Title: Touched
Author: Moonshayde
Season: Four
Category: Drama
Spoilers: Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester
Summary: Once again, Dean
finds himself in the hands of fate.
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Supernatural and
its characters are the property of Eric Kripke and co. All other characters,
the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This
is for entertainment purposes only; no financial profit has been gained from
this story. This story is not mean to infringe upon the rights of the
above-mentioned establishments.
The familiar stench of death
surrounded him.
Dean sat in silence, his
body too cold and raw to move. In one hand, he clutched his cell, his numb
fingers struggling to hit the right numbers while his other hand pressed onto
the soaked stain over his abdomen.
He could feel the warmth
drain from his body as the blood gushed from his wound. He hadn't counted on
the spirit having its own ghostly gun. Now it was after Sam. He had to warn
Sam.
But his strength was quickly
fading. Dean felt himself slipping as he dropped his cell phone. He could only
hope that his next destination wouldn't be as warm as his last.
"Dean."
Dean tried to focus as he
struggled to keep his eyes open. There was a heavy weight all around him,
pressing harder and harder…
"I need for you to look
at me."
Dean nodded – or at least he
thought he did – and squinted into the dark. The blur in front of him finally
took shape and he smiled, feeling a growing peace.
"Hey, Cas. Nice timing."
Castiel didn't answer.
Instead, he held out his hand, pressing his palm against the open wound.
Instantly, Dean felt the blood flow stop, his skin fold back, and the sensation
of gushing warmth changing into a localized icy prick. When he glanced down,
there was nothing but smooth skin under the hole in his shirt.
"I will not keep saving
you."
"Oh, sure you
will." Dean winced as he poked at the spot, but he couldn't feel any real
pain. While Castiel and his buddies hadn't shown up when Meg and her friends
had tried to eat them alive, Dean was starting to get the impression Castiel
was hovering around a lot more than he wanted him to believe.
The fogginess of the near
death started to lift, allowing Dean's mind to snap back into focus. He remembered
the ghost and Sam, and immediately he reached for his cell and his gun.
Castiel gently lowered his
hands.
"The spirit has been
freed," he said.
"Sam?"
"He is fine."
Dean mulled over the
information. "Did he see you?"
"No."
Perfect. Castiel continued
to be shy. He swore if Bobby hadn't seen Castiel in the flesh, no one would
believe he was talking to angels.
Castiel remained impassive.
"I will not condone such recklessness. We have work to do."
"How was I supposed to
know that ghost was packing heat?"
Castiel stared at him.
Dean could only sigh. He and
Castiel both knew he hadn't been reckless. He hadn't really had as many brash
impulses since he'd come back, whatever that meant. Whatever was going on, if
this was how Castiel and his angel folk showed affection and compassion, it was
okay with Dean. As soon as they broke out the harps and the hugs, he was gone.
"Take better
care," Castiel warned him. "There may be a time where I am unable to
assist you."
Dean nodded, but kept quiet
this time. He didn't like the ominous tone in Castiel's voice, but he wasn't
going to push his luck tonight with a series of twenty questions. Not when he'd
flown all the way out to Montana to save him from a ghost shot.
No, Dean decided he would
have to be extra careful in the coming days – for all of their sakes.
Thoughts?
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