His mind was in a million pieces.
"Drive, Sammy! Just drive, damn it!"
The Impala jolted as they began to move. It felt like everything was in slow motion, like in a dream when you can't seem to run away from your demons fast enough.
Literally.
Dean had to stop Cas from rolling off the back of the seat as Sam pulled away from the dirt path, the rest of the demons running out of the cabin to catch up to them. They reeked of blood, the ones that the three of them hadn't managed to kill, and were hungry for more. As they sped away, Dean forced his desperate eyes away from the demons and on the angel in his lap.
"Dean, status!" Sam yelled frantically, currently bearing the responsibility of the most sane person out of the three. He kept glancing back, desperate to pull his eyes away from the dark road they were now cruising down. "Is he okay?"
Dean pulled Cas closer to his chest, the sight of the unconscious angel numbingly unreal. 'He's fine. He's fine." Dean denied, for his own sake more than anyone else's. Running his eyes over Cas' limp body, Dean brought his hand to his stomach, the crimson red stain spreading like a virus. He pressed down, desperate to stop the blood from spilling despite how hopeless he knew it was.
Sam said nothing, his white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel recklessly. Their destination was unspoken; the motel was the only option. Any hospital would have Cas' quick-healing body shipped away for experimentation in a second. The two of them would have to deal with the deadly wound on their own.
"Cas," Dean's voice shook urgently. He didn't even notice that he had begun cradling the angel, bringing his weak vessel closer to his chest despite the blood. "Cas, wake up." Everything else faded away as he focused on Cas' gleaming, feverish face, his parted lips that seemed to take in only the shallowest of air.
It was stupid. Dean cursed himself for even laying eyes on the newspaper clipping.
It was a simple hunt; three dead in a week, all virgins, all went to the same house party. The whole thing practically reeked of sulfur, and having nothing better to do, Sam and Dean decided to go out for a quick hunt. However, when they realized that Cas was also bound for the same group of demons, they knew it was no quick hunt. They had to be something truly nasty for an angel to take the time to personally wipe them off the map.
The three of them had gone to the supposed "house party," only to stumble upon a demonic ritual that apparently required the sacrifice of several virgins. The whole scene turned into a shitshow the second they showed up. They had underestimated the number of demons there really were, and were caught abruptly in the mayhem of taking on thirteen between the three of them.
Shit went down. Blood was spilled. Virgins were killed. No one had expected one of the black-eyes to whip out an angel blade.
Cas was...
Dean looked down.
"You're fine." He breathed, salty tears spilling onto the gushing wound.
~
A chill ran down Cas spine as reality made its way back into his tired mind. Surroundings began to form around him, and he could just barely make out the feel of cotton sheets just before the first wave of pain.
He gasped for air. Agony attacked his side, spreading throughout his whole body like a poison. His ribcage ached, his throat burned, and soon, something began to tug at his skin, like it was being held delicately together by a thin thread. He looked down. Oh. That's because it was.
