It Hit Me Hard [Destiel- Highschool- Human!Cas]

Whats wrong with Bobby?

Castiels POV:

Since we chose my engagement rings we had no idea what to do with the one Dean got.

A/N~~~ no really I have no idea what to do with it~~~

"Sammy?" Dean said after he picked up his phone. "What's wrong. No- just- CALM THE FUCK DOWN AND SPEAK... Oh."

Dean shut the phone.

"Come on Cas." He said grabbing his jacket.

"What's wrong? Dean? Dean answer me." I got in the Impala and looked it him expectantly.

"Damn it Bobby." Dean said quietly. His hand was shaking so he had trouble starting the car.

"Dean." I placed my hand on his and started the car for him. "What happened?"

Deans eyes were blurring over.

"What's wrong with Bobby." I asked.

"He's in the hospital." Dean said dropping his head.

"I'll drive." I said, Dean just nodded and got out of the running car. I scooted over to the drivers seat and waited for Dean to get in the passenger. But he didn't. I couldn't see him.

"Dean?" I asked turning off the car.

I walked around to the back and saw Dean laying on the ground crying.

I sat down next to him and sat him up.

"He will be okay." I said looking Dean in the eyes.

Dean nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I helped him up.

I really hoped I was right.

I finally coaxed him back into the car, and got back in.

I started the car and Dean laid his head against the window.

It took a while but we got there.

"Hello, how can I help you?" Said the lady behind the desk.

"Hey," I looked at the name tag, "Ellen. There's someone in here that we know, we would like to see him."

"I'm sorry but visiting hours are over."

Dean looked her in the eye. "I'm his son." He said bitterly.

"Okay what's your relation?" She looked at me.

"Friend, I'm his feonće."

A/N HOW THE HELL DO YOU SPELL THAT FUCKING WORD~~~

"Okay, do you have any way to prove your his son?" Ellen asked Dean.

Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet.

He probably had that thing for years, it was a worn brown leather. Dean pulled out a fake licence with his age listed as 24, I have to admit, he could pass for 24.

He handed it to the lady and she looked at the last name, no doubt it was a fake name.

"Okay, Dean Singer. Sign this," Dean filled out the paperwork, "okay, He's in room 346 here's a key card that will allow you into that ward."

She handed him back the fake licence and a key card.

"Dean," she called after we turned around. "Prepare yourself, he's in intensive care."

Dean nodded curtly and we walked to the elevator.

"He's going to be okay." I rubbed Deans back.

"I really hope your right."

So do I.

I looked at the directory in the elevator and found the right floor.