Dean always felt a bit of buzz around Cas.
He'd always dismissed it as a kind of angelic radiation. A static electricity that tingled in the space around the angel, a crackle that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck prickle. It was exhilarating, and part of the reason why he always told Cas to move away from him when he stood a little bit too close.
It wasn't that he felt insecure about having his personal space invaded, after all, that bubble barely existed to begin with. It was just that the constant shiver was too much for him.
Of course, he'd never told any one this, and never planned to.
But that didn't change the fact that he did.
That he always had, from the first time they'd met in that ravaged old barn.
Which was exactly why Dean was feeling a bit more than slightly worried that as he scooped up an unconscious, slippery, completely and totally naked Castiel into his arms, he couldn't feel that buzz.
At all.
Not even a tiny prickle.
Sure, there was that new tightening in his gut and that flush of blood to his cheeks, but that wasn't the same thing.
Castiel really, really shouldn't have healed him.
Even though Dean was hurting and scared; healing him, using up his grace when he had so little left...
"You fucking child..." Guilt was already starting to spread it's uncomfortable, nagging fingers across Dean's throat. "You shouldn't have healed me, I would have been..." You don't know that "I would have been fine, okay?" Castiel slipped a bit, but the hunter shrugged him back into his arms. "Don't do that again."
Dean carried Castiel across the room and into the bathroom, where he sat him with his back against the wall. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders and ruffled another through his hair.
"At least your wounds haven't opened, right Cas?" Dean smiled halfheartedly, tipping Castiel's chin up to look at his face. "Ah, spoke too soon..." Dean spotted a bead of deep red in the corner of the angel's mouth. The hunter opened it and tipped the angel's head forward, letting the blood dribble into a wad of towels in his fist.
Why are you even talking to him, Dean, he can't hear you... The coughing eased and Dean rubbed Castiel's shoulder in a way he hoped was soothing. The water on the angel's skin was cold, and Dean felt a light shiver pass through the angel. "Better dry you off, huh." He pushed Cas back into an upright position and went over him with a clean towel, making sure to wipe off each and every droplet of slowly cooling water. Carefully, he ran the towel through his dark feathers, becoming slightly worried when a few fell out at his touch. and was it just him, or did they seem a little smaller than before?
He dismissed the thought and dressed Castiel before lifting him up and carrying him to his bed. He lay him down, pulled a light blanket over him and sat down on the corner of the bed. "What is it with you and being in a coma, Cas? It's like a hobby for you."
Of course, true to what Dean said, Castiel did not so much as breathe in response; So Dean had to imagine Castiel's overly technical and complicated reply. However, it took Dean a few second to realise that his imagined answer from Castiel was not an imagined answer at all. Or at least, Castiel hadn't said it. Something else was talking. Lots of something elses were talking.
Droning.
Drumming.
Word after word after word.
But he couldn't understand any of it, it was just a wall of sound, bubbling in and out of his ears.
"What the hell-" Dean staggered onto his feet, searching the room for the source of the speech. The radio was turned off, the TV definitely wasn't making it, nor was it coming from outside. It was like something had crawled into his ear, and for some reason, refused to shut its stupid mouth.
He covered his ears with his hands, almost crippled by the constant thrum. he felt like his head was about to burst. A half shout scraped out of his mouth as fiery pain flared in his eyes, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Adrenalin co arsed through his veins, his body arched and twisted.
"Shut up!" he screamed, but the sound just intensified in response. Something shattered and glass flew across the room, but he barely felt the pain when it dug into his skin. The cries in his ears merged into a single, sharp tone, piercing him, shaking his every cell. His bones felt like cracking as the sound reverberated within them. "Fuck-" Dean spat out the word as he felt something tear through the flesh on his back. He felt like he was stretching his arms out behind him, but he knew both hands were planted firmly on the ground.
The pain in his eyes pulsed and his vision went bright silver. He slipped over the glass again, feeling only a tiny sting. His body was ready to explode, every fibre trying to pull itself away from the whole and shoot into space.
Eyelids parted, but the light filled his sight, flames were licking at his face, burning and freezing his skin at the same time.
The sound blared, the light blazed, his body seared and screamed. This was more pain than he'd ever felt. Even in hell, nothing had ever hurt as much as this. He couldn't register the fullness of it, the unnatural, almost solar flaring of torturous pain. There was no way he'd be able to handle it, he'd die. I'm going to die the thought could barely make it through the terrible screech in his skull, I'll die.
And it stopped.
Just as suddenly as it had started.
Unsettling silence taking the place of the voices, a dull ache replacing the waves of pain, a burnt feeling replacing the roaring flames in his eyes.
Yet silver light still obscured his vision, giving everything a strange glow.
Dean collapsed ungracefully onto his stomach. The glass beneath him cut through his shirt, but it paled in comparison to what he's just felt. He stared across the ground, blinking heavily, trying to shake away the glow.
He screwed his eyes up and half hissed. There was a weight pressing down on his back, pulling on his shoulder's like the straps of a heavy backpack. Desperate to remove the crushing feeling, Dean rolled onto his back, shocked to feel something under it.
What the hell am i lying on? Something was settled uncomfortably between his shoulders, and something soft tickled the back of his arms.
Swiveling his head to one side, Dean felt his heart falter. There were shadowy shapes, long, whispy shadows stretched out on either side of him. Almost like... like...
Almost like wings.
A/N: Really, really short chapter, I know. Sorry- haven't been getting much time to write, I've been seeing lots of friends over the holidays and my laptop's broken, so consequently I only get a few opportunities at a computer to type at.
As always, it's awesome that so many of you guys actually read my stuff, it makes me really happy that people like my writing. Feel free to leave reviews (be assured, I'll read each one, they make me all warm and fuzzy inside), and please point out any weird grammar, spelling,wording,etc. Lots of this was written in the small hours of the morning.
Love you all (and fuck it's 3am OHWELL) ~Casjuice signing off
