Dean and Castiel Go on a Hunt

Chapter Eight

What seemed like an eternity had passed when Dean checked his watch for the 80th time. (4:10 a.m.) He groaned and bounced his left leg up and down rapidly, impatiently. Sam scrolled endlessly through jumbled text on his phone with his own occasional sigh of impatience and worry. Dean fidgeted in his seat, much to the annoyance of Sam. The lobby was now deserted, even the receptionist had changed shifts. Natalie was now replaced with a quiet young man named Greg. He shifted silently in his seat as he cleared his throat, glancing occasionally at the Winchesters. From what Natalie had told him, he made sure to avoid any type of contact with them, especially the one covered in paint. "He's terrifying, just steer clear of him. The one in the cast is bearable but the dirty one looks like he's either gonna cry or throttle someone," she said, "To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that gutted that man." He swallowed hard as he turned back to his computer screen.

Dean scratched at his right arm rest as the infinite seconds ticked by. "Sir?" Dean nearly jumped out of his seat, he was so lost in thought he hadn't noticed the approaching doctor. "Hmm? Oh, uh, do you have any news on Cas?" He said quickly. "Um, yes, but -" "But what?" "There's good... and bad news," the doctor said hesitantly, fearing the large, jumpy man. Sam sat up quickly, "Well, what is it?" She exchanged glances between the brothers and said, "Fortunately, we managed to perform a blood transfusion in time and replaced all the blood he lost from the wound." "So what's the bad news?" the Winchesters said in unison. The doctor looked at each of them with estranged glances before proceeding, "Yes... um, unfortunately, whatever cut him was dipped in paint. But this paint was extremely old and still contained lead in it," she paused. "Ok, so?" Dean said impatiently. "He may be suffering from lead poisoning."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. (How bad is it) (Dean... he's dyi- ) Dean quickly looked away from his brother and back at the confused doctor. He took a deep breath, "Is there anything you can do?" "I don't think there's much we can do. Since such a large quantity had entered his bloodstream, there's practically no treatment for when it's in the veins. I'm sorry, sir. But he's at least lucky the blade hadn't damaged any major organs." "So there's nothing you can do?" "If he had inhaled it or ingested it the- " "Yeah, but is there anything you can do?!" Dean shouted. "Dean!" Sam yelled, trying to calm him down. "...I-I'm afraid not, s-sir," the doctor stuttered, avoiding Dean's eyes as they grew dark and piercing. Sam glared at Dean, hoping he didn't do anything drastic. He turned back to the woman, "... Can we see him?" The doctor flicked her eyes to Sam, content with looking at anything beside his brother. "Uh, soon, they're just about done patching him up but he needs to rest," she said, her pace slowing and quickening randomly.

"Ok," Sam said quietly. The doctor quickly turned and sped off through the double doors. Sam slowly turned back towards Dean. His knuckles were white, gripping the arm rest yet again. Dean's head was down as his jaw clenched and unclenched and his eyes were tightly shut. "Dean," Sam whispered.

Greg watched on as the one in the cast touched "Dean's" arm. He saw the one in the cast's face distort in fear as Dean's fingernails continued to bend and dig into the arm rests. Greg put his hand under his desk and rested his finger on the security button, if anything were to happen.