Fire and a gun - Destiel

17

Maybe it was the excitement of hearing he was being transferred to the regular ward, but something was wrong, and it wasn't just the monitor beeping like crazy.

Had he been able to see himself, Cas would've known that he was drenched in sweat but still freezing. It only took a few seconds for the room to fill up with people and various devices, but it still seemed like an eternity to Castiel. An eternity in which his heart clenched painfully. An eternity in which he thought that this would've been it.

...

"Varticular fibrillation!"

That word from the doctor burned deep into Dean's brain. The nurse prepared the defibrillator while the older doctor began a cardiac massage.

"Bring the man out of here!" he called to a young nurse who seemed to be more in the way and turned to Dean.

"Come on ... please wait outside," she said, gently touching the young policeman's arm, who immediately angrily shook himself off.

"I'm staying with my husband! You can't just throw me out!"

Again and again, the fireman's body was caught by the resuscitation device and sank back limp onto the bed.

The beeping became more regular again before stuttering.

"Get out of here ..." the doctor called and looked directly at Dean, "... let's do our work here!"

Dean staggered back, accompanied by the young nurse, desperately calling for his husband again and again. The door was closed; he sank to the floor and began to cry uncontrollably.

Again and again, Cas heard the bloodcurdling calls of his husband. That voice kept getting smaller ...

...

"Do you know where you are?"

It was so loud for Cas, and he wondered why this doctor was yelling at him ...

Naturally. In that damn hospital. For what feels like months!

Relieved that everyone was taking good care of him, he was concerned when he heard a woman's voice.

"We lose him again; where is ...?!"

The young firefighter sensed the rush and panic around him. His last thought was of his husband before his eyes closed and darkness enveloped him again.

So, he was trapped in the dream world again – the world he loved and hated at the same time.

In the beginning, he was more in control of writing his own script, but suddenly it was more and more the case that these dreams controlled him. Maybe it was the medication or because he didn't know if he was awake or asleep. The realities mixed, and this scared him. Unwinding a self-adhesive bandage from the roll made an awkward scraping sound, like lying in a coffin scratching desperately with fingernails.

Moving the bed felt like being on a ship about to sink at any moment. Another time he was about to scream when a nurse approached his bedside and, with a twisted grin on her face, promised to come at the same time every night to infuse him with fear. She held up a syringe with a damn long needle, which was then attached to his neck.

These nightmares were interrupted whenever his husband's presence was felt. In spirit, Cas tried again and again to imagine his face. The radiant, emerald green eyes, the short, dark blonde hair, the beautiful smile, and the cheeky sayings. If he managed to catch that moment and fell into a deep sleep, he could dream of Dean - of both of them; from work, from home together, from a carefree future.

The first step was done; his consciousness was back. Now Castiel just had to find some way to wake up.

Dean didn't know how many low blows he could take without finally collapsing.