A Winter's Tale (Destiel Fanfiction)

(8) A Winter's Tale

At five in the morning on Christmas Eve, Dean got into the gold Continental, which was now in the chilly hospital parking lot, and fired her up. Sam was already in the hospital, making sure Cas got dressed and down to the lobby; Dean was supposed to meet them at the hospital's front doors with the Continental (or "Goldie," as he kept calling her now).

Five a.m. was a painful early start. But it would be a long drive. The good news was that by yesterday evening, Cas had met all the doctor's criteria for release. He'd been lucid every time he'd woken. He'd eaten—not much, but he'd managed to get down some soup and pudding, and he'd kept it down. He'd even sat up for a little while in the evening— just long enough to watch half of "Frosty the Snowman" on the hospital room's little tv before he passed out asleep again, but apparently that was long enough to count as "patient can sit upright on own." (He came half-awake later muttering, "What happened? Did he melt?") He'd even managed to stand and shuffle the ten feet to the bathroom— though Dean and Sam had to support him on either side, and even with their help Cas had to stop and rest about every five steps.

He still was running a mild fever and obviously was very fatigued, and he still was dogged by a stubborn cough, but it was clear that he was on the mend. So Cas's doctor had okayed a release; and then the hospital staff had turned out to be surprisingly helpful about arranging a very-early-morning departure. Turned out they understood the desire to bring a patient home for Christmas.

Though the doctor then had subjected Dean and Sam to a long, detailed lecture about how Cas was still sick, and how he would still need a lot of care, and how important it would be to keep him warm and comfortable, and hydrated and fed, on the long drive. Sam and Dean had to swear over and over that they'd take good care of him before the doc had finally okayed the release.

It was still pitch dark, and very cold. Dean maneuvered "Goldie" out of the parking lot and up to the main front bay doors. The car felt good; the new tires were gripping well, and the engine was purring much better. Dean had also just checked the tire pressure, oil level and a few other things while Sam had done some last-minute fiddling with the interior arrangements, setting up some final touches on Cas's "angel nest," as Sam kept calling it.

Dean pulled up exactly in front of the bay doors. Cas and Sam weren't in sight yet in the glassed-in lobby, but Dean kept the motor running anyway, so that the car would be toasty warm for Cas. He twisted around to look into the back seat, checking the "angel nest".

An hour ago Sam had had the bright idea of filling up the footwells with Dean's and his own duffels, using them as packing material to level the footwells with the seat. Then he'd spread a couple of soft fleece blankets (one of his new purchases from the local Target) all the way across the seat and duffels. This had converted the back seat into a sort of extra-wide bed, so that Cas would be able sprawl any which way without having to worry about falling off the seat. Two new pillows were now leaning against one of the doors, also courtesy of Sam's Target shopping trip, and several more fleece blankets were flipped up over the front seat, ready to be deployed once Cas lay down. Cas's blue sleeping bag, freshly cleaned, was heaped up next to Dean, ready to be used as a top layer if necessary. (A little bag of Cas's extra clothes, now freshly laundered and folded, was also sitting in the front seat.)

Dean looked over a small set of items that were wedged between the duffels— things Sam and Dean had thought Cas might want during the drive. Bottles of water, a thermos of soup, a little supply of crackers, some fruit (the doctor had suggested some grapes and a banana), stacks of Kleenex and a little trash bag. Dean had added a sleep mask and earplugs, bought from the hospital pharmacy, in case Cas needed extra peace and quiet; and Sam had donated his ipod too, in case Cas might want to listen to any music. (Sam had even spent a good chunk of last night loading the ipod with stuff he thought Cas might like—classical music, folk songs, and some hopelessly foofy indie stuff. Dean had snuck on a few classic-rock hits at the last second.)