CHAPTER 22 - The Sun is Slowly Rising

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"Turn your face away from the garish light of day.  Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light.  And listen to the music of the night."
-The Phantom of the Opera

"I don't need to hear this right now, Benny," Dean said, anger and exhaustion lacing his voice. The ambulance had arrived, and, once again, Dean had to sit idly by as Castiel fought for his life.

His pulse was very weak, which is what caused him to fall unconscious in Dean's arms. After several long hours of waiting for Castiel's condition to become stable, Dean demanded Benny take Sam to a motel, seeing as they were all exhausted, but there was no way in hell Dean was leaving.

Benny had just returned, and informed Dean that Sam was still asleep, a rest he needed considerably. Dean had slept a total of two and half hours that night because different nurses kept bringing him different information about Castiel's condition. Currently, Benny was informing Dean that he should prepare for the worst.

"I'm just saying, Dean," Benny said. "He's been through more than enough. And I know he's a tough kid, and if anyone could handle everything he's gone through, it's him. But you really just need to accept the fact that sometimes really terrible things happen to really amazing people. And sometimes, they don't make it out."

Dean showed no signs of responding any time soon, but he heard every word Benny said. Those same thoughts had been in Dean's head all night. What if Castiel wasn't alright this time?

Guilt washed over Dean as he thought about what could go wrong. And he never said he loved Castiel back, when inside his heart was screaming for Castiel to know how he felt. And what he felt was serenity, courage, light.

Benny stood and told Dean he'd bring him back a coffee, and Dean was soon left alone. It almost worried Dean that he hadn't shed a single tear. It only made him believe that, if things really did turn for the worst, he wouldn't be able to pull himself out of the slump he'd be put in. He feared that keeping it all in now would only break him later.

Dean felt his mind grow tired and the bliss of sleep kissed his eyelids when a nurse called his name.

"Mr. Wesson?" she called.

Dean jostled awake and stood. "Yeah, that's me. How is he?"

Dean had to use an alias to make sure no one recognized him. It had been a while since the story had gotten out, and the days of no sleep and excessive worry had made his appearance slightly different than that of the photo of him in the news, but he could never be too careful.

The nurse sighed tiredly but a small grin spread across her face. "It pleasures me to say that he is finally in stable condition." Relief flooded over Dean as his eyes shut and the nurse continued. "He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to remove the knife from his abdomen and piece him back together as well as we could. He's asking for you."

Dean followed the nurse, and nodded his head in understanding when the nurse said that he probably only had a few minutes before the antibiotics kicked in and he slept for a while.

Castiel didn't look very good. He was pale, and his eyelids hung heavily over his eyes. He smiled weakly when he saw Dean.

"Hey, stranger," Cas said.

Dean chuckled and tasted salt when he closed his mouth as a tear or two slid down his cheek. "Hey, Cas." Dean dragged a chair over to Castiel's bed and sat down. It amazes him that, after everything that had happened, Castiel's eyes have never shined as blue as were in that moment.

"I'm still struggling to understand why you came for me," Castiel said quietly.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed at the idea of leaving Castiel, ever again. "I hope you know by now," Dean said, "that you're stuck with me. We still have a bucket list to complete, or continue, rather. Remember? I still have to take you to a fair."

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