Fic: Unraveling (Part 7)
Dec. 11th, 2011 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dauntperplexity[Masterlist] [Part 6]
Sam found his brother on the couch in the exact same position he had left him in when he went to sleep the night before. Dean looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Sam would not have been surprised if that were the case. This had been going on for days.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked.
Dean grabbed the controller and turned off the TV. He needed to stop watching the news. All they kept showing was the explosion in the sky that Dark Angel was caught in and the hospital wheeling the injured hero in. He stared at the body that was covered in blood and looking like a corpse. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as he saw Castiel’s wings dragged across the ground as they rolled him in on the stretcher.
That was the only footage they had and it kept replaying over and over again. The image of Castiel on the stretcher haunted his dreams.
He felt nothing but disgust when he saw the reporters surround the EMTs as they tried to bring his body into the hospital. He did feel proud when the paper he worked for was the only one in the state that didn’t print a picture of it. Granted, he would have been the one to take the picture and he hadn’t left his room since he ran in all those days ago.
He felt proud when they got the numbers of sales from that day and saw every paper with a picture of the injured Dark Angel saw a drop. He was even more proud when there was an increase in his online photo album of all the pictures he’d taken of the hero.
“No.” Ever since that day, Crowley said that everyone on the floor was supposed to take the next few days off. He wished he could have gone to work. It would have been easier for him to get his mind off of Castiel. It didn’t help that every television station constantly had updates of his condition. He still hadn’t woken up.
“Why don’t you go visit him?”
Dean rubbed his hands up and down his face. “I can’t just go and visit a superhero, Sam.”
“Dean, all you have to do is flash your ID. You’re the only reporter that has a connection to Dark Angel. You’re known here. You know his real name. If you want to go see him, then go.”
“Sam, I can’t,” Dean yelled. Immediately he regretted raising his voice at his brother. He was angry and frustrated and he had no right to be taking it out on his brother.
“Why?”
“Because he got hurt saving my life,” Dean said. After almost a week of keeping everything in, Dean had finally said it out loud. “He came to save my ass. He flew out of the building to catch me even though he was bleeding.” For the first time since it happened, Dean was talking about it.
“Dean.” Sam was surprised that his brother was opening up to him.
“Everyone thinks that he was stabbed after he went back the second time. They have no idea…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t want to say anything else.
“Dean, if it were anyone else falling out of that building, the result would have been the same. He would have caught them, bleeding and all, and still went back to fight.”
Dean shook his head. In his mind, he knew his brother was right, but it didn’t stop him from taking the guilt onto himself because it wasn’t just anyone; it was him. “But the explosion. And the fall. He should be dead.”
“But he’s not.”
“He’s close to it.” He knew about the wound from the weapon. The one that he couldn’t heal from. The one that sat on his dresser, wrapped in his blue and gray plaid shirt. If he wasn’t already weakened, he knew Castiel would have easily survived the fall.
“No one knows the real story, Dean. No reporters have been able to get into his room. You would be able to.”
“Sam.” He didn’t want to go into Castiel’s room just to get a news scoop. He wanted to see if Castiel was all right. He wanted to see if he’d recover.
“Dean. You want to see him.”
Dean sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his face as if it would wipe away the denial. “I do,” he whispered.
“I’ll give you a ride.”
Dean smiled at his brother. It was a small smile, but it was a different emotion from the despair that he had been feeling. “Let me take a shower and change and all that good stuff before we go.”
“You have fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said before disappearing down the hallway.
LRLRLRLRLRLRLR
Dean was terrified that the police at the entrance of the hospital were going to turn him away. There was a massive amount of people at the entrance. Some were holding vigil. Some were waiting for something to report. The police had taped off the entrance and unless people had proof that they knew a patient, they couldn’t enter.
But Dean showed the police his ID, and without hesitation, they let him in. He breathed a huge sigh of relief that it was that simple, only because if they patted him down or searched him, they’d find a piece of metal, wrapped in a bloodied shirt, stuffed into his jacket pocket.
He walked over to the lobby nurse and asked what floor he could find Castiel at after he showed his ID again. The woman gave Dean directions and told her to talk to Castiel’s doctor before walking in.
Dean went up to the fourth floor and toward the private rooms. It wasn’t hard to tell which room was his because of the security around it.
He saw a doctor reading a chart in the hallway and walked over to her. He cleared his throat to get her attention. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Dr. Visyak,” he asked.
“That’s me,” she replied. She put the chart down. “And you are?”
Dean took out his ID and showed it to her. “I was wondering if I could see Dark Angel.” She smiled at him, but he could see the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if she was going to turn him away.
“Come with me,” she said, walking down the hallway. Dean followed quickly behind. “We wouldn’t usually let anyone in to see him, but since you’re Dean Winchester, we’ll make an exception.” She stopped at the door leading to Castiel’s room and shooed the guards off.
“Why?” Dean asked. He wanted to know why he was so special.
“You take the pictures.”
“Yeah.”
“There is something strangely personal, almost intimate about those pictures. You are definitely closer to him than anyone else on this planet.”
“Thanks?” Dean had no idea how he was supposed to respond to something like that.
“Well, maybe he has a family. We don’t know. Besides, the entire city knows that those Sinister Brothers used you as bait.”
Dean sighed, the guilt that he had pushed down threatened to resurface again. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“I wasn’t trying to be mean, Dean. Just observational.” She looked into the room through the small window. “He’s still unconscious. We’re not sure when or if he’ll ever wake up.”
Dean took a deep breath then looked into Castiel’s room. Most of him was covered by a blanket. He assumed that it covered a most of his injuries. The only things he could see were bandages wrapping his arms and head and a breathing tube that stuck out of his mouth. “So, how bad was he when you brought him in?”
She looked at him with a weary expression. She didn’t want to recount all of his injuries. There were far too many. And horrifying. “The usual for falling. Broken legs, arms. His pelvis was shattered. Torn ligaments. His lungs were punctured. The stab wound. Internal injuries. Burns. And some of his wounds looked like they were cauterized.” She paused to regain her composure. “I was honestly afraid to touch him when they brought him in. And moving him? I was scared we’d be the ones to kill him.” She remembered what she felt the moment the paramedics rolled him in. “He should be dead.”
“But now?”
“He’s better. He may not look like it right now, but he was in terrible shape. We didn’t know where to start, or how to start. Strangely enough, his body is quite similar to a human’s. But he was bleeding so much and he was leaking this blue stuff. We couldn’t give him blood because we have no idea if human blood would kill him, you know?”
“Yeah.” Dean found himself wondering about that too.
“But don’t worry, we didn’t take anything of his to experiment on.”
“That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“The government’s been asking us to hand stuff over ever since they brought him in. I don’t know what they would expect to do with whatever comes from his body. But I said no. I monitor everything that comes in and goes out of this room. I make the nurses and doctors empty their pockets. No one is allowed in here that I don’t know.”
“Those are a lot of precautions.”
“He just saved the city, Dean. Who are we to invade his privacy like that?”
Dean didn’t say anything, but he was glad that the doctor treating Castiel respected him that way. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“You know, he regained conscious for a moment while we were working on him.”
“I thought—”
“He said your name. He woke up, and tried to get up but he realized he couldn’t move. He whispered your name before he fell into a coma.”
“He…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“I don’t think he knew what was going on. I think he was worried for you.”
Dean was going to say something about that, but he stopped himself. Especially since he felt his chest tighten and he knew that he’d probably turn into a blubbering mess from getting so emotional. He just wanted to see Castiel. “So, do I just walk in?”
“Yeah.”
“Do I have—”
“Stay in there as long as you like. No one is going to disturb you. I’ll post the guards at the ends of the hallway.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you ever want to come see him before he’s released, just see me and I’ll let you through.”
“Thanks,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually come back to the hospital, but if he did, he was glad that it wouldn’t be a difficult process.
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Visyak replied. “Maybe you’re what he needs to wake up.”
“Maybe,” Dean said and opened the door.
LRLRLRLRLRLRLR
Dean stepped into the room and immediately wanted to step out. He never liked hospitals. They made him uncomfortable. And they smelled funny.
The room looked empty. No paintings on the walls, no tables. Castiel lay in the middle of the room with wires and tubes coming from every direction.
Dean had to smile at the ridiculousness of the picture in front of him. Even though Castiel was wearing a hospital gown, the medical staff had somehow kept the mask on. How easy it could have been for someone to just peek under the mask and see the face of the man who just saved the city. He was glad that they respected him enough to leave it on.
He walked over to Castiel and stared at him. Most of his body was covered by a blanket. His hands rested on it. His arms were covered in bandages. He imagined that the same was said for his legs. He could see that his chest was also wrapped. Dean wondered where his wings were. “You look human,” he said.
Dean let out a nervous laugh. “That was a really stupid thing to say.”
“Then again, I’m talking to myself.”
Dean ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “Okay. Calm down, Dean. He’s unconscious. And it’s kind of your fault. Okay, more than kind of.” He bit his lip to stop talking again. “And I’m still talking to myself.”
He looked around the room and saw two chairs pushed into one corner. He made his way over to them. He grabbed one chair then let it go. Laid out on the chair was Castiel’s cloak and pants. He reached out with a shaky hand and touched them. He could feel where the dried blood made the fabric stiff.
He knew that it wasn’t the most polite thing to do, but he took out his cell phone. He took a picture of Castiel’s uniform. It wasn’t for work. It was just for him.
He pushed down the anger that he felt toward the Sinister brothers.
He grabbed the other chair and walked it over to Castiel’s bedside. He set it down and sat in it. He looked at all of the medical supplies around him. It unsettled him to think that the machines were keeping him alive. Although, there was something calming about hearing Castiel’s heartbeat through the EKG.
Dean sighed and leaned back into the chair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know that you didn’t have to save my ass, but you did. And I’m sorry that you ended up like this because of it.”
He grabbed one of Castiel’s hands. He held it in both of his. “How cheesy would it be to do the whole ‘if you can hear me, squeeze my hand’ thing?” He held his hands to his lips waiting for a reaction that he knew wasn’t going to come. “Probably really cheesy, huh.”
Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and rubbed his face again. “I watch too many movies.”
He stood up and walked to the foot of the bed. He stared at Castiel, his eyes moving from the machine helping him to breathe, to the one showing his heart rate and temperature. He grabbed the railing and leaned forward. “I wonder if you have a family,” he whispered. “If you do, they must be freaking out and worried about you. I wish I knew so I’d be able to tell them that you’re better.
“I don’t know what that’s relative to, but you look like you’re sleeping. And you don’t like you’re in pain. So, I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”
He walked back to Castiel’s bedside and stood staring at him. He reached up and ran his fingers through Castiel’s messy hair that was still fluffy even after days lying in the hospital. Dean sighed and plopped back down in the chair. “I hope you still think trying to save us is still worth it. You almost got yourself killed for us. I’d call you an idiot, but you saved my life, so I feel like that’d make me sound ungrateful.”
Dean tried to lean forward and grab Castiel’s hand again, but something poked his side and stopped him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his shirt. He sat back and opened the shirt. He shook his head. He hated how that small of an object had done so much damage to the superhero. He set the blade down on Castiel’s bed and folded the shirt so that most of the blood was hidden. Then he rewrapped the shard in it.
He opened Castiel’s hand and put his shirt in it. He folded the angel’s fingers closed around it. “I know you told me to get rid of this, but I was really paranoid that someone would find it and somehow find a way to use it against you. I figured it would be best if you disposed of it.”
Dean’s chest and throat tightened. He didn’t know when he got so emotional, but he felt a tear roll down his cheek. “Get well soon, Castiel. Our world still sort of needs saving. Until you get back on your feet, we’ll do our best.” He swallowed and wiped away the traces of tears from his face. “Hopefully the world doesn’t collapse on itself without you.”
Dean took in a deep breath and slowly and shakily let it out. He had nothing else to say. Not right now. He was just glad that he was able to see him. The few days that he was planted to his couch with nothing to do but wonder if he was okay was torture. Just seeing him and being able to touch Castiel was enough to calm him down. “The doc said that I could stay as long as I want, so I hope you don’t mind if I sit with you for a little while.”
He turned the chair to face the television. He grabbed the remote off of Castiel’s bed and changed the channel. “I hope you don’t mind. Dr. Sexy is on.”
Dean leaned back and divided his attention between Castiel and the television; with most of it on Castiel.
[Part 8]
Sam found his brother on the couch in the exact same position he had left him in when he went to sleep the night before. Dean looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Sam would not have been surprised if that were the case. This had been going on for days.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked.
Dean grabbed the controller and turned off the TV. He needed to stop watching the news. All they kept showing was the explosion in the sky that Dark Angel was caught in and the hospital wheeling the injured hero in. He stared at the body that was covered in blood and looking like a corpse. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as he saw Castiel’s wings dragged across the ground as they rolled him in on the stretcher.
That was the only footage they had and it kept replaying over and over again. The image of Castiel on the stretcher haunted his dreams.
He felt nothing but disgust when he saw the reporters surround the EMTs as they tried to bring his body into the hospital. He did feel proud when the paper he worked for was the only one in the state that didn’t print a picture of it. Granted, he would have been the one to take the picture and he hadn’t left his room since he ran in all those days ago.
He felt proud when they got the numbers of sales from that day and saw every paper with a picture of the injured Dark Angel saw a drop. He was even more proud when there was an increase in his online photo album of all the pictures he’d taken of the hero.
“No.” Ever since that day, Crowley said that everyone on the floor was supposed to take the next few days off. He wished he could have gone to work. It would have been easier for him to get his mind off of Castiel. It didn’t help that every television station constantly had updates of his condition. He still hadn’t woken up.
“Why don’t you go visit him?”
Dean rubbed his hands up and down his face. “I can’t just go and visit a superhero, Sam.”
“Dean, all you have to do is flash your ID. You’re the only reporter that has a connection to Dark Angel. You’re known here. You know his real name. If you want to go see him, then go.”
“Sam, I can’t,” Dean yelled. Immediately he regretted raising his voice at his brother. He was angry and frustrated and he had no right to be taking it out on his brother.
“Why?”
“Because he got hurt saving my life,” Dean said. After almost a week of keeping everything in, Dean had finally said it out loud. “He came to save my ass. He flew out of the building to catch me even though he was bleeding.” For the first time since it happened, Dean was talking about it.
“Dean.” Sam was surprised that his brother was opening up to him.
“Everyone thinks that he was stabbed after he went back the second time. They have no idea…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t want to say anything else.
“Dean, if it were anyone else falling out of that building, the result would have been the same. He would have caught them, bleeding and all, and still went back to fight.”
Dean shook his head. In his mind, he knew his brother was right, but it didn’t stop him from taking the guilt onto himself because it wasn’t just anyone; it was him. “But the explosion. And the fall. He should be dead.”
“But he’s not.”
“He’s close to it.” He knew about the wound from the weapon. The one that he couldn’t heal from. The one that sat on his dresser, wrapped in his blue and gray plaid shirt. If he wasn’t already weakened, he knew Castiel would have easily survived the fall.
“No one knows the real story, Dean. No reporters have been able to get into his room. You would be able to.”
“Sam.” He didn’t want to go into Castiel’s room just to get a news scoop. He wanted to see if Castiel was all right. He wanted to see if he’d recover.
“Dean. You want to see him.”
Dean sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his face as if it would wipe away the denial. “I do,” he whispered.
“I’ll give you a ride.”
Dean smiled at his brother. It was a small smile, but it was a different emotion from the despair that he had been feeling. “Let me take a shower and change and all that good stuff before we go.”
“You have fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said before disappearing down the hallway.
Dean was terrified that the police at the entrance of the hospital were going to turn him away. There was a massive amount of people at the entrance. Some were holding vigil. Some were waiting for something to report. The police had taped off the entrance and unless people had proof that they knew a patient, they couldn’t enter.
But Dean showed the police his ID, and without hesitation, they let him in. He breathed a huge sigh of relief that it was that simple, only because if they patted him down or searched him, they’d find a piece of metal, wrapped in a bloodied shirt, stuffed into his jacket pocket.
He walked over to the lobby nurse and asked what floor he could find Castiel at after he showed his ID again. The woman gave Dean directions and told her to talk to Castiel’s doctor before walking in.
Dean went up to the fourth floor and toward the private rooms. It wasn’t hard to tell which room was his because of the security around it.
He saw a doctor reading a chart in the hallway and walked over to her. He cleared his throat to get her attention. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Dr. Visyak,” he asked.
“That’s me,” she replied. She put the chart down. “And you are?”
Dean took out his ID and showed it to her. “I was wondering if I could see Dark Angel.” She smiled at him, but he could see the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if she was going to turn him away.
“Come with me,” she said, walking down the hallway. Dean followed quickly behind. “We wouldn’t usually let anyone in to see him, but since you’re Dean Winchester, we’ll make an exception.” She stopped at the door leading to Castiel’s room and shooed the guards off.
“Why?” Dean asked. He wanted to know why he was so special.
“You take the pictures.”
“Yeah.”
“There is something strangely personal, almost intimate about those pictures. You are definitely closer to him than anyone else on this planet.”
“Thanks?” Dean had no idea how he was supposed to respond to something like that.
“Well, maybe he has a family. We don’t know. Besides, the entire city knows that those Sinister Brothers used you as bait.”
Dean sighed, the guilt that he had pushed down threatened to resurface again. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“I wasn’t trying to be mean, Dean. Just observational.” She looked into the room through the small window. “He’s still unconscious. We’re not sure when or if he’ll ever wake up.”
Dean took a deep breath then looked into Castiel’s room. Most of him was covered by a blanket. He assumed that it covered a most of his injuries. The only things he could see were bandages wrapping his arms and head and a breathing tube that stuck out of his mouth. “So, how bad was he when you brought him in?”
She looked at him with a weary expression. She didn’t want to recount all of his injuries. There were far too many. And horrifying. “The usual for falling. Broken legs, arms. His pelvis was shattered. Torn ligaments. His lungs were punctured. The stab wound. Internal injuries. Burns. And some of his wounds looked like they were cauterized.” She paused to regain her composure. “I was honestly afraid to touch him when they brought him in. And moving him? I was scared we’d be the ones to kill him.” She remembered what she felt the moment the paramedics rolled him in. “He should be dead.”
“But now?”
“He’s better. He may not look like it right now, but he was in terrible shape. We didn’t know where to start, or how to start. Strangely enough, his body is quite similar to a human’s. But he was bleeding so much and he was leaking this blue stuff. We couldn’t give him blood because we have no idea if human blood would kill him, you know?”
“Yeah.” Dean found himself wondering about that too.
“But don’t worry, we didn’t take anything of his to experiment on.”
“That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“The government’s been asking us to hand stuff over ever since they brought him in. I don’t know what they would expect to do with whatever comes from his body. But I said no. I monitor everything that comes in and goes out of this room. I make the nurses and doctors empty their pockets. No one is allowed in here that I don’t know.”
“Those are a lot of precautions.”
“He just saved the city, Dean. Who are we to invade his privacy like that?”
Dean didn’t say anything, but he was glad that the doctor treating Castiel respected him that way. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“You know, he regained conscious for a moment while we were working on him.”
“I thought—”
“He said your name. He woke up, and tried to get up but he realized he couldn’t move. He whispered your name before he fell into a coma.”
“He…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“I don’t think he knew what was going on. I think he was worried for you.”
Dean was going to say something about that, but he stopped himself. Especially since he felt his chest tighten and he knew that he’d probably turn into a blubbering mess from getting so emotional. He just wanted to see Castiel. “So, do I just walk in?”
“Yeah.”
“Do I have—”
“Stay in there as long as you like. No one is going to disturb you. I’ll post the guards at the ends of the hallway.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you ever want to come see him before he’s released, just see me and I’ll let you through.”
“Thanks,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually come back to the hospital, but if he did, he was glad that it wouldn’t be a difficult process.
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Visyak replied. “Maybe you’re what he needs to wake up.”
“Maybe,” Dean said and opened the door.
Dean stepped into the room and immediately wanted to step out. He never liked hospitals. They made him uncomfortable. And they smelled funny.
The room looked empty. No paintings on the walls, no tables. Castiel lay in the middle of the room with wires and tubes coming from every direction.
Dean had to smile at the ridiculousness of the picture in front of him. Even though Castiel was wearing a hospital gown, the medical staff had somehow kept the mask on. How easy it could have been for someone to just peek under the mask and see the face of the man who just saved the city. He was glad that they respected him enough to leave it on.
He walked over to Castiel and stared at him. Most of his body was covered by a blanket. His hands rested on it. His arms were covered in bandages. He imagined that the same was said for his legs. He could see that his chest was also wrapped. Dean wondered where his wings were. “You look human,” he said.
Dean let out a nervous laugh. “That was a really stupid thing to say.”
“Then again, I’m talking to myself.”
Dean ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “Okay. Calm down, Dean. He’s unconscious. And it’s kind of your fault. Okay, more than kind of.” He bit his lip to stop talking again. “And I’m still talking to myself.”
He looked around the room and saw two chairs pushed into one corner. He made his way over to them. He grabbed one chair then let it go. Laid out on the chair was Castiel’s cloak and pants. He reached out with a shaky hand and touched them. He could feel where the dried blood made the fabric stiff.
He knew that it wasn’t the most polite thing to do, but he took out his cell phone. He took a picture of Castiel’s uniform. It wasn’t for work. It was just for him.
He pushed down the anger that he felt toward the Sinister brothers.
He grabbed the other chair and walked it over to Castiel’s bedside. He set it down and sat in it. He looked at all of the medical supplies around him. It unsettled him to think that the machines were keeping him alive. Although, there was something calming about hearing Castiel’s heartbeat through the EKG.
Dean sighed and leaned back into the chair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know that you didn’t have to save my ass, but you did. And I’m sorry that you ended up like this because of it.”
He grabbed one of Castiel’s hands. He held it in both of his. “How cheesy would it be to do the whole ‘if you can hear me, squeeze my hand’ thing?” He held his hands to his lips waiting for a reaction that he knew wasn’t going to come. “Probably really cheesy, huh.”
Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and rubbed his face again. “I watch too many movies.”
He stood up and walked to the foot of the bed. He stared at Castiel, his eyes moving from the machine helping him to breathe, to the one showing his heart rate and temperature. He grabbed the railing and leaned forward. “I wonder if you have a family,” he whispered. “If you do, they must be freaking out and worried about you. I wish I knew so I’d be able to tell them that you’re better.
“I don’t know what that’s relative to, but you look like you’re sleeping. And you don’t like you’re in pain. So, I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”
He walked back to Castiel’s bedside and stood staring at him. He reached up and ran his fingers through Castiel’s messy hair that was still fluffy even after days lying in the hospital. Dean sighed and plopped back down in the chair. “I hope you still think trying to save us is still worth it. You almost got yourself killed for us. I’d call you an idiot, but you saved my life, so I feel like that’d make me sound ungrateful.”
Dean tried to lean forward and grab Castiel’s hand again, but something poked his side and stopped him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his shirt. He sat back and opened the shirt. He shook his head. He hated how that small of an object had done so much damage to the superhero. He set the blade down on Castiel’s bed and folded the shirt so that most of the blood was hidden. Then he rewrapped the shard in it.
He opened Castiel’s hand and put his shirt in it. He folded the angel’s fingers closed around it. “I know you told me to get rid of this, but I was really paranoid that someone would find it and somehow find a way to use it against you. I figured it would be best if you disposed of it.”
Dean’s chest and throat tightened. He didn’t know when he got so emotional, but he felt a tear roll down his cheek. “Get well soon, Castiel. Our world still sort of needs saving. Until you get back on your feet, we’ll do our best.” He swallowed and wiped away the traces of tears from his face. “Hopefully the world doesn’t collapse on itself without you.”
Dean took in a deep breath and slowly and shakily let it out. He had nothing else to say. Not right now. He was just glad that he was able to see him. The few days that he was planted to his couch with nothing to do but wonder if he was okay was torture. Just seeing him and being able to touch Castiel was enough to calm him down. “The doc said that I could stay as long as I want, so I hope you don’t mind if I sit with you for a little while.”
He turned the chair to face the television. He grabbed the remote off of Castiel’s bed and changed the channel. “I hope you don’t mind. Dr. Sexy is on.”
Dean leaned back and divided his attention between Castiel and the television; with most of it on Castiel.
[Part 8]
