Guardian

Part II

Dean stood by the bed, watching the stranger with fascination. He heard when Sam left, but he couldn't really tell how long his brother had been there or how long he had been gone for.
There was just, something, about this man, aside from the obvious, that pulled him in. He stared at the outstretched wings, trying and failing to resist the intense urge to touch them.

Up close, the wings looked strange - like something that shouldn't exist. Touching them felt like touching clouds, except you're not supposed to be able to touch clouds. It felt like his hand should have gone right through, but instead, his fingers tangled in long, downy feathers.

The man on the bed let out a pained groan, and the wing Dean was touching twitched.

Dean tried to draw his hand back, but he was suddenly washed with a cold chill. He couldn't see. He didn't know where he was. All he could feel was the cold. It was so cold.

He blinked and retracted his arm.

Deep blue eyes opened to look at him and he felt his throat constrict itself and his chest try to cave in on itself but Dean was determined not to let this mystery man-angel-person, lose consciousness before he got some answers. He had too many questions and not enough answers, and he didn't like it.

"You're awake,"

Alright. So, that's not a question. What he wanted to ask was,'What were you doing half-dead on my bedroom floor, and what the hell are you?'

The stranger's eyes moved from Dean to the ceiling. "I...can't believe I'm still alive,"

"Well, neither can I," Dean said. "Considering, well, this morning. So, uh, why were you half dead on my floor? How did you even get in?"

The stranger turned to look at him again. His gaze flitted all over Dean's face before his eyes grew distant, and he turned away. The message was clear.

Dean scratched the side of his face and sat down. It's been a bit since he last shaved.
The silence persisted, and he cleared his throat, leaned on his knees, and looked around the room. The gold dagger glinted at him from the wall.

"So, uh, right. You knew my name, how? Have we met before? Although I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered meeting a guy with wings."

The man smiled, a small, timid smile. "We haven't met, in person, but I have known your name for...a very long time."

Dean's eyes widened. "Oh."

The silence returned.

Dean looked down at his hands, trying to play that over in his head in a way that didn't sound creepy. It was difficult. Ignoring it was the next option.

"So, do you have one of those? A name, I mean."

The man continued to stare at the cieling, remaining quiet for so long that Dean was thought he had passed out again. When responded, it was in such a quiet voice that Dean almost didn't hear him. "My name is Castiel, I am -"

He took a breath that almost lifted him off the bed and shook his head. "I am...happy that you are safe, Dean."

Dean felt a wave of immense sorrow wash over him. What was going on with his emotions today? He had to blink several times to stop his eyes from welling up. Even then, a tear still fell. He quickly wiped it away and looked up. Castiel's eyes were closed.