On the Ground: Chapter 5
Title: On the Ground (Chapter 5)
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,595
Date written: 3 August 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Beta-ed by moodwriter.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |
--
Castiel seeks out Sam and Bobby, unsure of where else to turn.
He considers Anna, but he is not sure that she can help him. It is unlikely that she would know where the Angels have gone, and he doesn’t know if she would tell him anyway. He decides to try her second, if Sam and Bobby have no information to help him.
It is growing more and more difficult to locate the various humans Castiel is keeping track of. It was, in the beginning, only Dean who was his charge. It appears that he is now also responsible for the younger brother, and the fatherly friend.
No one asked him to take on this responsibility. And Castiel doesn’t know if he wants it. There are few things Castiel has felt an independent wanting for. Even now, he wishes not to feel such independence, but he is too far gone. There is no turning back.
It takes most of the night to relocate the demons and their two humans. They have moved positions, into a more secure hideout. It’s an abandoned nuclear fall out shelter, left over from the terrible days in which all the Earth feared becoming its own end. It is happening again, but the humans don’t even realize it.
Not most of them.
The building is underground, and heavily guarded. Castiel moves in silence, using his powers to turn blind eyes to his presence. It takes all of his effort to will his being into submission, within the confines of the human vessel. It is difficult to contain, but the slightest malfunction in human electronics would surely give him away. No one can know he is there. Yet somehow, he must find a way to speak to Sam.
When Castiel finally makes his way inside, he finds Sam and Bobby fighting demons in hand combat. He nearly jumps into the fray himself before he realizes that they are not attempting to escape, nor fighting for their lives. They are simply preparing for war.
“Come on you half-demon!” the demon taunts Sam, “Fight harder, or we’ll take it out on your human friend!” The demon dances a circle around Sam and Bobby, another demon circling from the other side.
It is two-on-two, each of the four armed, the two humans in the middle, almost back-to-back as the demons circle.
Sam’s face twitches in anger but he doesn’t respond to the demon’s jeer, other than to take a well-aimed jab. He nearly guts the fiend, but it leaps out of the way just in time.
“Use your power, you filthy animal!” the demon screams.
Bobby and Sam exchange glances while the demons circle again, and Castiel shakes off a shudder. He has not heard a voice so raw with vileness since he stormed through Hell to rescue Dean. He has forgotten how obscene their voices can sound.
Castiel watches for several long minutes until another demon interrupts the battle, stepping into the room and calling for a break.
Sam paces across the nearly empty square room and takes a seat in a chair at the far end of it, arms resting on an old glass table positioned by the chair. The demons leave the humans alone, save for one guard keeping watch by the door. Bobby stands a few feet from Sam, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a small pocket cloth. Sam’s sweat rolls down his neck, wets his shirt, and makes new trails along his arms. He sits with tiredness in his posture.
Castiel moves silently in the room, still working with all his strength to keep his being held firmly within his vessel. It takes great concentration to do so. As he moves, he asks, wills, pleads that he might be able to safely contact Sam, and then locate Dean.
He is not sure whom he is asking for help.
Castiel draws close to Sam and sweeps along the back of his shoulders; the boy straightens up, glancing surreptitiously at Bobby who is oblivious, looking the other way.
“Boy, I am too old for this,” Bobby says, almost groans.
Sam doesn’t reply.
Castiel glances around the room, trying to find a way to communicate. He recalls something Dean and Sam have encountered before. There is a glass table where Sam sits. Castiel reaches out to it, gently dragging his finger over its surface. Being invisible, it doesn’t seem to do quite what the human finger does. But there is a faint shine where his finger traced a mark.
Castiel glances at Sam, who is still sitting with a vague alertness about him.
A lamp resides on the edge of the table near Castiel, and he pushes it gently, so it moves noiselessly only a fraction of an inch.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam catches the movement and immediately locks his gaze onto the lamp. Bobby isn’t paying attention as he sits on a low table, cleaning one of the many small blades he keeps on his person. The demon in the corner of the room by the door shifts but remains stoic.
Castiel begins to trace letters - the letters that spell Dean’s name.
“Bobby,” Sam says at once.
The demon glares at the abrupt noise, but then a sharp rap sounds behind him on the door, and the demon moves outside. A faint locking sound is heard from the other side of the door.
Castiel appears at once and both men jump suddenly in response.
“I must be quick. I can’t be caught here,” Castiel says.
“Y-you’re bleeding,” Sam blurts out, shock still on his face.
Castiel frowns. The battle against Zachariah. It must have broken skin on his human vessel.
“You’ve been in a fight,” Bobby says, stepping forward. They’re all speaking quietly, for fear of listening ears nearby.
“There’s no time for that,” Castiel says.
“Where’s Dean?” Sam demands, as if he knows there is something wrong.
“I…I don’t know,” Castiel confesses.
“What?” Sam snaps. His voice betrays fear and concern.
“The Angels have him. Have you heard of anything, anything the demons are doing or are aware of, anything of their enemies’ whereabouts, anywhere Dean might be?”
As Castiel expected might happen, Sam reacts in a dramatic way, and it’s all Castiel can do to keep him calm. Bobby helps, and eventually Castiel discovers from them that the demons know of a place with enemy-action happening, one of the locations they are keeping their eyes on for an uprising from the Angels.
Sam insists that he ought to go find Dean himself, but Bobby and Castiel stop him. Everyone must be in position, and Sam cannot ruin the entire Plan by abandoning his post. Castiel promises to find his brother.
Sam appears as if he is holding back words about how Castiel hadn’t kept the Angels from taking Dean in the first place, but the Winchester boy does not say a word. Maybe Castiel is imagining it. Maybe he is saying it to himself. It is his own voice casting guilt.
“You know where to find us,” Bobby says, when Castiel has all the information he can glean from them.
“Castiel,” Sam calls out, reminding the Angel so much of the older Winchester. “Let us know he’s okay? Just, find a way to let me know, all right?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Castiel has never made so many promises to humans before.
..:..
Castiel does finally find Dean, but only barely in time.
Two angels are pummeling Dean - torturing him, in Castiel’s opinion. Though Dean is a strong man, and has fought his share of battles, including the supernatural, he is still only a man, and it wouldn’t take more than one Angel to kill him, if they wanted to. It looks as if they are toying with him.
But one Angel lies on the ground of the warehouse.
Castiel can’t help thinking it was Dean’s doing. Something like pride bubbles inside him as he makes his move.
The Angels don’t even see Castiel coming as they continue their abuse. One Angel is suddenly struck mid-laugh, paralyzed as Castiel’s power throws him and his Angel partner against the wall of the building, causing several dusty shelves to collapse to the ground.
“Castiel!” one Angel shouts his accusation angrily.
Castiel glares at his former allies, and by his powers pulls them away from the wall and slams them against it again, holding them there. He is more powerful than they. Their status is one of foot soldiers, while his - he has paid his dues. He is not archangel, but neither is he restrained by any other powers or authorities. He is his own…man.
Dean makes no noise from his position on the ground. He is slumped against the wall, blood trickling down from his head, his nose, and mouth. His arm is slung haphazardly across his body. His eyes are closed.
“How can you help these blasphemous creatures?!” one of the angels challenges. “It is our time now, Castiel!”
“You follow blindly, the sheep moving into the wolves’ den,” Castiel declares, his power exerting itself even through his voice. “There is deliverance, but it is not by Angels. It is by man.”
The first angel cackles from his position on the wall. The other says, “By man? How could man ever save Angels? They can’t even save themselves! You are demented, Castiel!”
“It is you who are demented,” Castiel issues. “The last hope of this world, of all creation, and you seek to torture him? Did not the Father bestow upon you any common sense?”
“What Father?!” the first angel interrupts meanly.
“This man is nothing!” the second shouts with bitterness in his voice. “He is your undoing, Castiel!”
“Stop hunting the Winchesters and let them set this world to rights!” Castiel demands loudly.
“They are the reason Lucifer is free!” the first angel argues. “And one of your pretty little charges now serves the vile master himself! You will be his footstool soon, Castiel!”
“Enough!” Castiel bellows, wrenching his hand through the air so his power throws the Angels sidelong across the wall, headfirst into the adjacent one where they fall, momentarily unconscious.
Castiel moves to Dean, who also lies unconscious. He scoops the man into his arms, stands, and with a small turn relocates them both to the nearest abandoned ocean shoreline.
He immediately feels the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze in the air. He cannot offer any sensible logic for his choice, other than that he has always felt the coast to be more secure. A place Castiel often turned to, himself, over the passing centuries. He hopes wherever he has landed them is indeed safe, and equally uninhabited.
Castiel stands with Dean in his arms, the man’s weight heavy by human standards but not unbearable. He surveys his surroundings with a quick glance, but allows his gaze to fall again upon the human charge in his arms. The blood on Dean’s face has trickled down, all the way to Castiel’s arms, torso, and clothes, blood seeping into his shirt and coat. He knows he needs to set Dean down to rest, but the sand is not the best place to do so.
He looks up toward the distance and finds a small building further away from the coast. It’s pink, one-level, and very long. Only two cars sit in the parking lot in front of it. Castiel slowly begins to approach, his senses on alert for any other beings present. The only energy he feels is that of humans.
As he nears, he sees a sign at the front of the building which says, “Beach Motel.”
Castiel thinks it rather uninventive.
Instead of requesting a room and somehow securing it by some fraudulent means, as he is sure Dean would do, Castiel simply appears inside a vacant room, and sets Dean on one of the two beds. His first step is to ward the room against both demons and angels, and to put a deterrent on it from the humans working there.
Then he turns back to Dean.
Castiel can not heal, unless the Father deems it so. It’s not a matter of choice, but of ability. It’s not within his nature. Instead, he sits alongside Dean, letting his eyes sweep over the man as he attempts to examine the problems. Dean is breathing, though lightly. His eyes remain closed, his head falling to the side where it rests on the pillow.
Castiel has seen humans care for their own, so he does his best to copy their actions. In the bathroom he finds a towel and wets it with warm water from the sink. With it he wipes at the blood on Dean’s face, carefully dabbing around his broken lip, and gently avoiding pressure against the bridge of his nose. There is a gash hidden in Dean’s hair, but Castiel believes it has clotted itself, and hopes it doesn’t require any other measure to encourage its healing.
He’s not sure what else to do. He doesn’t know the human body as the Father does - the very one who created its every piece. All he can do is let Dean rest and hope he will awake soon. Until then, he protects the room, entertaining the thought of never leaving Dean alone again. But he knows he can not do that. There is work to be done. Dean would never allow it. Even Castiel would not allow it.
It is strange, though, to think on it.
Dean moans, catching Castiel’s attention, but he doesn’t wake or open his eyes.
Castiel prepares for a long night. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching Dean Winchester and listening to all the outside noises and movements, ready to jump up and fight off a host of angels or a legion of demons if they challenge him to do so. Even if it’s the last thing he does. He doesn’t know what other purpose he has now.
Protect Dean. Help Dean. Carry out the Plan. Save the world.
It is not his world to be saved, so the thought leaves him in uncomfortable bemusement.
Still, he’s not ready for it to be over.
..:..
The night draws on, and Dean moans and groans, but never wakes. Castiel watches the sun rise through the window, the thin shades drawn but still allowing the light to creep in. When it is fully in its morning position, Castiel turns to Dean, and dabs at the small drops of blood that have oozed from his wounds in the last two hours.
Castiel is still sitting on the bed an hour later when Dean slowly shifts, his energy at last turning toward wakefulness.
There are things to be done, moves to be made. Sam should know that Dean is safe, and the Plan must progress. They are running out of time, and the Angels and demons are altogether too close to the Winchester boys.
Castiel allows himself to disappear from sight, but he lingers near the door of the motel room, watching as Dean slowly rises to an awkward sitting position. His movements appear pained, which is mirrored by the expression on his face. He breathes carefully and surveys his surroundings.
Dean’s eyes land on the bloodied towel where it rests on the bedside table.
Castiel is certain that Dean will be all right. The wards will hold until Dean vacates the room. It should give him time to recover while Castiel tends to his work.
When Castiel departs, Dean is still staring at the bloodied towel.
Next: Chapter 6
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean, Sam, Castiel, etc.)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,595
Date written: 3 August 2009
Summary: On the ground, conditions are rough, everyone misses home, and they all feel the tides shifting, the approach of a great confrontation. Then Castiel is given a human charge. Nothing has ever been more confusing than Dean Winchester.
Other information: Story is cannon though Season 4. This was written just for fun, is completely fiction, and the characters and situations belong to Supernatural, the CW, et al. Written in American English. Beta-ed by moodwriter.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |
--
Castiel seeks out Sam and Bobby, unsure of where else to turn.
He considers Anna, but he is not sure that she can help him. It is unlikely that she would know where the Angels have gone, and he doesn’t know if she would tell him anyway. He decides to try her second, if Sam and Bobby have no information to help him.
It is growing more and more difficult to locate the various humans Castiel is keeping track of. It was, in the beginning, only Dean who was his charge. It appears that he is now also responsible for the younger brother, and the fatherly friend.
No one asked him to take on this responsibility. And Castiel doesn’t know if he wants it. There are few things Castiel has felt an independent wanting for. Even now, he wishes not to feel such independence, but he is too far gone. There is no turning back.
It takes most of the night to relocate the demons and their two humans. They have moved positions, into a more secure hideout. It’s an abandoned nuclear fall out shelter, left over from the terrible days in which all the Earth feared becoming its own end. It is happening again, but the humans don’t even realize it.
Not most of them.
The building is underground, and heavily guarded. Castiel moves in silence, using his powers to turn blind eyes to his presence. It takes all of his effort to will his being into submission, within the confines of the human vessel. It is difficult to contain, but the slightest malfunction in human electronics would surely give him away. No one can know he is there. Yet somehow, he must find a way to speak to Sam.
When Castiel finally makes his way inside, he finds Sam and Bobby fighting demons in hand combat. He nearly jumps into the fray himself before he realizes that they are not attempting to escape, nor fighting for their lives. They are simply preparing for war.
“Come on you half-demon!” the demon taunts Sam, “Fight harder, or we’ll take it out on your human friend!” The demon dances a circle around Sam and Bobby, another demon circling from the other side.
It is two-on-two, each of the four armed, the two humans in the middle, almost back-to-back as the demons circle.
Sam’s face twitches in anger but he doesn’t respond to the demon’s jeer, other than to take a well-aimed jab. He nearly guts the fiend, but it leaps out of the way just in time.
“Use your power, you filthy animal!” the demon screams.
Bobby and Sam exchange glances while the demons circle again, and Castiel shakes off a shudder. He has not heard a voice so raw with vileness since he stormed through Hell to rescue Dean. He has forgotten how obscene their voices can sound.
Castiel watches for several long minutes until another demon interrupts the battle, stepping into the room and calling for a break.
Sam paces across the nearly empty square room and takes a seat in a chair at the far end of it, arms resting on an old glass table positioned by the chair. The demons leave the humans alone, save for one guard keeping watch by the door. Bobby stands a few feet from Sam, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a small pocket cloth. Sam’s sweat rolls down his neck, wets his shirt, and makes new trails along his arms. He sits with tiredness in his posture.
Castiel moves silently in the room, still working with all his strength to keep his being held firmly within his vessel. It takes great concentration to do so. As he moves, he asks, wills, pleads that he might be able to safely contact Sam, and then locate Dean.
He is not sure whom he is asking for help.
Castiel draws close to Sam and sweeps along the back of his shoulders; the boy straightens up, glancing surreptitiously at Bobby who is oblivious, looking the other way.
“Boy, I am too old for this,” Bobby says, almost groans.
Sam doesn’t reply.
Castiel glances around the room, trying to find a way to communicate. He recalls something Dean and Sam have encountered before. There is a glass table where Sam sits. Castiel reaches out to it, gently dragging his finger over its surface. Being invisible, it doesn’t seem to do quite what the human finger does. But there is a faint shine where his finger traced a mark.
Castiel glances at Sam, who is still sitting with a vague alertness about him.
A lamp resides on the edge of the table near Castiel, and he pushes it gently, so it moves noiselessly only a fraction of an inch.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam catches the movement and immediately locks his gaze onto the lamp. Bobby isn’t paying attention as he sits on a low table, cleaning one of the many small blades he keeps on his person. The demon in the corner of the room by the door shifts but remains stoic.
Castiel begins to trace letters - the letters that spell Dean’s name.
“Bobby,” Sam says at once.
The demon glares at the abrupt noise, but then a sharp rap sounds behind him on the door, and the demon moves outside. A faint locking sound is heard from the other side of the door.
Castiel appears at once and both men jump suddenly in response.
“I must be quick. I can’t be caught here,” Castiel says.
“Y-you’re bleeding,” Sam blurts out, shock still on his face.
Castiel frowns. The battle against Zachariah. It must have broken skin on his human vessel.
“You’ve been in a fight,” Bobby says, stepping forward. They’re all speaking quietly, for fear of listening ears nearby.
“There’s no time for that,” Castiel says.
“Where’s Dean?” Sam demands, as if he knows there is something wrong.
“I…I don’t know,” Castiel confesses.
“What?” Sam snaps. His voice betrays fear and concern.
“The Angels have him. Have you heard of anything, anything the demons are doing or are aware of, anything of their enemies’ whereabouts, anywhere Dean might be?”
As Castiel expected might happen, Sam reacts in a dramatic way, and it’s all Castiel can do to keep him calm. Bobby helps, and eventually Castiel discovers from them that the demons know of a place with enemy-action happening, one of the locations they are keeping their eyes on for an uprising from the Angels.
Sam insists that he ought to go find Dean himself, but Bobby and Castiel stop him. Everyone must be in position, and Sam cannot ruin the entire Plan by abandoning his post. Castiel promises to find his brother.
Sam appears as if he is holding back words about how Castiel hadn’t kept the Angels from taking Dean in the first place, but the Winchester boy does not say a word. Maybe Castiel is imagining it. Maybe he is saying it to himself. It is his own voice casting guilt.
“You know where to find us,” Bobby says, when Castiel has all the information he can glean from them.
“Castiel,” Sam calls out, reminding the Angel so much of the older Winchester. “Let us know he’s okay? Just, find a way to let me know, all right?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Castiel has never made so many promises to humans before.
..:..
Castiel does finally find Dean, but only barely in time.
Two angels are pummeling Dean - torturing him, in Castiel’s opinion. Though Dean is a strong man, and has fought his share of battles, including the supernatural, he is still only a man, and it wouldn’t take more than one Angel to kill him, if they wanted to. It looks as if they are toying with him.
But one Angel lies on the ground of the warehouse.
Castiel can’t help thinking it was Dean’s doing. Something like pride bubbles inside him as he makes his move.
The Angels don’t even see Castiel coming as they continue their abuse. One Angel is suddenly struck mid-laugh, paralyzed as Castiel’s power throws him and his Angel partner against the wall of the building, causing several dusty shelves to collapse to the ground.
“Castiel!” one Angel shouts his accusation angrily.
Castiel glares at his former allies, and by his powers pulls them away from the wall and slams them against it again, holding them there. He is more powerful than they. Their status is one of foot soldiers, while his - he has paid his dues. He is not archangel, but neither is he restrained by any other powers or authorities. He is his own…man.
Dean makes no noise from his position on the ground. He is slumped against the wall, blood trickling down from his head, his nose, and mouth. His arm is slung haphazardly across his body. His eyes are closed.
“How can you help these blasphemous creatures?!” one of the angels challenges. “It is our time now, Castiel!”
“You follow blindly, the sheep moving into the wolves’ den,” Castiel declares, his power exerting itself even through his voice. “There is deliverance, but it is not by Angels. It is by man.”
The first angel cackles from his position on the wall. The other says, “By man? How could man ever save Angels? They can’t even save themselves! You are demented, Castiel!”
“It is you who are demented,” Castiel issues. “The last hope of this world, of all creation, and you seek to torture him? Did not the Father bestow upon you any common sense?”
“What Father?!” the first angel interrupts meanly.
“This man is nothing!” the second shouts with bitterness in his voice. “He is your undoing, Castiel!”
“Stop hunting the Winchesters and let them set this world to rights!” Castiel demands loudly.
“They are the reason Lucifer is free!” the first angel argues. “And one of your pretty little charges now serves the vile master himself! You will be his footstool soon, Castiel!”
“Enough!” Castiel bellows, wrenching his hand through the air so his power throws the Angels sidelong across the wall, headfirst into the adjacent one where they fall, momentarily unconscious.
Castiel moves to Dean, who also lies unconscious. He scoops the man into his arms, stands, and with a small turn relocates them both to the nearest abandoned ocean shoreline.
He immediately feels the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze in the air. He cannot offer any sensible logic for his choice, other than that he has always felt the coast to be more secure. A place Castiel often turned to, himself, over the passing centuries. He hopes wherever he has landed them is indeed safe, and equally uninhabited.
Castiel stands with Dean in his arms, the man’s weight heavy by human standards but not unbearable. He surveys his surroundings with a quick glance, but allows his gaze to fall again upon the human charge in his arms. The blood on Dean’s face has trickled down, all the way to Castiel’s arms, torso, and clothes, blood seeping into his shirt and coat. He knows he needs to set Dean down to rest, but the sand is not the best place to do so.
He looks up toward the distance and finds a small building further away from the coast. It’s pink, one-level, and very long. Only two cars sit in the parking lot in front of it. Castiel slowly begins to approach, his senses on alert for any other beings present. The only energy he feels is that of humans.
As he nears, he sees a sign at the front of the building which says, “Beach Motel.”
Castiel thinks it rather uninventive.
Instead of requesting a room and somehow securing it by some fraudulent means, as he is sure Dean would do, Castiel simply appears inside a vacant room, and sets Dean on one of the two beds. His first step is to ward the room against both demons and angels, and to put a deterrent on it from the humans working there.
Then he turns back to Dean.
Castiel can not heal, unless the Father deems it so. It’s not a matter of choice, but of ability. It’s not within his nature. Instead, he sits alongside Dean, letting his eyes sweep over the man as he attempts to examine the problems. Dean is breathing, though lightly. His eyes remain closed, his head falling to the side where it rests on the pillow.
Castiel has seen humans care for their own, so he does his best to copy their actions. In the bathroom he finds a towel and wets it with warm water from the sink. With it he wipes at the blood on Dean’s face, carefully dabbing around his broken lip, and gently avoiding pressure against the bridge of his nose. There is a gash hidden in Dean’s hair, but Castiel believes it has clotted itself, and hopes it doesn’t require any other measure to encourage its healing.
He’s not sure what else to do. He doesn’t know the human body as the Father does - the very one who created its every piece. All he can do is let Dean rest and hope he will awake soon. Until then, he protects the room, entertaining the thought of never leaving Dean alone again. But he knows he can not do that. There is work to be done. Dean would never allow it. Even Castiel would not allow it.
It is strange, though, to think on it.
Dean moans, catching Castiel’s attention, but he doesn’t wake or open his eyes.
Castiel prepares for a long night. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching Dean Winchester and listening to all the outside noises and movements, ready to jump up and fight off a host of angels or a legion of demons if they challenge him to do so. Even if it’s the last thing he does. He doesn’t know what other purpose he has now.
Protect Dean. Help Dean. Carry out the Plan. Save the world.
It is not his world to be saved, so the thought leaves him in uncomfortable bemusement.
Still, he’s not ready for it to be over.
..:..
The night draws on, and Dean moans and groans, but never wakes. Castiel watches the sun rise through the window, the thin shades drawn but still allowing the light to creep in. When it is fully in its morning position, Castiel turns to Dean, and dabs at the small drops of blood that have oozed from his wounds in the last two hours.
Castiel is still sitting on the bed an hour later when Dean slowly shifts, his energy at last turning toward wakefulness.
There are things to be done, moves to be made. Sam should know that Dean is safe, and the Plan must progress. They are running out of time, and the Angels and demons are altogether too close to the Winchester boys.
Castiel allows himself to disappear from sight, but he lingers near the door of the motel room, watching as Dean slowly rises to an awkward sitting position. His movements appear pained, which is mirrored by the expression on his face. He breathes carefully and surveys his surroundings.
Dean’s eyes land on the bloodied towel where it rests on the bedside table.
Castiel is certain that Dean will be all right. The wards will hold until Dean vacates the room. It should give him time to recover while Castiel tends to his work.
When Castiel departs, Dean is still staring at the bloodied towel.
Next: Chapter 6