Fic-Crossover-Supernatural:Aliens-Dean,Cas,Sam - (1/?)
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Title: Supernatural: Aliens
Author: nicole9514
Chapter: 1/? (probably around 10-12)
Rating: R
Genre: AU/horror/action/crossover - Dean/Castiel pre-slash or friendship depending on preference
Characters: Dean Winchester,Castiel, Sam Winchester, and OC's
Warnings: Violence,language, gore, scary imagery, blood, death
Disclaimer: Only written for fun. I own nothing but the errors and OC's.
A/N: Goes AU after episode 5 X 18 - Team free will fic, but with a heavy focus on Dean/Cas friendship/strong bond, so if you don't like their dynamic you probably won't enjoy this fic.
Special Thanks: To my beta skylar_matthews. To jedakin for reading this fic and encouraging/motivating me to keep writing it.
Summary:Takes place after the events of Season five's Point of No return - Dean, Cas, and Sam investigate a case different than anything they've ever seen before in Gunnison, Colorado.
Wordcount: 4,396 (total so far 30,000)
The smell was the first thing Castiel noticed as he tried to claw his way out from the dark abyss he’d been existing in - it tickled his nose, and he felt a cough rise in his chest. Antiseptic and some type of cleaner. He could hear the soft drip of something nearby.
His eyelids felt gummy and uncooperative as he tried to open them. He managed to flutter them and caught glimpses of shadows dancing across white walls.
Cas forced a deep breath of air into his lungs, wincing as pain flared across his chest.
It helped him to focus, to fight off the weariness that kept trying to drag him back down into the darkness.
His heavy lids opened; at first nothing made sense.
He was lying in a bed; the room was unfamiliar.
Panic crept into his veins as he struggled to remember where he was and why his body felt like it had been run over by a truck. Cas turned his head gingerly from side to side, surveying his surroundings.
The room was dimly lit, white, plain walls stared back at him while the thrum of machines filled the otherwise silent space. A tube was running from his arm. Cas fought the overwhelming desire to yank it out - instead following it with his eyes until he found a clear bag dangling to his right.
Fluids were being pumped into him; the angel had seen this before. His memories flashed to Dean lying in a similar bed, broken, and beaten. He knew where he was, a hospital.
His fingers fumbled to reach an incessant itching that had started on his left thigh. He hissed as fire lanced through his skull and back.
Everything hurt.
This was wrong.
He felt wrong.
His body shouldn’t be so fragile, his grace should have started to heal him, the pain shouldn’t be so intense.
My grace.
Cas’s hand shot to his chest, coming to rest over his heart. The normally bright, holy light inside of him was barely a flicker of its former self.
A dying ember of a fire taking its last breath.
Cas swallowed, his pulse raced, his back became sticky with sweat. His brain felt foggy; he couldn’t remember what had happened.
His mouth had become sandpaper as his fingers dug into the white gown someone had clothed him in - he hated the feel of it on his skin. He missed the comforting fabric of his usual attire. The weight of the long overcoat on his shoulders.
It was too much change.
The beeping became more rapid, he was vaguely aware it was mirroring his rocketing heart.
A burning on his chest drew his attention again, he pulled the collar of his hospital gown away from his neck and peered down, his breath hitched. Bandages covered the area.
Cas closed his eyes as a memory tickled the back of his brain - nibbling at the fringes of his awareness until he managed to grasp onto it.
Everything came rushing back. Dean deciding to say yes, Adam being brought back from the dead, and the battle with his brothers and sisters. The battle where he’d carved the warding sigil into his chest and used up what was left of his grace in one big explosion of light.
He sat there, listening to himself breathe as he sorted through it all.
He cocked his head and peered out the window of his room. Headlights were visible, cars driving steadily along the roads with their drivers unaware of the horrors that went on around them on a daily basis. There was no sign that Michael and Lucifer had fought - no destruction.
Cas felt his throat ache.
Dean hadn’t said yes.
His heart calmed at the realization. It hadn’t all been for nothing. Sam had been right to keep his faith, in the end Dean hadn’t bowed down and given up.
A surge of shame threatened as he remembered his fists smashing into Dean’s face. His harsh words spoken in anger and fear. Dean, Sam, and Bobby were the closest things he had to family now. After all he had sacrificed for Dean, he’d felt betrayed by the hunter when he’d been about to throw away everything they’d fought for.
Now it seemed he’d been wrong.
Cas had never been so glad to have made an error in judgment in his long life.
His parched mouth made itself known again.
Cas noticed the bathroom a few feet away and realized there would be water there.
Being close to human was going to take a lot of getting used to Cas realized as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He froze as he was assaulted with wooziness, and another tube got tangled around his leg.
He clung to the mattress, focusing on the doorknob in front of him, and waited.
The feeling passed and he yanked out the IV attached to his arm, flinching, then dropping it onto the bed. Looking down, intending to free his leg he noticed the tubing went under his gown. He lifted it, and cringed. A catheter; he’d overheard the term on a medical drama called Dr. Sexy that he’d caught Dean watching on more than one occasion.
Cas groaned and yanked off a few other wires from his chest, he assumed they had been monitoring his heart rate since when he removed them the tone of the machine changed, making an annoying racket.
He waited - realizing the staff would now come running.
Within seconds he heard the pounding of feet, and his door was flung open. A nurse dressed in light blue scrubs with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail raced in, her eyes were wide and surprised.
“Doctor,” she leaned her head out the door, “I need you now!”
****
After almost an hour of being poked, prodded, and enduring the humiliation of having his catheter removed the staff finally left their miracle patient alone. Apparently, he had been brain dead, and the doctors had not expected him to ever wake up. He had appeared in Gunnison, Colorado a few days ago. Several residents had discovered him lying on the side of the road a mile outside of town.
He’d told them very little, claiming his memory was foggy and he wasn’t even sure of his name. Cas figured this was the best way to keep them from asking questions he could not answer in a manner that would satisfy them.
A few months ago he would have simply told them he was an angel of the lord, now he knew that was a mistake.
Humans didn’t deal well with things they couldn’t understand, and Dean had taught him that in these type of cases it was best to lie.
The doctor seemed to believe him, reassuring him that this happened sometimes with head injuries. They scheduled Cas for some more tests later in the day and finally left him to rest, with a paper cup full of water, and instructions regarding what button to press should he need any assistance.
Castiel guzzled down the small cup of liquid heaven, and knew he needed more. There was also a slight, strange pressure that had been forming in his bladder throughout their tests since the catheter’s removal that added encouragement for him to journey to the bathroom.
An angel of the lord, needing to urinate. He suppressed a groan, and stood up. His legs felt rubbery and he had to lean on the wall closest to him for a few seconds. When he felt more certain of his ability to remain upright, he very cautiously made his way to the restroom.
He jumped, then felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the realization he’d been startled by his own haggard reflection. Cas placed one hand on the cool glass and studied himself. Three cuts marred his left eyebrow, they were scabbed over. He touched the wound, a light ache made itself known as he applied pressure. He was also sporting a bruise under his right eye, at the top of his cheek bone.
Cas sighed and rubbed at his jaw, tinged with stubble.
He looked down, the gown only hung to just above his knees. Pale, thin legs were visible. Cas wiggled his toes absently, realizing he’d never actually looked at his vessel’s feet before.
He’d never had to rely solely on a mortal body to get him around. He leaned on the sink momentarily, and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply.
He might be trapped in this body forever - forced into a nearly human existence. No longer able to soar through reality, bound to moving only where these limbs could take him.
Stop this - you don’t have time to stand around feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a soldier, act like it.
Cas stood up straight and focused on the task in front of him. He lifted his gown and relieved himself.
His persistent thirst would not be forgotten as his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth. Cas turned on the faucet, bent down and drank deeply. It tasted like ambrosia, it was strange to take so much pleasure in something so small. As an angel, he’d never needed to hydrate, he’d had no idea how good plain water could taste when you really needed it.
Perhaps there might be some perks to his new state of being.
His newfound bodily needs being met for the moment Cas left the small bathroom in search of a way to contact his friends. He needed to let them know he was relatively okay and find out what had happened after he‘d activated the banishing sigil.
His eyes swept over the sterile, white room and stopped when he noticed the phone on a small table right next to his bed.
He should have seen that earlier, but his anxieties over his situation had blinded him. A warrior of God should not allow anything to shake him like this; Cas bottled up his worries over his muted grace and aching body and walked to the phone.
He was an experienced soldier, older than anyone could imagine, he could handle this.
He grabbed the handle, and started to dial one of the only numbers he’d ever bothered to learn when a scream of complete terror sounded from somewhere down the hall. It came from far away, but it didn’t dampen the impact.
Someone was in danger.
Cas didn’t think, he reacted, dropping the phone, and racing to the door, ignoring his throbbing head.
****
Cas and Adam had been missing for three days and they were no closer to finding either of them. Dean had told Sam that they’d get them back, in reality he had no idea where to start looking. Dean rolled the icy beer bottle between his palms as he tried to relax on Bobby’s couch.
They’d arrived at Bobby’s yesterday and nobody had any bright ideas on how to get either of their missing team back.
The fact was Adam was probably Michael’s plaything at the moment. Dean cringed, feeling sick, knowing what it was to be tortured. There was a chance if they could get Cas back, he might be able to help them locate their recently resurrected brother. But honestly, Dean knew it was a slim chance. Cas had rebelled, chosen to help them. That hadn’t exactly put him in good standing with his fellow angels.
Dean felt the guilt that had been growing heavier and heavier start to crush his chest. Sam had asked him why he had changed his mind about saying yes, and he’d answered honestly.
But he had left out one detail.
It hadn’t just been Sam he hadn’t wanted to let down.
While Zack had stood there spouting off his sanctimonious bullshit he’d kept hearing Cas’s words screaming in his head over and over again.
“I rebelled for this! So that you could surrender to them. I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me.”
He kept seeing the rage and betrayal on his friends face. He had been able to see the hurt underneath all the anger. He still saw it now every time he closed his eyes.
Guilt was gnawing at his insides, leaving him feeling raw. Despite him nearly bowing down to the angels and giving them what they wanted Cas had still stood by him. He had freaking carved those markings into his own chest, walked into that warehouse knowing he probably wouldn’t be coming back out.
I gave everything for you.
He couldn’t shake those fucking words. They were his own personal ghost following him around whenever he was still for more than five seconds.
And he hadn’t even thanked him. Dean wished he had said something, anything to let Cas know how much his loyalty and friendship meant to him. How sorry he was for being such a stupid ass most of the time.
Now it might be too late.
His chest felt tight, his throat burned, he took a swig of beer trying to dull the ache.
It didn’t help.
Nothing did.
Dean hadn’t slept in three days.
******
Cas darted out into the too brightly lit hallway, he squinted, his eyes stinging as they adjusted. After a moment he could open them without discomfort. His head jerked back and forth, searching for the disturbance. His pulse was pumping again, and his skin felt tingly.
His senses might be dull and weak, but they weren’t gone completely. Castiel could tell something was off in this place - it was in a state of unrest.
The hallway was empty of people, the staff that had helped him earlier seemed to have vanished. Several empty gurney’s and a cart carrying bedpans and other equipment cluttered up the narrow corridor. Numbered doors lined the walls, his room number was 202 he noted before heading right, towards a set of double doors. There was a sign in bright red lettering near the door that had the words Intensive Care Unit, Registration, and Emergency on it, all with arrows pointing in different directions. It stood out because whomever had designed this place loved the color white, as every wall, door frame, and even the floors held no trace of color.
He vaguely noticed charts hanging off of the doors, and pictures of medical staff decorating the otherwise bland area.
He longed for shoes as his bare feet connected over and over again with the cold, hard floor.
A desk sat to the right of him, a lab of sorts behind it. No one was present.
He wondered again where all the staff was in this area. That prickle along his spine telling him something wasn’t right rose up again.
The sound of something crashing came from up ahead.
Cas increased his pace, ignoring the fear settling in his gut. He reached the sign, and burst through a set of swinging double doors.
He stepped inside and noted a small door, to the left that read supply closet, it was slightly ajar. He peeked inside, buckets, brooms, and other cleaning supplies stared back at him. Definitely not the source of the disturbance.
More screaming, another crash, glass breaking, and grunting. It was loud and close.
Castiel ignored the sweat on his palms, and the tension that kept rippling through his sore muscles and crept closer to the noise. It was coming from a room to his right.
The door had a small, rectangular window. Cas bent his knees and ducked his head, ensuring whomever was inside wouldn’t be able to see him approach.
He pressed his back flush to the door and listened.
“Hold him still!” A man’s voice boomed.
“I’m trying,” a woman, she sounded extremely distressed.
“I’ve got it.” Another woman with a slight southern accent spoke up. This one’s tone was more commanding. “There, now strap him down.“ The way her voice rang with authority and confidence reminded him of Anna, when she spoke you were motivated to listen. A natural leader.
Cas ignored the ache in his chest that thoughts of Anna brought and took a chance peeking through the glass.
He could see individuals. One was a fair skinned brunette in scrubs, another was a tall man wearing a lab coat, with graying brown hair, and the other had jet black hair in a tight ponytail. He couldn’t see her face but she was wearing a light brown uniform.
A police officer.
A man dressed in a dirty mess of black and gray was sobbing, as they held him down onto the bed. His arms were bound, but they hadn’t restrained his legs yet, one shot out and collided with a glass. It clattered to floor, shattering.
His head lifted and Cas got a good look at his face. It was smeared with blood and dirt. His long greasy hair hung in limp clumps around his face, and his tattered clothing was too big on his tiny frame. He was clearly distraught, his body was shaking, and Cas could feel the man’s terror washing over him in waves. He’d never felt such pure fear.
“Why won’t you believe me? I saw it,” he panted. “There was a monster out in the woods, it took him. It took him.” His shaking intensified, he thrashed against his restraints, bucking hard enough to leave bruises on his arms. “I tried to save him, but something jumped me, my face - all over my face,” his voice was rising, eyes wide and terrified.
The man’s fear continued to bubble over making Cas’s adrenaline pump through his body. His heart was certainly getting a work out today.
“You think he’s on something?” “The officer asked, she was now helping them to strap down his legs.
“That would be my guess,” the man answered, he was most likely a physician. “He could be hallucinating.”
“That doesn’t explain the blood.” The officer replied, calm despite the chaotic atmosphere. They finished strapping the man down and Cas ducked, wary of them turning around and seeing him spying on them.
He still listened.
The policewoman continued speaking. “My guess is he got high, then killed or seriously injured one of the other squatters that hang out at the fringes of the forest near Beach street, and now he’s trying to blame it on some mysterious creature.”
“Possible.” The doctor responded, “There is bruising around this throat indicating a struggle of some sort. Maybe they were fighting and he got the upper hand.”
“I’ll have to wait until he sobers up before trying to get the truth out of him.”
Cas heard footsteps approach the door, he quickly darted into the supply closet a few feet away.
He’d just shut the door, when the other opened.
“I’ve got some more leads to follow-up on Doc, you call me when he starts making sense. I’ll leave one of my deputies here to guard the room.”
“Thanks sheriff. You’ve had a crazy first few weeks on the job haven’t you?”
She chuckled. “What can I say, trouble seems to find me wherever I go.”
Their voices and footsteps faded as they drifted further down the hall.
Cas slipped out, narrowly avoided tripping over a broom, and made it back to his room without being spotted.
He closed the door, and sunk down onto the bed, his mind reeling over possibilities.
They had seemed to think the man was simply high on illegal drugs, Castiel wasn’t so sure. That man’s fear had been real.
He had seen something that had left him bleeding emotions so strong that even a burnt out angel could feel them. And there had been something else, something Cas hadn’t been able to figure out.
All things had an aura, a feeling to them. Animals, plants, insects, humans- anything that lived had its own unique signature. This man’s hadn’t felt right; there had been a foreign energy that seemed to come from within him - something that wasn’t natural. A coldness.
Cas shrugged it off, his spiritual radar was probably just on the fritz. He almost smiled, Dean’s way of speaking was rubbing off on him it seemed.
Dean. He needed to call Dean. There was something going on in this town, he knew it. Perhaps there was a reason he’d woken up here in Colorado.
Cas reached for the phone and dialed.
****
Dean absently reached for his shoulder, fingers tightening around the handprint that was permanently seared into his skin. The mark that might be the only thing left of his friend. It tingled, Dean hoped that meant Cas was still out there somewhere.
It had done that in the past, when Cas was near, or in trouble. He’d never mentioned it to anyone, figuring it was just his imagination, but now he clung to the idea that it meant Cas was near. That he was somehow okay.
“Dean, are you gonna get that?” Sam called from the kitchen.
“Get what?” He yawned over the book he’d been scanning through.
“Your phone.” Sam clomped over to the couch and flopped the cell phone down on Dean’s lap.
Dean sighed, glanced at the number. He didn’t recognize it. He answered the call with a gruff, “hello.”
“Dean.”
Dean’s heart did a somersault, but he managed to keep from jumping for joy like a teenage girl. “Cas,” he couldn’t stop his voice from oozing happiness and relief.
Sam’s face softened, and an expression of surprise lit up his features. “Is he okay?”
He shoved the old, musty text to the floor and stood up, pacing. “We all thought you were dead? Where the hell are you man?”
He heard the sound of breathing, followed by, “A hospital.”
Dean felt sick, since when did angels need medical attention. “Are you okay?”
He could feel Sam’s eyes on him, boring a hole into the back of his head. His brother had been up his ass about not sleeping, and living off of pie, beer, and donuts for the past few days. He‘d been trying to get him to talk about his feelings over losing Cas and Adam. Dean had politely told him to fuck off.
“No.” Cas deadpanned, but there was an edge to his voice that had Dean’s shoulders tensing.
Dean felt worry and frustration creep into his voice. “You wanna elaborate?”
Cas was quiet for a few seconds. “Dean, I woke up here about an hour ago and-. ” Cas coughed a few times, which was strange, he’d hadn’t thought angels got itchy throats. “I feel terrible. Everything hurts, I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”
Dean blinked, trying to process this. “Cas what are you saying?”
“My batteries are drained, Dean. I’m pretty much…” his voice lowered, a vulnerability that made Dean’s stomach churn leaked into his words. “I’m just-”
“Human.” Dean finished.
“Yes.”
Dean swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Dean. I am.” Cas sucked in a breath, and he heard the shifting of fabric. “I should not have lost faith in you. You didn’t say yes, I was wrong to doubt you.”
Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Cas was out of mojo, stranded alone in a hospital somewhere, and he was the one apologizing. It should have been the other way around.
Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, don’t worry about it. You put your life on the line for us.”
“I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”
Dean was gripping the phone so tight, his hand was cramping. “Yeah, well, thanks anyway,” he blurted, hating talking about this kind of shit.
“You’re welcome.”
Dean smiled for the first time in three days.
*****
Cas licked his bottom lip, and rubbed his palm on his thigh, relief at knowing his surrogate family was safe, and that Dean was not angry with him for his lack of faith flowed through him.
“What happened after I banished myself and the other angels.”
Cas listened as Dean gave him a quick recap, a weight forming in his stomach. He wished there was something he could do, words of comfort to offer in regards to Adam, but in truth he had none. Adam was suffering under Michael’s heavy hand and there was nothing Cas could do to help, especially not in this state.
He had witnessed Dean and Sam on many occasions try to help each other by distracting them from their pain. He could offer that much at least.
“Dean, there’s something else. I think there might be a hunt here.”
“Seriously?” Dean replied, his voice rising slightly
Cas shifted on the bed, trying to reach an itch that wouldn’t seem to go away on the center of his back. It was quite infuriating.
“Yes. I am serious.”
Dean chuckled, although Cas wasn’t entirely sure what Dean found so humorous about his response, it was nice to hear the sound.
Cas explained what he’d seen and heard in the hospital.
“Where are you?” Dean asked, all traces of humor gone.
“Gunnison, Colorado.”
“What’s the name of the hospital?”
Cas picked up a pamphlet that was lying near his bed. “Gunnison Valley Hospital,” he replied. “I’m in room 202.”
“We can be there in about seven hours. We‘ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we get there.”
Cas nodded, then remembered Dean couldn’t see him. He really hated phones, the realization that he was going to have to use them even more now made his headache worse.
“I understand.”
“And Cas.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t do anything until we get there,” his tone wasn’t open to debate, and it sent a sliver of annoyance down Cas’s spine. “With you mojo-less, it’s too dangerous for you to look into this yourself.”
Cas bristled. Dean didn’t think he could handle himself without his grace. He believed he was useless in a fight without it, and it stung more than he wanted to admit. If he was going to be stuck like this, he had to learn to survive and fight as Dean and Sam did. They were human and they did just fine. He had to prove to them that he could still be a helpful member of their team.
“Did you hear me, Cas?” Dean snapped.
“Yes, Dean. I heard you.”
Cas hung up the phone, and stood up. He had a lot of work to do before Dean and Sam arrived.
Next Chapter
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Title: Supernatural: Aliens
Author: nicole9514
Chapter: 1/? (probably around 10-12)
Rating: R
Genre: AU/horror/action/crossover - Dean/Castiel pre-slash or friendship depending on preference
Characters: Dean Winchester,Castiel, Sam Winchester, and OC's
Warnings: Violence,language, gore, scary imagery, blood, death
Disclaimer: Only written for fun. I own nothing but the errors and OC's.
A/N: Goes AU after episode 5 X 18 - Team free will fic, but with a heavy focus on Dean/Cas friendship/strong bond, so if you don't like their dynamic you probably won't enjoy this fic.
Special Thanks: To my beta skylar_matthews. To jedakin for reading this fic and encouraging/motivating me to keep writing it.
Summary:Takes place after the events of Season five's Point of No return - Dean, Cas, and Sam investigate a case different than anything they've ever seen before in Gunnison, Colorado.
Wordcount: 4,396 (total so far 30,000)
The smell was the first thing Castiel noticed as he tried to claw his way out from the dark abyss he’d been existing in - it tickled his nose, and he felt a cough rise in his chest. Antiseptic and some type of cleaner. He could hear the soft drip of something nearby.
His eyelids felt gummy and uncooperative as he tried to open them. He managed to flutter them and caught glimpses of shadows dancing across white walls.
Cas forced a deep breath of air into his lungs, wincing as pain flared across his chest.
It helped him to focus, to fight off the weariness that kept trying to drag him back down into the darkness.
His heavy lids opened; at first nothing made sense.
He was lying in a bed; the room was unfamiliar.
Panic crept into his veins as he struggled to remember where he was and why his body felt like it had been run over by a truck. Cas turned his head gingerly from side to side, surveying his surroundings.
The room was dimly lit, white, plain walls stared back at him while the thrum of machines filled the otherwise silent space. A tube was running from his arm. Cas fought the overwhelming desire to yank it out - instead following it with his eyes until he found a clear bag dangling to his right.
Fluids were being pumped into him; the angel had seen this before. His memories flashed to Dean lying in a similar bed, broken, and beaten. He knew where he was, a hospital.
His fingers fumbled to reach an incessant itching that had started on his left thigh. He hissed as fire lanced through his skull and back.
Everything hurt.
This was wrong.
He felt wrong.
His body shouldn’t be so fragile, his grace should have started to heal him, the pain shouldn’t be so intense.
My grace.
Cas’s hand shot to his chest, coming to rest over his heart. The normally bright, holy light inside of him was barely a flicker of its former self.
A dying ember of a fire taking its last breath.
Cas swallowed, his pulse raced, his back became sticky with sweat. His brain felt foggy; he couldn’t remember what had happened.
His mouth had become sandpaper as his fingers dug into the white gown someone had clothed him in - he hated the feel of it on his skin. He missed the comforting fabric of his usual attire. The weight of the long overcoat on his shoulders.
It was too much change.
The beeping became more rapid, he was vaguely aware it was mirroring his rocketing heart.
A burning on his chest drew his attention again, he pulled the collar of his hospital gown away from his neck and peered down, his breath hitched. Bandages covered the area.
Cas closed his eyes as a memory tickled the back of his brain - nibbling at the fringes of his awareness until he managed to grasp onto it.
Everything came rushing back. Dean deciding to say yes, Adam being brought back from the dead, and the battle with his brothers and sisters. The battle where he’d carved the warding sigil into his chest and used up what was left of his grace in one big explosion of light.
He sat there, listening to himself breathe as he sorted through it all.
He cocked his head and peered out the window of his room. Headlights were visible, cars driving steadily along the roads with their drivers unaware of the horrors that went on around them on a daily basis. There was no sign that Michael and Lucifer had fought - no destruction.
Cas felt his throat ache.
Dean hadn’t said yes.
His heart calmed at the realization. It hadn’t all been for nothing. Sam had been right to keep his faith, in the end Dean hadn’t bowed down and given up.
A surge of shame threatened as he remembered his fists smashing into Dean’s face. His harsh words spoken in anger and fear. Dean, Sam, and Bobby were the closest things he had to family now. After all he had sacrificed for Dean, he’d felt betrayed by the hunter when he’d been about to throw away everything they’d fought for.
Now it seemed he’d been wrong.
Cas had never been so glad to have made an error in judgment in his long life.
His parched mouth made itself known again.
Cas noticed the bathroom a few feet away and realized there would be water there.
Being close to human was going to take a lot of getting used to Cas realized as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He froze as he was assaulted with wooziness, and another tube got tangled around his leg.
He clung to the mattress, focusing on the doorknob in front of him, and waited.
The feeling passed and he yanked out the IV attached to his arm, flinching, then dropping it onto the bed. Looking down, intending to free his leg he noticed the tubing went under his gown. He lifted it, and cringed. A catheter; he’d overheard the term on a medical drama called Dr. Sexy that he’d caught Dean watching on more than one occasion.
Cas groaned and yanked off a few other wires from his chest, he assumed they had been monitoring his heart rate since when he removed them the tone of the machine changed, making an annoying racket.
He waited - realizing the staff would now come running.
Within seconds he heard the pounding of feet, and his door was flung open. A nurse dressed in light blue scrubs with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail raced in, her eyes were wide and surprised.
“Doctor,” she leaned her head out the door, “I need you now!”
****
After almost an hour of being poked, prodded, and enduring the humiliation of having his catheter removed the staff finally left their miracle patient alone. Apparently, he had been brain dead, and the doctors had not expected him to ever wake up. He had appeared in Gunnison, Colorado a few days ago. Several residents had discovered him lying on the side of the road a mile outside of town.
He’d told them very little, claiming his memory was foggy and he wasn’t even sure of his name. Cas figured this was the best way to keep them from asking questions he could not answer in a manner that would satisfy them.
A few months ago he would have simply told them he was an angel of the lord, now he knew that was a mistake.
Humans didn’t deal well with things they couldn’t understand, and Dean had taught him that in these type of cases it was best to lie.
The doctor seemed to believe him, reassuring him that this happened sometimes with head injuries. They scheduled Cas for some more tests later in the day and finally left him to rest, with a paper cup full of water, and instructions regarding what button to press should he need any assistance.
Castiel guzzled down the small cup of liquid heaven, and knew he needed more. There was also a slight, strange pressure that had been forming in his bladder throughout their tests since the catheter’s removal that added encouragement for him to journey to the bathroom.
An angel of the lord, needing to urinate. He suppressed a groan, and stood up. His legs felt rubbery and he had to lean on the wall closest to him for a few seconds. When he felt more certain of his ability to remain upright, he very cautiously made his way to the restroom.
He jumped, then felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the realization he’d been startled by his own haggard reflection. Cas placed one hand on the cool glass and studied himself. Three cuts marred his left eyebrow, they were scabbed over. He touched the wound, a light ache made itself known as he applied pressure. He was also sporting a bruise under his right eye, at the top of his cheek bone.
Cas sighed and rubbed at his jaw, tinged with stubble.
He looked down, the gown only hung to just above his knees. Pale, thin legs were visible. Cas wiggled his toes absently, realizing he’d never actually looked at his vessel’s feet before.
He’d never had to rely solely on a mortal body to get him around. He leaned on the sink momentarily, and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply.
He might be trapped in this body forever - forced into a nearly human existence. No longer able to soar through reality, bound to moving only where these limbs could take him.
Stop this - you don’t have time to stand around feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a soldier, act like it.
Cas stood up straight and focused on the task in front of him. He lifted his gown and relieved himself.
His persistent thirst would not be forgotten as his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth. Cas turned on the faucet, bent down and drank deeply. It tasted like ambrosia, it was strange to take so much pleasure in something so small. As an angel, he’d never needed to hydrate, he’d had no idea how good plain water could taste when you really needed it.
Perhaps there might be some perks to his new state of being.
His newfound bodily needs being met for the moment Cas left the small bathroom in search of a way to contact his friends. He needed to let them know he was relatively okay and find out what had happened after he‘d activated the banishing sigil.
His eyes swept over the sterile, white room and stopped when he noticed the phone on a small table right next to his bed.
He should have seen that earlier, but his anxieties over his situation had blinded him. A warrior of God should not allow anything to shake him like this; Cas bottled up his worries over his muted grace and aching body and walked to the phone.
He was an experienced soldier, older than anyone could imagine, he could handle this.
He grabbed the handle, and started to dial one of the only numbers he’d ever bothered to learn when a scream of complete terror sounded from somewhere down the hall. It came from far away, but it didn’t dampen the impact.
Someone was in danger.
Cas didn’t think, he reacted, dropping the phone, and racing to the door, ignoring his throbbing head.
****
Cas and Adam had been missing for three days and they were no closer to finding either of them. Dean had told Sam that they’d get them back, in reality he had no idea where to start looking. Dean rolled the icy beer bottle between his palms as he tried to relax on Bobby’s couch.
They’d arrived at Bobby’s yesterday and nobody had any bright ideas on how to get either of their missing team back.
The fact was Adam was probably Michael’s plaything at the moment. Dean cringed, feeling sick, knowing what it was to be tortured. There was a chance if they could get Cas back, he might be able to help them locate their recently resurrected brother. But honestly, Dean knew it was a slim chance. Cas had rebelled, chosen to help them. That hadn’t exactly put him in good standing with his fellow angels.
Dean felt the guilt that had been growing heavier and heavier start to crush his chest. Sam had asked him why he had changed his mind about saying yes, and he’d answered honestly.
But he had left out one detail.
It hadn’t just been Sam he hadn’t wanted to let down.
While Zack had stood there spouting off his sanctimonious bullshit he’d kept hearing Cas’s words screaming in his head over and over again.
“I rebelled for this! So that you could surrender to them. I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me.”
He kept seeing the rage and betrayal on his friends face. He had been able to see the hurt underneath all the anger. He still saw it now every time he closed his eyes.
Guilt was gnawing at his insides, leaving him feeling raw. Despite him nearly bowing down to the angels and giving them what they wanted Cas had still stood by him. He had freaking carved those markings into his own chest, walked into that warehouse knowing he probably wouldn’t be coming back out.
I gave everything for you.
He couldn’t shake those fucking words. They were his own personal ghost following him around whenever he was still for more than five seconds.
And he hadn’t even thanked him. Dean wished he had said something, anything to let Cas know how much his loyalty and friendship meant to him. How sorry he was for being such a stupid ass most of the time.
Now it might be too late.
His chest felt tight, his throat burned, he took a swig of beer trying to dull the ache.
It didn’t help.
Nothing did.
Dean hadn’t slept in three days.
******
Cas darted out into the too brightly lit hallway, he squinted, his eyes stinging as they adjusted. After a moment he could open them without discomfort. His head jerked back and forth, searching for the disturbance. His pulse was pumping again, and his skin felt tingly.
His senses might be dull and weak, but they weren’t gone completely. Castiel could tell something was off in this place - it was in a state of unrest.
The hallway was empty of people, the staff that had helped him earlier seemed to have vanished. Several empty gurney’s and a cart carrying bedpans and other equipment cluttered up the narrow corridor. Numbered doors lined the walls, his room number was 202 he noted before heading right, towards a set of double doors. There was a sign in bright red lettering near the door that had the words Intensive Care Unit, Registration, and Emergency on it, all with arrows pointing in different directions. It stood out because whomever had designed this place loved the color white, as every wall, door frame, and even the floors held no trace of color.
He vaguely noticed charts hanging off of the doors, and pictures of medical staff decorating the otherwise bland area.
He longed for shoes as his bare feet connected over and over again with the cold, hard floor.
A desk sat to the right of him, a lab of sorts behind it. No one was present.
He wondered again where all the staff was in this area. That prickle along his spine telling him something wasn’t right rose up again.
The sound of something crashing came from up ahead.
Cas increased his pace, ignoring the fear settling in his gut. He reached the sign, and burst through a set of swinging double doors.
He stepped inside and noted a small door, to the left that read supply closet, it was slightly ajar. He peeked inside, buckets, brooms, and other cleaning supplies stared back at him. Definitely not the source of the disturbance.
More screaming, another crash, glass breaking, and grunting. It was loud and close.
Castiel ignored the sweat on his palms, and the tension that kept rippling through his sore muscles and crept closer to the noise. It was coming from a room to his right.
The door had a small, rectangular window. Cas bent his knees and ducked his head, ensuring whomever was inside wouldn’t be able to see him approach.
He pressed his back flush to the door and listened.
“Hold him still!” A man’s voice boomed.
“I’m trying,” a woman, she sounded extremely distressed.
“I’ve got it.” Another woman with a slight southern accent spoke up. This one’s tone was more commanding. “There, now strap him down.“ The way her voice rang with authority and confidence reminded him of Anna, when she spoke you were motivated to listen. A natural leader.
Cas ignored the ache in his chest that thoughts of Anna brought and took a chance peeking through the glass.
He could see individuals. One was a fair skinned brunette in scrubs, another was a tall man wearing a lab coat, with graying brown hair, and the other had jet black hair in a tight ponytail. He couldn’t see her face but she was wearing a light brown uniform.
A police officer.
A man dressed in a dirty mess of black and gray was sobbing, as they held him down onto the bed. His arms were bound, but they hadn’t restrained his legs yet, one shot out and collided with a glass. It clattered to floor, shattering.
His head lifted and Cas got a good look at his face. It was smeared with blood and dirt. His long greasy hair hung in limp clumps around his face, and his tattered clothing was too big on his tiny frame. He was clearly distraught, his body was shaking, and Cas could feel the man’s terror washing over him in waves. He’d never felt such pure fear.
“Why won’t you believe me? I saw it,” he panted. “There was a monster out in the woods, it took him. It took him.” His shaking intensified, he thrashed against his restraints, bucking hard enough to leave bruises on his arms. “I tried to save him, but something jumped me, my face - all over my face,” his voice was rising, eyes wide and terrified.
The man’s fear continued to bubble over making Cas’s adrenaline pump through his body. His heart was certainly getting a work out today.
“You think he’s on something?” “The officer asked, she was now helping them to strap down his legs.
“That would be my guess,” the man answered, he was most likely a physician. “He could be hallucinating.”
“That doesn’t explain the blood.” The officer replied, calm despite the chaotic atmosphere. They finished strapping the man down and Cas ducked, wary of them turning around and seeing him spying on them.
He still listened.
The policewoman continued speaking. “My guess is he got high, then killed or seriously injured one of the other squatters that hang out at the fringes of the forest near Beach street, and now he’s trying to blame it on some mysterious creature.”
“Possible.” The doctor responded, “There is bruising around this throat indicating a struggle of some sort. Maybe they were fighting and he got the upper hand.”
“I’ll have to wait until he sobers up before trying to get the truth out of him.”
Cas heard footsteps approach the door, he quickly darted into the supply closet a few feet away.
He’d just shut the door, when the other opened.
“I’ve got some more leads to follow-up on Doc, you call me when he starts making sense. I’ll leave one of my deputies here to guard the room.”
“Thanks sheriff. You’ve had a crazy first few weeks on the job haven’t you?”
She chuckled. “What can I say, trouble seems to find me wherever I go.”
Their voices and footsteps faded as they drifted further down the hall.
Cas slipped out, narrowly avoided tripping over a broom, and made it back to his room without being spotted.
He closed the door, and sunk down onto the bed, his mind reeling over possibilities.
They had seemed to think the man was simply high on illegal drugs, Castiel wasn’t so sure. That man’s fear had been real.
He had seen something that had left him bleeding emotions so strong that even a burnt out angel could feel them. And there had been something else, something Cas hadn’t been able to figure out.
All things had an aura, a feeling to them. Animals, plants, insects, humans- anything that lived had its own unique signature. This man’s hadn’t felt right; there had been a foreign energy that seemed to come from within him - something that wasn’t natural. A coldness.
Cas shrugged it off, his spiritual radar was probably just on the fritz. He almost smiled, Dean’s way of speaking was rubbing off on him it seemed.
Dean. He needed to call Dean. There was something going on in this town, he knew it. Perhaps there was a reason he’d woken up here in Colorado.
Cas reached for the phone and dialed.
****
Dean absently reached for his shoulder, fingers tightening around the handprint that was permanently seared into his skin. The mark that might be the only thing left of his friend. It tingled, Dean hoped that meant Cas was still out there somewhere.
It had done that in the past, when Cas was near, or in trouble. He’d never mentioned it to anyone, figuring it was just his imagination, but now he clung to the idea that it meant Cas was near. That he was somehow okay.
“Dean, are you gonna get that?” Sam called from the kitchen.
“Get what?” He yawned over the book he’d been scanning through.
“Your phone.” Sam clomped over to the couch and flopped the cell phone down on Dean’s lap.
Dean sighed, glanced at the number. He didn’t recognize it. He answered the call with a gruff, “hello.”
“Dean.”
Dean’s heart did a somersault, but he managed to keep from jumping for joy like a teenage girl. “Cas,” he couldn’t stop his voice from oozing happiness and relief.
Sam’s face softened, and an expression of surprise lit up his features. “Is he okay?”
He shoved the old, musty text to the floor and stood up, pacing. “We all thought you were dead? Where the hell are you man?”
He heard the sound of breathing, followed by, “A hospital.”
Dean felt sick, since when did angels need medical attention. “Are you okay?”
He could feel Sam’s eyes on him, boring a hole into the back of his head. His brother had been up his ass about not sleeping, and living off of pie, beer, and donuts for the past few days. He‘d been trying to get him to talk about his feelings over losing Cas and Adam. Dean had politely told him to fuck off.
“No.” Cas deadpanned, but there was an edge to his voice that had Dean’s shoulders tensing.
Dean felt worry and frustration creep into his voice. “You wanna elaborate?”
Cas was quiet for a few seconds. “Dean, I woke up here about an hour ago and-. ” Cas coughed a few times, which was strange, he’d hadn’t thought angels got itchy throats. “I feel terrible. Everything hurts, I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”
Dean blinked, trying to process this. “Cas what are you saying?”
“My batteries are drained, Dean. I’m pretty much…” his voice lowered, a vulnerability that made Dean’s stomach churn leaked into his words. “I’m just-”
“Human.” Dean finished.
“Yes.”
Dean swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Dean. I am.” Cas sucked in a breath, and he heard the shifting of fabric. “I should not have lost faith in you. You didn’t say yes, I was wrong to doubt you.”
Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Cas was out of mojo, stranded alone in a hospital somewhere, and he was the one apologizing. It should have been the other way around.
Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, don’t worry about it. You put your life on the line for us.”
“I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”
Dean was gripping the phone so tight, his hand was cramping. “Yeah, well, thanks anyway,” he blurted, hating talking about this kind of shit.
“You’re welcome.”
Dean smiled for the first time in three days.
*****
Cas licked his bottom lip, and rubbed his palm on his thigh, relief at knowing his surrogate family was safe, and that Dean was not angry with him for his lack of faith flowed through him.
“What happened after I banished myself and the other angels.”
Cas listened as Dean gave him a quick recap, a weight forming in his stomach. He wished there was something he could do, words of comfort to offer in regards to Adam, but in truth he had none. Adam was suffering under Michael’s heavy hand and there was nothing Cas could do to help, especially not in this state.
He had witnessed Dean and Sam on many occasions try to help each other by distracting them from their pain. He could offer that much at least.
“Dean, there’s something else. I think there might be a hunt here.”
“Seriously?” Dean replied, his voice rising slightly
Cas shifted on the bed, trying to reach an itch that wouldn’t seem to go away on the center of his back. It was quite infuriating.
“Yes. I am serious.”
Dean chuckled, although Cas wasn’t entirely sure what Dean found so humorous about his response, it was nice to hear the sound.
Cas explained what he’d seen and heard in the hospital.
“Where are you?” Dean asked, all traces of humor gone.
“Gunnison, Colorado.”
“What’s the name of the hospital?”
Cas picked up a pamphlet that was lying near his bed. “Gunnison Valley Hospital,” he replied. “I’m in room 202.”
“We can be there in about seven hours. We‘ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we get there.”
Cas nodded, then remembered Dean couldn’t see him. He really hated phones, the realization that he was going to have to use them even more now made his headache worse.
“I understand.”
“And Cas.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t do anything until we get there,” his tone wasn’t open to debate, and it sent a sliver of annoyance down Cas’s spine. “With you mojo-less, it’s too dangerous for you to look into this yourself.”
Cas bristled. Dean didn’t think he could handle himself without his grace. He believed he was useless in a fight without it, and it stung more than he wanted to admit. If he was going to be stuck like this, he had to learn to survive and fight as Dean and Sam did. They were human and they did just fine. He had to prove to them that he could still be a helpful member of their team.
“Did you hear me, Cas?” Dean snapped.
“Yes, Dean. I heard you.”
Cas hung up the phone, and stood up. He had a lot of work to do before Dean and Sam arrived.
Next Chapter
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