Work Text:
When Dean woke, his head was aching like hell, his body felt like a train ran over it, his ears rang... overall, he was in a horrible shape. It took quite some effort to even open his eyes and shuffle up a little on the bed. He saw Castiel near him, in the same trench coat as always, his back turned toward Dean. He was cooking what seemed (and smelled) like soup on a portable stovetop. Cass hummed quietly as he added some unusual herbs to the mix and stirred the mixture clockwise exactly seven times.
"What kind of witchy mojo are you working there, Cass?" Dean mustered up to say, but every word felt like razors in his throat.
"You're awake," Castiel turned around, his voice both surprised and concerned. "How do you feel?"
"Honestly? Like a mountain fell on me," Dean groaned, and tried to sit up, but Cass pushed him back into the sheets.
"Stay!" it sounded more like a plea than a command, and Dean grew more and more suspicious of the whole situation.
"What's wrong, Cass?"
"You are," Cass said, then he realized his mistake. "I mean, there's something wrong with you. What do you remember?"
"Last night I was in the parking lot, something grabbed my neck from behind, I blacked out, woke up with you preparing for MasterChef," Dean summarized, and instinctively touched the back of his neck. "Why, what happened?"
"Well, that was actually last week," Castiel corrected. "Something sucked out most of your energy, your life-essance if you will. By the time Sam found you, you were lying on the ground, unresponsive," he explained, then paused. "Honestly, we weren't sure you'd wake up..." he added quietly.
Dean stared in front of him for a couple of seconds. He really did feel exhausted, more than he's ever been. But now that his mind was up and running, his hand was itching to do something. He wanted to get up and go, kill the motherfucker who attacked him, just get back in action. Yet, he couldn't even raise his arms up from the blanket for more than five seconds.
"Sam?" he asked instead.
"He's out, researching. Looking for the monster that did this to you. He's barely slept for the last week," Castiel shook his head, then turned his attention back to the soup.
"And what, you got stuck playing nurse with me?"
"Last time I checked, I was the one with healing powers," Cass answered, then poured some of the soup into a bowl.
"Then heal me so I can get going!" Dean was already fed up with sitting around.
"I tried. I can heal your body, but I can't charge you up," Cass sounded a little annoyed, as if he's already gone over this multiple times. "What you need now is rest and peace so your body can regenerate the lost energy. Here, eat this, old druid recipe," he handed the soup over to Dean, who sniffed it at first, then picked up the spoon.
Unfortunately, a couple swoops in, and his hand started to tremble, so much so that he dropped the spoon from his hands. Dean frowned, clearly barely containing his frustration.
"Man, this fucking sucks," he mumbled.
Cass, on the other hand, didn't say anything, just picked up the bowl, took a spoonful of soup, then raised it up to Dean's mouth, and poked him a little. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Cass like he had lost his marbles.
"Are you trying to feed me?"
"Do you know any other way you can eat it?" Cass clapped back. "This will help you recharge faster... hopefully."
"Hopefully?"
"It's the best I could find."
Dean waved away Castiel's hands from his face, then groaned in pain and let his arms fall back down. He shut his eyes for a hot second and took a deep breath. It was only his lack of energy that held him back from yelling. Then again, if he could yell, he'd have nothing to yell about.
"I understand you feel bad, but-" Cass started, but Dean cut him off.
"Do you? Because right now, there's a monster outside, feeding off of people, and I'm chained to this bed! I'm fucking useless!" Dean listed, his anger cloaked under the tiredness in his voice.
Castiel stared at him for a moment, his gaze becoming harsher. He put the bowl down and leaned closer, towering over Dean's figure.
"Do you know how I feel? For a whole week, I was stuck here, watching over you, not being able to do more than browsing ancient recipe books and praying to God knows who that you would wake up! I've never felt more worried and powerless in my thousands of years of existence! So you will eat that soup, and stop complaining!"
Dean stared up at Cass in shock. He's never seen the angel like this. This really was no joke, so he just sank back into the pillows and carefully nodded. Castiel took a deep breath, then picked up the bowl again and started feeding the soup to Dean. Minutes passed like this, in complete silence. The wave of frustration disappeared from Dean's mind, and he slowly but surely gave himself to the moment: just him and Cass, in the quiet room, and everything felt soft, warm, safe. He soon dozed off again, falling into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke again, daylight was beaming in from the window. Castiel was sitting next to him on the bed, staring, one hand on Dean's leg. Dean blinked a couple, but those big, angelic eyes didn't disappear from his sight.
"Cass, what?" he mumbled, then yawned.
"I was checking you out," Castiel replied in a fully serious tone.
"Umm, I don't think you know what that means..."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Sam's voice chimed up from the other side of the bed. "How are you feeling, Dean?" he asked.
"Bad... but better," came the short answer. "I feel mushy," Dean added, to which the other two men nodded.
"I have more soup for you," Castiel mentioned, and immediately raised up the bowl and spoon.
This time Dean didn't resist, just let Cass feed him soup while he tried to figure out what attacked him from Sam in between bites.
"So it wasn't a Shtriga, you're sure?"
"Yeah. They usually feed off of children, but there's no sign of that in the town," Sam sighed. "I was honestly thinking psychic vampire."
"Psychic vampire?" Dean wasn't very convinced. "Aren't those just made-up psychology mumbo-jumbo?"
"I thought so too, but nothing else fits the profile," Sam shrugged. "Trust me, I've looked into everything."
"Does Bobby have a better idea?"
"Nope," Sam shook his head. "But I've been following the trail, I think I've got the bastard. I'll go after it tonight."
"What? You don't think I'm just gonna let you go after that thing yourself!" Dean argued, and was about to sit up, but Castiel pushed him down again.
"You have no other choice," Cass told him firmly as he wiped down a little soup from the corner of Dean's mouth. "Your energy is not fully restored. It would be dangerous to even get up now."
"Then we wait until I'm well!" Dean crossed his arms.
"Dean, it took you a week to even wake up! Who knows how long it'll take for you to be up and running? A lot of people could die if we wait for longer!" Sam argued back.
Dean frowned, but nodded.
"Okay, then Cass goes with you!"
"I can't. I have to watch you," Castiel disagreed.
"But somebody has to-"
"I'll take Bobby, alright?" Sam tried to cut the argument short. "Just trust me, Dean, I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, okay?"
"You better come back in one piece, Sammy, or I'll kill you, understand?!"
"Yeah. Sure, whatever. Just rest. I'll be back in no time," Sam said, then grabbed the car keys and stepped out the door.
"Now, sleep some more," Castiel commanded, then put two of his fingers on Dean's forehead...
It was a beautiful dream: Dean and Cass were sitting on the hood of the Impala, watching the lake below them. The sun was setting, disappearing below the horizon, and they were sitting there, together... Cass was caressing Dean's face with one hand, holding his arm with the other. He was whispering sweet nothings into Dean's ear, his voice warm and calming. Then Cass leaned closer and kissed him, his lips soft against Dean's. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, drinking in the moment...
When he opened his eyes, the lake and sunset were gone: he was back in that same motel bed, with Cass leaning over him, watching his every move, just like the days before. But something was different this time. The heavy weight of exhaustion that was pushing Dean down for all this time suddenly disappeared, and he felt the blood rushing through his veins, freshening his brain and body. He felt strong again, just like before the attack, maybe even stronger. He sat up on the bed, which made Cass smile.
"So fairytales do work," Castiel said, as if he were noting it for himself.
"You've been reading Snow White or what?" Dean looked at him weirdly.
"Precisely," Cass nodded. "True love's kiss does work like a miracle."
"Wait, you... You actually kissed me?" Dean panicked. "I thought I was just dreaming that," he mumbled.
"Why would you dream about that?" Cass asked, curious.
"Not important," Dean waved it off awkwardly, his ears redder than a tomato. "But why... why did you kiss me?"
"In the stories, true love's kiss wakes up the cursed princess," Castiel explained with a serious face. "I thought it was worth a shot."
"So what, I'm your princess now?" Dean tried to piece this all together mentally.
"Apparently."
"Great... that's just... mhmm," he wasn't sure how to respond to that. "A socially unaware, all-powerful angel is my one true love... Amazing!"
"I'm not all-powerful," Castiel corrected. "Besides that, yes."
"Awesome," Dean stood up and starting to walk up and down around Cass, who was just standing there, watching him, confused.
"Why, is there something wrong with that?" he asked, which made Dean stop in his tracks.
"Well, no, I guess... hmm," he looked up and thought about it. "It's just a little... unusual."
"Your whole life is unusual," Cass pointed out.
"Yeah, that's fair," Dean nodded. "So are we like soulmates or something?"
"I suppose so. I'll look into it later," Cass promised.
But before they could continue with this conversation, Sam came through the door, clearly tired but otherwise well. He looked around, and when he saw Dean standing there, a smile sneaked up on his face.
"Dean, you're up! But how, I thought... was it the soup?" he asked.
Dean and Cass paused, looked at Sam, then each other, then back at Sam.
"You could say that..." Dean replied vaguely. "Ready to hit the road? I'll drive."
"Yeah, we can go," Sam said and threw the keys to Dean.
"Can I come with you?" Castiel asked.
"Sure, honey!" Dean told him cheerfully, then he opened the door for Cass as they went out.
Sam stared at them confused, then he just sighed and shook his head, not bothering to ask about it. (Not yet at least...)