'His situation is severe,' the healer said in a worried voice. 'Whether or not he will live until morning is beyond my sight. My team of healers will do the best they can, but...' his voice trailed off.
dean could sense his fear. There was a good chance the boy might die. 'Is there anything I can do to help?' he asked.
the doctor sadly shook his head. 'Nothing the healers are already trying. But it might help if you just sat with him. He will need to see a friendly face when he wakes up from this ordeal, and you are the closest thing he has right now.'
'I understand,' said dean. 'And I will stay with him for as long as it takes. I will not let him die.'
With that, the doctor turned and hurried to the room where the wounded teen was being housed. He was surrounded by healers, all of whom wore the same concerned expression. They had washed his body and dressed his wounds with healing salve, but still the boy showed no signs of improvement. His breathing was shallow, and his pulse was weak. One of the healers turned to dean with a defeated sigh.
'It will be an uphill battle,' she said. 'We have done all we can at this time. Now, we can only wait and see if he wakes.'
dean nodded resolutely. 'I will stay with him through the night and keep watch as he sleeps.'
One by one, the healers left the bedside, the last one closing the door behind her. In the flickering candle light, dean dipped a square of cloth in the bowl of warm water left by the healers, and gently used it to stroke the injured boys forehead. Then, taking up the boys limp hand, he settled into his bedside chair and prepared to wait through the remainder of the long, cold night.
*****
'Where... where am I?'
dean jerked awake with a start when he heard the words being spoken. He stared down at the boy, an immense wave of relief coursing through his body. The boy is alive! And from the looks of things, he was on his way to making a full recovery.
'You are in the hospital,' dean told him. 'I found you last night, lying unconscious and nearly dead on a path coming from the forest. I carried you here, the healers tended to your wounds. Please, tell me your name and how you came to be here.'
'My name is castiel,' said the boy. 'I come from my house. I was on an errand from my father, to deliver an important message to the towns people. But last night... All I remember is that I was riding through the forest when suddenly I was attacked by a group of guys. At least they only surrounded me. I tried to escape, but there were so many, and I had only my knife for protection. And that is the last thing I recall. I do not know how I came to be here, or why I am not dead.'
Dean smiled at him. 'The stars must shine favourably on you. To live through such an ordeal... that is more than mere luck.' It was more than luck, too, that null had wound up in the pathway and Dean had found him. Now that the two were together, it felt almost like fate had lent a hand. DEan was meant to be here, and he was meant to have found him. Why, Dean did not know. But it felt so certain.
It also did not hurt that Castiel was one of the most beautiful individuals Dean had ever seen. His sleek black hair contrasted with large, bright blue eyes set in a lovely face. And his sculpted body, half-hidden by the bed linens, was a further attraction. Dean could hardly suppress his desire to run his hands over that soft hair and perfect body. But he kept his feelings under control. Castiel had just barely survived a nearly fatal encounter. Now was not the time for romance.
