'It's nice,' the stranger comments, a dubious look on his face.

'S'good enough… for me.'

Dean walks forward and brushes his hand over the buck's dried blood, cursing to himself again.

'Oh, God!' the man shouts as he watches Dean. He scrambles backwards, still cradling his busted hand. 'What the hell is that?!'

'B…buck's blood. It was… it was stolen,' Dean replies sullenly.

The man nods, awkwardly shifting on his feet. He begins to move towards Dean and Dean responds by shuffling backwards. The reaction appears to be strange to the hiker and he tilts his head, stopping in his tracks.

'What is your name?' he asks, bluntly.

Dean blanches and looks down at his filth and blood stained hands. The crusted pattern the dried liquid has made is interesting and he keeps his eyes on it.

'Do you even have a name?' the stranger pushes, still clutching his injured hand to his coat clad chest.

'Dean.'

'Well, Dean, my name is Castiel. Now that we're on civilized terms, may you please tell me how you plan to assist me in soothing my injury?'

The man's cold stare causes Dean to shrink back slightly. He doesn't know how to progress, only ever really having to look after himself and his little brother in the far away past.

'Don't have any medical… equipment. Don't have anything, really,' Dean mumbles. His speech comes more fluently, however. It's easier to talk when he can use his voice often.

'Then… do you mind telling me why you brought me back here? I'm bleeding rather a lot.'

A frown creases Dean's brow and he looks at the dirt beneath his feet. 'Safe?' His voice is unsure and makes Castiel groan.

'This doesn't seem very safe to me, Dean.'

Dean's frown deepens as he listens to the stranger's irritated tone. 'There's nowhere else!'

Castiel's cold laugh makes Dean flinch; he's used to the loud wails of dying animals, used to the sound of blade cutting through flesh, but the hollow sound of laughter is almost foreign to him. 'Of course there's somewhere else! My house! A hospital! Literally anywhere but here!'

The hiker's words hurt Dean more than he lets on. 'I'll look after you. I did this to you.'

Castiel rolls his eyes and then focuses them on Dean. 'I'm going to die of blood loss under your care, Dean, you do realise this.'

'Not main artery or anythin'. You should be fine,' Dean replies, disinterest in his voice as he recovers from the hurt.

Castiel scoffs and turns around, eyeing his surroundings. 'So, here we have forest, forest… and, oh look! More forest! All useful in aiding the injured, I imagine.'

'Don't appreciate your sarcasm.'

They stand in silence for a moment before Dean collects some snow and dumps it over the hiker's hand without warning. Castiel jerks back and shouts at the cold shock, snow tumbling off his aching hand.

'What are you doing?!'

'Cleaning the wound. This snow is clean.' Dean focuses on rubbing the rapidly melting ice into the wound. His movements are rough and irritate the dip of split skin.

'You're hurting me,' Castiel declares, squinting his eyes in reaction to the pain.

'It'll be over soon.'

The quiet settles between them once more and Dean continues to clear the wound, numbing Castiel's hand.

'Are you hungry?' Dean asks and briefly glances up to meet Castiel's eyes, making himself address the man's other needs.

Castiel shakes his head, 'No. And even if I was, do you really think I'd eat your food?'

Dean's brow creases, 'Hey, berries are…' Dean searches for the appropriate word before sighing and admitting, 'boring.'

At Castiel's chuckle, Dean's eyes widen. It's a nice sound and it surprises him, such a contrast to his previous laugh.

'What?'

'Laughter… Don't hear much of that anymore.'

Castiel's once pain warped face turns sympathetic. Dean decides he doesn't like that look on Castiel and he especially doesn't like that look directed at him. A flicker of his old, fiery personality flares up, inviting him to reply with a snarky comment. He barely bites down the retort and forces himself to focus on Castiel's still bleeding cut. It's deep and Dean knows he can only help to a certain extent. He's used to bite wounds, he knows them, can sort them out for himself when he gets them. He's used to grazes, welts and scratches, he can deal with those. He knows gashes that have formed when he catches his leg on a particularly sharp rock, he can tend to them. What he doesn't know, not anymore at least, is how to deal with lesions caused from the end of his spear, a man made wound. The abrasion is something he's not sure how to care for. It's incredibly deep, his weapon almost came out the other side of Castiel's hand and Dean thinks it's astounding that the man's reaction was so toned down considering. A high pain threshold comes in handy in the harsh forest and Dean is thankful he himself has one, however, there's only so much he can deal with which is one of the reasons he's always so careful with his spear.

'Are you… better?'

A choked out laugh leaves Castiel's lips, another sound Dean decides he needs to catalogue in his brain; it sounds different from the other laughs, and Dean craves the different notes, the new noises that only a human can produce. 'Ice can only do so much.'

Dean grunts and nods, his own fingers numb from handling the cold snow. 'Do you maybe have… something in your bag? To help?' He vaguely gestures to Castiel's back. Castiel stares back at Dean incredulously.

'No. I didn't expect to be mauled by a wild man.'

The frown on Dean's face appears to be becoming permanent and he huffs, stepping back slightly. 'What if I had been a… bear?'

'I wouldn't be alive.' Castiel shrugs.

'You don't seem to care.'

'Not much to live for, is there? What's life without a little life-threatening, risk-taking adventure in the Alaskan wilderness?'

'Family!' Dean snaps, suddenly angry at Castiel for coming across as ungrateful for his family. 'You live for family.'

'I don't have them,' Castiel replies quietly, staring down at the angry red of his hand.

Dean swallows thickly and sighs, 'Sorry.'

Castiel smirks and draws his eyes up to meet Dean's. 'Huh, a sympathetic Neanderthal.'

A sound close to a growl rolls out of Dean's throat and he retreats to the tree stump next to the one where the buck once was. Castiel has the courtesy to at least look guilty and follows Dean, standing in front of him with an uncomfortable expression on his features.

'It's weird.'

'What is?'

'Feeling guilty about teasing my attacker.'

'I didn't mean to hurt you!' Dean shouts, passion in his voice.

'I know,' Castiel mumbles. He sighs and sinks down to the ground, snow instantly soaking the material of his trousers. He chooses to change the topic, 'So tell me, Dean, how did you find yourself in this… situation?'

Dean knows Castiel is asking out of his own personal interest but it's a push too far for Dean. He instantly pushes himself up from the stump and removes himself from the situation, scrambling through the biting snow to get away from the man. He misses the look of bewilderment on the hiker's face in his hurry to escape and refuses to let himself think about the liquid furiously stinging his eyeballs.