The Painted Turtle of Healing
There was someone in the room.
Lying on the grungy motel bed, Dean stiffened. He kept still not moving a muscle as he listened intently. Whoever it was wasn't making a single sound but he could feel their presence. Carefully cracking open an eyelid, he swept the room as best he could. He soon spotted the figure standing silently in a corner of the room watching him. He recognized them immediately.
Letting out a groan, Dean rolled over and placed a pillow over his head.
Ignoring the voice, the hunter tried to recall the dream he'd been having of a giant pie.
"What?" Dean moaned casting aside his pillow and his hope of retrieving his dream.
"I have a message for you."
"Can't it wait until morning, Cas?"
"No, it can not," replied the angel his piercing eyes staring intently at Dean from his impassive face.
"Well, I don't know about God, but we humans usually like to sleep at…" Dean glanced at the bedside clock. "…3:17 in the morning. You can give me his message tomorrow morning, after breakfast."
"The message isn't from God himself. It was given to me by Raphael."
Dean leaned back once more and put an arm over his face. "I don't care if it's from Leonardo or Michelangelo."
Castiel let out a long exasperated sigh. "This is serious, Dean. I wasn't referring to the painter."
"Not painter, dude, turtle."
"Not painter, turtle," Dean repeated.
There was a sleepy moan from the bed beside Dean's and he glanced over to see Sam blinking sleepily at them. "Painted turtle?" he mumbled. The younger brother yawned as he sat up and looked blearily at the angel. "Oh, Hi, Cas. God wants Dean to paint a turtle?" he asked groggily.
Castiel rolled his eyes. "No. I…"
"God wants Dean to find a painted turtle?"
"God wants Dean to kill a painted turtle?"
"Dean is a painted turtle?"
"No. I have a message…"
"From a painted turtle?"
"No, the angel of healing."
Sam frowned. "Is a painted turtle?"
"No!" Castiel was breathing heavily now and his face had developed a reddish tinge.
Dean grinned at his sleepy brother. "Not painted, you crazy bitch, ninja."
"The angel of healing is a ninja?" asked Sam still half asleep and completely confused.
"I don't think so, but that would be cool. Hey, Cas. Are there any ninja angels?"
"Silence!" Castiel yelled startling them both. "The archangel Raphael, who is neither a painter, a turtle nor a ninja, has given me a message for you."
"Spit it out then," said Dean with a yawn.
Castiel opened his mouth to do so, but suddenly, he stopped and furrowed his brow. "Um… ah… I'll be right back." And he vanished.
Sam blinked and scratched the back of his head.
Dean smirked, rolled over and went back to dreaming of pie.