Five Seconds Later

Chapter Five: The Strategy

Cas sat up, his heart hammering away in his chest. The sun had only just risen over the horizon, spreading its colorful rays to shine in shafts between the leaves and branches of the wooded canopy above him and the two brothers. 

Dean was already awake, muttering various curses under his breath in his hungover state and sharpening a nearby branch with his pocketknife to use as an emergency stake. Sam was still asleep, his head comfortable on a nearby pile of fallen autumn leaves.

 Cas drew a sharp breath, one that hurt like hell, and grasped at his chest unconsciously. The pain was blinding for a moment, and he tapped his chest, hoping that he had enough strength left to could heal himself. It was only a second before his lungs were healed, whatever had been maiming them suddenly - and thankfully - gone. 

He felt the grace inside of him waning - he didn't have many uses of his angel "mojo" as Dean and Sam often called it, left. It was dangerous out here in the woods, and he knew might need it later. He tilted his head, wondering. It would be best to use it for lethal injuries - and deaths, naturally. He brushed off his trench coat, which, amid newfound wrinkles, sported a various array of pine needles and fragments of dead leaves.

"Dean?" Cas stood, grimacing as more dirt fell from his coat, and tapped his friend's shoulder. "How are you-"

"Shut up." Dean set down the spear he had been fashioning, his eyes cast down and away from Cas. "I don't want to talk about it. Any of it."

"I'm sorry... about everything." Cas ignored Dean's request and came to kneel beside him. "The Impala, especially. I can use some of my grace to repair it..."

"That's not what I was referring to, but okay." Dean refused to look at Cas, his shoulders tense with frustration.

"Oh." Clueless, Cas moved a fraction of space away, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building up in his presence. "Me taking the beer, you mean. I didn't intend to make you think I was being too 'motherly' again, Dean, but-"

"Not that either." Dean impaled the nearby earth with his crude spear as though he had a vendetta against it, twisting the branch further into the dirt. "You know what I'm talking about."

"You mean... what you said in the car?" Cas approached the subject cautiously, unsure if he was wrong again. "I just assumed-"

"You assumed what?" Dean narrowed his eyes and drove the stake so deep, the entirety of the stick became submerged inside the dirt.

"That you didn't mean it." Cas bit his lower lip, the tension becoming unbearable. "Because you didn't."

"I say shit when I'm drunk, Cas." Dean glared into the distance, at everything and nothing at the same time. "Some people don't mean it. I always do. I have done stuff I regret while intoxicated, but I never said anything I didn't mean."

"So, you're saying..." Cas tried to swallow, but his throat had suddenly become much too dry. "You love me?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was low, hardly palpable as a breeze wafted by and swept his words away with it as it passed. A minute or so must have gone by without any speaking - the woods were silent around them, as though respecting the escalating pressure.

"I don't know what to say." Cas cleared his throat, recognizing again how parched it was. 

"That you love me too?" Dean started, and then he stopped. He shrank back, like he always did when he felt emotion bubbling too close to the surface. "Sorry, I'm still hungover, I didn't-"

Cas leaned forward, finally catching Dean's gaze. He held it for a moment, studying those green eyes that shone like they were from a fairytale. He saw those freckles, uncharted constellations of wonder. He closed in the space between them without a second thought, tasting those lips with a fierce curiosity. 

They broke apart after a moment, and Dean stared back at Cas, his eyes wide in a warm, but surprised expression. "Cas, I-"

"Good morning guys." Sam yawned, the leaves rustling under his weight as he turned to face them. They were already apart, but Dean instinctively shrank away, his hands retreating into his pockets and his eyes growing cold once again. The familiar lines of worry appeared at their edges.

"Morning, Sam." Dean stood, shuffling his boot to cover the stake from earlier with upturned soil. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap." Sam grimaced, favoring his right leg. "I'm not sure if this is sprained or broken."

"Probably broken, with our luck." Dean ran a hand through his hair, taking care to avoid Cas' gaze. "We'll have to head toward the nearest hospital."

"If we've seen three of these creatures in the last twelve hours, I can't imagine that the hospital is a very safe place right now." Sam said, limping over to the duffel bag and looping it over his shoulder. "We need to gather up everyone we know and try to get to safety, just in case this is some kind of epidemic." 

"I can heal you both when we get to wherever we're going, but not until after I fix the car." Cas suggested, standing so that his arm brushed against Dean's. Sam noted this, and Dean hesitated, tense, but did not move away.

"Any news from Heaven, Cas?" Sam inquired, moving toward the edge of the clearing. 

"Not that I've heard of." Cas flexed his right arm and allowed his angel blade to slide effortlessly into his hand. There was no telling what they might encounter on the way to the Impala. 

"It can't be too bad." Dean assured his brother, cracking a smile. "Even if it is, it's nothing we can't handle." 

"I'm sure." Sam sighed, glancing behind him to make sure that Dean and Cas were following. "I've just got a bad feeling about this one."