December 2nd, 1981 2.22 a.m.
"Is he going to be okay?!" The broken whisper of Mary Winchester asks one of the bustling Nurses, as she watches her son get wheeled into the ER.
They both follow behind the paramedics, and the woman reassuringly holds onto Mary's shoulder. "He'll be alright," she soothes, as the tears from Mary's eyes blur her vision.
She stays by Dean's side the whole time he's tested on, and given a nebuliser. He's pretty much unconscious to what's going on, but the delirious yelling for his Mommy doesn't stop. "I'm here, Dean," she squeezes the hand that isn't being used for an IV, "it's alright."
The sound of beeping machines and the buzz of chatter between medical professionals and patients all blends into one. The doctors take a few scans of Dean's chest – now that he sedated, because they decided he was too distressed to stay awake for the rest of their tests. They send his blood work for tests, and they're finally ready to wheel him onto a ward.
Mary's slippers pad along the porters who are pushing Dean's bed along the linen floor before her. He's sleeping soundly, and her tears have almost dried up now. They stop outside the usual paediatric ward he stays on, and it's inside that they're greeted by a warming, familiar smile.
Ellen follows the adults into a side room, where they put Dean's bed into place. The porters leave, and Mary looks up at Ellen with a look of lost hope. "Why won't he get better?" Her voice is barely even audible, as she stares straight down at her feet.
Without speaking, the Nurse walks towards the Mother. She envelopes her into a much needed hug, and then whispers, "he's strong, he'll get through it all."
December 2nd, 1981, 4.07p.m.
Dean's little hands fly through the air, making his superman action figure soar above his scruffy head of hair. His oxygen mask is balanced on his head, whilst he plays. "Superman... to the.. rescue!" He's still struggling to talk without coughing through every sentence, and his breathing is all snuffly.
Ellen and his Doctor decided that he didn't need the nebuliser anymore – at around two o'clock – so, he's now just using normal oxygen, as and when. He lays back on his pillow, and his hand reaches down to find his pacifier. It's attached to his pyjamas on a bright red ribbon, so that he won't lose it.
Suddenly, the door to his room is pushed open – and, Ellen comes wandering in. At the moment, Mary has gone down to the canteen for a rest... Since Dean is doing a lot better now. "You're looking better!" She grins, walking over to where the boy is smiling cheekily up at her.
She reaches out for his pacifier, and then replaces it with the oxygen mask. "I don't want the ossy-gen!" Dean huffs, squirming around in his bed to show obvious signs of discomfort.
"Just for a little bit," Ellen tells him – watching his little frowny face. He folds his arms, and sinks down in the bed.
Clearly being overly tired and grumpy, Dean's eyes start to fill with tears. Pretending that she hasn't seen this start to happen, Ellen gets out the thermometer, and starts to try and place it under Dean's arm. The troublesome two year old rolls away from her touch, and scrunches up his eyes.
Walking around the other side of his bed, Ellen chuckles a little. "Where's Dean gone?" She pretends to act surprised, and then just a small flicker of a smile appears upon the boy's pale face.
"C'mon now," a small sigh escapes from her lips, and then one of relief as he sits up for her. Dean Winchester can be a very hard patient to care for... When he wants to be.
As she takes his temperature, he mumbles something underneath the oxygen mask. Unable to hear just what he's telling her, Ellen moves the mask to the top of his head again. "What was that?" She focuses her attention securely on his glassy eyes of green.
"I –" a small sneeze interrupts him, " – I said I like you!" He states proudly, rubbing his little red nose.
Ellen breaks into a genuine smile of happiness, before taking the thermometer from underneath his arm. "Well, you know what?" Her eyes concentrate on the reading, but she's still listening to Dean.
"What?" The boy asks intently, putting the mask back over his face on his own accord.
"I like you too!" She ruffles his hair, whilst making a mental note to get him some oral aspirin, for his rising temperature.
The little Winchester's face lights up with love, but his eyes are gradually beginning to close. Ellen takes his other obs, taking note of his rattling coughs that keep causing his eyes to pry open again. Before he takes his nap, she gives him his inhaler, and sorts out his IV.
Taking a few moments to look back at him, she mumbles "sleep well."
Present day.
Castiel has probably been staring at his shoes for less than an hour, but it feels like a year. He barely pays attention to the hubbub of people rushing through the waiting room. Some are crying like himself, and some are pacing back and forth. Some sit numbly on a chair, unsure of what is yet to come. Mirroring him, almost.
"Sir, you're here with Mr Winchester?" A quiet, female voice almost doesn't even catch his attention.
His eyes look up from the ground, and the woman is smiling. "He's sleeping, but you can come and see him now." She informs, and suddenly Cas starts to feel nauseous.
"W – what ward?" Steadying his voice, he shakily stands up from the chair.
Immediatley the woman rushes to his side, having to physically hold him up. "Ward thirty seven, Sir. I'll show you the way," the nurse lets him lean on her, as they start to leave the waiting room.
Cas has no idea what he's going to do when he has to face his colleagues. None of them know he's dating Dean – and, as far as he knows, none of them even know he's gay... Let alone dating a patient. His need to see his boyfriend is far greater than any worry for his nursing career though, so Novak continues to act dumb as to where the nurse by his side is leading him.
When they arrive outside those familiar doors, Castiel inhales deeply. The pair make their way to reception, where they have to stop. Of course, the look on the receptionist's face when she sees the tear stained flushed cheeked nurse who usually looks extra preppy whilst whistling a happy tune along with it... She looks rather surprised, to say the least. "What room is Dean Winchester in?" The nurse on duty asks politely, snapping the receptionist of her one sided staring contest with Cas.
"Uh, room eleven... Why?" The confused tone replies, as Novak can feel her stare boring into his skull once again.
The nurse beside Cas looks at him for a second, before answering. "He has a visitor," she simply states, before taking Novak's arm, and steering him away from the desk.
It seems as if every other staff member on the ward must be busy with their patients, because thankfully Castiel doesn't have to make awkward contact with anyone else along his way to see Dean. Unable to press the handle down on the door by himself, the woman does it for him. As he steps inside the room, the woman leaves him alone.
Wondering if he has any tears left inside him to cry out, Cas rubs his eyes a few times. He pushes the curtain back, to see his boyfriend lying on the hospital bed. His eyes are closed, and his chest is slowly rising and falling in a tired rhythm. The nebuliser and the sound of the IV clicking every now and then is the only sound that fills the room, even drowning out the dull tick of the wall clock.
Castiel gingerly takes a seat on Dean's right, so that he can gently hold onto the pale hand that lays lifeless beside his body. Unable to find words, Cas just lays his head down on the bed, and closes his eyes. "I love you," he whispers, feeling his brain cloud over.
The adrenaline of the whole situation is gradually draining away, and his now exhausted body needs to rest. Being able to touch his boyfriend once more, and know that he's gozing to be alright, means that Cas can actually drift off to sleep safely.
