32. Chapter 32

To their credit neither Castiel or Gabriel made noise about leaving Dean behind, even though he could tell that’s exactly what the two of them were thinking. Trusting Samandriel to clean up the remainder of their picnic, Gabriel laid a hand on both their shoulders and flew them to the small hospital just outside of Arcata, California where Bobby and Sam were waiting. The three of them reappeared in a waiting room which was fortunately empty of anyone else, and Dean took a step back from Castiel.

He had to be big now. Sam was scared and would need his big brother’s support, and he wasn’t ready for Sam or Bobby to know exactly what this hatchling thing entailed – would probably never be ready, really. He took a quick glance down at his clothing, but realized it was fine. The plain blue jeans and green t-shirt he was wearing didn’t look too different from what he normally wore, and though he wasn’t thrilled about the diaper underneath, Castiel hadn’t been lying when he said no one could tell.

“Dean,” Castiel began, but before he could finish his sentence the door to the waiting room opened and a very surprised nurse looked in at them. Taking his chance, Dean slipped out past her, turned to the right, and spotted Sam immediately. His little brother was leaning against the wall just down the hall, and he looked so exhausted and upset that Dean had to swallow back a fresh bolt of fear. Maybe they were too late. He had to force himself to take a step forward.

“Sammy,” he called out, and Sam looked up with so much relief on his face that Dean found his stride, moving quickly towards him.

“Dean! Thank god, man. The nurse just told me that I should be saying my final goodbyes,” Sam said, sounding a little frantic as he grabbed Dean’s arm. “Where’s Cas?”

“Cas can’t heal Bobby,” Dean said, glancing past Sam into the room. His stomach dropped straight through the floor at what he saw. Rufus was in the room, but Dean barely noticed him. He was too preoccupied with Bobby in the hospital bed, because it didn’t even look like him. He was too pale and too still, like he was already dead. The quiet beeping of the monitors in the room suggested otherwise, but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Bobby. It was like looking at Castiel’s body on the ground all over again, and it was such a toss up between bursting into tears and throwing up that Dean just froze.

Sam’s voice pulled him back. “What do you mean, Cas can’t heal Bobby? Why the hell not?”

“I was stabbed not long ago, and my grace isn’t back to normal levels yet. I don’t have enough to heal Bobby. But Gabriel is here to help,” Castiel said, stepping up behind Dean. “Don’t worry, Sam.”

“Gabriel?” Sam mouthed, confusion momentarily overtaking his grief and worry. His frown deepened as Gabriel sauntered past them, Gabriel pausing just long enough to toss an arm around Sam’s shoulders and draw him into the room as well. Sam went willingly enough, and Castiel set a hand against Dean’s lower back and took him aside, just a bit, so that Sam wouldn’t see them. With his view of Bobby obscured, Dean blinked and found himself looking at his daddy’s concerned face instead.

“It’s okay, little one. You’re okay, Bobby’s going to be okay, it’s all fine,” he said very softly, the words meant for Dean alone. He set his free hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It wasn’t quite a hug, but a couple steps closer would’ve made it one. Steps that Dean forbid himself to take. He took a deep breath and held it until the urge to cry faded.

“I know,” he said finally, and it came out a little too quivery for his liking. Sam would definitely know something was wrong if he kept acting like this. He had to pull it together. He made himself take a step back from Castiel instead of forward, pretending that he didn’t notice the frown that flitted across the angel’s face.

“Cassie, kiddo, come on,” Gabriel called from inside the room. “Unless you want to be left behind to make some explanations, let’s get a move on.”

Quickly Dean stepped around him and into the room, knowing that Castiel was right behind him. Gabriel snapped his fingers. The now familiar feeling of the world moving under and around him rolled over Dean, and he went with it. He was ready when the floor formed under him, catching his balance easily. Sam wasn’t so lucky, staggering against the bed. That woke Bobby up. He sat straight up, sputtering in confusion, and stopped dead when he saw Rufus, Sam, Gabriel, Dean and Castiel gathered around him. He looked at them, then he looked down at himself and the white hospital gown he was wearing, and scowled.

“Balls,” he muttered.

“Is that all you have to say?” Rufus demanded. “I told you not to go on by yourself! The hell is wrong with you!”

“I woulda been fine if we’d taken the iron daggers like I wanted to,” Bobby countered. “Didja have to call the boys?”

“Calling us saved your life. Gabriel healed you,” Sam broke in.

“He did?” Bobby said, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“Community service,” Gabriel said with a straight face. “We’ll leave you to put on clothes.” He turned on his heel, dragging Sam out of the room behind him. Castiel and Dean followed, though Dean cast one last look over his shoulder before he shut the door behind him. Bobby and Rufus were already squabbling with each other in whispered tones as Bobby got off the bed.

Somehow, though Dean wasn’t sure how, he and Sam ended up in the kitchen alone. Sam opened the refrigerator and stared into it while Dean sat at the table, trying not to let his nerves show. It was really for the best that he and Sam were alone, because this way he wouldn’t be tempted to lean on Castiel or Gabriel. He could totally act normal around his brother. All that baby stuff had just been for Castiel’s benefit; it wasn’t like Dean really wanted or needed it. He would just act like nothing was different.

“Here,” said Sam, slamming a beer down in front of him. “There’s literally nothing else edible in that thing. I have no idea when Bobby last cleaned it, but it may have been before we were born.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Dean said slowly, staring at the bottle of beer. This was actually the first time he’d even thought about alcohol in weeks. It was something he’d missed at first, especially when Castiel was going overboard with the baby thing, but gradually it had slipped his mind. Water, juice, milk and the occasional mug of hot chocolate made up the bulk of his drinking needs now – most of them in sippy cups, but probably soon (if Castiel had his way) in a different kind of bottle. He willed his face not to burn.

“Something wrong with it?” Sam asked, easily twisting the cap off of his.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Would his daddy be mad if he drank a beer? It wasn’t really meant for little kids… Dean shook his head a little, frustrated at himself for even thinking something so ridiculous, and resolutely cracked his beer open. He put the bottle to his lips and drank. It burned as he swallowed, the taste familiar yet at the same time not what he remembered, and he had to struggle to not make a face as he set it back down.

“So what the hell happened to Cas?” Sam asked, not beating around the bush. He sounded kind of pissy, and yup that was definitely a bitchface. “He got stabbed and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like I kept it from you on purpose, Sam. We were attacked by demons a couple weeks ago and one of them stabbed him with his angel blade.” Dean scratched at the label on the beer bottle, determinedly not thinking about Castiel’s still body. “It was… Hectic. And it’s been a pretty slow recovery. I don’t think angels regain grace that fast when they’re on Earth, so he’s been taking it easy.”

“Then he should go up to heaven for a little while.”

“What?” Dean looked up at him in surprise.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Uh, heaven? You know that place where angels come from? If he went back for a couple of nights he’d be healed, right?”

“Yeah… But…”

“But nothing, dude. You should stop being so selfish. Cas has put himself on the line countless times for us. And now he’s offered to make you an angel. You know what our reputation is like up amongst the angels. And yeah, you guys had your profound bond and whatever already, but I doubt this looks good for him. The least you can do is step aside and let him go up to heaven and get healed.”

Dean stared at the bottle of beer and furiously told himself not to cry. He didn’t dare blink, knowing the panic would overwhelm him if he did. He could hardly stand to let Castiel go in the other room without freaking out. The only way it was even a little bearable was if Gabriel was with him, but Castiel would never agree to leaving Dean alone. And he couldn’t imagine staying with Balthazar or Samandriel. So how was he supposed to let his daddy go up to heaven alone? What if the other angels attacked him, or a demon? What if Castiel decided he liked it better in heaven and ended up not coming back?

His nails made a soft sound against the glass and he realized his hands were shaking. He quickly curled them into fists before Sam could see. Sam was right. He had to stop being selfish. Castiel’s grace wasn’t coming back as fast as it was supposed to. He was still in pain sometimes, even if he made an effort to hide that from Dean, and that was the last thing that Castiel deserved after how much he had sacrificed for both the Winchesters. He had to stop being such a baby.

“You’re right,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. His breathing was a little funny, and he hoped Sam wouldn’t notice. “I never thought of that.”

Sam shrugged. “It just makes sense, that’s all. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone already, to be honest. Guess it’s going better than I thought it would between you guys.” He half-smiled, but that did little to take the sting out of the implication: that Sam had had so many doubts about this, thinking that Dean would give up, or that Castiel would reject him.

“What, you didn’t think I’d make a good angel?” Dean said, trying to turn it into a joke, and Sam snorted.

“To be honest, I don’t think either of us would.”

“But would you do it?” Dean asked him. “If D – Cas had asked you?” Oh god. That slip up had been too close for comfort. His heart was racing.

“I’d think about it, sure. But I guess I’d have to know more about it. What’s it like? I mean really like.” Sam leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “Does he really treat you like a little kid?”

And, okay, Dean was officially unequipped to be handling this right now. He shot to his feet, accidentally bumping the table with his hip. Sam jumped and swore as both beer bottles tipped over, sending a flood of beer across the table into Sam’s lap. Dean might have mumbled an apology, but staging a hasty retreat before he started to cry was far more important. Between seeing Bobby on the verge of death, the possibility of Castiel going back to heaven and Sam’s way too probing questions, he needed a few seconds.

The nice thing about Bobby’s house was that it was pretty easy to get away. Dean stumbled out onto the porch and sagged against the railing when his legs felt too weak to keep holding him up. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that refused to be held back any longer, sucking in a shuddery gasp that did little to ease the constricting grip of his lungs. He startled badly when hands touched his shoulders, rearing back frantically, until the soothing sound of Castiel’s voice permeated his panic.

“Dean, look at me, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” Castiel said. Once he was sure he had Dean’s attention, he hugged Dean tightly. Dean choked back a sob and clung to him desperately. He’d been so sure he could handle a frigging conversation with Sam, but it turned out that he couldn’t even do that without crying like a baby.

What the hell was he gonna do if Castiel decided to go back to heaven for good?