Moving On (Destiel)

57: It was real (or wasn't it?)

They worked fast, once Dean got the patient in, but not fast enough. Not in Dean's eyes. Why else would he have to wait in the waiting room for what felt like hours - and turned out to be those, too - and didn't get any updates??

It was nerve-wracking, and it ate him up.

Becky, the mad woman, the woman who hated him, the woman who couldn't deal an emergency's number when needed, Cas' "beloved" mother, being the one next to him didn't exactly calm his anxiety.

At least he could use that time to text all his and Cas' friends so they wouldn't "continue searching their asses up" as Meg had worded it ever so formally. Yet, when they all exceptionally were relieved that Cas was well and safe, and then asked where he currently was, so that they could visit, and Dean had to uncomfortably answer with the address of the hospital, and they asked if Cas even was well, Dean couldn't give a proper answer - and that scared him.

It scared him shitless.

And what scared it him even more was how it affected him. Body sweat, a change of temperature, his nervous trembling and restlessness – was this a healthy respond to this? Cas' life wasn't endangered, right? He didn't have to make such a fuss if it was only hypothermia, right?

Or at least Dean thought it was.

But if it was only that, why did they take so long then?

Every second felt like a minute, and those minutes dragged on forever; it was like hell. And Dean's uncoordinated thoughts, swirling around, so many at the same time, only added to his feeling that so much happened at once.

He couldn't rest or relax if his inner self was so agitated. And only Cas' sight – a peaceful, healthy, heartwarming sight – could change that, he was convinced. Which is why, when Charlie offered to come to support him – because she knew what he must went through – he kindly refused. He knew she would regret coming because he wouldn't focus on her, and he couldn't do anything about it, only upset his friend. He needed to be alone, alone to sort his thoughts, to freak out interior.

And Charlie being Charlie came anyway, of course.

"Aloha, bitch, wassup?", She plumped in the seat next to him. The secretary supervising the room (or more like, sorting out their work and doing phone calls and all what belongs to their job) gave her a disapproving look, but judging from how confident Charlie acted didn't interfere.

Charlie had either been very convincing at the entrance, or the employee simply had better things to do than to shoosh her out of a nearly empty waiting room. Which was fair enough.

Another suspicious look came from Becky, but if she had known Dean's friend – and Cas's best friend as well – any better than this probably first impression, she would have noticed the dull tone, that Charlie said her greeting not with the same enthusiasm as usual.

"Man, I swear to God, you would think the streets could be empty on Sunday, but I can tell ya what traffic trouble I got stuck in-"

"Yeah. It's frustrating. People shouldn't be allowed to drive at a certain age. It doesn't only annoy the other drivers, but is also dangerous. Old people, you know."

"I totally agree." Charlie was quiet for a second and then looked up to Dean, all humor gone. "How are you?"

"You see me, you know me, that gives you the answer."

She sighed. "I guess so... Look, Dean, whatever it was, it's not your fault. It's not like I know the whole story – you weren't exactly detailed when you spoke to me on the phone earlier –", with that, she gave him a pointed look, "but don't really matter, does it? Wasn't your fault, so don't you beat yourself up over it. Cas is gonna be fine. You and him, it's gonna be fine. We all end up at the hospital one day."