Hey y'all :):):).
This is a missing scene that was inspired by the small clips I managed to view from "The Song Remains The Same" since it hasn't aired in the UK yet =/. I nearly had an heart attack when I saw the clip of Castiel coughing up blood (it disturbed me quite a lot) and I realised that there was actually a very minute reaction from Dean. I don;t think this was because he didn't care, but more that he was genuinely concerned and speechless at what had happened to his friend.
I thought Sam reacted perfectly to the situation and so I decided to focus this more on Dean's reaction after Cas' fainting spell =S. I think that the three of them have a wonderful relationship (of course I'm not trying to take the focus away from the brilliance that is the brotherly love between Sam and Dean) and I love the caring moments between them. I know that many people have mixed opinions abut Castiel and how he is "stealing" Dean away from Sam. However, Cas did refer to Sam as being his friend and I think the boys need a third party member to support them in such a desperate time. It doesn't mean they don't love each other any less: they've just extended their love a little further afield is how I see it =D.
Anyways, there goes my ramble! Sammy will be in this story ('cause I do love him so!) so don't panic Sammy fans! I don't really do slash stories (although if some of you view it that way then *shrugs*, by all means... =P) because I prefer "bromance" and friendship stories so I hope you all enjoy!!! =]=]=].
Thriving Ivory - Angels On The Moon
Robbie Williams - Bodies
The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Lonely Roads
"What do we do?"
The question was a good one, but also, one that had obviously never been posed before. What did you do if you were trapped in the year 1978, holding one unconscious and bleeding angel in your arms while another was racing off to kill your parents before you could be born?
An answer, at this point, would have been a welcome miracle.
Glancing around, Dean scoped out the surroundings, green eyes narrowing in desperation as he searched for the nearest motel. His fingers unconsciously curled themselves deeper into the tan trench coat that he knew rested dutifully beneath them.
Without looking down, afraid to see his angel appearing so vulnerable, Dean heard Sam lean closer to Castiel. He heard the distinct sound of skin lightly hitting skin as the youngest Winchester attempted to rouse the wounded celestial and tilted his head away from the harsh noise.
Dean straightened further, his death-grip on the trench coat ultimately forcing Castiel to rise partially with him. The elder hunter shook his head in frustration at the lack of useful signs: Kansas did have tourists in 1978, right?
As a sharp slap came from beneath him, Dean accidentally lowered his guard, his stare falling towards the two figures hunched on the floor. He found himself swallowing convulsively as the angel's head lolled backward at the hit, gaping mouth letting loose another torturous stream of blood. Dark circles rimmed Castiel's tightly closed eyes, shielding stunning sapphire orbs from view.
"Damn it," Sam cursed, lunging forth and tentatively supporting the back of the dark head of hair. The young Winchester's frame now hovered completely over Castiel's limp body, obscuring him from Dean's view. But the blood, Dean shuddered convulsively, the blood he could still see clearly: a stark contrast to the pale complexion of his friend's face.
It was then that Dean realised, it should be him crouching down there. It should be him struggling to keep Cas' sagging form upright as he seemed to sink further into oblivion. After all, Castiel had dragged him from Hell, had protected him and saved him so many times over the past year that Dean had begun to wonder how he had even managed to survive without the graceful being for so long beforehand.
"Dean!" The elder man jumped in surprise, managing to detach his horrified stare from Castiel and over to Sam. He saw Sam recoil slightly at his raw expression, before Dean regained his composure and his trademark mask fell neatly back into place. Choosing not to comment, Sam tugged the inert form higher. "What are we gonna do?"
"I can't see any signs for a motel, Sammy."
Nodding, Sam let out a long breath of frustration as his mind worked furiously for a solution. It was strange how in one moment, Dean was the protective head-strong big brother and in the next, Sam had managed to replace him and take charge.
And the reason for this role reversal was lying splayed out on the pavement between the two of them, being clung to desperately by both brothers.
Dean slowly lowered himself back into a crouch, expressive eyes never once leaving the peaceful expression of the angel. He reached forth with uncertainty, hand shakily stopping before Castiel's cheekbone, before lowering again to the tan material.
"You should go," he forced out gruffly, seeing, out of the corner of his eye, Sam's head jerk up quickly to look at him. "We need to find a motel quickly. We're gonna start attracting attention we don't want." Shifting closer, he placed one arm behind the angel's back and tugged him closer. "I'll stay with Cas."
Opening his mouth, as though to protest, the younger brother stopped, seeming to think better of it. Sam nodded in assertion and released Castiel completely, watching as he fell back into Dean's waiting arms. Then, rising swiftly to his feet, Sam found himself staring as Dean shifted behind the ethereal being's form, holding him strongly upright as he struggled into a comfortable sitting position.
It wasn't so long ago that Sam would have said this situation was impossible. Disregarding the whole concept of angels and time travel for a moment, even the idea of Dean cradling a fading Castiel in his arms had seemed ridiculous to even consider, but here they were.
Sam had, it appeared, missed out on something vital in the times that he had been off cavorting with Ruby. He had skipped out on the transition of Castiel and Dean's relationship: from instant distrust, to purely professional, to partially bearable, to tentatively trusting and finally, to a strong friendship.
And, even as he turned, sprinting away with a mixture of natural agility and increasing fear, Sam found a sense of relief creeping into his mind. Someone had been there for Dean when he hadn't and, perhaps without any of their realisations, he had become one of them.
The elder brother would never be alone with them around. Dean had Sam: his little brother, who was trying to right all his wrongs and prove that he was truly worthy of such devoting love. At the end of the day, Sam would still do anything for Dean and he hoped, one day, he could show it.
Also, he had Bobby: the surrogate father, who, more often than not, was able to drill a little sense into the stubborn skull that the eldest Winchester bore. Bobby was the one left for Dean to look up to – the person he needed to say that they were proud of the man he'd become.
But now, he had Castiel too: his guardian angel and his saviour. He had shown his loyalty countless times, even turning his back on Heaven and sacrificing himself for the Winchesters because of his belief in them. More than that, he had become Dean's other best friend; Sam just wondered when the two would actually realise that.
Hearing Sam's retreating footfalls, Dean allowed his strong façade to drop and lowered Castiel carefully into his secure hold. His arms wrapped tightly around the angel's slim torso - a silent promise never to let him go - and he peeled back, staring with startling intensity at his charge's face, "Cas?"
There was no reply.
"Cas, hey, come on," pleaded the wearied hunter, his concern bleeding through the deep tones of his voice. Grasping tighter onto the familiar coat that could always be associated with the renegade angel, Dean shook the figure in his arms. He winced inwardly as Castiel rocked back and forth like a puppet on broken strings, head now hanging back over the upper part of Dean's arm.
Letting out a trembling exhale, Dean looked away with a pained expression. He was silently thankful that the streets had cleared and were no longer busy at this time: he could just imagine the stares that he and Cas would have been receiving now.
Thank God for rain and small miracles.
"Back to the Future, Part 2, huh Cas?" He smiled humourlessly, eyes automatically trailing back to the pale face of his angel. "I knew I should've pegged you as a sci-fi geek. You couldn't've thought of something more original?"
He knew that even had Castiel been conscious, he would have gotten no answer. But, the quizzical tilt of the angel's head, the furrowing of his brow as one of Dean's quips went flying over his head would have been a small comfort.
'So what, you're like a Delorian without enough Plutonium?'
Dean closed his eyes regretfully as he remembered his own words. At the time, he hadn't even realised the sincere truth that would rest behind them. But Castiel had. The celestial had known what this journey would cost him; he had even begun to explain it to the two brothers before they had completely disregarded him anyway.
"God…" breathed the elder Winchester, realisation striking him as hard as a punch to the stomach. He gazed down sadly at the angel, guilt burning at his core. "You were scared."
That was why Castiel had been reluctant to follow Anna. That was why he had tried, in vain, to explain the difficulties of time travel and how his waning powers could cause even more problems. It was why Castiel had wanted to go alone, because the addition of two passengers would draw badly upon his wavering strength.
He was scared of what could become of him, and more so them, if he attempted what they were asking of him.
But we made him do it anyway, Dean thought to himself with horrifying clarity. The angel had almost sacrificed himself again for their sakes and, as before, they had barely even batted an eyelid.
The hunter shook his head, as though to deny what he already knew to be true and tugged the angel closer to his chest. "Cas, I'm so sorry."
Lowering his chin to the dark, spiked hair, Dean stared blankly ahead as his friend's heartbeat continued to stutter beneath his grasp. More than once, Castiel's breathing stuttered and Dean tensed, holding his own until the angel drew another.
He remained totally silent, refusing to let a single sound disrupt the distinct breaths beneath him. They washed over him like soothing music and he allowed his eyes to close as they kept him anchored. Each one sent a wave of relief washing over him, telling him comfortingly that Cas was still alive.
The elder brother's head darted up and he watched as Sam fell to his knees before him, out of breath but otherwise okay. "You find it?"
The mop of hair nodded assertively, "Yeah, it's not far." He gestured wildly past Dean's shoulder, indicating where the motel resided, "Just round that corner. I already booked us a room."
Nodding blankly, Dean shifted slightly, trying to get his legs back beneath him. He froze as his grip slipped and Castiel slid rapidly downwards against his chest, head flopping forth uselessly. Instantly Sam's hands were under the angel's arms, hoisting him gently but firmly away from the elder brother.
"I got him, Dean," Sam assured him firmly as Dean stared uncertainly at the hanging body in his baby brother's arms. Saying nothing, the elder Winchester rose swiftly to his feet, already tucking one of Castiel's arms around his shoulder.
Mimicking Dean's actions, Sam released some of the angel's weight, allowing Dean to rightfully bear it. Then, with their friend supported between them, his head thumping down onto his chest, the two brothers began to move away.
They walked quickly but carefully, desperately trying to reach the motel before they were discovered. Sure, they were grade-A students at bullshitting, next only to Bobby Singer, but their situation now was frankly impossible to explain.
As they moved, Sam glanced around them with uncertainty, unnerved at how empty the street appeared to be. What if something had already happened? Could the present day apocalypse somehow rebound into the past? "Was it always this quiet in 1978?"
Dean said nothing, eyes giving the surrounding area a brief once-over before darting ahead once more. Castiel's weight against him seemed to increase more and more, a testament to how fragile and weakened the angel really was. Hold on, Cas.
Wearily, they rounded the corner and Dean breathed a loud sigh of relief as a run-down motel came into view. Thank you, thank you, he inwardly thought, unsure of whom he was truly thanking - no-one up there was watching over them; that was for sure.
"Shit!" At Sam's exclamation, the elder brother jumped slightly, jostling the unconscious figure beside him. He muttered a curse as Cas' head dipped towards him, neck twisted at what must have been an impossibly painful angle. Halting their progress, Dean lifted the arm that wasn't currently wrapped firmly around the angel's back and tentatively, nudged the lolling head back to its previous position.
Satisfied that a spinal injury was no longer likely to be added to the list of Castiel's ailments, Dean allowed his brow to furrow in frustration, leaning back to glare around his friend's body towards Sam, "What?"
"The duffel," Sam began tiredly, glancing back towards where they had come from. He shook his head in distress, hazel orbs snapping back to Dean's face. "I left it near that car."
The annoyance on the elder Winchester's face ebbed away upon seeing the self-reprimanding expression Sam wore. He lowered his gaze to Castiel, who as of yet showed no signs of waking, and he flinched as thick drops of blood fell from his lips to splatter the ground.
"You got the motel keys?" he suddenly demanded of his brother, watching as Sam dug his hands into his jeans pocket to retrieve them. Snatching them from him, studying the number 6 momentarily on the dangling key ring, Dean inclined his head back down the street from which they had come. He added briskly, "Go get the duffel before someone finds it. I can take Cas the rest of the way."
An obviously uncertain tone laced Sam's words and wanting to get Castiel settled as soon as possible, Dean pointedly rolled his eyes. With one limp arm still draped over his broad shoulders, the hunter turned to reach across the small frame between them, placing his other arm neatly under the angel's knees. He straightened, huffing once with the effort as he raised the broken angel fully into his arms. Of its own accord, Castiel's head thumped downwards into the crook of Dean's neck, remaining their contentedly.
Dean met Sam's eyes, a determined glint lurking deep in their depths before the younger brother nodded, turning and sprinting away with impressive agility. His long legs ate up the pavement before he rounded the corner and vanished promptly from sight.
Turning, Dean walked with heavy footprints, clutching the trench-coat clad figure in his arms tighter to his chest. His muscles strained as the angel's deadweight bore against him but his gait never slowed: strides remaining strong and powerful as they carried him straight towards their motel room.
"It's gonna be okay, Cas," he breathed shakily, not sparing the wounded angel a glance for fear of what he would see. He had felt the small frame jerk occasionally in his hold, no doubt expelling more viscous, lethal blood out across his too-pale skin. "You're gonna be fine."
He reached the door in record time, grateful that Castiel had somehow managed to have the predetermination to inhabit a slim, quite small vessel in comparison to himself and Sam. It made situations like this – ones that Dean would have never thought would be possible when regarding the kickass angel – much easier to deal with.
With tremendous care, Dean lowered the pliant frame to the floor, resting his back against the outside wall. He edged closer, releasing Castiel's arms and wincing as his hands slapped hard against the concrete. Now in a hovering crouch, Dean reached forward, tilting the hanging head upwards with his fingers beneath the celestial's blood splattered chin.
"Cas?" he tried, eyes locking intensely onto his friend's face for the slightest reaction. His brow drew into a sincere line and he gripped Castiel's chin tighter, aiming the closed eyes solely in his direction. "Cas, can you hear me?"
The angel didn't even twitch at the sound of his voice, nor the desperate crushing grip that was currently being applied to his chin.
Dean heaved a sigh, shaking his head and releasing Castiel's face. He watched the pale face tilt downwards to be replaced by a dark head of hair, Castiel's body seeming to crumple painfully inwards. Scraping a hand through his own hair, Dean glanced towards the motel room door. "I don't like this."
The motel room was totally inconspicuous and, by all rights, an ideal hiding place for an out-of-commission soldier of Heaven to rest up. But, to the young hunter's mind, it was too ordinary. What happened if a maid wandered in and unintentionally made Castiel an open target for any prowling demons in the area?
The simplest solution and course of action to this problem was for either Sam or Dean to stay with the angel until he had recuperated. However, there was the larger issue of Anna who could, even at this very moment, be hunting down their parents.
The decision was already made. As disloyal as it felt, Dean knew that they had to leave Castiel behind now. If they didn't do what they can come to do, he knew that all of the pain that the angel had put himself through in transporting them back would be wasted.
"Okay," Dean finally murmured, more to himself than the unconscious being before him. "Right, I've got an idea. I'll be right back," he promised, straightening to his full height. His eyes belayed the hardened expression on his face; worry shimmering in their depths as he studied Castiel slumped against the wall.
"Just… don't go anywhere okay?"
The dark humour was lost on them both and, closing his eyes while a moment of weariness washed over him, Dean turned and darted away from the angel towards reception. He spared a concerned glance back at Castiel before sprinting onwards, determined not to leave his friend exposed for any longer than was necessary.
As he went, he didn't notice Castiel's eyes opening to a slither, soulful blue orbs peeking out from behind shadowed lids. The celestial coughed wetly, more blood spurting out of his mouth and he groaned, unable to even move away from the stabbing pains that thrummed throughout his vessel.
"De…" he breathed, gasping as his breath caught again behind the rising blood. He tilted his head upwards, scanning blurrily for any signs of his two companions. "Sa-m…"
Before he could even wait for a reply, he hacked violently, body lurching forward as a fountain of red spurted cruelly past his lips. His chest constricted, the vessel's pain connecting with his own, holding them as one complete entity.
Pain was a peculiar feeling. He had felt it, of course, in brief spurts during his time amongst the humans, but for it to be a constant thing was disturbing. It had latched cruelly onto his grace, keeping it captive and draining all his energy away – he was rendered useless.
As darkness began to lunge at him, Castiel felt himself sliding, body coming to an abrupt stop as it hit the floor. His eyelids fluttered, fighting futilely against the tug of unconsciousness but all the while, reflecting on how peculiar this sensation also was to him.
Before passing into oblivion, he felt a stab of concern bury itself deep within him in his vulnerable, human-like state: he could not sense the Winchester brothers near him at all…
The elder Winchester nodded his thanks as he hastily exited the reception area. He raised the key ring - a sickly pink love heart – to eye level, glaring at it with pure disgust. At least the honeymoon suite would give Castiel the privacy he needed to recover, no matter how ridiculous it was bound to appear.
As the thought of his wounded angel, Dean stuffed the key ring away in his jacket pocket, taking off swiftly towards where he knew… hoped Castiel would still be.
Thankfully, the angel was still there. But, as he came into sight, Dean increased his speed fearfully at his condition. Castiel had, somehow, appeared to shift himself from where he rested against the wall, ending up in a dejected-looking heap on the floor.
Sliding to his knees beside his friend, Dean grimaced as he noticed the speckles of blood that covered the ground next to Castiel's mouth. A thick stream of blood continued to flow out of the thin gap between the celestial's parched and cracked lips and Dean inwardly wondered just how much of it the vessel could stand to lose.
"I told you not to go anywhere," Dean berated shakily, relieved to find that Castiel still appeared to be with them, to a degree anyway. Shaking his head, a gentle smile rising to his lips, the hunter steadily rolled the slim figure into his hold once more, "I gotcha now, I gotcha."
Predictably, Castiel remained silent and Dean took a moment to study the angel's stark-white complexion, bleached of all colour. "You should've told me this would happen, Cas," he said, a hint of anger merging with the overpowering worry he felt.
Upon receiving no answer, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, fresh stubble catching against his skin. Then, repositioning his friend in his arms, he rose back to his feet. The angel hung limply from his grasp, oblivious to the world around him: so still and vulnerable.
It struck Dean just how wrong this whole situation was. Castiel had been the one to pull him out of Hell, to carry him away from the pain and devastation, to liberate him and heal all that he was capable of. Now, everything had completely reversed and the heartache of holding a quite possibly dying angel in his arms was almost crippling.
More so than that, Castiel was his friend and Dean wasn't sure if he could repay the favour to liberate and heal him in the way that Castiel had done for him.
Each step seemed more difficult than the previous and Dean found himself staring solemnly at the ethereal form he cradled. He had a job to do first: to save his family and protect his brother which, since the age of four, had always and would always be his top priority.
But after that, he would come back and help his friend. He didn't know if Castiel was simply winded and stunned by the travel back through time or fatally wounded, but regardless, he would come back and figure out a way to heal him.
The possibility that he could do nothing, that the angel's injuries were beyond his limited knowledge was a nagging thought at the back of his mind, and he struggled to silence it. Too many loved ones had died for their sakes – he wouldn't let Castiel become another.
But, as the angel's head fell back weakly over his arm while he walked, Dean couldn't help but panic when he felt the same sense of inevitability that he had with Pamela, Jo and Ellen. It hurt that he wasn't sure what he should do and, at this moment, he was solely relying on Castiel's own ability to keep him alive.
He didn't even want to humour the thought that the angel was fading away right in front of him. He knew that he had to focus on what was to come if he had any hope of stopping Anna and preventing the change of history.
Yet, Dean couldn't stop the final silent question racing through his head as he gazed at Castiel. It was the same one he had asked before the deaths of everyone he had known before. Sadly, he was still waiting for an answer.
How do I save you?
I know Dean may seem a little sensitive at times, but I think we all know he has the potential to act that way, especially when he's genuinely concerned. Heaven And Hell and On The Head Of A Pin in Season 4 particularly demonstrated this (he has been through Hell after all) and it's what makes him interesting to write as a character.
I was a little nervous about the accuracy of the characters, so please review and let me know what you think!!! =D.
Hugs, Ami-Rose x x x x x ;).