Neon Lights

Chapter 55 - Thinking Out Loud pt. 1

•Castiel's POV•
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January 12, 1969
7:08 p.m.
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It's been two days and I haven't stopped having flashbacks since Dean found me in that alleyway.

"I think our little faggot needs a little punishing, right boys?"

I blinked and groaned. Everything hurts. I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller 473 times. Am I ready to leave the hospital today? Where will I go? What happens if the pain gets too much to bear, and I have nobody to help me? What if I'm in the cold streets, helpless, and Dick's gang finds me again? What if they kill me?

My heartbeat quickened impossibly. Thanks, anxiety.

"Hey, stranger!" Dean waltzed into my clammy, humid hospital room, "Ready to go home?"

"No!" I almost shrieked, "Don't take me home! Michael will kill me if I go back there, he kicked me out!"

Dean rushed up to me, stroking my hair out of my eyes and kissing away the tears that rolled down my cheeks, "Not that home, angel! Shh. I meant our home."

"We have a home?" I sniffed.

Dean smiled at me, "Yes. 1027 Northumberland Dr."

"But that's...your house..." I mumbled, slowly collecting what he's saying. He grinned wide, nodding lightly.

"That's our house," he corrected, "Gabe got all your stuff from under the fishing dock and practically threatened death on me if I didn't let you stay at my house."

I laughed a little, still hurt from three broken ribs, "S-So, I live with you now?"

"As it should be," Dean confirmed, "So, I'll ask my question again: ready to come home?"

"Y-Yeah," I tried to sit up a little, "Ready as I'll ever be."

Dean called in the nurse - a kind lady in her late forties or early fifties - and she rushed in to help me up. Sitting upright on the edge of my bed was odd, it was like the rib support my torso has could just crack into a million pieces and send me crashing to the floor. Nurse Jackie or Jodie or Jocie explained everything to Dean - the correct amount of painkiller medication, when I should rest and in what position, certain foods I should eat lots of, all that jazz. Dean nodded at everything, taking out a notepad and writing it all down. These little things are the reason I believe he's too good for me.

"Dean, it's not that important," I insisted, realizing if I died from wounds it wouldn't make much difference since I'm going to die anyway.

"It is that important!" he countered, throwing his arms up, "I need to make sure you don't get hurt anymore."

I sighed, lips stretching into a smile. "I won't," I promised, "I'll be fine."

"Only because I'll make sure of that," Dean ran a hand through my overgrown hair, careful not to touch the bandage on my head.

"Okay, Castiel," Nurse J came back into the room with a smile, "Ready to go back to your humble abode?"

"Quite," I grinned, practically wiggling from excitement. Dean stood by the door, eyes glazed over with so many unspeakable emotions I couldn't possibly read them all.

***

Dean actually drove with care for the first time since I've met him. He avoided bumps and potholes as much as he could, to avoid hurting me. I lay in the backseat, covered in blankets.

Maybe a tad too many blankets.

When Dean parked, he did so with such lack of speed it was almost painful. He ever-so-gently eased into the parking space, stopping without the car moving at all. I'll give him one thing - he's a great driver when he wants to be.