The Year of Redemption

Chapter 4: Rescue Me

Dean drove back to the cabin, his aggression translating into more and more miles per hour above the speed limit. When he reached the house, he immediately crashed on the couch in the living room, unable to make it all the way to the bed. He was sleeping terribly these nights, waking up periodically and having the worst nightmares of his life – which was really saying something.

He was still exhausted when he hauled himself up from bed in the late morning sun. He really had no reason to get up in the first place besides to escape the nightmares and the feeling that he was always sleeping on a bed of nails that threatened to impale him if he triggered a certain memory.

He headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge, quickly realizing that there was nothing in it besides an empty carton of orange juice. He slammed it closed and mumbled something about groceries, then headed outside. When he got to the door, he felt a headache coming on, and he leaned the top of his head against the doorframe, groaning. Then his mind went blank. One singular thought creeped its way into his skull and put everything else on hold.

Dean stood back up and made straight for the axe. He surveyed the rounds of wood that still surrounded the house and the stack of logs that he had begun to pile up on along the wall. "Gonna need more wood," he remarked, then brought the axe over to a thick pine a little ways away from the house and started chopping. "Phew," he pulled his shirt off and kept going. He didn't seem to notice his exhaustion, his lack of energy from not eating, or his increasingly sore muscles. He just kept chopping at a steady pace.

It took the whole morning and half of the afternoon to make any headway. His body was a slave to the singular purpose in his mind. Even after hours of ceaseless chopping, it still didn't mind the soreness in his muscles, his fatigue, or his need for food. He had one task, and that was to fell the tree. He pounded away, sweating and grunting until he heard a loud crack and saw the whole tree shiver.

Dean gave it a few more swings, then stood directly underneath as it started to fall into a narrow clearing away from the house. He had calculated it perfectly to fall there, and he stood in the clearing without flinching as it tilted towards him. It began to overcome its center of gravity and topple over, gaining speed quickly. Branches snapped as the tree soared through the air towards the Earth, accelerating faster and faster towards the mortal man stubbornly standing there - waiting for it.

A resounding boom shook the ground and sent a flock of birds taking off into the sky. Other trees in close proximity shook from the force, some of their leaves and branches breaking away and tumbling to the ground. For a few seconds afterwards, an onomatopoeia of branches snapping filled the air like a high-pitched, off-tune forest melody.

Again, Dean opened his eyes to an image of Castiel on top of him. His view was hazy from the wood dust that filled his eyes, so he closed them again quickly. "Ugh," he groaned. "I hope this doesn't become a regular thing."

"It looks like it already has," Cas replied, as he climbed off of Dean, standing above him uncertainly.

"What the hell happened?" Dean's memory was fuzzy. He started to get up, then let out a sharp gasp and collapsed back onto the ground. All of his muscles protested against him.

"You killed a perfectly good tree," Cas explained, "then your stupid ass stood straight under that tree as it fell down on top of you." He looked down at Dean, still sprawled flat on the ground. "At least it would have if I didn't... you know... tackle you again." He looked up into the distance, almost sadly. "Sorry about that," he said softly, not necessarily wanting to start another argument right this moment.

Dean was struggling to find any body part that would move. He clenched his teeth and slowly sat up, and his abs screaming bloody murder at him. He sucked in a sharp breath.

Castiel kneeled down and put his hand on Dean's back, keeping him from collapsing to the ground again. "Can you get up?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." Dean shrugged and leaned forwards. His breath became strained, and he grunted a few times, but made it onto his feet. He was off balance, and he took a few unsteady steps. His head spun, threatening to bring him down onto the ground again. Castiel grabbed Dean's upper arm and steadied him. "Can't you just do your mojo thing and heal me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, if you had any actual wounds." Cas clarified. "You, on the other hand, had to go and chop down a tree for the whole morning. I can't help idiots who strain their muscles to the breaking point to prove they're macho."

"A simple 'no' would have worked. But thanks for the observations too, Sherlock," Dean remarked through his teeth.

Cas swung Dean's arm around his neck and supported him as he walked back to the cabin. Dean groaned the whole way, pathetically hopping through the door into the living room. "This is embarrassing," he commented under his breath.

Castiel led him over to the couch and removed Dean's arm from around his neck. Dean groaned again, and Cas rolled his eyes. He pushed the hunter backwards onto the couch, eliciting another pained gasp.

"A little bedside manner wouldn't hurt," Dean mentioned.

"For you? No chance." There was still obvious tension between the angel and the hunter.

"Glad to see the feeling's mutual," Dean quipped.

"I'll be right back. Stay there." Castiel vanished instantly.

"Wouldn't even dream of going anywhere else." Dean sighed, causing his abs to scream in pain. He made a conscientious effort to breathe shallowly. Dean moved his hands to his stomach, feeling his muscles and wincing every time he hit a sore one – which was often.

Suddenly, Castiel reappeared in front of him, and Dean jumped, startled. Then he winced again from the sudden movement. Cas rolled his eyes and almost chuckled, obviously taking amusement from Dean's pain. He was carrying a pizza box.

"Mmmm," Dean murmured involuntarily. He tried to sit up, but fell back down on the couch.

Castiel set down the pizza box, then put his hand behind Dean's back and pushed him forwards. He grabbed a pillow and used it to prop Dean up, then opened the pizza box and grabbed a piece.

Dean tried to raise his arms to take the pizza, but they immediately fell back to the couch. He let out a loud "urgh..." and dropped his head back against the pillow.

Cas pushed his head forward and put the pizza up to his mouth. "Here. Eat," he said.

"Cas..." Dean started.

"Shut up and eat." Cas had a no-nonsense look in his eyes and moved the pizza closer to Dean's face, so the hunter obeyed and opened his mouth. He bit off a piece and started to chew it, but Cas immediately shoved more pizza towards his mouth.

"Slow down, Skippy," Dean said, still chewing the first bite. Castiel moved the pizza away from his mouth and waited patiently. Dean swallowed and stared at Cas, who just stared back. "See, if they worked, that would be the cue for my arms to move the pizza back to my mouth for another bite," Dean remarked indignantly.

"Oh. Right." Cas took the hint and pushed the pizza back towards Dean's mouth. Dean took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. Cas got better at feeding him, earning less and less sardonic comments, and, soon, Dean had eaten the whole box.

"Got any beer?" Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. "Not for you," he said with a feigned apologetic smile.

After spilling half of the glass down the front of his shirt, Cas succeeded in helping Dean drink most of the water. Dean leaned back and closed his eyes. He let out a burp and patted his stomach, sinking comfortably into the cushions of the couch.