so Castiel was here alone.
"There is something else we found in her blood," the doctor continued. "Traces of chlorine. We think she ingested bleach or something similar."
Castiel winced. That explained why he couldn't heal her. Certain elements nullified an angel's powers, and chlorine was one of them. There was no way Hannah's tormentor could have known that,
"What are her chances?" Castiel dared to hope, but when he looked at the doctor's face, he found a grim, somewhat suspicious look.
"If her body responds well to the antibiotics and the treatments, I'd say her chances are good," the doctor said. "But these injuries are extensive; we don't even know how she is still alive…"
The doctor trailed off, fixing Castiel with a suspicious look that confused him. "I'm sensing... suspicion."
"Mr. Riken, these injuries were done intentionally," the doctor said. "And the bleach poisoning is very disconcerting. When you brought her in, you said she'd been in some kind of accident at work, but it's not adding up."
Castiel squinted quizzically. "I don't understand what you are implying," he said. He wished Dean was here to interpret this situation for him. His years on Earth hadn't taught him everything there was to know about human society and fooling people in authority was still a skill he hadn't quite mastered. "You are not suggesting that I intentionally hurt her, are you?"
"I'm only going on what I know," the doctor said. "I take a dim view of spousal abuse, and I should warn you that your interactions with your wife will be closely monitored while you are at this hospital. And when she wakes up, I'd like a social worker to speak to her without you present."
Castiel felt his cheeks flush with anger. The doctor turned and strode out of the room before he had time to react. Castiel was alone with Hannah again.
The distraught angel pulled a chair up to Hannah's bedside and sat down, staring blankly into her pallid face, willing her to wake. "They think I'm the one who did this," he said softly, not knowing whether she could hear him or not. "They aren't wrong. I contributed. I'm just as much to blame for this. I took this," he pressed his hand against his own chest, indicating his grace, "from you. Left you helpless. And if you don't pull through this, Hannah… I don't… I can't…" he couldn't allow himself to contemplate the prospect of Hannah not surviving. Somehow, some way, he was going to see her through this.
He was so distraught that he didn't see her hand twitch every so slightly. And he almost missed it when her fingers brushed up against his arm. The sudden touch made him flinch though, and he was suddenly alert, getting to his feet, peering into her face hopefully. Nothing. Maybe it was just his imagination.
But there- her eyes fluttered, slightly at first, then opened. Those large blue eyes blinked, sought out anything familiar, then landed on him.
"Hannah," he murmured, breath hitched in his throat. He waited with baited breath.
"Castiel…" her voice was barely a whisper. "Where…" she coughed, her voice was raspy, hoarse. She swallowed, taking in a breath.
"You are in a hospital," Castiel explained. "Try not to move; you are safe."
Hannah gazed around, eyes falling on her own broken body, she took in a breath in surprise. She squirmed, reaching for the ivy, "what are these things?" she demanded in alarm. He reached over and grabbed her hand before she could remove them.
"They are there to help you recover," he explained, though he kept his grip on her hand, needing the tactile touch, the warmth in her skin. "You can't remove them."
She winced as she tried to move, jolting her casted arm the wrong way. "I have to get away," she gasped. "Please, Castiel, get me out of here." Her voice quivered with fear as a tear slipped down the side of her face, as she pleaded with him, begged him.
"I can't," he said, feeling as though he was breaking into a million pieces. "I can't heal you. What he did to you-"
She gasped at the mention of the man, of the memories and he stopped. "He's not going to hurt you anymore," he promised. He squeezed her hand and brushed her chin to get her to focus on him. What he saw in those blue eyes nearly broke him. Pain, fear, vulnerability… without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, pressing his lips to her skin, closing his eyes, breathing in the emotion. "Shh," he murmured into her skin, wanting to give her what comfort he could.
Hannah broke into soft sobs, all the pain she'd suffered coming out right there. Castiel stayed close, soothing her hair, brushing the tears from her face, whispering reassurances to her. He hadn't even stopped to realize that real emotion was passing between them. A closeness, a need for one another's touch. In his haste to save her, to make sure she was alright, he hadn't even considered that he might have developed real feelings for her, he couldn't even pinpoint the moment it had actually happened. When he had crossed that line. But he had. Somehow, he had, and he realized that a graceless angel who depended on him at the moment to keep her safe had somehow taken over his heart and that he needed her just as much.