Thanks again for all the love guys! So, the big reveal...what's wrong with Dean?

September 14, 2015

Castiel paced back and forth in the Emergency Department waiting room at Lawrence Memorial, wringing his hands and trying not to completely freak out. Benny was sprawled in a chair nearby, looking just as worried. Jo and Charlie were sitting very close, heads tilted towards each other, whispering. Jo was crying. Had been since Dean passed out. Sam was on his way. Bobby and Ellen were on their way. Adam was there already, Madison holding his hand. Everyone was watching him, watching his face, and worrying about Dean.

And he had nothing to tell them, other than the fact that Dean had been coughing and vomiting. He didn't know what was wrong with him. The doctors had pushed him out into the waiting room while they worked on his husband and Castiel felt like he was losing his mind.

He was sure Dean had understood that he was supposed to stay in bed. He was sure of it. Although, judging by the bizarre way the Impala had been parked in the middle of the lot with the engine still running and the driver's door open, he had to wonder how aware Dean had even been. He showed up at the garage in boxers and a tee, no socks or shoes at all. And that terrified him. The thought that Dean would have driven to work that out of it was scary.

The Impala was a hell of a huge and heavy automobile, and if he had hit and hurt someone, or worse, killed someone, Dean would have never forgiven himself.

"Cas," Benny said, holding his phone out to show him a text, "Andrea said your front door was hangin' open. I think it's lookin' more and more like he was pretty out of it. Kinda scary, huh?"

"Very scary," Castiel muttered. "I wish they'd let me back there, or give me some kind of update. It's been almost an hour. I'm losing my mind, Benny."

"Cas!" Sam rushed into the waiting area, hair wild and eyes wide. "How is he? What's going on? Is he going to be ok? I got here as quick as I could!"

"It's ok, we don't know much of anything right now. I don't even know how he managed to drive across town to the shop."

"How sick is he?"

"He was running a fever and throwing up this morning, and he's been coughing for about a week. Dean's been working too hard and he's lost weight, and apparently he was having a resurgence of the nightmares. Instead of telling me, he was sleeping at his desk at work during the day, because he couldn't sleep at night."

Sam sighed. "Stubborn idiot. Why does he do that shit?"

"Didn't want me to worry."

"Yeah, 'cause we're not worried as hell now."

"Right." Castiel sunk into the closest chair. "I don't know what to do with him some days," he admitted.

"I know what you mean. He's very good at taking care of everyone around him, but he's terrible at taking care of himself, or god forbid, letting someone take care of him."

"I know. It's ridiculous and I don't know what to do about it."

A door opened, and a familiar figure stuck her head out the door. "Cas? Come with me please," Lisa smiled at him. "I'll come get the rest of you in a bit," she said, holding the door for Castiel. "The doctor just wants him right now."

Castiel stood and followed her into the back, relieved to be finally getting some news.

"They're moving him upstairs, but I need to take you back here with me. I need to swab your throat."

"Why?"

Lisa sighed, playing with the badge on a lanyard around her neck. "They think he has MRSA related pneumonia. And if he has MRSA, you could too, and we need to take a culture and test you. And it also means when you are in the room with him, you're going to have to be fully gowned, masked and gloved."

"Oh my god, Lisa, MRSA? That's scary. Is he going to be ok?"

"Well, they're already hitting him with some heavy duty antibiotics. And he was horribly dehydrated, so he's getting fluids, and oxygen to help him breathe. I won't lie, he's bad, Cas. He should have gone to the doctor's days ago, and he's exhausted and underweight, which knowing him, he hid all of it from you until it got too bad to ignore. Sound about right?"

"Yes. I should have made him go Friday." He sat on the chair Lisa waved at and grimaced when she swabbed his throat.

"Well they still have to do a lot of tests, but they're pretty sure that's what it is." Lisa put the swab into a tube and stuck a label on it. She peeled off her latex gloves and tossed them in a biohazard container and handed the tube to another nurse. "C'mon, let's get you upstairs and we can talk to the doctor and hopefully get you in to see Dean. He's probably going to be pretty out of it for the next couple of days. He's really sick, Cas."

"If he has this, and you're testing me for it, what happens if I get it?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're going to put you on antibiotics anyway, but I think if you were going to get it, you would have by now. You might be a non-symptomatic carrier which basically means you gave it to Dean but didn't get it yourself."

"You mean, I may have made him sick? This might be my fault?"

"Unfortunately, that's how it is sometimes. It could have sat in your lungs for years and just waited until it found a weakened immune system to latch onto. And it might not even be you. We're going to have to swab everyone he's closest too. Especially Mari. And Madison and Jess. I did mine already." She pushed the button for the elevator and the door opened.

"We're going to take good care of him, Cas, I promise. He's in an isolated room, and outside contact will be kept to a minimum."

"I should have seen this. I should have seen how sick he was getting." He leant back against the rear wall of the elevator and sighed.

"It's Dean. He's a stubborn ass and doesn't ever want anyone to think he can't take care of himself." Lisa's phone chimed. She pulled it, and stared at the screen. "Oh dammit."

"What?"

"I told Ben not to freak out and he just texted to tell me he's on his way to the airport."

"Dean will be pissed."

"No kidding. But stubbornness, you know? Like father like son." The elevator chimed, and the door opened. "Come on, let's go see the doctor and then I can get you gloved and gowned and in to see him."

Castiel nodded and followed her down the hall, anxious to see his husband.

Dean was propped up, the bed angled to help ease his breathing. His eyes were closed, his face bloodless, long lashes resting on freckled cheeks. A clear green oxygen mask obscured his mouth and nose. There were I.V. lines running from his arm to several bags of fluids on a pole over the bed. Wires ran out from under his hospital gown to a monitor, his heart beat and pulse being carefully measured.

His lids fluttered when Castiel ran a gloved hand over his forehead, wincing at the feel of the still high fever.

Castiel sank into a chair, exhausted at two o'clock in the afternoon. He'd met with the doctors, and had been told at least two weeks in the hospital, maybe more if he didn't respond to treatment. He'd lost about thirty pounds, and he was incredibly weak. His immune system was comprised, he was severely dehydrated, he was exhausted. And, to make things that much worse, Castiel was told that confining him to the bed and couch over the weekend hadn't done him any favors. It had just given the fluids in his lungs a chance to build up faster.

By the time he'd wandered into work that morning, he was basically being suffocated by the fluid in his lungs.

Castiel had already had his first dose of antibiotics by that time, and he sighed and ran a hand down his face, irritated when the latex glove snapped. The precautions they were making him take just to see Dean were already driving him insane. Leaning forward, he reached out and took Dean's hand, dismayed at the heat radiating off his skin.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly. "I should have seen this. I should have realized how bad you were doing. I feel like I've failed you. I'm so sorry."

There was no response from Dean and Castiel sighed.

"Just get better. Ok? Just get better. We'll handle this. I'll nurse you back to health myself, if that's what it takes. Just don't leave me. You hear me, Dean Winchester? Don't you fucking leave me." Castiel shuddered.

"Hey," Sam said from the doorway. His eyes swept over Dean's still form on the bed. "He looks horrible," he said quietly, his voice further muffled by the mask he was wearing. "What did the docs say?"

"Two weeks in the hospital. If not more. He's dehydrated, his lungs are full of fluid, and it's basically going to be one hell of an uphill battle to get well. Oh, and he's going to be pissed when he wakes up and finds out Ben is on his way."

Sam snorted. "Well he'll just have to deal with that, won't he? Did they swab you?"

"Yes. It's going to take several days before we know for sure that's what it is though."

Dean groaned, a low sound in the back of his throat, his eyelids fluttering. Castiel jumped out of his chair, sitting on the edge of the bed instead, still holding onto Dean's hand.

"Dean? I'm here, baby. I'm here. I won't leave, I won't go anywhere. I promise. Just open your eyes for me."

He managed to crack his eyelids open just enough for Castiel to catch a glimpse of green, then they closed again, and his body went limp.

"Well, that was something," Sam said.

"Yeah. He's got a long road ahead of him though."

"But his family will get him through it. We'll take care of him for once, right?"

Castiel nodded. "Right." He gently squeezed Dean's hand. "We'll take care of him."

As if he'd do anything else.