(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. What do you all think so far?)
Summary: AU (from apocalypse to bunker) Dean thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again. Haunted by his past and the future -with all the secrets & uncertainties- Dean will have to try to adjust to everything thrown his and Sam's way and then Cass' way later on.
Chapter 4: Death Won't Win, I Promise You, Sam
. . . .
He grabbed hold of the laptop that the Doctor offered; it had taken him quite a bit of talking and snide remarks - yes he meant snide- to get what he wanted. He placed the laptop on his bed that he had to stay in for the night, removing - more like ripping- the sling from his right arm after he was left alone. He began researching the creature because he knew that he'd have to go after it again, but by the time the sun started to set, Dean was fed up with looking for what the creature was. He couldn't just sit there and wait for Sam to die. He deserved to have family near him, so Dean stood from his bed and went to the door, pressing his ear against the wall.
He didn't hear footsteps nearby, and he chanced a look outside. No one was within view or the ones that were would be far too busy doing their "Dr. Sexy MD" things. It has really been awhile since he watched that show or any really. He walked down the white hallways, ducking behind a wall when needed or hiding behind a moving cart when no one paid attention to it. If it was down the hall, whoops. He didn't even know what room Sam occupied. He went to the elevator and paused. He was debating if they would move him to the second floor. He was soon answered when the elevator opened and a screaming man rushed out.
He got inside as everyone ran frantically the opposite way. He hit the "2" button, which was the only other floor in the place, and as the doors pulled shut, he braced himself for anything, and he meant anything, like... Lucifer anything. At his floor, it binged to announce its arrival, and when the doors pulled apart, Dean first noticed all of the chaos. Everyone was in a blind panic, heading for the two available elevators, and Dean had to lean against the wall to prevent himself from getting crushed underfoot. After the crowd had to wait for the next elevator to come up, Dean took this time to sprint down the hall, which was when he realized another thing: it was pretty dark here, and of course it stung to run with his injuries, but he could only guess who their late visitor was so his injuries felt unimportant at the moment.
Once again, he found that he was disgusted at the human race for how they reacted to fear. They killed one another, if on accident, because all they thought about was their own survival. Some things never changed it seemed. He shook his head angrily, speed increasing as he found a source of loud screaming. It was a woman, and her screams were long, drawn out, and at times, somewhat frantic, and she was staring at the black-haired creature, who twitched when Dean burst into the room. It hissed at him, and he just gently put a hand on the woman's shoulder. She stiffened, but her screams subsided when he spoke. "Relax, you'll be fine, just head toward the exit." He propelled her toward the door, eyes briefly turning away from the creature before him. "I'll handle this." His full attention turned to the interior of the room as the woman scampered off.
Of course, it was in Sam's room, right by his bedside. He snarled. "Step away from the bed, bitch." The thing purposely stretched her fingers over Sam's neck, and it suddenly grabbed hold of him, and Dean saw Sam cough and sputter. "SAM," he shouted and sprang forward, shoulder connecting with the creature, who dropped Sam back on the bed and crashed through the window. The creature crawled back into the room on all fours, body twisting and mutating slightly. Dean raised a brow at it, as it stood back onto its feet. It made a loud noise, which Dean knew was what it did before it attacked.
He had learned that last night- the hard way- so he responded with grabbing the closest thing he had to a weapon and chucked it at its face. Unfortunately the weapon of choice was an empty box, which he found out as he threw it. However, he took the smallest distraction as a good one, so he yanked the bed, along with everything else away from the window. He was glad that all the equipment that Sam needed was on his side of the bed, so when he pulled the bed, it followed. Then, he placed his body between the bed and the creature, who was focused intently on him, and he asked. "Are we just going to stare at each other all night because I'd let you win that one." He shrugged. "Plus, you're not my type. You're too fugly. I prefer your type to die, especially when you target my family, so… I'm not so sorry about this but-"
Dean's body whipped to the side, smashing to the floor. He lifted his face off the ground with a shake of his head and narrowing of his green eyes. He jumped to his feet just as he heard the noise from the window, but when he turned there, it was nowhere to be found. He searched the room, and he saw a shadow at the foot of Sam's bed. Dean studied the figure that crept toward him on all fours again, taking its sweet time to slink over to him. He paused as it reached into the moonlight, and he couldn't stop himself from saying, "What the hell?" It started out a simple question, but it raised in volume toward the end when the creature launched itself at him. He stumbled back, getting slammed into the wall at least twice until he shoved it off as hard as he could. It went back a step, so Dean swung his right fist straight into its face.
It stumbled another time, ending up closer to Sam's bed, so Dean swirled around the creature, slamming it with another fist in the side of its head. It was just his luck that the creature sidestepped him and his fist hit the wall. For a moment, he gripped his hand and let out air from his nose. That frigging hurt. He turned around, and he froze. Red flooded out of Sam's neck, and he watched the blood drip and drip… and … drip. From his neck, from the creature's hands to the white tiles beneath Sam.
And he lost it. He yanked the creature overhead, forcing it to the ground, and roughly tugged it back up to its feet. He tightened his hands and sent both of them, first right then left. Right, left, left, left, right, right, right, right, left, Right. RIGHT! Red formed on his knuckles, but he couldn't stop his attacking. Liquid came out of the creature's mouth as he continued his assault, punching it in the face over and over again, but then he was on his back, staring at the ceiling.
He heard the thing hiss, but he raised his head and saw nothing until he felt breath on the top of his head. He forced himself to roll up to his feet, and the sight that welcomed him made him back up a foot. The creature made its signature noise and turned its body, so it was all sorts of wrong, and it sprinted forward. It was going too fast; he wouldn't be able to do anything, so he braced himself and closed his eyes at the last second. He heard something squawk against the floor, but other than that, it was still.
. . . .
Dean finally opened his eyes, meeting with just Sam's bed, Sam, and the shattered window. Somehow, he was sitting in a chair across from Sam's bed that was still pulled into the middle of the room. His eyes caught the trickle of blood, and he bent his head down to rest in his hands. "Sammy…" He frowned a bit, head pounding in his skull and making it difficult to process anything. "Alright, Sam, I'll try it your way, we'll have your chick flick moment, okay?" He was going to lose his baby brother again, wasn't he? He mumbled to the unconscious Winchester. "You have to keep fighting man. You gotta keep fighting." He paused. "Sam?"
His brother didn't respond or move, and Dean looked to his bloody hands. He was far too late to save Sam, again. Why couldn't he do his damn job? Maybe He had been right- He silenced those thoughts as quick as they came, and he decided to look at his brother. He watched as Sam struggled to take in air, gasping some.
He sighed, hand shakily combing through his short locks. "Alright, I guess I should start then. You probably won't hear any of this, but here goes… Sam, you and I… No, that's not it. I guess I just don't have your emotional abilities, huh?" He chuckled weakly. It died in his throat, and tears swam in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "I don't know what you want from me, Sam. You want me to spill how everything in my life was reduced to the Devil's playground? Or how everything around me dies? Awesome, right? Of course, I think so too." He rolled his eyes to lighten up the mood, but it grew dark again. "It's just fucking peachy, a real place to visit on the holidays; it's actually about the same as now. I've never noticed how you lose something you never had or if you had it years ago, and when it's ripped apart, everything goes with it."
He paused, rubbing his face.
"You're going to die, plain and simple Sam." And he blamed himself. He wasn't fast enough or strong enough. "So basically I guess I'm saying, well… Uh, I guess it comes all down to this, Sammy. You die, and I'm left here again. You know this should be fine after everything… But it's not. You're just going to die now, aren't you? They said that you'd be lucky to live to tomorrow, maybe there's something that we could do… Probably not…"
Dean made a face, taking out Sam's phone, clutching it like a lifeline. "Maybe I can get you better, we've done it before, so why not now, huh?" He wasn't rooting for it, but he could ask this Garth person for help in finding a cure if Sam was bitten, if that's how it worked or what not, and he'd have to trust that the doctors will try everything to get Sam back. That's a fat chance, muttered his brain, doubting they'd care to try to fix him. They already said he was dead tomorrow, so why'd it matter if it happened earlier. He turned on the phone, noting the battery. The call had to be quick.
He went into the contacts.
. . . .
He didn't know why he did it, but he was desperate, and it was there. It was also much better than calling someone. Texting was quicker, but why'd he choose that contact? Because you need him to save Sam. Dean gritted his teeth together. He hated how he had to rely on an angel of all things, but he couldn't just let Sam die. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he idly sat by. The guilt was already there from letting it happen in the first place. He should have kept that thing in his sight at all times.
His fingers tightened on Sam's phone as his eyes clenched closed. Why the hell isn't he showing up? Frigging Angels, that's why. His shoulders shook some, and he rested his arms on his legs, hanging his head. His eyes wavered as he watched his brother wheeze and twitch in his sleep on the bed that was around the middle of the room still, and that's how he stayed until morning.
. . . .
Sam had been moved to a better room, which was an oxymoron really. It wasn't better or at least they all looked the same to Dean; there was the same layout in every single room, except for a few who personalized them if they were staying there long term. He glanced sideways as he stared at his brother. He didn't need the monitor to tell him that Sam was getting worse - much worse. His breathing was erratic, sometimes he thought Sam wouldn't begin breathing again.
When he had tried to move his brother, he felt as if he was in an inferno with the flames licking at his hands. He had to force himself not to drop the Sasquatch on the floor. After what took forever for Dean, Sam was moved to at least a holeless room, while his old one was "boarded off" for cleaning and construction. He had been allowed to remain with Sam when they found him sitting in the chair, staring at the phone in his hands, and the woman from before gave her account of what happened. Something along the lines that he saved her- not quite- but he could remain. That was all he wanted other than Sam to frigging survive this, but he was helpless all over again. He frowned, eyes shifting away from his younger brother.
This couldn't be the end of the line, yet it was. He was at a dead end with no one to turn to. He already tried to find a way to help Sam because he was sure the creature bit him. With all that blood, it was hard not to. Let's just say the bleeding had refused to stop, so the doctors just wrapped up his neck and parted with a saddened look at the oldest Winchester brother. He didn't want their pity; he wanted Sam back, what he always wanted from the beginning of the apocalypse. His eyes studied the floor now as his thoughts drifted toward the apocalypse again. He was walking ahead of the group and told them to speed up. Lucifer was hot on their tails, so he had pushed them almost as fast as they could do. Well, they kept pace with him at least. He was rushing, he knew everyone could tell something was up, but they knew better than to say anything, so they continued forward.
It had been a few weeks after Sam became simply a meat suit for the Devil, so being the leader was really difficult, especially with the turmoil stuck in his head. Sam… He couldn't get over how his brother allowed Lucifer into his head. What had made him do it? Was it Dean's fault? He didn't know, so he had shaken his head and shouted again for them to pick up the pace until they were running after him. He ran so much that his feet hurt, and his people were lagging behind. "Dean, wait up." That was Chuck, who had been the first addition to Dean's "team." Dean didn't hear him and kept going. Their footsteps went distant, and then- only then- did he slow to a walk. He wasn't sure where they were heading.
It - no he- has been like that, walking in a direction that he didn't know where he was going. He didn't like it, but he couldn't help it. He was confused, unsure, and dizzy. It was probably some sickness that he didn't register. That tended to happen in the apocalypse because of the lack of medical supplies and the easy spread of germs. You would have thought that it would be slightly difficult with the population's sharp declines, but it wasn't. But it was a time of war, so it was expected to happen eventually. Fortunately, he had gotten over his sickness in a matter of days after that, and after that he was forced to stop walking. It wasn't because his group wanted to rest, which they did, but it was the fact that he himself couldn't really keep going. Everyone had thought the worse when the sickness came back the second time, but luckily relief came, and he pressed forward.
Dean felt that ache now, but it was slightly different. This time he knew that what he was feeling wasn't illness, and he knew time wouldn't slam the brakes on this one. He leaned his forehead against his hands. You'd think he'd be used to this feeling. It haunted him day in and day out, only numbing a bit when he first showed up here. Suddenly, he heard the door open up, and he expected the doctor to show up with worse news, such as Sam becoming whatever that creature was. Oh yeah, you're brother is a wendigo, congratulations it's a monster! Dean's teeth clenched together. He wouldn't wish that at all. Instead of hearing the doctor walk in, he barely heard anything, so he raised his head and glanced over, breath catching in his throat.
His body didn't know how to react. He was in between attacking him and shaking him. He decided to not do anything except stand and keep his distance, eyes drawn to the familiar figure. They were calculating for a split second and then furious, and he couldn't help himself. He was in front of him, and he yanked the angel to the wall, hand gripping the angel's collar. "Where the hell did you send me, you son of a bitch?"
He blinked blue eyes at him, owlishly. "What do you mean, Dean?"
"Don't be stupid, angel," he snapped, jostling the other a bit when he moved his arm. "You know what I'm talking about."
The other squinted his eyes in confusion. "... I'm not certain that… I follow…" The angel paused, looking over Dean's face. "You're different," commented the angel, eyes searching still.
Dean suddenly realized something. He realized that this Cass wasn't the one that sent him here, so he dropped Cass' shirt, and he just glared. "Yeah, of fucking course I am Cass. I'm not from here.."
"No, that's not what I mean."
"What?" His brow raised up.
"You're... exceptionally different."
The Winchester's eyebrows scrunched together. "What the hell are you talking about?" He shook his head, grabbing hold of the angel's arm roughly and tugged him across the room to Sam's bed. "Fix him," he commanded sharply.
However, the angel just continued watching Dean. "I wonder…"
"Fix him." He told him again. They were running out of time, and Cass needed to get his ass in gear. The blue eyes were still studying him, so he huffed. "Yeah, I'm different than the other Dean, now can you get along with your angel mojo? Sam's in a bit of a hurry."
Cass went to open his mouth again, but Dean growled lowly, ordering him to fix Sam once again. He turned his eyes over to Sam, whose breath was catching for the umteenth time. "What happened?"
"Car crash," Dean crossed his arms and gave him a short summary. "Ugly creature bitch. Sam got hurt."
"So didn't you," Cass commented slowly.
He just narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine. Sammy's the one that got bit." Because you weren't paying attention, his thoughts accused him. If Sam died now, he didn't know what he would do; he guessed he'd just add it to the list of let downs. He shook his head to clear it before he was transported back there - not literally of course- figuratively. He caught the angel staring at him again; this time his head tilted. The conscious brother bristled. "For the love of-"
"He wasn't bit." The blue-eyed gaze traveled over to rest on the taller Winchester and frowned slightly. "It's just a really bad sickness, Dean. He can handle it."
An eyebrow cocked up instantly, and his hands dropped to his side. "Do you see him? He looks terrible." He stepped forward, grabbing the wrap around Sam's neck a little more forcefully than he wanted, and tugged it down to reveal the wound. "And look at that mark. Huh. You think he wasn't bit?" He dropped the bandage when the other spoke.
"Yes, I do, because he didn't change."
"What the hell is that then?" He was obviously referring to the state Sam was in.
Blue eyes returned to the intense green ones. "A sickness. It is rare and can be deadly…" Dean was skeptical, so Cass added. "Did you see the creature bite him, Dean?"
He thought about it, shifting his weight to the opposite foot. "No," he answered. "But-"
"Do you see any teeth marks?"
"It's hard to see ain't it?" He snapped, eyes watching as red blood was already covering the wound.
The angel was unfazed and went forward. "Then you don't know if it was the creature that did this. Like I said, it's just a deadly illness."
"Fine, whatever it is, undo it."
"He can only fight this himself, Dean."
He wanted to strangle the angel even more now; instead he grabbed him by the arm, flinging him face-to-face with an extremely pissed older brother. "I swear angel, if he dies…" His words trailed off as he fought his tongue. That's definitely not what he needed; he didn't need Cass to disappear and leave Sam, so he shoved down what he wanted to threaten and forced himself not to deck him straight in the jaw. His hand itched to do so, but his eyes caught as Sam's chest stopped moving, rising up in a slow crawl. "I - He can't die." Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the angel scrutinizing him. It had the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he felt like the angel was rummaging in his head. He cleared his throat. He hated that feeling, even if it wasn't really there. It was like he was under a microscope.
"He won't."
Dean tensed as he watched, concerned that Cass would harm Sam even more, but that wasn't the main problem. His trust issues needed to be on the backburner for now. He just hoped Sam would be saved. Damn, that angel was taking forever. The heart monitor, which had been kind of constant as of late albeit unreasonably fast, began to flatline. His hands tightened as his eyes drilled into the line on the monitor, the noise echoing off the walls in the room. He was losing Sam all over again. His arm twitched in response to his muscles tensing. It stung; well, it was his right one, the one he smashed against the back of the car and slammed into the wall, so that would explain the amount of pain.
The noise abruptly stopped, and Dean found his eyes on Cass, who seemed to back away from Sam, eyes concentrating on the rise of Sam's body, which rose with better fluency than the entire previous night. He relaxed slightly, glad, but it was crushed, and Cass ruined his mood.
"It's up to him. Dean," he said his name to get him to look over at him. "It's not in my hands, but if you wish, I could try again."
"No," was his immediate answer. "But now you can leave."
Cass blinked some at him. Then, his brows came together. "I don't wish to leave. I want to make sure Sam's alright."
Dean ignored him pretty much, heading over to Sam's side and glancing him over. He seemed to regain some life in him; he wasn't as white as the bedsheet anymore. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam? Come on man, wake up." After no response, he sighed and let his brother go. Keep fighting Sammy. Don't give up. Alright. Don't you dare- He tore his eyes from the sleeping form when he felt eyes on his back. He eyed the angel. "What do you want? You can go, you know."
The angel looked puzzled.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, thanks for saving Sam, but he's good, so vamanos."
"I'm staying."
Dean didn't even blink, just crossed his arms. Oh really? He was prevented from speaking when he heard Sam groan beside him, and he turned to look over, watching as green eyes were revealed.
Sam rose up into a sitting position, holding his head, seemingly groggy. "What… the hell happened?"
Dean made sure he didn't try to sit up anymore. "Easy, Sam. Anything hurt?"
Sam leaned back down, head throbbing. "Ju-just my head…"
He smiled thinly. "You can't hurt that any, so don't worry about it."
"Ha ha, very funny." Sam made a face at his older brother.
"Yeah, not one of my best, I'll admit." Dean cautiously studied how Sam closed his eyes, and they fluttered open again after some time. "Get some sleep will ya, you'll need that beautyrest." He teased half-heartedly.
"I'm good, Dean."
"Yeah sure you are." He rolled his eyes. For some reason, he tensed some, most likely from the stare directly on him. "Quit it." He barked out at the angel.
Sam finally seemed to notice their addition in the room because he brightened faintly. "Hey Cass. What are you doing here?"
Cass went to the bedside, making Dean straighten subconsciously. "I got your message… Well, messages would be more accurate."
"Wait. What messages?" Sam asked.
Cass pulled out his phone, handing it over.
"I didn't send these, Cass." Sam raised a brow at the message content. All eyes turned to Dean, who shrugged a shoulder.
"I was trying to sound like Sam."
"Dean, I don't write hearts."
"I thought you would. You are all emotional and sappy, so it fits."
It was Sam's chance to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why you wrote it." A smirk formed on the younger's face.
Dean blinked. "What?" He scowled. "Shut your face." Sam looked like he was about to add more, but Dean turned toward the door. He thought he heard Sam chuckle. There was no way in hell… He growled and brushed past the angel, face darkening. He would never ever like an angel, especially that one. He had heard enough, and since Cass wanted to see Sam so bad, he was going outside. He was out in the parking lot when he realized he had a follower. His glare grew more ugly with each step. "Stop following me," he ordered sharply, irritated. He whirled around, glare that could freeze Hell present on his face. He hesitated slightly then backed up a step, so he had more space between himself and the angel.
"You don't seem to like me very much."
"Oh really, what gave you that idea, angel?" Dean practically hissed angel out; it was what usually came out when he said it.
Cass answered the rhetorical question with a question of his own. "What did I do to make you so angry?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes squinting as he looked at Dean, whose eye twitched.
What did you do? A whole hell of a lot of nothing, you son of a bitch. The Winchester's hands formed fists by his sides.
"Then why are you so annoyed-"
"Get the hell out of my head!" Apparently, this Cass didn't know that his head was also considered "personal space" either.
"Will you tell me why you… what's the phrase…" He glanced up as if searching for an answer, then looked back to the other's face. "'Hate my guts'?"
Dean wanted to shout at him and throw him to the ground. He wanted to tear him apart, so no, he didn't think the correct phrase was that one. He didn't just hate the angel's guts; he hated everything about all angels- archangels definitely at the top of the list, only under Cass, who disappeared and betrayed both Sam and himself. Everything came to the surface of his mind, and it built up, and like when a dam broke, it all flowed out. "I don't know maybe it has something to do with you being a frigging coward or maybe it was because you left me with cleaning up the apocalypse or how about when you helped start the damn thing, huh? That was real awesome, man."
"What do you mean-"
He was caught off by Dean who continued. "Shut up Cass, I'm talking." Cass went silent, but his silent anger was present, almost reaching his face. "You just left Sam; you let Lucifer parade around in his head. You didn't give a damn, and then you fucking disappeared. How do you think that looks, huh?"
"I wouldn't have done that, Dean."
He laughed drily. "Well, you did, you son of a bitch."
"I think I would know how I would react-"
"Fine, then you tell me what happened? Oh wait, you fucking can't… You're just like all of the rest of them." He crossed his arms, eyes sending a glare the other's way, who returned the look. "You did all that shit for your own benefit. None of you cared about-"
"I did." Cass said sternly.
"You did a great job showing it." He cocked a brow at him. "Because I'm pretty sure you let this whole thing ride out. You didn't try to stop it when it was happening." He had saved them once, but that's the only time he could recall, which could be limited by the rage making its way into him, bending his frame straight and tense. Any second now he could lunge, he was certain.
"In this time, we did try to stop it." Dean blinked slightly, letting Cass speak further. "I was going along with the other angels until you, Dean, told me that it wasn't right. I helped you and Sam; I killed my brothers and my sisters, all because of you. I went against the word of God, for you and your brother." His eyes narrowed more at the last part. "And you really think I'd simply walk away?"
"No," he answered swiftly. "I know."
Blue eyes flashed faintly at him. "I know that the Winchesters' problems come first, Dean, and I know that I would not turn my back on either of you."
"Then what did you do? Because that's all I can think of."
"You think I betrayed you," he questioned, shock edging onto his face for a split second.
Dean just glared for a moment. "What would you have thought?"
"I wouldn't betray-"
"You keep saying that, but I can't trust you." He gritted his teeth some. "Because I know damn right that you left us all behind. You-"
"How do you know I left? It's possible that I went after Lucifer and didn't survive. But you never thought of that, did you? It was always about you and Sam." The angel was attempting to keep his head, but the anger was boiling beneath the surface.
Dean scoffed. "You were nowhere in sight when I showed up. There was only Sam and the major dick inside him - possessing him. Yet, there was no other angel. Nothing was there but Lucifer; there wasn't even Sam anymore." That hurt to say aloud, but he hid it by growling lowly. "You abandoned us for what? Saving your own ass?"
Cass looked like he was going to snap at him, but then he paused, tilting his head. The annoyance rose to his face again. "Ever think that I never left you?"
Both of his eyebrows shot up. "You did leave."
Cass tilted his head more, eyes still squinting in question. "You don't know, do you?"
"Know what," he snapped in response. "Know that you're a fucking liar? Yeah I know that already."
The angel frowned a bit. "I only lied and deceived you and your brother when needed."
"Oh, that's a great confidence builder, way to have no filter there Cass."
"At least you know I'm telling you the truth." Irritation sparked in his eyes as Dean shrugged.
"Not really, it's hard to tell with cold-hearted angels."
Cass' eye twitched some. "Dean," he said exasperatedly. "You were too busy blaming me that you didn't watch yourself-"
"Are you saying that this is my fault?" The Winchester bit out.
"No. I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you need to stop looking at me like I'm your enemy; we're on the same side, even back then."
"Yeah, sure thing, dick. I'll get right on it." He was surprised when Cass realized that he was being sarcastic, and Dean only knew the angel's feelings because his eyes narrowed and his feet moved forward a step. Dean responded by pulling his hands to his sides, fists forming. "What are you going to do, huh angel?" He snarled, both glaring each other down.
Cass opened his mouth to speak, but another voice replaced it, and it wasn't deep, so Dean was caught off guard, searching for the voice. "Hello, Dean," a feminine voice greeted.
Dean looked over, shoving his anger of angels off his face when he noticed it was the nurse from before. "Hey."
Apparently she could sense the tension between the two because she hesitated. Then her gaze swept over the two, noting their proximity to one another and the tension that still seemed to roll off them, in the air and in their postures, despite Dean's change of face. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything because-"
Dean blinked and faked a smile. "What? No- hell no. You're good." Cass didn't seem to know what was going on if his head tilt- eye squint thing was anything to go by.
"Oh, I just assumed that since you two were arguing and…" She giggled lightly. "Nevermind. Here." She gave Dean a piece of paper. It was obviously her number. She waved after she gave her quick farewell.
After she disappeared around a corner, Dean crinkled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket.
"Are you going to call her?" Cass asked in curiousity. He rarely saw Dean say no to a pretty human female.
"No," was the straight reply, no hesitation. He wasn't in the mood, and he wasn't too keen on getting together with anyone. He already had too much on his plate. Man, I could really use a drink. This registered in his head suddenly, but unfortunately, he was shit out of luck, and his anger seized him once more as he gazed at the angel. He wasn't done shouting at him.
"Why not?"
Okay, that question threw him slightly. It was unexpected, so Dean made a face that asked really? He was probably diverting his attention from firing insults at the angel. "Does it matter?"
"Yes."
Why? He sighed loudly; he could have mentally cursed Heaven at that moment at least five times. "I think there's much more important things than this."
"Like-"
"Like Sam," he gritted out.
"Oh yes, who else."
Dean wasn't sure if that was meant to be rude or that he just figured it out, but Dean took it in the negative anyway. "What's wrong with Sam?"
"I didn't…" He shook his head once. It was a human movement he learned when he was, well, human. It wasn't what he usually did, but the mannerism did show up in everyday life, and it didn't feel so strange to him anymore. He just didn't usually do it. "I meant no disrespect, Dean, but…" He wasn't sure how to word what he was trying to phrase. It was very difficult, especially with this Dean.
Dean waited, the side of his head turning so he could hear better, hand cupped close to his ear, even though he could hear just fine. "What was that?"
Cass made a face for a second then it dissolved. "I'm thinking that you're too obsessed with helping Sam. He can handle himself just fine."
Dean was astonished. Yup, guy definitely had no filter, not one bit. His face twisted a bit. "Not from what I've seen, he can't."
"Sam has grown up, Dean."
"If he can handle himself, then why is his giant Sasquatch ass locked up in the hospital because some crazy bitch bit him… Yeah, he can really handle himself so great here."
"It was a sickness."
"Yeah, and I'm a demon now, right?"
Cass shut his mouth before he blurted out anything that would enrage the older Winchester before him. All he knew was that Sam was a touchy subject for Dean; it was most likely from the time Dean was from.
However, even though the angel wanted to calm down the situation, his silence infuriated Dean further. "If you say anything remotely annoying, man, I will fuck up your day." He deemed it best to warn the creature, just for the sake to say that he was warned beforehand. Now he really wished he had his knife back. It wouldn't do much, but he could sure as hell stab a bitch with it. That would make his week.
"What wouldn't be annoying to you, Dean?" The angel was annoyed as well, less so than Dean obviously, but not too far behind.
"Everything, so anything you say will be held against you." -In the court of me. Damn cop reference, now you decide to show up? Seriously? He could have rolled his eyes, but Cass' glare became more fierce, so his followed suit.
"Alright, then I will just 'come out and say it.' You're a - as I heard you call everyone- a son of a bitch." It was definitely not the best thing to say, and neither was the next thing, which consisted of "And you don't look within yourself to see the truth. You immediately jump to conclusions, just like with Sam and with me."
"You wanna know why I jump, angel? Because no one else will unless they're told. That's what happens during the apocalypse when everyone is running around. You think that it's all fun and games, don't you?"
He couldn't not respond to Dean, so his blue eyes locked on the penetrating gaze of green, which screamed murder, and Cass could be the one to determine that. He had had a garrison when he was fighting Raphael. He shouldn't have egged him on, but he wasn't going to let Dean continuously snap at him, so he stated, evenly. "I would have dealt better with it, so yes, I do."
Dean's eyes flashed, and he hissed through his teeth, grabbing hold of his tie. "The hell did you say?"
"I'm pretty sure you heard me." If Cass didn't say that the look was terrifying, he wouldn't be honest with himself. "It would have been easier for me, but I guess that's because I'm an angel, and you're just a man."
"Just a man? Hmph. I wouldn't say that." He shrugged a shoulder, tilting his head slightly, almost mocking Cass' signature head tilt. "I'd say I'm awesome, and I ain't just a man either. I was in the ass kicking business, and man was I good. I'm still great, especially during an apocalypse. I was there, saving people, and what have you been doing?"
Cass didn't know how to reply, but he knew better than make Dean more angry, especially with that look in his eyes that swirled, dangerous and threatening, so he didn't push back.
"Nothing." Dean growled.
Cass could tell Dean wanted to punch him so badly, but Cass knew he was injured. Also, he understood Dean had the knowledge that he couldn't physically harm an angel. He could try, yes, but it wouldn't make a difference. It would hurt Dean more than anything else.
"I was there fighting off Lucifer, saving one person after the next." But you couldn't save Sam, his brain was back at it again. And you lost so many because you didn't push yourself enough. "I pushed myself every single day, and I survived until the last day. I didn't back down." Even though it was tempting you, and it nearly caught up with you. "I kept fighting, and let me say, I can't say the same thing about you or your kind."
Cass let him finish, and sensing that Dean's mouth was still going, he tried to remained impassive, even though he was slightly bothered at what Dean was throwing at his face.
"None of them were-" Dean's mouth clamped shut when he heard Sam's voice. He dropped the angel and stepped back as his brother walked closer. It took him half a second before he made up his mind to just hug the damn kid. When he did, Cass noticed the dark cloud edging away from the older brother's brain. It drifted to rest in the back. Also, the angel watched various emotions come and go on his face, so fast that even he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. At last, it resembled relief, and Dean said. "Sam." The older Winchester couldn't stop the smile from his face. He released Sam after a little too long of a hug was shared between them. He instantly raised a brow. "Why are you out of bed?"
Sam rolled his eyes at his protectiveness. "I feel fine, Dean."
"I don't care what you feel. You're going right back in there."
"Dean," he sighed loudly.
"No complaining. Let's go."
They went to head inside when Sam told him to wait. Dean paused, hoping that it wasn't about anything Cass and him have been arguing about. "I have something for you." He fished into his pocket, not noting Dean's relief that the brainiac missed what had been talked about between the angel and the older brother, and pulled out something that made Dean grin.
"Oh come on, Sammy, you didn't have to." He reached to meet Sam's hand, so he could grab the weapon.
"It was next to me before I fell down the hill."
"Oh yeah, when I hit a homerun, and you wanted to take a midnight swim." He shook his head, cocky smirk on his lips. "Probably not the best idea you had." His hands were barely on the handle when it disappeared from them, and he instantly dropped his face, crushing it into a scowl only because of what had it.
"Where did you find this," asked the angel, who stared intently at the weapon. "This weapon seems familiar."
Dean snatched it from his grip. "That's none of your business." He placed it in its holster, green gaze daring the angel to say anything else. Fortunately, Cass remained quiet, turning his eyes away. "Come on, Sam." He walked ahead of his younger brother, who followed him inside the hospital, who was also tailed by Cass. No one commented on his cold shoulder toward Cass as they went inside, and Sam didn't once mention if he heard anything before Sam reached him and Cass.
He could only hope that Sam hadn't been able to hear him, which seemed unlikely, but maybe it was possible?
(Next Time: Thrill of the Hunt?)