Supernatural Stories

Destiel--(Beginning of S9)

Sam and Dean Winchester sat opposite each other in the main room of the bunker, each with a laptop and multiple books laid out in front of them. It was late--nearly one in the morning--and Sam looked very tired. His eyes were red, his movements were slow and groggy, and he had a blanket around his shoulders and a mug of hot tea cupped in one hand. Dean kept looking up concernedly at him.

After a few moments, Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face, clearly exhausted as well. "Got anything, Sam?" he asked, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sam cleared his throat. "No. Sorry." His voice sounded weak.

"It's fine, don't worry," Dean replied. "Besides," he added, "you need some rest. We both do." He closed the laptop in front of him and stood up, rounding the table quickly in case Sam needed any help. "How you holdin' up?" the older brother asked.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Sam answered. "I just need time."

It had been almost four weeks since Sam had stopped the Demon Trials and the angels had fallen from Heaven, but the younger Winchester was far from healed. Dean was still feeling the guilt of his decision of letting the angel Ezekiel heal his brother, but there hadn't been much of a choice in Dean's mind. He needed his brother.

But, of course, on top of having Sam out of comission, the brothers had no idea where their friend Castiel had ended up after his attempt to seal off Heaven. The angel hadn't called or tried in any way to reach them, so the Winchesters had been trying to figure out his location. 'Trying' being the operative word. They hadn't found anything, and Dean was getting rather worried.

Almost an hour later, Dean was sitting up in bed, unable to sleep. Between Sam being sick and possessed by an angel, Cas being missing, and the whole of Heaven now walking the Earth, the stress was eating away at him. Sleep had been evading him for days now, and sooner or later, Sam would notice and start pressing questions to which Dean may or may not have the answer.

Suddenly, Dean's phone lit up and began buzzing. The older Winchester jumped at the unexpected sound. Who would be calling at two in the morning? Dean reached over and grabbed the device from off his bedside table and looked at the screen. Hurriedly pressing 'answer', he put the phone to his ear.

"Cas?" he said, waiting to hear the angel's voice from the other end.

"Dean."

Dean immediately relaxed, feeling relief wash over his tensed body. He actually smiled at the sound of his friend's voice. "Damn, it's good to hear you, man."

"Dean--"

"Where've you been, Cas?" Dean continued. "We've been worried sick."

"Dean!" Cas's voice had gained an urgency. Dean went quiet, waiting for Cas to speak further. "Dean, I--" His voice drifted off into coughing.

Now Dean sat up straight. "Cas, are you okay?" he asked.

"No, there were angels...four, I don't know..." His breath was coming in wheezes, shaky and unsteady.

Dean was already on his feet and finding his boots. "Where are you, Cas?" he asked.

"...a motel. Behind it."

"A city, Cas, gimme a city." Dean pulled out his duffle bag and shoved a set of clean clothes into it. Then he threw on a clean shirt over the tee shirt he slept in and dragged his hunting bag out from under his bed.

"City...? I--Kansas? I...don't know...Dean, please." Cas's voice was getting weaker.

"Okay, okay, just stay where you are, buddy, I'll be there." Dean hefted both of his bags, keeping his phone to his ear and heading out the door of his room, snatching up his jacket as he left. Upon reaching the room where he and Sam had just been, he made a bee-line for his laptop. Dean pulled it open and took a moment to turn on the GPS feature on Cas's cell phone. Cas was only a few hours away, thankfully. "Cas, ya still there?" he said into the phone.