Two
The air surrounding him was crisp when Dean awoke. It was still mostly dark in the room, but then again, it was also gloomy outside. Rain had apparently started to fall overnight, but despite that, birds were chirping. Dean groaned and slowly sat up to look around. The room was quiet. Sam was gone and Castiel was also nowhere to be found.
Dean touched his tender arm and winced. The flesh was still healing on the inside even though the outside had mended. He tended to forget that when it came to Castiel's healings, some of them didn't take effect in one day as others did.
Dean stumbled to the bathroom again, a familiar sight, and immediately made his way to the mirror. Remnants of the werewolf poisoning still remained. His muscles were tender, as though infection still ran rapid. The fever still raged, though luckily not as high as before. The most peculiar side effect though, was his eyes. Dean leaned close to the mirror, pulling back his eyelids and staring at the golden flecks that now inhabited them.
The symptoms were common. He'd seen John Winchester succumb to the disease himself for the full seventy-two hours and still get up in the morning, shakily load his guns and check his wares, and hunt the damn thing that had given it to him. Dean could've sworn his father's eyes had glowed slightly yellow the moment he'd come in that night after killing the monster.
Dean heard the door to the motel room open and he shuffled out of the bathroom, trying to make himself look presentable.
"Sleeping beauty awakens," Sam commented, dropping the plastic bag he had in his hand onto the motel's kitchen table. Castiel had come in alongside Sam, looking over at Dean in that sort of curious way he usually did. The pair had been speaking before they'd entered. Dean had heard them from behind the bathroom door.
It was anybody's guess what about.
"How are you feeling Dean?" Castiel asked, cocking his head ever so slightly and Dean felt a tingle travel through his left arm. He couldn't lie. Castiel was using whatever angel mojo he had left to double check on Dean's condition.
"Like a well-seasoned hunter who somehow got his ass handed to him," Dean commented and begun to rifle through the plastic bags on the table.
"Not very pleasant then." Castiel replied.
"That's putting it mildly," Dean pulled out a large prepackaged Honey Bun and his stomach started to growl. Taking that as a good sign of healing, he sat down and begun to tear into it.
"Thanks…uh Sam, by the way." Dean motioned the Honey Bun around in the air and Sam gave a curt nod in response.
"Considering you wouldn't shut up about them by mile three of our trip," Sam replied and dug into his own breakfast sandwich. "I figured you'd want one."
Tension still hung in the air like a sharp knife. Castiel awkwardly cleared his throat, but it was Sam who spoke first.
"There's another hunt," Sam mentioned. "Ironically in the same town as one Garth Fitzgerald IV. Figured he could help with your little issue if it persists while we investigate."
"How kind of you Sammy," Dean said. "But I think I'll survive."
"Actually Dean," Castiel came closer, leaning against the makeshift kitchen counter. "Sam has a point. If you're as determined to do this next hunt as he is, we'll need you healed. I can only do so much beyond keeping track of your vitals. It would only make sense for an actual werewolf to take a look."
Dean looked up at Castiel, his eyes still slightly glassy and a piece of Honey Bun glaze had taken residence on his upper lip.
"Perhaps he'll have some insight we don't have."
"Guys I'll be fine," Dean said. "This is survivable, I'll just be mostly uncomfortable for a few days. I've seen other people survive it."
"You're not seriously referring to that one time that dad, sick out of his mind, almost got himself killed on a werewolf hunt because one of them scratched him and he refused help, are you?"
Dean's attention turned to Sam, who was giving him the most accusatory look known to man. Dean returned the glare, trying to hide the tickle that had now crawled into his throat and was threatening to make him have a coughing fit.
"Well I'm taking the reins on this one," Sam abruptly stood up from the table and grabbed the Impala's keys, slinging his bag from the floor to his bag. "We're going to Garth's and while you're recovering, I'm going to get started on the hunt while we're there."
Before Dean could protest, Sam was out the door, and he heard the telltale sound of the Impala starting up. Dean grumbled, muttering something under his breath, and going for his bag. He hissed when he lifted it. The pain from his arm searing through the rest of him.
"The two of you should really consider making up," Castiel commented as he watched Dean carefully. "You work better together when you're not at one another's throats."
"Thank you, Dear Abby," Dean rolled his eyes and thrust the bag over his shoulder with a strangled groan. "I think the two of us will be fine. Things like this happen and they blow over."
"If you insist," Castiel nodded, but suddenly Dean noticed he'd turned slightly fidgety as though he wanted to say something but was hesitating.
"How much do you remember of last night?" Castiel asked.
Dean hadn't really thought much about it, but flashes of the night before came back to him. Vomiting in the bathroom being at the forefront because most people remembered anything of that sort. By the time he'd gotten out of the shower, Dean's fever had begun. He hadn't recalled too much after that, but there were echoes in his memory. Castiel's voice that could or not have been real, he wasn't quite sure yet.
"A drop into the ocean…"
"Not really," Dean replied. "Why?"
"No particular reason," Castiel said a little too quickly, but Dean chose to ignore it. "I simply wished to check your progress. Your fever climbed again last night. I wanted to be sure it didn't cause any damage as I attempted to repair it."
Dean felt there was something else, something that Castiel wasn't saying, but once again he ignored it as Castiel made a move for the door and walked through it without another word.
"Now that I think about it," Dean thought. "I did have the strangest dream."
There would be time later to bring that up to Castiel. For now, Dean threw a tip down on the bed for the maid and left the room with both keys in hand.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
The drive had taken a bit longer than anticipated, with Dean having insisted Sam pull over a few times due to his flip-flopping stomach. The first time had been a false alarm, but the second had proved to be bad for his lunch. He'd refused to ruin Baby's upholstery.
Eventually, they made it into Garth's town and Dean could feel his limbs aching and growing hot once more. Afternoon was upon them, and illnesses, even those of supernatural origin, only got worse at night.
"Thank…well somebody other than Chuck," Dean commented as they drove down the winding road leading to Garth's farmhouse. "I was afraid I'd lose my mind listening to your sissy music for one more second."
"I'll be sure to tell multimillionaire artist Phil Collins that you think his music is for babies," Sam replied snarky and parked the car once they had arrived.
"I rather enjoyed it." Castiel replied in agreement.
"Get a room you two," Dean rolled his eyes and basically rolled out of the car's passenger seat, mad enough he hadn't gotten to drive.
Castiel was about to reply, but Sam waved him off and asked if he would help him carry a few things instead. The angel complied, still keep an eye on Dean, which Dean did take notice of, as the hunter walked up the path to Garth's front door.
"Dean!" Garth cried out, patting him on the shoulder and Dean gave a look of pain. "Oh, shit sorry! I forgot about why you're here. You holding up okay?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded, and Garth gave him a skeptical look. "I swear, I'm fine."
"Well," Garth motioned for Castiel and Sam to enter as well. "Either way, you're gonna be feeling great by the time I'm done with you. I know just the cure for this. Bess! Sweetheart! The guys are here!"
Dean heard Garth's wife call out from the other room as Garth led the trio to their quarters for the next few days. There were two single beds in the room, blankets and sheets put perfectly over them, and four beautiful white walls covered in pictures of flowers and farm-like things.
Much better than any crappy motel room or even the bunker.
"I don't believe we've formally met," Garth held out his hand to Castiel. "Garth Fitzgerald IV, D.D.S, werewolf, and part time hunter."
"Castiel," Castiel shook back, still a bit confused by Garth's peppiness. Either that or it was his introduction about himself. "Angel and…that's really about it."
"Welcome," Garth nodded and gave Castiel a sincere smile. "I've heard you don't sleep much so I didn't really think of giving you a bed, but if you feel inclined there is a rather comfortable couch out in the living room."
"That won't be necessary," Castiel nodded. "But thank you. I'll need every minute of the night to watch over Dean."
Dean gave Castiel a confused look as he quickly looked away from the hunter and turned his attention back to Garth.
"That is," Castiel stammered a moment before clearing his throat again. "If he needs it. I don't intend to make things…you know what I mean."
"Say no more," Garth waved him off. "It would probably be best if one of us tracked his vitals anyway after he takes what I'm going to give him. Some humans have had less than stellar reactions to it."
"Well that makes me feel better already, thank you." Dean grumbled.
"Don't worry Dean," Garth waved him off and chuckled. "You're not gonna die or anything."
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
"I am literally dying…"
Dean groaned, with his head in the toilet for the fourth time in an hour.
"Medically speaking," Castiel said through the bathroom door. He, Sam, and Garth stood on the other side, all with puzzled looks on their faces.
"I can feel your vitals. You're not dying."
"Thanks for the update, Cas!" Dean yelled.
"It's an expression." Sam said and Castiel gave a look of recognition after a moment.
"The medicine is purging the poison from your body," Garth explained. "This should only last about thirty more minutes and then you'll be fine."
"This has been the longest hour of my life then." Dean let out a hiccup, a burp, and then heaved once more.
Sam motioned for the three of them to move along and give Dean privacy. Garth led them to the living room, where children's toys were scattered all around haphazardly and a dollhouse sat in the corner of the room near the fireplace. He tossed a few of the dolls aside and motioned for Castiel and Sam to sit down.
"I hope Dean feels better before our little shindig we're having tonight," Garth mentioned. "Nothing too big, just the in-laws and a few friends. Would love for you guys to come."
"I would happy to join in this "shindig" as you call it," Castiel replied. "I have never been to one before."
"Sam?" Garth asked.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I'll come. I just really need to get started on this hunt. Already down twenty people in the town because of this thing."
"No worries," Garth gave a relaxed hand gesture. "Come if you can. Just excited about it all."
"Where are the kids?" Sam asked.
"Gertie's off werewolf training, as I suppose you would call it, with my pal Ryan," Garth explained with a proud smile. "Babies are asleep. Bess has been in the kitchen all day doing her legendary work."
"And you are a hunter as well?" Castiel asked.
"Was," Garth replied. "Only do small cases now when there's no full moon, and only if nobody else can do it. Gotta stay alive for the family."
"Of course," Castiel nodded. "Family is everything, or so I've been taught."
Sam smiled at that.
"Well," the younger Winchester slapped his knees and stood. "I'm going to try and get some leads on what I'm dealing with. I promise I'll put the computer down when you're ready for us."
"By all means go ahead," Garth stood too. "Use ours if you want. Wi-Fi password is on the bottom of the router."
Sam nodded his thanks and took his leave. Castiel moved back over towards the bathroom door where Dean was still groaning from behind it.
"He'll be okay," Garth touched Castiel's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Just give it time."
"I know I just-." Castiel started to say.
"You care about him," Garth replied with a nod. "I understand. I'd do the same for Bess. I did. I thought morning sickness was bad in humans. It's worse in werewolves."
Garth patted Castiel's shoulder and walked off, leaving the angel to wait on the other side of the door for Dean, and resisting every urge he had to bust in and simply take Dean into his arms to comfort him.
No, he'd exercised restraint for this long.
What was another, what seemed like, a hundred thousand years?
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A/N: I decided to continue this story. I've learned that some of my best works came from ONESHOTS that I chose to continue, so we'll see how this goes. Thank you to everyone who has read it so far. More to come soon!