Hold it together, birds of a feather,
Nothing but lies and crooked wings.
I have the answer, spreading the cancer,
You are the faith inside me.
"Evil Angel" by Breaking Benjamin
The hospital smelled of disinfectant and a paradoxical hopelessness. The waiting room teemed with injuries, and the E.R. was loud, loud, loud.
Sam held Castiel up, barely registering what was happening. He'd only known the guy for two weeks; in fact, he wasn't even particularly fond of him. And yet, here he was, dragging him into the emergency room like he'd done for Dean, Dean had done for him, oh-so many times in their childhood.
The nurse on call looked wide-eyed up at Sam and Castiel.
"I'll get the paramedics," she mumbled once, before dashing out from behind the Formica counter-top. Sam noticed a little figurine of an angel resting there on the laminate. It smiled emptily back at him.
Half-an-hour earlier...
"Cass? Oh, shit...Cass!" Dean jerked Castiel's head up, trying to yank him back into consciousness. Blood pooled at the knees of his jeans, but he didn't seem to care, his face screwed in concentration.
"Dean, that's..." Sam didn't have to go any farther. The man slumped against the cool tile of the bathroom was still breathing slightly, his limbs spasming. One eye was open, dark and watery, pulled open tautly to stare in disbelief at the sight before him. He was dying, broken, but Sam recognized him.
He had sung quiet song by the roadside that morning, a smile painted on his face.
Dean was losing it. His head came up when he heard the man gasp for air, and Sam hadn't seen anger like that since...since he had left for Stanford. Since Dad had died.
"Sam, get Cass out of here," he muttered, venomous. "I'm going to have a chat with this ass-clown."
...
"Sir, we're going to need an I.D." the paramedic was trying to calm Sam down. Her name tag read Leslie, and her hair was the color of sewer water.
"My brother'll be here in a minute. Please, just...just fix him, okay?"
Castiel was starting to wake up.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't–"
"Give her my I.D., Sam," came a quiet, rough voice. Castiel was holding out a bloody hand, a plastic identification card clutched in his fist. It was smeared with scarlet, but Sam plucked it carefully from his grasp and shoved it at the frazzled Leslie.
She gave it one glance, wide-eyed, before running off again.
Sam stared at Cass.
"Dude," he said simply.
Castiel smiled through broken teeth.
...
Twenty minutes earlier...
Dean emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, sprayed with someone else's blood.
"His name was Alastair. He worked for Lucifer." he kicked open the Impala door, slumping in the front seat. "We should get Cass to a motel, stitch him up."
Sam shook his head.
"Dean, he needs a hospital. Look at his face!"
"No!" Dean snapped, leaning as far back in the seat as it would let him. "No, I can't–I can't do hospitals. No."
In the backseat, Sam could see a careful circle of blood letting out from Castiel, staining the prized leather of the seat. Panic fluttered in his head.
"I don't care, Dean. He'll die if we don't."
...
The doctor shut the door to room 2277 with a sour look on his face. He crossed his arms over his white coat, and frowned at Sam.
"You said you were his brother?"
"Ah. no. Friend. His friend."
Down the hall, a monitor beeped dully, the sound of hushed voices overriding Sam's nerves. He didn't like hospitals either–they reminded him of the night Jess died. ("Burns, Mr. Winchester. Too many burns. I'm sorry for your loss.")
"Well Mr. Novak isn't in critical condition. It looks like he just needs some rest and painkillers. I've got him on some now. He should be out in..." the doctor checked the chart he held in gloved hands. "Three and a half weeks, roughly."
"Weeks?" Sam choked out. "We can't wait weeks. Isn't there something you can do now?"
"Look, Mr...?"
"Um, Wesson. Sam Wesson."
The doctor sighed dramatically. He wore an exasperated expression, and talked with a thick British accent.
"This man literally broke his face, plus three ribs and two fingers. He's not going anywhere." He raised an eyebrow. "Whatever did this, did it good."
"Yeah, well, he's gotta be out of here in the next three days," Sam replied shortly. The hunt couldn't wait for too long–people were dying. He took a deep breath, and raised himself up to full height. "Isn't there anything you can do, Doctor..." he paused to squint at the name-tag pinned neatly to the white coat's breast pocket. "Doctor Crowley?"
Dr. Crowley offered another dry smile.
"'Fraid not," he said. "Now excuse me, I've go a job to do." He moved to push past Sam. Just then, the sound of shouting came down the hall, followed by a certain distinct voice.
"Get the hell out of my way!" Dean was barreling down the hall, his leather jacket stained with blood. Spotting Sam and Dr. Crowley, he rushed forward, forehead furrowed in frustration.
"Oh great, it's another pushy jackass, come to complain at me," the doctor mumbled, garnering a dark glare from Sam.
Dean looked at Sam, desperate.
"Is...is he?"
"Yeah. Dean, he's okay, but he's gonna have to stay here awhile."
Dr. Crowley looked amused. Dean frowned again, the grip on his cell phone increasing. Sam took a moment to wonder vaguely what exactly Dean had done to Alastair. He'd stepped outside to "make a few calls" before Sam could properly question him.
"Hell he is. Let me talk to him–he'll be fine." Because he has to be. For you. Sam held back a derisive snort.
Dr. Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically, but didn't stop Dean from throwing open the door to room 2277. In fact, if Sam didn't know better, he'd swear the doctor found all of this amusing. He followed behind the brothers as they entered the room, the smell of stale antibiotics and cheap scrubs ever-present in the small space.
They were all shocked, however, to find Castiel sitting upright in the hospital bed, wearing his blood-stained trench-coat. He was staring out the window, eyes vacant. In his hands draped his ruined tie. He didn't even shift when Dean said his name (quietly at first then louder, a desperate bark). He just gazed out into the darkness of the hospital parking lot.
It was then that Sam noticed.
Castiel was completely healed.
...