Sam is getting used to losing chunks of time. When he comes to, he’s bundled up in a hotel bed, but he’s no longer shaking, or sweating. He takes this as a good sign. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling – popcorn ceiling. A hotel, then. His gaze shifts around him, and shapes swim into view – lamps, chairs, table, television. Ancient console television. A shitty hotel, then. He looks over, and sees Dean asleep on top of the covers on the second bed. He looks up, and sees Castiel sitting next to him, fixing him with an unblinking stare. It’s an odd thing to wake up to, being stared down by an angel.
“Castiel?” His voice cracks when he speaks, and he wonders how long it’s been since they arrived at the hotel. He certainly doesn’t remember arriving there.
“You kept calling out for your brother. When the two of you separated, he was ill and injured once. He spoke of you in a way that denounced you, but longed for you and your companionship whenever he was conscious. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with you, even when he insulted you. But when he wasn’t conscious, he called for your mother. You have been unconscious, but you don’t call for her. You call for him. Over and over, for him, even when he was right here, holding your hand.” The angel says all this in a voice that is so lacking in comprehension, it’s strangely, amazingly innocent. And then he places his hand against Sam’s cheek, fingers lightly running down the side of his face, tracing the side of his sideburn, and then running down to his jaw. The motion is rhythmic, soothing.
“Your fever broke, and then your body went cold. We had you in room temperature water, and you seemed to chill it. He was terrified.” Castiel motions with his other hand towards Dean. “You’ve been a good temperature for nearly a day. He showed me how to check it.” Castiel reaches out and picks up a thermometer off of the bedside table. “We need to check it again.” Sam blinks a few times, distracted by the comforting feeling of the hand against his face and by the oddity of the angel’s flow of words. It takes him a moment to realize that Castiel is trying to push the small device into his mouth, but he does realize, and the minute it takes for the beeping sound to register flies by.
Castiel stares at the thermometer, “Ninety eight point seven. Dean said between ninety eight and ninety nine was good.” He sets it back down on the table and considers it for a moment, “Humans really are ingenious. All the contraptions. I shouldn’t be astounded, it’s all so unnecessary next to heaven’s power, but still… I am impressed. Humanity is astounding.”
“Yeah, we have the corner on cheap floor shows. And just wait until you see our lovely assistant,” Dean flips over and swings his legs over the edge of the other bed, and is sitting next to Castiel within a second. “How’re you feelin’, Sammy?” His voice is low and his eyes are even more shadowed than they were when last Sam saw him, and Sam wants to tell Cas to put him back to bed.
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carisma_sensei
FILLED: Nor Will I Imitate A Choo-Choo Train 6/10
Date: 2010-03-06 04:05 am (UTC)“Castiel?” His voice cracks when he speaks, and he wonders how long it’s been since they arrived at the hotel. He certainly doesn’t remember arriving there.
“You kept calling out for your brother. When the two of you separated, he was ill and injured once. He spoke of you in a way that denounced you, but longed for you and your companionship whenever he was conscious. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with you, even when he insulted you. But when he wasn’t conscious, he called for your mother. You have been unconscious, but you don’t call for her. You call for him. Over and over, for him, even when he was right here, holding your hand.” The angel says all this in a voice that is so lacking in comprehension, it’s strangely, amazingly innocent. And then he places his hand against Sam’s cheek, fingers lightly running down the side of his face, tracing the side of his sideburn, and then running down to his jaw. The motion is rhythmic, soothing.
“Your fever broke, and then your body went cold. We had you in room temperature water, and you seemed to chill it. He was terrified.” Castiel motions with his other hand towards Dean. “You’ve been a good temperature for nearly a day. He showed me how to check it.” Castiel reaches out and picks up a thermometer off of the bedside table. “We need to check it again.” Sam blinks a few times, distracted by the comforting feeling of the hand against his face and by the oddity of the angel’s flow of words. It takes him a moment to realize that Castiel is trying to push the small device into his mouth, but he does realize, and the minute it takes for the beeping sound to register flies by.
Castiel stares at the thermometer, “Ninety eight point seven. Dean said between ninety eight and ninety nine was good.” He sets it back down on the table and considers it for a moment, “Humans really are ingenious. All the contraptions. I shouldn’t be astounded, it’s all so unnecessary next to heaven’s power, but still… I am impressed. Humanity is astounding.”
“Yeah, we have the corner on cheap floor shows. And just wait until you see our lovely assistant,” Dean flips over and swings his legs over the edge of the other bed, and is sitting next to Castiel within a second. “How’re you feelin’, Sammy?” His voice is low and his eyes are even more shadowed than they were when last Sam saw him, and Sam wants to tell Cas to put him back to bed.