Chapter 7: Position
"Maybe we should take him to hospital anyway," Dean changed the wet towel on Castiel's forehead, then set about to clean the remaining grime off the prone form. "We'll deal with whatever consequences there might be as they come there."
"We've been through this already a number of times Dean," Sam paced the small room, sounding no less worried. "Imagine they took him to surgery and the incision just healed right there and then. The holy oil hurt him when we tested him. He is still an angel, there's no doubt about it. He could heal at any minute."
"I don't care!" Dean hovered with his wet towel over Castiel's stomach. It was still covered in dirt, but Dean didn't dare touch that part of his angel's body because as much as touch hurt his friend so much before. "You didn't see how drained he got. Maybe he needs some intervention before he can start healing on his own."
"If he doesn't get better by tomorrow, we could take him.." Sam accepted, "and that would give me time to falsify some papers for him."'
"What are you waiting for then?" Dean ushered his brother to get to work. "We go as soon as they're ready. You don't normally take more than a couple of hours with that in the worst case and that is exactly how much I'm willing to wait," Dean asserted.
"I'm fine Dean," Castiel's drowsy, rasping voice interrupted them, making Dean turn back and Sam rush to the angel's side.
"How are you feeling?" Dean took one of Castiel's hands into his palms gently, coaxing the ailing being to direct his attention towards him.
"It hurts," Castiel flinched, "but not as much as before," he established on a steady voice.
"Oh good, good," Dean exhaled noisily, relieved, "I told you I would get you out. Are you gonna be alright now?"
"I will heal.." Castiel exhaled slowly, settling his head back into the pillows as if it would've been heavy.
"It's nice to see you Cas," Sam squeezed his other arm, "you're still an angel, right? You're able to heal ok? Cause you're still running a high fever and your body seems to have a hard time coping."
Castiel blinked owlishly at Sam, "I'm an angel.." He trailed off, seemingly spaced out.
"Answer the other questions, Cas!" Dean urged, gripping a shoulder of the prone being to attract his friend's attention.
"I'm.." Castiel turned his head slightly, towards the sound, "I need help.." He squeezed Dean's hand back slightly as a sign of trying to hang on.
"Anything Cas, we'll try to help," Sam assured.
Castiel shook his head, " Dean," he panted, grimacing,"Dean knows how to help with the pain."
"I do?" The older hunter looked dazed.
"Like in purgatory," Castiel shifted slighty to his side clutching Dean's hand back for leverage, curling up on himself and closing his eyes again.
"What..what do you want me do Cas?" The older Winchester regarded the angel slightly at a loss. "I didn't do anything in purgatory, apart from moving everything possible to get you out." Dragging him along, supporting him, carrying him, taking care of him, holding him. Holding. Dean blinked up sheepishly at Sam, wondering whether that was what Castiel meant. But he wasn't going to come out and ask that straight. Rather, he picked up the cloth again and rinsed it in the cold water in the bowl his brother had provided earlier. However, instead of immediately setting the rag on the angel's forehead, neck of chest like he had before to reduce the fever prior to Castiel coming to, Dean sited himself at the head of the bed and coaxed Castiel's head into his lap, allowing for a position Cas could more comfortably curl up in. Then he started stroking the back of his friend's neck with the cool wetness seeping out the piece of cloth.
Castiel gave a shaky, supplicating moan, one that made hard to establish if it was caused by discomfort or the alleviation of it. It brought out a strong sentiment of sympathy in Dean nevertheless and the fingers of his idle hand moved to make trails in Castiel's soppy, messy hair on their own accord.
"So I'm guessing what he said means he will recover on his own?" Sam summarized the impressions he got.
"I think so," Dean nodded, "but somehow I don't think it will be easy or quick," he sighed, frowning.
"You might be right about that," Sam rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, at a momentary loss, trying to sum up in his head what symptoms the rebel angel had had and what he could still do using either human medicine or supernatural experience to provide some aid to the powerful being who otherwise once needed a whole bottle of aspirin for a hangover. How much of what would it be in any way useful, or even be safe to give him as not to cause more harm than good? Or would it be better to just leave Castiel's grace to do what it normally done best? He reached out to take the angel's pulse again hesitantly, vaguely hoping that it will give him an answer.
"Leave him be! Don't move him anymore!" Dean snapped, "it's only causing him more pain!"
"I wasn't going to move him," Sam grumbled, gently touching their ailing companion's wrist. "So what now? No hospital then for sure?" He added after a moment's silence of counting heartbeats, results of which had satisfied him somewhat.
"Just let him rest Sammy," Dean lowered his hand from Castiel's neck to the angel's back in a protective gesture, "then we will see."
Tbc
