Always with you - Chapter 1
Title: Always with you
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural AU/Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Chuck/Becky, Sam/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 46400
Warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, implied character death (disappearance)
Disclaimer: This fic is based on a hungarian novel, Ezüstegér (Silvermouse) by Vavyan Fable, and the figures on the characters in Supernatural. I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this on.
Author's notes: First of all, a huge thanks to Becca Number One, the amazingly fantastic rivercritterfor betaing this baby for me. Without your help, this fic wouldn't be as good as I hope it is ;) I'm sorry I was fretting so much, I really hope I wasn't annoying! Also, thanks for encouraging me, I really needed that. Same goes for Becca Number Two, ca_pierson. Without you, I may have dropped right out back around May, but I am really happy you convinced me to stay. Special thanks to my artist, love_jackianto. It was a pleasure working with you =)
Art link: Art Masterpost
Summary: A fairytale for adults about people, horses and the important things in life. When Dean, a stableman and horse trainer and Castiel, the top-notch lawyer with issues meet, sparks fly. Castiel comes to the estate to take a pause from his everyday life, and possibly turn it into a different direction. Meeting Dean and falling in love with him turns it completely upside down, but Castiel doesn’t mind it one bit.
Chapter one: Runaway
The first of April had always been a special day for Dean Winchester. As a kid, it had been the time of plotting pranks, most of them at first against his younger brother, Sam, later against the girl (or boy) he’d been pining after at that moment. Later, after he’d stood up to his parents for the first time in his life, the first of April had became the anniversary of him leaving his childhood home, and starting a new life in a different environment, at the young age of barely eighteen. Now, fourteen years later, it was usually when he first let the horses in his care spend the whole day on the fields.
Working with horses was not what he had in mind for his future, especially with his elite upbringing, the private schools with uniforms and rules strict enough to anger a saint, but nevertheless, it’s something he’s been enjoying ever since he had first set a foot in a stable when he was sixteen. Back then, he’d only done it to anger his parents, who had been so caught up in deciding what the best would be for their sons that they’d forgotten to ask them about what they wanted, but later he had fallen in love with the horses, and after his lessons he had even started helping out in the riding-school he visited. That’s where he’d first met Charles Shurley, an absentminded writer with a big heart for horses… and no talent for riding them. Over the years they became friends, so Chuck had been the first to know when Dean left his parents. Also, he’d been the one to give him shelter, food and a shoulder to lean on when carrying the world’s weight became too much. Though he hadn’t asked for anything in exchange, Dean couldn’t just take without giving. When - after a lot of pining, thinking and planning - Chuck and his longtime girlfriend, Becky had finally decided to buy an own stable, and filled it with horses, Dean had taken control of it. He had groomed and fed the horses, cared about the finances, and he’s been doing it ever since
.
As the first of April neared, Dean started clearing the meadows of any debris that might hurt the horses, and when the day came, he got up earlier to let them out as soon as possible. He took the longe, and led the horses out, one by one. They seemed exhilarated by the fresh, cool air, and immediately started munching on the flourishing grass. Dean let his favorite horse, a palomino mare called Crystal to be the last one, as he planned on taking her out for a ride. He loved the feeling of being completely free of any restrictions, so he only put a bridle on the horse, let her walk around a little to warm up, and when he saw that she was ready, he adjusted the Stetson-hat on his head, and climbed onto Crystal’s broad, comfortable back. First they started out in a walk, then he gently nudged her up into a slow trot just to get used to the circumstances, and when he felt Crystal’s need to go faster, he let her quicken her pace and change her gait into gallop.
Crystal was the fastest horse in the stable. That was partly the reason Dean loved her most among all his ‘kids’, as he usually referred to the horses; but not the only one. She seemed to be able to read one’s mind, and usually she didn’t even need controlling, she just knew where and how to go, so Dean could just lean back, and enjoy the ride. The first time he’d let the mare take over like that, they had ended up on a gorgeous field of flowers, where Dean had never been before, but since then it has become his favorite place. When Crystal reached the field, she slowed down without being instructed to, trotted right into the middle of the sea of flowers, and let her rider get off of her back. Dean took the bridle off, and while he lay down on the grass, she started eating, sometimes nuzzling Dean’s neck with her nose in the process.
“You know, Crystal, if you were a human girl, I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” Dean whispered, playfully caressing the mare’s head. Crystal snorted, as if she’d found the idea stupid, and continued nurturing herself, without even looking at him for the better part of an hour. When she felt full though, she immediately signaled her need to head back to the stables, mostly by gently kicking his feet.
“Okay, girl, you know what? You’re getting a little pushy there; forget that I kinda asked you to marry me,” Dean muttered, and stood up, leaving a Dean-shaped dent in the grass. He fished out the bridle from somewhere under the flowers, put it on the horse, and they headed back to the stables.
After they got back, Dean scrubbed Crystal down, and let her in to play with the others. He watched the ‘kids’ for a while, then he remembered that maybe he should do something constructive too, and went to clean out the stalls. On his way in he saw Chuck’s cat, a huge, gray - and in Dean’s honest opinion fugly - thing, that was just trying to hunt down a weirdly silvery mouse. At first it seemed like the little rodent could escape, but it ran out of luck, and ended up in the cat’s claws.
Dean wasn’t a fan of mice, especially because they gnawed on anything they could get their teeth on, which usually happened to be the horses’ oats or Dean’s cereals, but he wasn’t a fan of seeing their agony either, so he planned on turning around and letting the cat kill the mouse in private. The mouse chose that exact moment to look straight into Dean’s eyes though, and it seemed like it wasn’t just looking AT him, it was looking INTO him, with the all-knowing look of an old, experienced man in its small hazel eyes. Without thinking Dean grabbed the cat, and threw it right out of the stall, not caring about its huffing-clawing hissy fit. The saved rodent kept looking at Dean, and for a moment it seemed to transform into a short, brown haired man with a flirty smirk and the same warm, hazel eyes the mouse had, before it broke out of its stupor, and fled to hide under a crate.
The cat was still angrily clawing at the door, not that Dean cared about his misery, he kinda hated the cat anyway. As he wasn’t sure how long it would take for the feline threat to find a way back into the stall, he slowly approached the crate, and picked it up, but the mouse didn’t flee like he had expected it to. Instead it looked up at him once again, that strange intelligence still nestled in its eyes, and it seemed like it was trying to deliver a message with it. The human and the animal kept staring at each other, and when Dean finally moved, he heard a voice. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he heard it from inside or outside his head, but he heard the voice from somewhere.
“You saved my life. Almost as if it was a scene from a fairytale. Thank you for doing so. Your good deed won’t ever be forgotten. I won’t be ungrateful for that… because really, how would it look if I just ran away towards a mouse hole without saying anything. So, here it goes. Your wishes may come true after this encounter. You know the drill, right? Be careful, what you wish for…” the voice said, and the moment the last word died on the invisible lips, the mouse shook itself, and it disappeared through a rift in the wall. Even though Dean was sure that it was some kind of hallucination, a work of his own fantasy, he kept looking for the mouse for the next two days, searched the stable from basement to roof, but didn’t find anything.
The next evening Dean had a car accident: He hit a wall with his car, a black Chevrolet Impala from the year 1967. Weirdly, the car survived it with a few minor scratches. Dean was in a coma for almost a whole week however.
~.~.~.~.~.~As an aftereffect of the accident, Dean couldn’t remember how he ended up halfway through a thick brick wall with his car… on a road that’s straight and totally bump-less for miles. The thing he remembered even less was the sentence he literally yelled at his mother through the phone: “Mom, I’d rather violently kiss a wall than Jo, alright?!”
When he woke from the coma, he found that he wasn’t alone. Looking to his right, he saw two dark chestnut mops of hair resting on the side of his bed in a rather uncomfortable position. Dean tried to clear his throat, but the sound that has left his mouth was more animal than human, and it woke up the owners of those mops of hair.
“Dean?” Sam Winchester asked, blinking sleepily at his brother. “Don’t try to speak, with a tube jammed down your throat it would hardly work anyway. Let me call the doc, just a sec. Sarah will look after you while I’m gone, okay?” he said, and after he shook his girlfriend awake, he left the room. Sarah lifted her head, and looked at Dean with huge, slightly unfocused eyes.
“You scared Sam half to death. Don’t do that again, or I swear I will hit you,” she threatened him with a gentle smile on her face. Dean tried to answer her by using his pantomime-skills, but his body just wouldn’t obey. “Anyway, we’re glad you’re awake.” She continued, and stood up to stretch her limbs. Sam arrived a few seconds later with a young, female doctor in tow, who promptly sent the visitors out of the room.
“Mr. Winchester, you’re awake, I’m glad to see that. My name is Dr. Cara Roberts. Now that you know whose mother you have to curse later, I’m just going to remove the tube from your throat, hold still. You probably won’t like this, but it will be better without this,” she said, and with a quick move she pulled the tube out. Dean started coughing, but the doctor got him a glass of water, and after he drank it, he felt better.
“How long have I been here?” Dean asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“For almost a week. Before you ask, I have to tell you that I have no idea why you were in a coma for so long; you don’t even have any serious injuries on you. A few bruises, that’s all.”
“My head hurts though…” he complained, carefully scratching at the mentioned body part.
“Well, you’ve got a bump there, but not a big one. Can you remember what had happened?” she inquired while checking his pupils’ reactions with a small flashlight.
“Only some fuzzy moments. I think, I was talking to someone on the phone, but I’m not sure.”
“I see. What’s the last thing you can clearly remember?” Dr. Roberts asked, trying to distract Dean while she freed him from the catheter and the IV needle.
“That morning I took my favorite horse, Crystal out for a ride. I can remember that. After that, it’s all foggy.”
“Some form of amnesia almost always occurs after an accident, be it forgetting a few minutes, or a whole day. I’d say you have nothing to worry about. Do you feel pain anywhere?” The doctor asked as she removed the EEG’s electrodes from Dean’s chest.
“Yeah, my head, like I said. It’s not that bad though.” he answered, trying to sit up.
“Okay, I’ll schedule you for a few scans anyway, just for safety’s sake. Until then, feel free to be as active, and move as much as you can, but try not to overdo anything.” Dr. Roberts smiled at her patient, and she turned to leave, when Dean stopped her.
“Doc, when can I go home?” Dean asked, his voice still painfully raspy from the lack of use.
“Look, Mr. Winchester, you just woke up. First we want to know if everything is okay with you, and then we’ll talk about you going home, okay?” the doctor answered, and when Dean nodded, she left the room. A little later Sam and Sarah walked back in.
“Dean, I am glad you’re okay, but… what happened? You’re one hell of a driver, and that road you almost got killed on is perfectly straight for miles. How on earth did you manage to swerve off and crash into a wall there?” Sam wondered, pacing up and down in the room. Sarah and Dean both followed him with their eyes.
“Sammy, sit down, you’re making me nauseous. And I don’t have a clue about what the hell happened back there. I think I was talking on the phone, then I just… apparently, I crashed into a wall, and the next thing I know I’m here, hooked up onto every life-supporting system known to man. Damn, Sam! My car, is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s okay, hardly a few scratches on her. I took her to Bobby. He’s probably already fixed the paintwork by now.” Sarah said before her boyfriend could open his mouth and say anything rude about Dean caring more about the car than himself. She stood up, and said goodbye to Dean before leaving for work.
Sam walked his girlfriend to her car, and on the way back to Dean’s room he bought some food for his brother. Dean’s eyes lit up as he saw the ham-cheese sandwiches and the bottle of orange juice, and before he could think about quick movements after a week spent in coma, he got out of bed to grab the food. The dizziness came, and swept him off his feet in a heartbeat. Luckily the bed was still near, so he could lean back against it.
“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked, worry evident in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m good, I just forgot I’ve spent a week in a damn bed,” Dean hissed as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, and casted a meaningful look at the food in Sam’s hand.
“Oh, sorry, here’s your food.”
“Thanks, bitch,” The elder Winchester murmured. He started eating, with an expression of ecstasy on his face.
“Call me a bitch again, and you can ask someone else to get food for you, jerk!” Sam answered, but without any real threat in his voice. He expected Dean to once again deliver his answer to the nickname, but the elder Winchester was too occupied with his food. Sam watched his brother wolf down the sandwiches, and empty the bottle of juice, which happened in a few short moments.
After he filled his empty stomach, Dean leaned his back against his pillows, and he almost immediately started blinking drowsily. After a week spent not-quite-like-sleep unconsciousness an hour of being awake was enough to wear Dean down, and even though he didn’t really want to sleep so soon after waking up, he had no choice. Sam helped his brother back under the covers, and when he made sure that Dean was comfortably wrapped up in his blanket, he turned around to leave.
“Hey Sam, before you go, please turn the TV on.”
“You look like you’re going to fall asleep in 5 seconds flat. What do you need the TV for?”
“You know close my house is to the stable. I can hear almost every noise the horses make, and believe me, they make lot of it after I turn off the lights and go to bed. Diamond usually starts playing around with his automatic water trough at that time, Maniac always lays down to sleep, and she keeps kicking the wall rather loudly with her left hind leg in her dream, it’s like a reflex or something… Mirage turns around approximately fifty times before finally laying down to sleep, and with every turn he hits the door with his butt. Beau usually whickers for a while, und urges the others to do it too… I consider those little noises to be their way of saying goodnight. So, I can’t sleep when there’s no noise, because I always start worrying about the kids, no matter if I am not even at home,” Dean said with a wide yawn at the end.
“Okay, weirdo, here’s your noise.” Sam grinned at his brother, and turned the TV on. “Loud enough?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” The elder Winchester mumbled, burying his face into his pillow. Only a few seconds passed until his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep, clutching the edge of his blanket to his chest. Sam smiled at the sight, and before he left, he turned the TV’s volume down a little bit.
Dean slept through the entire day without any interruptions, and when he woke up, he felt definitely better. He sat up, and looked around. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, but then he remembered that he was in a hospital. The room was completely dark save for the dim light of the TV screen, which was barely enough for Dean to notice the small lamp on the bedside table. He turned it on, and a loud groan left his lips at the sight of its too bright light. After his eyes got used to it, he slowly stood up, and with small steps he walked toward the bathroom. He was not as dizzy as he had been that morning, but he was still far from feeling completely okay. Once in the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face, relieved himself, and walked back to the bed. Even though he felt more and more secure on his legs with every step, he was still glad to sit down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. He crawled to the middle of the mattress, and sat down, crossing his legs, not wanting to lie back down yet. He turned up the TV’s volume up a little, and skipped through the channels. In the end he settled on a news channel. The reporter, a young, pretty redhead stood in front of a building, which looked an awfully lot like the very same hospital Dean was lying in. She was just beginning with her report, so Dean tried to pay attention in case she was telling anything important about the hospital.
“My name is Anna Milton, and I’m standing here in front of the Three Rivers Hospital. This is where star lawyer, Castiel Engelhart is being treated after the police freed him from captivity. A week ago he was kidnapped from his house in the early morning hours by armed men, whose identities have not yet been revealed. The abduction led to imprisonment in terrible conditions in the cellar of an old apartment building.
As we have previously reported, Doctor Engelhart’s last big case concerning corruption in town hall stirred up quite a lot of controversial opinions. He’s been threatened before, his car and office both burned down after a yet unknown person set them on fire. One time he was even personally attacked, but he didn’t back down, despite the threats becoming more and more violent over the last months.
According to a letter from his kidnappers, which we - as well as other major networks - just received today, they were going to kill him, as a warning to everyone trying to uncover their business. They also attached a photo, showing him in his captivity. Luckily, in the end this photo helped the police to find him…”
The moment the photo appeared on the screen, Dean stopped paying attention to the reporter, focusing on the picture instead. It showed a man in a rundown, dark room, in front of a dirty wall, tied to a chair in ripped clothes. One of his kidnappers was holding his head up, with his hand fisted in his victim’s hair. The lawyer was bloody and brutally beaten: lips split, face all bruised, one of his eyes was so swollen it wouldn’t even open, his left arm obviously broken, but that wasn’t what shocked Dean right to his core. It was the amount of pain, desperation and death wish in the man’s huge blue eyes that did the job. Shivering, Dean turned the TV off, and lay down, pulling his covers over his head.
It took him quite some time to get rid of the haunting memory of the beaten man, but that while didn’t last long. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of him. In his dream, he caressed the man’s broken face until it healed: the ripped skin stitched itself together, the bruises faded, the blood washed itself away wherever he touched, but even though everything seemed to get better, two things wouldn’t change. He still couldn’t really see the man’s healed face, no matter how hard he tried, it remained fuzzy, smudgy like a bad, out of focus photograph; and that scared, painful look in the man’s eyes stayed too. Next chapter: Chapter 2
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural AU/Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Chuck/Becky, Sam/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 46400
Warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, implied character death (disappearance)
Disclaimer: This fic is based on a hungarian novel, Ezüstegér (Silvermouse) by Vavyan Fable, and the figures on the characters in Supernatural. I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this on.
Author's notes: First of all, a huge thanks to Becca Number One, the amazingly fantastic rivercritterfor betaing this baby for me. Without your help, this fic wouldn't be as good as I hope it is ;) I'm sorry I was fretting so much, I really hope I wasn't annoying! Also, thanks for encouraging me, I really needed that. Same goes for Becca Number Two, ca_pierson. Without you, I may have dropped right out back around May, but I am really happy you convinced me to stay. Special thanks to my artist, love_jackianto. It was a pleasure working with you =)
Art link: Art Masterpost
Summary: A fairytale for adults about people, horses and the important things in life. When Dean, a stableman and horse trainer and Castiel, the top-notch lawyer with issues meet, sparks fly. Castiel comes to the estate to take a pause from his everyday life, and possibly turn it into a different direction. Meeting Dean and falling in love with him turns it completely upside down, but Castiel doesn’t mind it one bit.
Chapter one: Runaway
The first of April had always been a special day for Dean Winchester. As a kid, it had been the time of plotting pranks, most of them at first against his younger brother, Sam, later against the girl (or boy) he’d been pining after at that moment. Later, after he’d stood up to his parents for the first time in his life, the first of April had became the anniversary of him leaving his childhood home, and starting a new life in a different environment, at the young age of barely eighteen. Now, fourteen years later, it was usually when he first let the horses in his care spend the whole day on the fields.
Working with horses was not what he had in mind for his future, especially with his elite upbringing, the private schools with uniforms and rules strict enough to anger a saint, but nevertheless, it’s something he’s been enjoying ever since he had first set a foot in a stable when he was sixteen. Back then, he’d only done it to anger his parents, who had been so caught up in deciding what the best would be for their sons that they’d forgotten to ask them about what they wanted, but later he had fallen in love with the horses, and after his lessons he had even started helping out in the riding-school he visited. That’s where he’d first met Charles Shurley, an absentminded writer with a big heart for horses… and no talent for riding them. Over the years they became friends, so Chuck had been the first to know when Dean left his parents. Also, he’d been the one to give him shelter, food and a shoulder to lean on when carrying the world’s weight became too much. Though he hadn’t asked for anything in exchange, Dean couldn’t just take without giving. When - after a lot of pining, thinking and planning - Chuck and his longtime girlfriend, Becky had finally decided to buy an own stable, and filled it with horses, Dean had taken control of it. He had groomed and fed the horses, cared about the finances, and he’s been doing it ever since
.
As the first of April neared, Dean started clearing the meadows of any debris that might hurt the horses, and when the day came, he got up earlier to let them out as soon as possible. He took the longe, and led the horses out, one by one. They seemed exhilarated by the fresh, cool air, and immediately started munching on the flourishing grass. Dean let his favorite horse, a palomino mare called Crystal to be the last one, as he planned on taking her out for a ride. He loved the feeling of being completely free of any restrictions, so he only put a bridle on the horse, let her walk around a little to warm up, and when he saw that she was ready, he adjusted the Stetson-hat on his head, and climbed onto Crystal’s broad, comfortable back. First they started out in a walk, then he gently nudged her up into a slow trot just to get used to the circumstances, and when he felt Crystal’s need to go faster, he let her quicken her pace and change her gait into gallop.
Crystal was the fastest horse in the stable. That was partly the reason Dean loved her most among all his ‘kids’, as he usually referred to the horses; but not the only one. She seemed to be able to read one’s mind, and usually she didn’t even need controlling, she just knew where and how to go, so Dean could just lean back, and enjoy the ride. The first time he’d let the mare take over like that, they had ended up on a gorgeous field of flowers, where Dean had never been before, but since then it has become his favorite place. When Crystal reached the field, she slowed down without being instructed to, trotted right into the middle of the sea of flowers, and let her rider get off of her back. Dean took the bridle off, and while he lay down on the grass, she started eating, sometimes nuzzling Dean’s neck with her nose in the process.
“You know, Crystal, if you were a human girl, I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” Dean whispered, playfully caressing the mare’s head. Crystal snorted, as if she’d found the idea stupid, and continued nurturing herself, without even looking at him for the better part of an hour. When she felt full though, she immediately signaled her need to head back to the stables, mostly by gently kicking his feet.
“Okay, girl, you know what? You’re getting a little pushy there; forget that I kinda asked you to marry me,” Dean muttered, and stood up, leaving a Dean-shaped dent in the grass. He fished out the bridle from somewhere under the flowers, put it on the horse, and they headed back to the stables.
After they got back, Dean scrubbed Crystal down, and let her in to play with the others. He watched the ‘kids’ for a while, then he remembered that maybe he should do something constructive too, and went to clean out the stalls. On his way in he saw Chuck’s cat, a huge, gray - and in Dean’s honest opinion fugly - thing, that was just trying to hunt down a weirdly silvery mouse. At first it seemed like the little rodent could escape, but it ran out of luck, and ended up in the cat’s claws.
Dean wasn’t a fan of mice, especially because they gnawed on anything they could get their teeth on, which usually happened to be the horses’ oats or Dean’s cereals, but he wasn’t a fan of seeing their agony either, so he planned on turning around and letting the cat kill the mouse in private. The mouse chose that exact moment to look straight into Dean’s eyes though, and it seemed like it wasn’t just looking AT him, it was looking INTO him, with the all-knowing look of an old, experienced man in its small hazel eyes. Without thinking Dean grabbed the cat, and threw it right out of the stall, not caring about its huffing-clawing hissy fit. The saved rodent kept looking at Dean, and for a moment it seemed to transform into a short, brown haired man with a flirty smirk and the same warm, hazel eyes the mouse had, before it broke out of its stupor, and fled to hide under a crate.
The cat was still angrily clawing at the door, not that Dean cared about his misery, he kinda hated the cat anyway. As he wasn’t sure how long it would take for the feline threat to find a way back into the stall, he slowly approached the crate, and picked it up, but the mouse didn’t flee like he had expected it to. Instead it looked up at him once again, that strange intelligence still nestled in its eyes, and it seemed like it was trying to deliver a message with it. The human and the animal kept staring at each other, and when Dean finally moved, he heard a voice. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he heard it from inside or outside his head, but he heard the voice from somewhere.
“You saved my life. Almost as if it was a scene from a fairytale. Thank you for doing so. Your good deed won’t ever be forgotten. I won’t be ungrateful for that… because really, how would it look if I just ran away towards a mouse hole without saying anything. So, here it goes. Your wishes may come true after this encounter. You know the drill, right? Be careful, what you wish for…” the voice said, and the moment the last word died on the invisible lips, the mouse shook itself, and it disappeared through a rift in the wall. Even though Dean was sure that it was some kind of hallucination, a work of his own fantasy, he kept looking for the mouse for the next two days, searched the stable from basement to roof, but didn’t find anything.
The next evening Dean had a car accident: He hit a wall with his car, a black Chevrolet Impala from the year 1967. Weirdly, the car survived it with a few minor scratches. Dean was in a coma for almost a whole week however.
~.~.~.~.~.~As an aftereffect of the accident, Dean couldn’t remember how he ended up halfway through a thick brick wall with his car… on a road that’s straight and totally bump-less for miles. The thing he remembered even less was the sentence he literally yelled at his mother through the phone: “Mom, I’d rather violently kiss a wall than Jo, alright?!”
When he woke from the coma, he found that he wasn’t alone. Looking to his right, he saw two dark chestnut mops of hair resting on the side of his bed in a rather uncomfortable position. Dean tried to clear his throat, but the sound that has left his mouth was more animal than human, and it woke up the owners of those mops of hair.
“Dean?” Sam Winchester asked, blinking sleepily at his brother. “Don’t try to speak, with a tube jammed down your throat it would hardly work anyway. Let me call the doc, just a sec. Sarah will look after you while I’m gone, okay?” he said, and after he shook his girlfriend awake, he left the room. Sarah lifted her head, and looked at Dean with huge, slightly unfocused eyes.
“You scared Sam half to death. Don’t do that again, or I swear I will hit you,” she threatened him with a gentle smile on her face. Dean tried to answer her by using his pantomime-skills, but his body just wouldn’t obey. “Anyway, we’re glad you’re awake.” She continued, and stood up to stretch her limbs. Sam arrived a few seconds later with a young, female doctor in tow, who promptly sent the visitors out of the room.
“Mr. Winchester, you’re awake, I’m glad to see that. My name is Dr. Cara Roberts. Now that you know whose mother you have to curse later, I’m just going to remove the tube from your throat, hold still. You probably won’t like this, but it will be better without this,” she said, and with a quick move she pulled the tube out. Dean started coughing, but the doctor got him a glass of water, and after he drank it, he felt better.
“How long have I been here?” Dean asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“For almost a week. Before you ask, I have to tell you that I have no idea why you were in a coma for so long; you don’t even have any serious injuries on you. A few bruises, that’s all.”
“My head hurts though…” he complained, carefully scratching at the mentioned body part.
“Well, you’ve got a bump there, but not a big one. Can you remember what had happened?” she inquired while checking his pupils’ reactions with a small flashlight.
“Only some fuzzy moments. I think, I was talking to someone on the phone, but I’m not sure.”
“I see. What’s the last thing you can clearly remember?” Dr. Roberts asked, trying to distract Dean while she freed him from the catheter and the IV needle.
“That morning I took my favorite horse, Crystal out for a ride. I can remember that. After that, it’s all foggy.”
“Some form of amnesia almost always occurs after an accident, be it forgetting a few minutes, or a whole day. I’d say you have nothing to worry about. Do you feel pain anywhere?” The doctor asked as she removed the EEG’s electrodes from Dean’s chest.
“Yeah, my head, like I said. It’s not that bad though.” he answered, trying to sit up.
“Okay, I’ll schedule you for a few scans anyway, just for safety’s sake. Until then, feel free to be as active, and move as much as you can, but try not to overdo anything.” Dr. Roberts smiled at her patient, and she turned to leave, when Dean stopped her.
“Doc, when can I go home?” Dean asked, his voice still painfully raspy from the lack of use.
“Look, Mr. Winchester, you just woke up. First we want to know if everything is okay with you, and then we’ll talk about you going home, okay?” the doctor answered, and when Dean nodded, she left the room. A little later Sam and Sarah walked back in.
“Dean, I am glad you’re okay, but… what happened? You’re one hell of a driver, and that road you almost got killed on is perfectly straight for miles. How on earth did you manage to swerve off and crash into a wall there?” Sam wondered, pacing up and down in the room. Sarah and Dean both followed him with their eyes.
“Sammy, sit down, you’re making me nauseous. And I don’t have a clue about what the hell happened back there. I think I was talking on the phone, then I just… apparently, I crashed into a wall, and the next thing I know I’m here, hooked up onto every life-supporting system known to man. Damn, Sam! My car, is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s okay, hardly a few scratches on her. I took her to Bobby. He’s probably already fixed the paintwork by now.” Sarah said before her boyfriend could open his mouth and say anything rude about Dean caring more about the car than himself. She stood up, and said goodbye to Dean before leaving for work.
Sam walked his girlfriend to her car, and on the way back to Dean’s room he bought some food for his brother. Dean’s eyes lit up as he saw the ham-cheese sandwiches and the bottle of orange juice, and before he could think about quick movements after a week spent in coma, he got out of bed to grab the food. The dizziness came, and swept him off his feet in a heartbeat. Luckily the bed was still near, so he could lean back against it.
“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked, worry evident in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m good, I just forgot I’ve spent a week in a damn bed,” Dean hissed as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, and casted a meaningful look at the food in Sam’s hand.
“Oh, sorry, here’s your food.”
“Thanks, bitch,” The elder Winchester murmured. He started eating, with an expression of ecstasy on his face.
“Call me a bitch again, and you can ask someone else to get food for you, jerk!” Sam answered, but without any real threat in his voice. He expected Dean to once again deliver his answer to the nickname, but the elder Winchester was too occupied with his food. Sam watched his brother wolf down the sandwiches, and empty the bottle of juice, which happened in a few short moments.
After he filled his empty stomach, Dean leaned his back against his pillows, and he almost immediately started blinking drowsily. After a week spent not-quite-like-sleep unconsciousness an hour of being awake was enough to wear Dean down, and even though he didn’t really want to sleep so soon after waking up, he had no choice. Sam helped his brother back under the covers, and when he made sure that Dean was comfortably wrapped up in his blanket, he turned around to leave.
“Hey Sam, before you go, please turn the TV on.”
“You look like you’re going to fall asleep in 5 seconds flat. What do you need the TV for?”
“You know close my house is to the stable. I can hear almost every noise the horses make, and believe me, they make lot of it after I turn off the lights and go to bed. Diamond usually starts playing around with his automatic water trough at that time, Maniac always lays down to sleep, and she keeps kicking the wall rather loudly with her left hind leg in her dream, it’s like a reflex or something… Mirage turns around approximately fifty times before finally laying down to sleep, and with every turn he hits the door with his butt. Beau usually whickers for a while, und urges the others to do it too… I consider those little noises to be their way of saying goodnight. So, I can’t sleep when there’s no noise, because I always start worrying about the kids, no matter if I am not even at home,” Dean said with a wide yawn at the end.
“Okay, weirdo, here’s your noise.” Sam grinned at his brother, and turned the TV on. “Loud enough?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” The elder Winchester mumbled, burying his face into his pillow. Only a few seconds passed until his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep, clutching the edge of his blanket to his chest. Sam smiled at the sight, and before he left, he turned the TV’s volume down a little bit.
Dean slept through the entire day without any interruptions, and when he woke up, he felt definitely better. He sat up, and looked around. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, but then he remembered that he was in a hospital. The room was completely dark save for the dim light of the TV screen, which was barely enough for Dean to notice the small lamp on the bedside table. He turned it on, and a loud groan left his lips at the sight of its too bright light. After his eyes got used to it, he slowly stood up, and with small steps he walked toward the bathroom. He was not as dizzy as he had been that morning, but he was still far from feeling completely okay. Once in the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face, relieved himself, and walked back to the bed. Even though he felt more and more secure on his legs with every step, he was still glad to sit down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. He crawled to the middle of the mattress, and sat down, crossing his legs, not wanting to lie back down yet. He turned up the TV’s volume up a little, and skipped through the channels. In the end he settled on a news channel. The reporter, a young, pretty redhead stood in front of a building, which looked an awfully lot like the very same hospital Dean was lying in. She was just beginning with her report, so Dean tried to pay attention in case she was telling anything important about the hospital.
“My name is Anna Milton, and I’m standing here in front of the Three Rivers Hospital. This is where star lawyer, Castiel Engelhart is being treated after the police freed him from captivity. A week ago he was kidnapped from his house in the early morning hours by armed men, whose identities have not yet been revealed. The abduction led to imprisonment in terrible conditions in the cellar of an old apartment building.
As we have previously reported, Doctor Engelhart’s last big case concerning corruption in town hall stirred up quite a lot of controversial opinions. He’s been threatened before, his car and office both burned down after a yet unknown person set them on fire. One time he was even personally attacked, but he didn’t back down, despite the threats becoming more and more violent over the last months.
According to a letter from his kidnappers, which we - as well as other major networks - just received today, they were going to kill him, as a warning to everyone trying to uncover their business. They also attached a photo, showing him in his captivity. Luckily, in the end this photo helped the police to find him…”
The moment the photo appeared on the screen, Dean stopped paying attention to the reporter, focusing on the picture instead. It showed a man in a rundown, dark room, in front of a dirty wall, tied to a chair in ripped clothes. One of his kidnappers was holding his head up, with his hand fisted in his victim’s hair. The lawyer was bloody and brutally beaten: lips split, face all bruised, one of his eyes was so swollen it wouldn’t even open, his left arm obviously broken, but that wasn’t what shocked Dean right to his core. It was the amount of pain, desperation and death wish in the man’s huge blue eyes that did the job. Shivering, Dean turned the TV off, and lay down, pulling his covers over his head.
It took him quite some time to get rid of the haunting memory of the beaten man, but that while didn’t last long. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of him. In his dream, he caressed the man’s broken face until it healed: the ripped skin stitched itself together, the bruises faded, the blood washed itself away wherever he touched, but even though everything seemed to get better, two things wouldn’t change. He still couldn’t really see the man’s healed face, no matter how hard he tried, it remained fuzzy, smudgy like a bad, out of focus photograph; and that scared, painful look in the man’s eyes stayed too. Next chapter: Chapter 2