Wilted

Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly. It felt odd, like there was something stuck in it. Is this the human term referred to as 'frog in the throat?' Cas didn't know. He coughed quietly as the Winchester brothers double checked their bags. He stood to the side of the small, cold motel room, near the couch, where he slept.

It was weird; sleeping. It was hard to start, but once he started, Cas never wanted to finish. The former angel will never get used to the vivid, realistic images his mind produced while he was asleep. He'll also never get used to actually falling asleep. Dean had to help him fall asleep last night.

Long after Sam was knocked out, Dean sat on the couch and let Cas rest his head on the hunter's lap. Dean hummed softly, a tune Cas recognizes, thanks to Metatron, as "Hey Jude" by The Beatles. As Cas focused on Dean's soft humming, Dean was watching a TV show with the volume off and the subtitles on. Cas thinks it might be research. People die a lot on this show, at least.

Dean finished the song, but instead of getting up or talking, he simply started it again, slow and calming. Cas jumped when Dean's fingers slid through his hair.

The movement must have snapped Dean out of whatever trance he was in.

"Sorry." Dean muttered, moving his hand away. His voice sounded strained. "I, uh, I'll, just, go… to bed. Now." He pushed the power button on the remote and squirmed uncomfortably.

Despite having to get up so Dean could move to his bed, Cas felt comfortable; warm and peaceful. He dozed off easily at the thought of Dean's fingers carting through his hair.

He felt something warm spread through his chest as he closed his eyes and whispered, "Good night, Dean."

Now the hunters are ready to go interrogate the only witness. Dean's tying his tie easily as Sam puts on his uncomfortable-looking shoes. "This is the only witness?" Dean asks again. "Some old army vet with PTSD?"

Sam stands up, his shoes on, and sighs a quiet, "Yup. He's all we got."

Dean came up to Cas, glaring at his tie. Castiel held his breath as the hunter broke his own rule and "invaded" his "personal space".

"You gotta learn to tie a tie, Cas." His gaze was focused on what his fingers were doing with the cloth around the former angel's neck. Cas couldn't care less about the process of fixing the article of clothing. But having Dean this close was something the angel strangely wanted more of.

Dean patted his shoulder once he was finished with the tie and headed out the motel door after Sam. Cas watched him go for a moment, longing to have him back next to him.

In the Impala, Sam and Dean went over the possibilities of the case.

"I'm still thinking it's a poltergeist." Sam said.

"What would it be hanging on to? The house burned down." Dean replied, glancing at his brother.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe a family heirloom, or something that survived the fire."

Cas felt something turn inside him as he breathed in, causing him to cough loudly into his fist. He tilts his head in confusion at the fit. He'd never gotten sick before. That was a human thing.

Dean and Sam watched him from the from the front; thinking along the same line. Dean shifted in his seat, focusing back on the road, "We won't know until we see what this witness says."

"And what's your names again?" The witness asked literally right after the nurse left the room.

Sam, always the polite one, answered smoothly, "I'm Mike Dirnt and this is Tré Cool." He gestured to Dean. "We're will the Heavenly News, the newspaper. We just want to ask you some questions."

"Who's the little one?" The old witness gestured to Cas with a suspicious eye.

"I am Castiel." The ex-angel replied, before either of the brothers could stop him.

"Cas'iel what?" The man said, clearly about to lock in on himself and not tell the suspicious men anything.

Before Cas could reply, Dean interrupted him and said quickly, "Winchester."

Cas's stomach flipped and his heart grew wings. His chest did this weird tightening thing. It all felt so weird. He assumed it was some human thing going on with his vessel.

"Like the gun?"

Dean nodded, a smile playing on his lips, "Yes, sir."

Satisfied, the witness started to tell his story.

Cas tried to pay attention to what the witness said. He really did. But it was hard when he was coughing so much. Eventually, Sam kicked him out of the room, making him stand in the hall until his coughing fit stopped.

After a few shaky breaths, Dean came out to check on him. "Cas, buddy, what's up with you?"

Cas cleared his throat, trying to breathe easier, "I do not know. I haven't ever experienced this feeling before." He tried to explain more, but he was interrupted by coughing again.

Dean's eyebrows were drawn up in worry. He nodded to himself, saying quietly, "Alright. Alright. We're gonna take you to a doctor. Can you wait until we're done here?"

The hunter got a glare in response, which he interpreted as 'No, I can't.' when really, Cas was trying to express, 'I'm an angel, you shit. I can deal with a minor illness.'

"Okay. Just hold on." He quickly went back into the room. Cas tried to take deep breaths as he waited for their interrogation to end, but the witness had a tendency to digress. With a rather violent cough, Cas's kneels buckled under him and the ex-angel slid down the wall to the floor.

Dean returned a second later, the keys to the Impala in his hand. He immediately kneeled next to Cas, gently rubbing his back. "Hey, Cas, buddy. It's alright. We're going to the doctor, now. Sam'll call a cab back to the hotel when he's done here." There was a slight pause as Cas's body heaved under Dean's hand. Dean's touch only made the coughing worse, and the former angel pulled away from the Winchester. "Can you stand?"

Cas nodded wildly, sucking in a breath. As he locked his knees started to push himself off the ground, he lost his balance and toppled into Dean's protective arms.

Cas let himself be led by the hunter, enjoying the momentary warmth that bloomed in his chest as Dean mumbled in his ear, "I got you, buddy. It'll be okay. I'm here."

Dean let Cas lay across the back seat, his head tilted back, mouth open in an attempt to open his airway. His hands brushed up and down his neck and rubbed his chest, interested in the painfully unfamiliar feelings. Dean broke multiple traffic laws while headed to the closest doctor's office – not a hospital, hospitals are too busy and too expensive, they'd just have to demand a doctor look at them.

"How you feeling, Cas?" Dean asked as he opened the door and helped Cas out of the back of Baby.

Cas glared at him, "It is just a cough, Dean. I will be-" He didn't finish the sentence as he doubled over with a horrid hacking noise.

He could hear Dean say angrily, "Dammit, Cas! You're just a human now!"

Cas stopped listening after that.

His hand went up to cover his mouth as he – possibly literally – hacked up a lung. He rose shakily, hesitant to look back over at Dean. He didn't want Dean to see him like this. It was not even the slightest bit charming. But Dean wasn't look at Cas's face when the ex-angel glanced at him. Dean was staring at Cas's still-open hand.

Cas looked down at it as well, a small puddle of blood sat in his palm. Blood. His blood. From his mouth. Cas slowly lifted his other hand and felt around his lips, catching more blood on his fingers.

"Shit." Dean muttered to himself.

What he did next was quiet odd to Cas.

The hunter started to strip.

Dean took off his over shirt, revealing his strong arms and shoulders. Cas cleared his throat and looked away at the sight. But then Dean stepped closer to Cas and grabbed the hand that still had a puddle of blood on it. Dean wiped off the blood roughly with his balled-up shirt. He then grabbed Cas's other hands and thoroughly cleaned each digit. Cas couldn't ignore the warm glow in his chest as he watched Dean's concerned, dutiful work.

Then Dean inspected Cas's face, gently cupping Cas's chin and cleaning Cas's lips with his now-stained shirt. Cas's eyes widened at the proximity and intensity of Dean's gaze. He turned away quickly, predicting what would happen next. He didn't hold out his hand this time, and blood splattered on the parking lot.

A few moments later, when Cas righted himself (only leaning against Baby slightly), Dean shoved the messy flannel into Cas's arms. "Use this if you think it'll happen again. Try not to get blood on everything." He sounded gruff and angry, but the worry was clear on his face. Cas nodded shakily and they continued their slow progress into the doctor's office.

Luckily for the two, it's not flu season and it's pretty early in the morning. Only one old lady and a father with his toddler were in the waiting room.

Cas fell into a chair right next to the door, taking deep breaths and keeping Dean's flannel next to his mouth incase he coughed up more blood. His fingers were stained pink and he was sure his lips looked the same. He mentally groaned at what a mess he must look like in front of Dean.

He coughed again.

"I don't know, Sam!" Dean growled. "The doctor ruled out everything from bronchitis to lung cancer. Whatever Cas has, it's not normal."

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Right. Because when is it ever normal?"

Dean turned his frustration to the angel who sat innocently on the couch, focusing on his breathing, "Why can't you get the flu like a regular fucking human?"

Cas flinched at the fury and the reminder of the fall. He looked down at his hands, which were still a pink-ish tent. "I'm sorry, Dean." He was unaware that humans could control what illness they got. He should have picked a more common one. The coughing started up painfully before he could think much else of it.

Sam gave Dean a bitchface so bad, their grandparents could feel it. Dean didn't see it, he could feel Sam's glare, sure, but he wasn't looking at it. Dean's focus was solely on the ex-angel he just hurt.

Dean knelt in front of Cas, placing a hand on Cas's knee to help keep his balance. "Hey, Cas, I'm sorry man. Are… are you alright?"

"You have yet to define," Cas said in one breath, "your interpretation of alright."

Dean looked up into Cas's blue eyes, "I'm going to make sure you get better, alright? Being sick fucking sucks. I'm going to be right here with you the entire way. Sam can handle the case."

Cas held his breath as Dean ran a hand through Cas's unruly hair. The soft smile Dean gave him made the ex-angel's heart to beat incredibly fast, and a large – frog, is it? – to clime up Castiel's throat. Cas ducked his head quickly, hacking into his lap. Dean shifted away from him, to give him some air. But Cas stayed folded over for a long moment, just breathing.

He gripped the sleeves of his trench coat like a security blanket while he slowly caught his breath. It didn't feel like he coughed up blood that time. His mouth doesn't taste metallic, although his throat is rather sore. And the air smelled fairly pleasant. Maybe he was improving.

Castiel opened his eyes and slowly sat back up, he could feel the brothers watching him, although he couldn't give them any kind of indication that he was alright. He sat there, staring at his lap, puzzled.

"Dean." His throat was dry and it hurt a bit to talk.

"Yeah?" Dean sounded cautious; his eyes never left Cas's face.

"Do humans normally find foliage in their sputum when they are ill?"

"What?" Dean frowned in a mixture of disgust and confusion.

In answer, Cas slowly held up a single, pink flower petal.

Sam immediately suggested that whatever Cas had was supernatural.

"What else could it be? No one just suddenly coughs up flowers." He said, trying to reason with Dean, "Maybe it was a witch."

Dean shook his head, pacing around the room angrily, "We haven't encountered any witches for months now. How would a witch even find us, huh?" His tone full rage and confusion.

Cas sat quietly, watching the petal in his hand as the brothers shouted over each other.

"I don't know, Dean." Sam said loudly.

"Well you're a lot of help!" Dean shouted, throwing a pillow off Sam's bed and falling onto it, completely wasting up his brother's nice bed-making-skills.

Sam glared at his brother and lowered his voice, speaking to Cas, "Is there another angel who could do this to you?"

Cas looked up slowly, "Plenty." He said, glancing from Dean to Sam. "If they were at full power. Which, after what I did, none of them are."

"That wasn't your fault." Dean said to the ceiling.

Cas coughed again, this time a smaller blue petal sat firmly on his tongue. Cas stuck out the muscle and carefully picked the petal off it.

The ex-angel looked up to see the Winchesters watching him.

Sam stood up, holding his laptop, "I'll see if there's lore about this at the library. You start calling the usual people, see if they've heard of anything like this."

Cas sat and watched as Dean wore a trench in the hotel's floor. The hunter called everyone on his contact list, every hunter, professor, and psychics he could think of. No one had ever heard of it before. He got many replies around the proximity of:

'Sounds like a witch.'

'Maybe it's an angel thing.'

'Winchester? Ain't you dead?'

'That friend of yours is trouble. Just don't worry about it.'

Dean gave up and threw his phone across the room, thankfully it landed on his bed. He didn't feel like digging out a new phone from inside Baby.

"They're all fucking useless!" Dean shouted, kicking the table.

"Dean." Cas spoke up for the first time since Sam left. "I haven't had a problem since your brother departed for the library."

The hunter thought back to the past three hours and realized what the ex-angel said was true. Cas had been breathing perfectly fine and if it weren't for the two flower petals in his blood-stained hand, you wouldn't think he was sick at all.

Dean approached Cas slowly, like the angel was a wounded animal; which isn't too far from the truth. "How do you feel?"

"Remarkably better. It seems whatever it was has passed." Cas gave a small smile. He wasn't prepared for Dean to plop down on the couch next to him and give him a long, tight hug.

"Thank God." Dean mumbled into Cas's neck. "I thought it was serious."

Cas slowly lifted an arm to wrap around Dean's back and hold him close, relishing in the warmth of the hunter's embrace. He breathed deeply, memorizing Dean's scent. He wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in everything Dean, for the rest of his life.

But then, all too quickly, Dean started to pull away. Cas hid his disappointment expertly.

Dean couldn't hide his disappointment when Cas leaned over and spit out three more flower petals.

Sam returned from the library hours later with nothing to show for it.

"It's like this thing came from nowhere. Like it showed up yesterday and its very first victim is Cas." Sam said as he set down his laptop and collapsed onto his bed exhaustedly. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

Cas's voice is rougher than normal, a side-effect of being sick. "I-"

"He coughed up three more petals." Dean interrupted. "It's getting worse."

Sam sighed, looking around the room as if the answer would crawl out under the bed he was on. "And no one had any ideas about it?"

"They just keep crying witch. But it can't be. We haven't seen one, and I've checked everything: the hotel room, our bags, Baby. There's no cursing bag. But it's still just 'Witch! Witch!' We might as well be in Salem." Dean groaned, running his hands through his hair.

Cas piped up then, saying matter-of-factly, "If it weren't for the first hunters in America, there wouldn't be a Salem left." The ex-angel's head was ducked low in a seemingly uncomfortable manner. His flower petals sat on the coffee table in front of him.

The brothers glanced at each other, "Uh," Sam said cautiously, "didn't a ton of innocent people die?"

Cas didn't miss a beat as he looked up at the younger brother, "They were effective, more than anything else."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the riffs of a guitar. He glanced at the other two men, who merely shrugged, as he searched around the room. Remembering that he threw his phone on his bed; he jumped onto Sam's bed, maneuvered over his brother's legs and lunged onto his bed. Hastily grabbing the phone, not bothering to see the caller I.D., he answered with a gruff, "What did you find?"
Because surely it had to be someone who called someone else who knew about what Cas had. Surely it was a person that was helping to fix Dean's problem. Surely it was a hunter or a psychic or a mythology professor or a fucking doctor.

But no. It was none of those.

It was a queen.

"Sup, bitch." The familiar voice flowed through Dean's phone. "I dunno what your referring to, but I did find a dollar on the floor yesterday. Why? You missing something?"

Dean groaned. At Sam's concerned look, he shook his head and mouthed 'Charlie.' Sam nodded and picked up his laptop, determined to figure out what was wrong.

"Just my sanity." Dean muttered into the phone, sitting back against the headboard.

He could hear Charlie's playful smile as she said, "Did you ever have that to begin with?"

"I'm sure if you went back far enough you'd find a smidge of it." Dean replied easily. Charlie laughed and the noise brought a smile to Dean's face. The smile feel instantly, though, once Cas started coughing violently from across the room. "Shit." Dean muttered, crossing the room in seconds. The phone was forgotten, held loosely in one hand. "Cas, buddy, are you okay?"

The former angel spit out four more petals, spitting on the floor at the foul taste. "I'm fine." He croaked. Cas runs his fingers against his neck, the tips of his nails softly scratching his skin. "Do not fret."

"I'm pretty sure this is a good reason to fret, Cas." Dean hissed, squeamishly picking up the flower petals off the floor and adding them to the pile on the table. "You're sick!"

Dean heard Charlie's voice from his phone, when he put it back up to his ear; he caught the tail end of what was probably a long, worried speech, "because Cas is an angel of the Lord!"

"Sorry, I missed just about all of that." Dean said, warily watching as Cas took shallow breaths on the couch.

"Sparks Notes version: Cas can't be sick." The girl replied, sounding only slightly out of breath.

Dean reluctantly sat on the edge of Sam's bed, close to Cas, but still giving him room to breathe. "I guess you heard that?"

"I can help! Where are you?" Charlie asked in reply. Dean could distinctly hear typing coming from the other side of the phone. Meaning, if Dean didn't tell her where they were, she'd be able to find out quick enough.

Still, he tried, "Charlie. No."

The typing stopped.

Dean waited, holding his breath.

"Oh." She sounded pleased. "So that's where you are."

"Charlie."

"I'll be on the first plane in about, ah, three hours."

"Charlie."

"I can help. You guys are on a case, yeah? I can babysit the angel."

"Charlie!"

"It's ok. I got this."

"No! It's too dangerous!"

"What? The case? I won't be working it. Cas? I know we haven't met, but I've read the books. He only hurts things that try to hurt you, which would be too easy for me. Or- oh, is it the plane? Dean, it won't crash or anything. I've flown before."

Dean couldn't come up with a good enough reason why she couldn't show up at their hotel in the middle of the night. "You can't come!"

"Why not?"

"Because I said so!"

"You don't order the queen!"

Dean threw his hands up in the air before saying loudly into the phone, "Fine! But if you get sick with this incurable disease and start spitting fucking plants everywhere, that's not my problem!"

"Sweet. I'm already in my car."

Dean hung up before she could say anything else. He threw his phone again. He wasn't as lucky as last time. It shattered against he wall and crashed into multiple pieces on the floor.

The room was silent for a long moment. Dean could feel the others watching him. Finally Sam broke the silence, attempting to be casual and missing by a mile, "We haven't considered if it was contagious."

"We haven't caught it yet." Dean muttered as he grabbed his keys and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?!" Sam said, a mix of angry and exasperated.

Dean hissed harshly, "Out!" And then, calmer, "I'm checking the library again. Call me when Charlie gets here."

Sam looked up from the billionth website about supernatural illnesses as he heard the door slam close. "Find anything?"

Dean glared at him in response. He stopped when he saw Cas laying down on the ground, his eyes closed, and curled into a ball. Flower petals surrounded him. A hand rested on his neck, the other clutched his shirt, over his chest. The ex-angel had changed his clothes at some point. He was wearing one of Sam's shirts; the fabric of it hung loosely around him, making Cas seem smaller than he really was. The trench coat was draped over him like a blanket. If it weren't for his forceful breathing, loud and choppy, Dean would've felt uneasy about how still his friend was.

"Have you been watching him?" Dean said quietly, anger and worry clear in his voice.

"Yes, Dean. But there's not much I can really do. He doesn't want anything to eat or drink. He can't talk. He can't breathe." Sam looked down at the small man on the floor. "Thank God he finally fell asleep."

Dean huffed, unsatisfied. He knelt down next to Cas, "You could at least clean up these fucking flowers." The sheer quantity of them made Dean uncomfortable. He slowly picked them up, counting them silently as he went. At least the petals are beautiful; blues, reds, pinks, whites and yellows. You wouldn't think they'd been inside Cas moments ago. You wouldn't think they were killing him.

The hunter's hand froze as he reached for a white petal. Splattered across the soft white flower were things Dean hoped they had finished seeing: splatters of blood. He looked more closely at the petals and saw most, if not all, of them had at least some blood on them. Then he noticed one of the red ones in his hand wasn't red to begin with. The petal had been soaked in blood.

Dean felt sick.

He quickly stood and turned to Sam. "Did you know about this?"

It was obvious before Sam even said so that he did. "Dean."

"What?" He forgot to keep his voice down. The sudden loud noise drew a groan from Cas, who promptly started to cough. Dean watched as the former angel rolled to his hands and knees and hacked up a fistful of petals; gasping for air and spitting out pink saliva. Dean scrunched up his nose at the obvious stains on the floor. They weren't going to get the deposit back on the room.

Cas finally looked up at Dean, panting heavily, "-eang." He whispered between breaths. Even at the low volume, Dean could hear the hoarseness in his voice.

"The blood started up again after you left." Sam said quietly. "It kept getting worse and, um, he can't really talk now."

"You didn't bother to call me and tell me this?!" Dean shouted. Cas gagged. Sam opened his mouth to reply when there was a small knock on the door.

The room froze.

Cas tried to breathe quieter, but when he had to clear his throat and spit every two seconds, it was a little hard. Dean pulled out his gun and slowly stalked to the door. Sam sat up, slipping his hand under his pillow to hold his gun.

Dean glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on Cas, before he looked through he peephole in the door. He thought of everyone it could be: hotel employee, angry fallen angels that somehow found out Cas was weak(er) due to illness, the witch that did this to him that came to gloat.

"Sup, bitches!"

Or, Charlie.

Dean opened the door, lowering his gun. Just as he was about to complain about queens not listening to knights' orders, he got an armful of redhead; pulling him into a hug. He couldn't hold back the smile that graced his lips as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Your highness. It's good to see you."

Charlie pulled back, all smiles. She looked over at Sam, "You want a hug too?"

Sam chuckled, climbing off the bed, "Come here."

They hugged and Dean smiled at the awkward height difference. Sam picked her up in the hug, making the little fangirl squeal in surprise and delight.

"Okay." She grinned, stepping away. Charlie said in a serious, commanding voice, "Salutations be over. Where's the angel?"

And just like that, all the joy left the room. Dean's smile fell instantly as he gestured to the man that was breathing raggedly on the floor. His forehead rested on his arms, hands clasped in tight fists, and his knees were pulled to his chest; he was in some tight almost-like-praying-if-praying-was-painful shape. His body shook with each breath.

"What's the symptoms?" She asked, setting down her bag on Sam's bed and slowly stepping closer to Cas.

"Just coughing." Sam said, glancing from her to Cas to Dean and back again.

"That's it? No fever, vomiting, cold-sweats?" Charlie squatted next to Cas and gently touched his temple, checking if he was hot. The former angel didn't react to her fingers at all.

Dean moved to stand next to her. "Nothing. Just coughing up blood. And-"

"And it's not anything the doctors know about?" Charlie glanced at the brothers, confusion written all over her face.

Sam shook his head, "No. We went to a few and then called tons of others. None of them had a straight answer."

"What about a gay one?" Charlie smiled weakly. She got a glare from Dean in response. Biting her lip awkwardly, she sat back on her heels. "So, just coughing up blood? And he didn't get stabbed or anything in the lung?"

"No. He just suddenly started choking." Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Choking? On what? The blood?"

Dean glanced at Sam, practically having a conversation with just their eyes. Eventually Sam gave a small shrug and Dean sighed. "No. Well, yeah, at first. But then it got worse."

Charlie's eyes grew wide, "He didn't literally cough up a lung did he?"

Dean stepped over to the coffee table, where the growing pile of bloody flowers sat. "Try something a little greener."

The girl frowned, cocking her head slightly in confusion as she took the fist full of flowers from Dean. She blinked rapidly as she stared at the petals in her hand. "These came from inside Castiel?"

"Yes."

"And he didn't swallow a bouquet or seeds or anything?"

"Cas?" Dean asked the other man, and only got a groan and an-ever-so-slightly shake of the head. Turning back to Charlie, he replied, "No."

She was silent for a long moment, staring at the bloody flowers in her hand. Sam and Dean watched her, listening to the gasps and coughs from Cas.

"Any ideas?" Sam asked finally.

Charlie looked over her shoulder at him. "Just one… But it's unlikely."

"In this case," Dean said, leaning against the wall, "unlikely is likely."

Charlie licked her lips and said, "Okay. In one of the fanfics I read-" Dean groaned and Sam rolled his eyes. "-Just listen okay? In one of the fics I read, there was this disease. It's totally fictional, but now I'm not so sure." She watched Cas as he spit out a small bundle of petals. "He has the same symptom. It's just a few symptoms, really: vomiting, shortness of breath, lack of appetite, loss of speech. And, uh," She held up the fistful of flower petals. "This."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, finding the same weirded-out expression. "Okay. What is it?" Sam said slowly.

Charlie took a deep breath, setting down the flower petals on the floor and wiping off the slime of blood and saliva on her hand. "It's called the, uh, Hanahaki Disease. It's a fictional, or was fictional, Japanese disease that causes flowers to grow in your lungs. The flowers spread up your throat and fill your lungs. Characters who aren't treated die from either starvation or suffocation."

"What's it caused from?" Dean asked.

Charlie was quiet for a long moment. She fiddled with the petals on the floor and listened to Cas as his breath was rejected and replaced with a gag. She mumbled inaudibly.

"What?" Sam asked, leaning forward to hear her better.

Charlie looked up and said loudly, "It's caused from unrequited love."

The room was quiet for another long moment. Dean's face contorted in confusion but Sam nodded in understanding.

"But Cas doesn't love anyone." Dean said. He glanced over at Cas, who had sat up on his knees while the others were talking. Castiel didn't look up, his eyes staying focused on the petals on the floor. Dean frowned at his friend's odd behavior. "…Do you?"

Cas bit his lip, still refusing to look up. Dean glanced at Charlie and Sam, giving a surprised smile, "Cas, that's great. Who's the lucky lady?"

"Or lad." Charlie not-so-subtly fake coughed.

The air in the room was tense. Sam fiddled with his hands, already prepared for the explosion that will come from Dean the further this conversation goes. He had already experienced at least three different versions of Dean's Big Gay Panic. Charlie shifted her weight from foot to foot; simultaneously excited for her otp and nervous about how this could go down. She had read (quite obsessively) about Dean and Cas's relationships through Chuck's books. And, like every other fangirl, she fell in love with their love. She had been hoping that Dean would off-handedly mention one day that he and Cas were together. Here it is, happening now!

Cas was quiet, not just because he couldn't talk, due to his torn up throat, but also due to fear of what Dean would say. Suddenly breathing was extraordinarily harder than just moments ago. He tried to clear his throat, but that only caused it to feel even more clogged.

Dean hastily glanced at everyone in the room. He found a disturbing about of eyes on him from two parties of the vicinity and a disturbing lack of eyes from the subject of conversation.

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. Cas didn't know many people: Sam, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Three of those were dead. He just met Charlie, and had been sick for a while before that. Couldn't be her. Sam. No. Angels. Cast out of heaven, most hate Cas. But there still could be one or two that are on his side that he could've fallen – poor choice of words – for. Unlikely. He had been spending a lot of time with him and Sam, and they hadn't detected any other angels around. Sam. No. Cas hardly seems like he loves Sam. Maybe he's a great faker. And Sam obviously doesn't love Cas. So it would fit with the unrequited thing. Gay. Charlie read the books. Maybe Chuck put something in there about Cas's sexual orientation. That's why she corrected him earlier. Dean's cool with that. As long as he's happy, he supposes it doesn't matter who the angel gets with. Sam. No. Not Sam. Anyone but Sam. Sam. No. Cas can be gay for anyone, except people Dean knew. That'd be creepy. And weird. Sam. No.

"Sam?" Dean couldn't help but finally ask out loud. Charlie made a small whining noise from the back of her throat. Sam huffed in annoyance. Dean ignored all of them. Cas couldn't look up. His body stiffened at Dean's voice, attempting to cave in on itself. Maybe if his vessel – no, body – could fold into itself, flowers would sprout on the outside of him. Then he'd be pretty and desirable to Dean.

Dean watched the minuscule, stiff shake of the head from Cas.

Dean wracked his brain. Then it must be an angel. Someone they could summon. Unless they were dead. Did that count as unrequited? How could Cas be stupid enough to fall for a dead guy?

"Balth?" He asked. Cas finally glanced up at him, only to send him a disgusted look. Cas glanced back away. Oh. Right. Brothers. Not an angel. He was starting to get mad at this guessing game. "Well who is it? We gotta find them so we can save your ass!"

Cas's eyes slowly climbed up Dean's body; agonizingly slowly, as if he has to take the time to build the courage for their eyes to finally meet.

When they did, Dean was locked into his gaze by the emotion and passion he found in those blue seas. The hunter's throat suddenly felt as dry as Cas's, and it wasn't due to flowers growing there. When he spoke, it was quiet and his voice cut off halfway through the word, like it in and of itself rejected the thought. "Me?"

Cas's eyes shot back down to the ground. He nodded, coughing slightly at the movement.

Sam was ready. He stood behind his brother, blocking the way to the door.

Dean stared at the broken angel in horror for a full three seconds that felt more like three lifetimes. His heart, like a small bowling ball, fell straight down his chest painfully. He, stupidly, wasn't expecting this. He should have probably seen some kind of sign. The staring, the personal space issues, the 'I always come when you call.' Jesus. He shouldn't feel so blindsided.

This entire time, he thought he had a friend. A real friend. That knew about his life, that accepted it and was a part of it, that wouldn't abandon him or leave him or fucking die. He thought he had someone he could trust here.

But no. All of it was just some gay angel flirting. He was probably trying to get in his pants the entire time.

"Fuck!" Dean said, taking a few small steps away, feeling all too much like a caged animal with everyone staring at him. "Me?! As in, me me?"

Cas bit his lip, his fingers playing with the trench coat in his lap. The ex-angel coughed roughly. His throat felt tight and he could feel tears that where adamant about making themselves known to the others in the room.

"What the fuck, Cas?! When were you going to tell me you-" He cut himself off; trying to not say anything that would offend Charlie. Even through his anger, he knew not to upset his pseudo-sister. Dean backed up further, stumbling ungracefully into Sam's arms. His brother held him there, forcing him to stay in place. "Let me go! I don't wanna fucking hear about his stupid gay crush on me!"

"Dean!" Charlie shouted. "You can't leave."

"Why the fuck not?" He shouted, struggling against Sam's hold. Fuck the Sasquatch and his stupid strength and stupid size and stupid stupidness. Why wasn't he freaked out about this?

Charlie was rubbing Cas's back now, who was in the middle of vomiting flower petals. "He's dying Dean. And your one of the only things that can save him."

Dean stopped struggling and really looked at his friend. He looked like a piece of shit. He was sweaty and breathing hard, his hair in his face and his clothes covered in dried spit and flower petals. Each breath sounded more painful than the last. And his neck was red from when he'd been scratching it raw. Their eyes met; pleading met reluctance.

The hunter sighed and jerked his arm out of Sam's hold. "What do I have to do?"

"Just take him out on a date." Charlie said calmly.

Dean jumped back, like the idea physically hurt him. His back hit Sam's chest. His brother put a hand on Dean's shoulder, incase he tried to run again. "No!"

Cas wheezed, scratching his neck furiously. Dean could see little pinpricks of blood start to form. Charlie grabbed his arm and held it down. Cas tilted his head back, opening his airways slightly. He made incomprehensible grunting noises of pain.

Dean shook his head, a little more hesitantly than earlier. "I… I'm not gay. Cas will just have to get over his stupid little crush."

Charlie glared at him with the intensity of the devil. "You don't get over anything when it comes to the Hanahaki Disease. He's in love. The only way to save him is either for you to fall in love with him or…" She trailed off, running her hands through Cas's hair soothingly.

"Or?" Dean said quickly, "There's an 'or'? Or! I pick or! Let's do the 'or'."

"The 'or' isnt' good, Dean." Charlie said quietly. "It's pretty dangerous, if done incorrectly. We could pick 'or' and he'll die anyway."

Sam spoke up then, "What is 'or'?"

Charlie sighed, "Or… we find a doctor that can surgically remove the flowers from his lungs."

"Yes!" Dean said, pointing excitedly. "That! We'll do that!"

"Dean, we don't even know if we could find a doctor that would do that without asking questions." Sam, always the voice of logic, said.

Dean rolled his eyes, "They won't ask questions if we pay them to keep their trap shut."

"Guys." Charlie said.

"Even if we could find someone, Charlie said it's dangerous. And you falling for an angel seems like a much safer bet."

"I'm not going to go gaga over Cas. It's weird! He's Cas!"

"Guys." Charlie tried again.

"Your being childish. It's not like he's the first guy you would've dated."

"How the fuck would you know about James?"

"Guys!" Charlie said, louder this time.

"I think you thought that since I was shy you didn't think I'd notice."

"Well I didn't care if you noticed. Dad was the problem."

"Dad's not here anymore, Dean."

"Okay, James was a one-time thing. I tried it. I didn't like it. I'm not gay. End of story."

"That's not what James said."

"You fucking talked to him!?"

"GUYS!"

"WHAT?!" The brothers said simultaneously, turning to face the ginger.

Charlie and Cas were staring at them, Charlie angry and exasperated, Cas slightly hopeful but mostly in pain. "If he gets the flowers removed from his lungs, which I don't even want to know how that science would work, he'd also get the feeling he has for Dean removed from him."

"How?" Sam asked, frowning at the logic of it.

Charlie shrugged, "Like I said, it's a fictional disease. I guess the Japanese don't care for logical scenarios when it comes to manga plot lines. Look, all I know is that the flowers wilt your feelings. They feed off them, and when they're removed, so are the feelings. And your left feeling-less and wilted."

Dean looked slightly disgusted at the word choice. "Weirder things have happened. I don't care. Let's do that. It's a win-win. He does die and he doesn't like me anymore."

Cas shook his head, eyes wide. He tried to talk, but it just came out as muffled whines. Jesus. His voice was muffled from the flowers in his fucking throat. How weirder can it get?

"Pretty angel boy doesn't like that option." Charlie mused quietly.

"Why not?" Dean asked aggressively.

Cas gave him a look that just said, 'I love loving you.' And Dean had to look away from the intensity of it.

"Dean, can you just try to go on one date with Cas? It might help him breath better." Dean doesn't know who said that. He was too focused on trying to get the image of Cas's expression out of his mind.

"Maybe he could be another James."

"This is so dumb." Dean muttered. "He can't even talk. What am I supposed to do the entire time?"

Sam swatted Dean's hands away and fixed his tie for him. "You'll smile and be corporative and flirt with him."

"That's just gross." Dean fake gagged.

Sam flicked his cheek, "None of that. Tonight, you're the guy I saw whenever James was around."

"Stop talking about him." Dean said to the ground.

Charlie came out of the bathroom then. They were still in the hotel room. Charlie was put on make-Cas-look-like-he's-not-a-fucking-zombie-duty. Sam was put on get-Dean-to-put-on-a-suit-and-play-nice-duty.

Both had their work cut out for them.

"He's almost ready. I told him to take his time coming out here." Charlie said, glancing around the room.

They decided not to go out anywhere in public in case Cas started vomiting flowers again. So their little "date" is in a trashy hotel room. They ordered a pizza. Dean is dressed in some stupid suit and he's going to be sitting at some small table shoved between the bed and the wall and he's going to eat fucking pizza. With Cas.

Sure.

Sam and Charlie started hovering towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean defiantly didn't sound panicked.

The younger Winchester shrugged, seeming all to joyful about this. "Well, you probably won't want us here while you fall in love. So Charlie and I were gonna go get some dinner and talk about the case."

Case? Oh. Right. Possible poltergeist. Army vet with PTSD. The reason they were in this shitty town.

"Good luck!" Sam said, escaping from the room quickly.

Charlie stepped out the door saying, "Remember! Gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day!" Dean frowned at the expression, wondering where he'd heard it before. He was about to ask her, when she closed the door quickly. Suddenly, Dean found himself standing alone in a hotel room, waiting for an angel to come out of the bathroom. He looked around the room. It was a bit of a mess; they're motel rooms usually are. Clothes were in big piles on the floor that were (kinda) sorted into "clean" and "bloody". Empty fast food wrappers were thrown in the general vicinity of the trash can. Dean has no idea where the TV remote is, and when he turned the TV on, it was on Animal Planet. He turned it off again quickly. On Dean's bed, where Sam generously moved all the case stuff (so Cas and Dean could have their "date" at the only table in the room) papers upon papers were piled randomly and books were open to possibly helpful pages. Sam's laptop sat in the corner of Dean's bed, open and watching Dean.

He sat on Sam's bed, the one closer to the bathroom, and waited, but Cas never came out of the bathroom. He stood and walked over to the door. He could hear the sound of the sink running through the door. Just as he was about to knock, there was a knock on the hotel door. Sighing, he walked across the room, grabbing his gun on the way, and glanced through the peep-hole.

It was just he pizza man.

Smiling as he remembered the first time Cas watched porn, he opened the door and pulled out his wallet. They exchanged money and pizza accordingly. Dean was about to close the door, but the teen was still standing there, staring at Dean.

"What?" He finally asked.

The kid shrugged, at least blushing slightly. "I just wanna know if she stood you up or you just don't wanna eat in front of her."

"You got…stood up." He replied lamely. Mentally belittling his come-back skills, he said, "Shut up." To the kid and slammed the door closed.

Glancing at the pizza in his hands, he wondered what toppings it had. Sam ordered it. It's probably veggie. The nerd.

But Dean opened the box and to his surprise, it's just a simple pepperoni pizza. Not a single piece of green on it. Dean would've preferred meat lovers, but whatever. People being forced to go on a date with their apparently gay best friend can't be choosers.

He set the pizza down on the small table and hesitantly made his way back to the bathroom door. He didn't want to knock. Not like he was excited to get this date started. He just wanted to get this date over with, prove it didn't work, and send Cas to surgery.

Dean knocked quietly, if Cas didn't hear, he couldn't come outside and they couldn't have this dumb date.

"Cas?"

He got no response.

Actually, he couldn't even hear a footstep. All he could hear was the sound of the sink. And wasn't the sink running for a while now?

He knocked louder, "Cas?" He said louder.

Still no response.

Dean pounded on the door and tried the handle, it was unlocked, from when Charlie left. He opened the door and found Cas lying in a puddle of sink water and flower petals. The flowers either sunk under the small amount of water, or floated on top of the little waves. Dean shut off the overflowing sink and knelt beside Cas, ignoring how this is his good suit and his pants are getting all wet.

He rolled Cas to his side, getting his face off the ground. "Cas?!" His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. "CAS!"

Dean rolled him onto his back and tilted his head back. Flowers and water, how much could someone's lungs take? Dean opened Cas's mouth, held his nose shut, pressed their mouths together and exhaled deeply.

Cas didn't react.

"Come one, you son of a bitch."

Dean took a deep breath and repeated the process, forcing Cas to breath his air.

"Work with me here."

After three big breaths, Cas sputtered to life like an old engine. He rolled to his side and vomited a disgusting concoction of blood, flowers, and water, right next to Dean's knees. It looked to Dean like there were more flowers there than the previous batch. He feared Cas was getting worse.

The hunter sighed in relief and, without thinking, pulled Castiel into a tight hug. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Dean could feel Cas shrug weakly against his chest. The other was breathing hard, clinging to Dean's officially destroyed suit.

The hunter glanced around the mess of the bathroom. "We're really not gonna get the deposit back on this room."

Cas moaned something that could've been anywhere from an apology to a question about what a deposit is, exactly.

"You ok to stand?" Dean asked softly, subconsciously stroking Cas's sopping wet hair.

Cas nodded weakly, his hands gripping Dean's shirt tighter.

"Kay." Dean said quietly. He stood up first and then gave Cas his arm to help the angel up. They walked together, Cas leaning heavily on Dean, like he had many times before. But this time felt different for Dean. Sure, after a particularly bad battle, Dean holds up Cas, helps him stand, becomes his crutch; whatever you want to call it. But this felt… intimate. Somehow.

Dean laid Cas down on Sam's bed (He wasn't going to get his own wet, thanks.) and watched him for a moment. His white shirt was soaked and see-through. Dean could make out the distinct outlines of muscles. He probably would've looked really good. Charlie somehow made his skin look better; less flushed, less attacked by his nails. Dean bets she attempted to calm down his hair before muttering 'fuck it' and letting it do its own thing.

Dean smiled at the thought of that.

Cas coughed roughly, bringing Dean out of his thoughts. The angel was shivering. Hardcore, on the North Pole in a swim suit, shivering. It was the clothes, Dean realized as he felt cold himself.

"I don't undress on the first date, Cas. You're breaking all my rules here." He said as he started to unbutton Cas's white shirt. Cas went still, apart from the shivers, as Dean unbuttoned more and more.

"Sit up a bit, can you?" Dean's voice was soft, soothing. He helped hold Cas up with one arm as he peeled the soaked dress shirt off with the other. As Dean dropped the wet shirt on the floor, Cas started to cough. Dean's other arm found itself on Cas's far shoulder, effectively surrounding him in a loose hug. "Shh. It's ok."

Cas: shirtless, out of breath and wet as all hell, leaned against Dean's chest, clenching a fistful of flowers angrily.

He was still shivering.

"Cas, buddy. Don't take this the wrong way, but you need to let me take your pants off." Dean said awkwardly, pulling away from Cas slightly.

The former angel had closed his eyes, and he seemed to refuse to open them, because when he nodded, Dean wasn't allowed to see those addictive blue orbs.

But Cas agreeably, almost seductively, leaned back onto his elbows and raised his hips high enough for Dean to shimmy his pants off.

Now Cas is laying on the bed, naked apart from his boxers, and is finally looking up at Dean under his long lashes.

"-ean." The sick man tried to say. Goosebumps were forming on his skin and Dean didn't even want to see how his chest was reacting to the cold air on wet skin.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean muttered. "Get under the covers. I'll try to find you warm clothes."

Cas hesitated, since it was Sam's bed, but nodded and crawled under the covers, attempting to get warm.

"Warm." Dean mumbled to himself as he searched through his and Sam's clothes for a sweater and sweatpants. "Warm. Warm."

His sole focus was making sure Cas didn't get a cold along with the Hanahaki Disease. As he found clothes: his warmest flannel, a Stanford sweater, and dark sweatpants, he threw them at Cas. He heard the rustling of covers to tell him that Cas was putting them on.

Dean went over to the AC and turned it to 'hot'. But as it didn't change temperature at all, he turned it off completely.

"Warm. Warm. Warm."

Dean grabbed the blanket off his bed and threw it on top of Cas, who looked very small in Sam's sweater. His face was bright red. Shit, did he have a fever?

"Warm. Warm. Pizza." Dean said, staring at the box sitting forgotten on the table. He picked it up and was actually surprised to find it still steaming. "Pizza's warm."

He carried a piece over to Cas who accepted it, but wouldn't look at Dean. "Eat." The hunter said, "It'll make you feel better."

Cas tapped his neck with his finger, and then shook his head.

"You can't eat?" Dean said, suddenly remembering about the flowers blocking his throat. Dean through his hands up in the air, outraged, "Then why the fuck do we have pizza!?"

Cas held the piece of pizza in his hands, enjoying the warmth of it, and the smell wasn't unpleasant either.

Dean searched the small hotel room for something for the angel to eat. "Water? You don't want fucking water. What if I made you coffee? Do you like coffee?"

Cas gave him an odd look and Dean looked away, carrying on in his mission for food. "No coffee. Are you a tea kinda guy, then? Bobby drank tea, believe it or not." He rambled, picking up things and setting them back down in the same spot. "Soup. Do you want soup? Do we have soup? We should get soup more often. Sam loved soup as a kid. Always drank it with a straw."

Cas looked around, wondering where he could put the rapidly cooling pizza. Was it acceptable to just leave it on the floor? He assumed so. Sam and Dean always left all their belongings on the floor of their hotel rooms. Cas nodded, deciding that was acceptable, and promptly dropped the pizza onto the ground. It landed face-up, and Cas could count the pieces of pepperoni, if he wanted.

Now that his hands were free, he waved them at Dean, trying to get the hunter's attention.

Dean kept rambling to himself, focused on taking care of Cas to the point that he forgot about Cas.

"Pudding? Nah. Pudding's too solid. Jell-o? We ain't got no Jell-o."

Frowning in annoyance, Cas looked around for something to throw. Thankfully he was on a bed with four hotel pillows on it. He threw one at Dean and it hit him on the back of the head.

"Huh?' Dean turned and looked at him, like he just remembered Cas was in the room. "Do you need something, buddy?"

Cas mouthed the word and pointed at Dean.

'You.'

Dean's face flushed bright red and he stuttered, "Uh, yeah, no, I, um, don't think- I mean, it's nothing against you, man, I just, don't, um…"

The former angel tilted his head and squinted, confused about why Dean was so embarrassed suddenly. He looked around the room and gestured to Dean. When the he knew he had the hunter's attention, he used his pointer finger to scribble on his other hand, a gesture he picked up from the Winchesters while they were on the phone with someone. It appears to mean, 'I would appreciate a writing utensil and a napkin, please.'

Dean scrambled to find him a pen and a piece of scrap paper. Cas wrote down on it.

'Sharing body heat seems to be the appropriate form of warming both of us simultaneously.'

Dean read it, mumbling the words to himself, it seemed that as he read the words 'both of us' he noticed that 'Holy shit, I'm freezing.'

He was cold to the point of his teeth chattering.

Cas took the paper back and wrote under it, 'It appears you should undress as well.'

Dean ignored the curl in his stomach at that. This wasn't about being gay. This was about freezing your ass off. "Yeah, yeah." Dean said more to himself than to Cas. "Just… look away."

Cas raised his eyebrows; while its true, the three of them never stripped down in front of each other – unless someone was dying and needed stitches everywhere (which happens more times than Cas would like to admit, ever since his fall) – its also true that they weren't prudes around each other. Cas has seen both Dean and Sam shirtless multiple times. And in the hot summer before they go to sleep, or when they just wake up, Cas has seen them in just their boxers. Dean never blinked twice over Cas's gaze.

But things were different now, Cas realized, clearing his throat painfully.

Dean knows. Because of it, he's going to avoid Cas in any way possible.

Cas looked away from Dean. He watched the pizza that he dropped on the floor. As he did, he coughed uncontrollably. As he regained his breath, he watched flower petals float peacefully down to land around the rejected dinner.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind, clear his vision, focus on breathing. But he nausea slowly formed in both his head and his stomach, each slowly trying to reach the other, like magnates. Black dots, that didn't help his nausea at all, rapidly replaced the image of the pizza.

Breath shuddering and body wracking uncontrollably, Castiel gripped the side of the bed to hold onto for support. His muscles were tense and his lungs felt cramped; too much water and plants and everything that shouldn't be in there.

The former's heart started pounding rapidly, perhaps it thought if it worked harder, everything would be better. Cas couldn't see, his vision almost completely covered by those black dots. He sucked in short breaths rapidly, but they never reached his lungs, trapped by the plants in his throat. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think.

But he could hear.

He could hear the worried curse.

He could hear the faint 'thump' as something was dropped, forgotten.

He could hear the bed creak under a heavy weight.

He could hear Dean's voice, drawing him back, "Cas, buddy, you gotta calm down. You gotta breathe."

'I would if I could.' Cas didn't think, per say, not in words, at least. Even in his mind he couldn't form words. But he felt it. He felt it in the same way he felt panic. There are no words to describe panic, as it happens, but there's a feeling that pierces through his vessel and affects every part of him. Human emotions are far more magnified than angel's; panic is no different.

Cas felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, in a similar way to how he once gripped the shoulder that belongs to this strong hand. He felt the hand pull him away from the edge of the bed, turn his body so he could lay on his back. He was still breathing quickly.

He felt two hands on him now, cold, but sturdy. Dean's voice was quiet, strong and soft and the same time. Demanding but also desperate. "Cas, calm down. Deep breaths. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. Calm down."

Dean manhandled him so he was on his side again, his other side, facing Dean. Cas could only tell from how he felt the bed dip; he still hadn't gotten his sight back.

Cas reached out, his hands finding leverage on something strong and cold. An iceberg, perhaps? He pulled it in, holding it close; wrapping himself around it. It's cold contrasted perfectly with the sweat he built up from the panic attack. It felt soothing against him. Castiel could feel his muscles relax, and with it, he was able to slowly regain his breathing.

"That's it." He heard Dean mummer close by, "Deep breaths."

Inhale.

Exhale.

In-

…hale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Cas could tell now the difference between lost vision and having his eyes closed. He could feel warm breath on his eyelids and could see the reddish tent to them, which suggested light in the room.

He knew his vision had returned; his head had stopped hurting immensely. But he didn't want to open his eyes. Opening them would show Dean that he was okay. And now that he'd gotten his bearings, Cas knew that the object he clung to wasn't an iceberg, but Dean Winchester. The thought made his chest tighten painfully.

Cas could feel Dean's arms around him. One hand brushing through his hair soothingly, the other around his waist; holding him tight, keeping him in place.

Dean was whispering softly. What he was saying, Cas couldn't repeat. Not because it was vulgar; simply because he wasn't paying enough attention to the words; he was too focused on the sound.

Dean sounded scared for Cas. Concerned. Worried. Upset.

Like he cared.

He didn't move away when Cas dared to shift closer, putting them chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other's body, legs intertwined. If anything, Dean just held Cas tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Cas." The former angel heard the other man say, all emotion.

Cas sighed out his nose, annoyed once again he couldn't communicate what he wanted to say. He settled for nodding and running a hand slowly up and down Dean's back.

It wasn't until about the third trail up that Cas noticed Dean was shirtless. How he didn't notice this important detail before is beyond him. Curiously, he shifted his leg forward slightly and felt Dean's bare thigh shift back.

Ah. So he's just in his boxers.

Dean was adamant about not being seen while changing. Yet once Cas started to choke, he dropped his clothes – that must have been the noise Cas heard – and came running. He never bothered to change back.

He hoped that this meant that maybe, maybe there was a chance.

When his lungs constricted painfully at the thought, and the felt the urge to cough, he wasn't surprised.

When Sam and Charlie came back early the next morning they both stood by the door and watched the two men in bed together. Cas was still curled around Dean, folding himself into Dean's chest. Dean's arms were wrapped tight around Cas's body.

"They fit like a puzzle." Charlie hummed quietly, stalking over to Dean's bed, where they left the laptop open all night.

"I can't believe you were able to hack into the camera on my laptop and spy on my brother all night." Sam nagged, although he couldn't keep the amazement out of his voice.

Charlie shrugged, taking it as a complement, "Child's play."

Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from Dean and Cas, curled into each other and holding each other tight, afraid to let go. "Are we still gonna try to do this?"

"Surgery is too risky, Sam." Charlie said. "It's better for both of them this way."

"What if Dean, just, honestly doesn't like Cas?"

Charlie shot him a doubtful look. "Have you been living the same life I've been reading? We are talking about Dean here, right?"

Sam sighed, but he was smiling, "Fair point." There was a long silence, where they just watched the couple.

Charlie turned off Sam's computer and closed it. She paused a moment before saying quietly, "He didn't cough at all once they were, you know, cuddling."

"You watched them all night?" Was Sam's first response.

Charlie threw up her hands, "You were hunting! I was alone with a computer! What else was I supposed to do?"

They froze as Dean stirred in bed. He groaned quietly and shifted (somehow) even closer to Cas. Sam waited a long moment before he whispered, "Like I said last night, if we want to save Cas's life, and get them together, it has to be Dean's idea. If we're involved, he'll have another Big Gay Panic."

Charlie nodded, expecting as much. Before she could say anything else, Dean shifted again, this time waking up. They could tell because his shoulders suddenly tensed and the peaceful atmosphere around the couple suddenly felt charged.

The hunter seemed to be staring at Cas, still as a statue. Charlie shifted off the bed and the movement caused Dean to stiffly look over his shoulder. "Guys?" He whispered, "What the fuck?"

Charlie considered it a positive that he was whispering, and that he'd yet to let go of Cas yet. But that might just be because he knew the angel needed sleep. The hunter got more sleep than he had in a long time. He looked well-rested. The bags weren't gone from his eyes, but they significantly decreased. Cas was good for him. Or, at least, sleep was.

Sam shrugged and whispered back, "We just got here."

Dean looked back at Cas, apparently debating whether or not to move. He must have chosen move, because he slowly, very slowly, uncurled himself from Cas and turned so he was on his back. He sat up, his bare back against the headboard.

Sam's lips quirked up at the obvious joke he could make here, but he knew it would just get a negative reaction from his brother, who was already tense enough already.

Cas didn't seem deterred by the movement. He pressed his face against Dean's side, arm thrown over Dean's waist. He slept soundly as Sam left, got food, came back, and started to retell how the hunt went.

"I was right." Sam said, quiet but smug. "It was a poltergeist."

"Well, congratulations." Dean muttered, bitter that he didn't get to go ghost hunting.

Sam pulled out a website article that he had already printed out. He handed it to Dean and said, "This could be our next case. Sounds like vamps, in just a few states over. In some town called..." He hesitated, forgetting the name.

Dean skimmed over the text and said, "Muncie, Indiana. Home of BS University."

Charlie looked doubtful, "You're joking."

"Read it an' weep!" He handed Charlie the paper, who had sprawled herself out on Sam's bed. He had to stretch to give it to her; the movement woke up Cas.

Dean froze as the angel groaned and buried his face into the side of Dean's (still shirtless) stomach. "Cas?" Dean asked, his voice carefully neutral. "You okay?"

Castiel stretched, his breath catching in his throat as he did so, and he quickly curled into himself, almost like a snail hiding in its shell. He coughed roughly, blood and flower petals flying from his mouth.

He recovered quickly, wiping blood off his lips with the sleeve of Sam's sweater, that he never took off. Sam pouted, he always kept his Stanford sweater clean. Cas sat up, breathing heavily and leaning against Dean.

The hunter asked again, quieter this time, "How ya feel, Cas?"

Cas did this jerky movement that was both a form of nodding and shrugging. Dean took it as an 'Doing great! Thanks!' And promptly removed himself from being anywhere near Cas. He took the excessive steps to stand on the other side of the room, still in nothing but boxers as he said, "Great. I'm not on babysitting duty anymore. Charlie, did you look for doctors that could help us?"

Charlie glanced at Sam, eyes wide, "I thought we decided that was a bad idea."

"Says who? It fixes Cas; he doesn't like me, problems solved!" Dean said, finding a pair of jeans on the floor, probably what he was wearing yesterday, and pulled them on, because Cas was staring.

"Says the person it's affecting. Dean, Cas said last night that he didn't want the surgery." Charlie said, sitting up on the bed. "He'd rather die." She then looked over at Cas for confirmation, because that's kinda a loaded sentence, and he nodded solemnly, his eyes not meeting Dean.

"Well," Dean said, pulling on a shirt, "if he doesn't get the surgery, then wish granted."

"Dean!" Sam shouted, appalled by his brother's bluntness.

"What?!" Dean shouted back, "It's not going to happen, Sam!"

"You haven't even tried!" Charlie said, getting annoyed.

Dean turned to her, almost shouting, "How would you like to kiss Sam? Or Cas? Or me? Or any guy on the planet, for that matter?" Charlie couldn't hold back her disgusted look at the mental image of kissing any of these guys. Dean pointed at her, like he was a lawyer and she was his evidence. "See!? Sam thing! I don't like him! I will NEVER like him! I'm straight!"

Cas winced, very calmly and quietly, leaned over the edge of the bed and opened a mouth. A bundle of crumpled, bloody flower petals landed on the floor.

Charlie looked back at Dean, saying daringly, "You really aren't though."

"Charlie." Sam said warningly. His face portrayed what his words didn't. Don't make this worse. Big Gay Panic, remember? This won't get us anywhere.

Dean squared his shoulders, chin tilted high, "How would you know?"

Charlie pointed at herself and made and exasperated face, "Read the books!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. What did the prophet tell you about my apparent gayness?"

Charlie quirked and eyebrow, sitting up straighter; she held up a finger for every point she had, "Forgive me if I misquote you, but 'I'd rather have you, cursed or not.' When Cas was going on a 'date' and you were totally checking him out as he took off his vest. Uh, that time at the bar? With the cute Jewish guy? 'He was my gay thing'? Jealously for Megstiel! 'I NEED YOU!' Don't even get my started on My Bloody Valentine!"

"Is that what Chuck named the Famine thing?" Sam interrupted, looking as though he didn't know how to feel about that title. Shaking his head, he went over to Cas, making sure the former angel was still breathing.

Charlie started up again, as if Sam said nothing. The more she said, the louder she got. "'Cas, get outta my ass!' Eye-fucking like your hookers looking for a raise! 'There's two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin.' How about the time Cas started to take off his tie and you forgot how to fucking English! 'You strictly into Dick now?' DOCTOR SEXY! What about after he came back from Purgatory, all fresh and clean, and you-"

"CHARLIE!" Sam shouted, from next to Cas, who was just a constant stream of flowers.

The fangirl was breathing hard, her vocal chords hurt a bit from being stretched, by the yelling. Every part of her being was mentally yelling at her. 'How could you do that?!' 'What if someone pointed out how gay you were before you came out?' 'This really wasn't Okay, Charlie.' 'You're such an idiot!'

One look at Dean's horrified face proved her scolding right.

The room was silent, apart from Cas's gags.

"Dean, I'm-" She started to say, but the man shut her up with one look.

He looked so broken, betrayed. His eyes never left Charlie, like she was some kind of hideous car accident. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of the room. Not fast, slamming the door. Not leisurely, enjoying the escape. Just, numbly, holding his breath and unsure what to think, eyes ghosted over.

"Dean," Sam tried to say, but his brother was gone; already wandering aimlessly, like a zombie.

Sam glared at Charlie. He didn't even have to say anything. She already knew how bad she messed up. She was so stupid! How could she have just thrown all of that at him? He probably didn't even realize he did all that stuff.

But reading Chuck's books, he doesn't even bother making it subtext. When you can blatantly read Dean's thoughts…

Charlie groaned and hit her head against the headboard of the bed. "I've ruined it. Cas is gonna die. And it's my fault. This literally can't get any worse."

Sam slid off the bed he and Cas were on; once his foot met the ground, he made an expression that could only be described as a mixture of confusion and disgust. He lifted his foot and looked at Charlie, bewildered, "I just stepped in pizza."

The room was quiet as Charlie and Sam started to clean up Dean's mess. Both literally and figuratively.

Charlie started by taking care of all the clothes the boys had, packing them into different bags. Sam was walking around the room with a wet, soapy rag, trying to clean any bloody stains. The flowers were all thrown into the trashcan, which looks like the day after Valentine's Day; overflowing with red, white, and yellow flowers.

No one said a word, each lost in their own thoughts.

It wasn't until Cas threw a pillow at Charlie, did the silence finally break.

"What's up, Cas?" She asked, sitting back on her heels, "Feeling okay?"

Cas looked around and picked up the pen and scrap paper he used earlier to talk to Dean. On it, he scribbled four words that stopped all productivity in the room.

I want the surgery.

"Cas, no." Charlie said immediately, while Sam took the note from her hands to read it. She shook her head, "No. We'll figure it out. But you don't want that surgery."

Cas took the note back from Sam and wrote 'I don't care if I die.'

Sam couldn't look at that sentence for longer than a second. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

Charlie filled the silence for him, "It's not even about the dying part. Cas, you'll remember everything. The flowers will take your emotions for Dean, but you'll still remember it all. How he smiles, how he looks, the way he laughed at the brothel, the way he clung to you when you dragged his ass out of hell. All of it. You'll remember everything, and you'll know how those moments made you feel, but when you look at Dean, it'll mean absolutely nothing to you."

Cas was staring at his hands, his throat was tight and he was feeling dizzy again. He closed his eyes and saw Dean humming 'Hey Jude' to him, just a few days ago. He saw Dean pulling him into a hug when they were at long last reunited in Purgatory. Cas tried to imagine those moments without loving Dean. He really couldn't.

But he also really couldn't breathe right now.

Not just due to the illness, but also because his mind did this wonderful human thing where it pulled up memories he'd much rather forget. Leaving Dean in Purgatory. Lying to him about Crowley. Then lying again about Naomi. Beat the shit out of Dean when he tried to say yes to Michael. And, most painfully, just half an hour ago, when Dean said he'd never like Cas that way.

"Do you really want to live through that?" Charlie whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Cas would rather die than see Dean look at him again, disgust poorly hidden on his face. But maybe if he wasn't in love with the hunter… Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

Cas was quiet for a long moment.

Dean looked at him like he was a demon. If Cas didn't love him, they'd be friends again. They'd go back to how they were before. Castiel could have his best friend back.

He looked up into Charlie's eyes.

The former angel picked up the pen to write down his decision; but as he placed the pen to the paper, his throat closed up; his eyes widened as he tried to breathe, gasp, cough, anything! But all he could do was make panicked gestures as his vision faded and all he could hear was Charlie and Sam's screams.

Dean was good at a few things.

Fixing cars.

Hunting things.

Pop culture trivia.

And getting completely wasted due to running away from thoughts he doesn't want to face. That was a particular talent he mastered when he was young. Only, substitute the alcohol with a random chick.

Chick. It was always a girl. John would've killed Dean if it were anything else. And, Dean's willing to admit it to himself, John scared the shit out of him. Especially when he was a teen. So he played it safe. If John caught him with a girl, he'd cuss at him and drag him back to work.

If it were a boy, John would've done much, much worse. Dean was sure of it.

He took a deep gulp of his beer, staring at the group of guys by the pool table. They caught his interest as soon as he walked in. For money. Hustling pool. That's it. He took another drink, because he knew exactly where his thoughts were headed. Who they were headed to.

James.

It was just teenage rebellion. That's all it was. Nothing else. He just wanted to piss off John.

That was the excuse that Dean used to crack the dam that was holding back all his definitely non-heterosexual thoughts. The dam was built up by threats of flooding, reported by John. Dean was so careful. He prayed for droughts, hoping to keep the water down, blow the notice of John. He tired to keep the dam stable; tried to keep the village blow it safe.

When Dean saw James for the first time, he thought, for once, 'Let it rain.'

And rain it did.

With James around, the dam overflowed, and broke, sending steel and cement crumbling to the ground, useless. Those gay, gay thoughts flooded the small village that was Dean's mind.

It was amazing. He felt as though a part of him was freed; he could be himself around James. He loved everything about Dean. He built up Dean's self-confidence and listened when Dean complained about his dad. James was just what the doctor ordered. Sam noticed right away; Dean felt like a kid, for the first time. He was happy.

But then John found out.

Sam doesn't know this part of the story.

Dean finished off his beer; maybe if he got drunk enough, he'll forget about that day.

He didn't.

When John found out, James never talked to Dean again. He doesn't blame him. What teenage boy would defy his secrete boyfriend's homophobic dad? Maybe a few. How many would defy that homophobic dad when there was the barrel of a gun pointed at their head? Far less.

James ran off. He was safe; he got away.

Dean wasn't as lucky. He wore long-sleeve shirts during that week in the summer, to hide from Sammy the aftermath.

"Suffering from love lost?" The bartender asked, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. Thankfully. He didn't want to go into detail of those days afterwards; the way John looked at him. The way Dean quickly, hazardously rebuilt the dam and made sure it never got cracked again.

The hunter shifted in his seat. "Something like that. Another one, please." He waved his empty beer in a gesture.

The bartender grabbed Dean another beer and returned to their conversation, annoyingly. "It looks like a bad one. I've seen them all. Was it your wedding day? It looks like a wedding day kind of thing."

Dean rolled his eyes, he might as well play along. He's already screwed as all hell. And this could be funny. "Nah, nothing that serious. Just this angel told me they love me."

"But?" The bartender prompted. This guy had a mustache. Dean didn't know why this was significant; but it was.

"But they're kinda dying because of it." Dean said, taking a drink of his new beer.

The bartender leaned against the bar, and quirked an eyebrow, "They're dying because they told you, or they told you because they're dying?"

That sounded a bit too complex for someone who was on their, how many was this? Four, seventh beer? Maybe? "Does it matter?" Dean asked.

"Well, sure." The bartender shrugged. "if they're dying because they told you, then you rejected them and they got their heart broken and you're a dick. If they told you because they're dying, then they were hoping for some closure. And you're still a dick."

"Isn't' the customer always right?"

"You're right. Sorry. Why don't you tell me the story?" The bartender said, putting up his hands in defense. It must be a slow day. Or this guy doesn't care about his job.

Dean sighed, taking another drink. "There's not much to tell. This angel fell for me. Gave me everything, saved me tons of times. They were my best friend. It was great. Until it fucking sucked."

"If they're really your best friend, you two can get over the awkwardness of you not liking them." The bartender said. He seemed way too interested in Dean's story.

"That's not really the problem."

"Then what is?"

"I'm not gay."

"You were checking out that guy over there just twenty minutes ago." The bartender frowned in confusion.

Dean glanced over at the pool table. It wasn't his fault they were leaning over the pool table far more than necessary. He shook his head. Dean could feel the dam cracking. It's been cracking ever since he met Castiel. He could feel it.

Self-consciously, Dean glanced at his wrists. He could feel the fear from all those years ago curl in his stomach. "Anyway." Dean muttered. "It didn't work out."

The bartender tilted his head, far too Cas-like for Dean's liking, "So go make it work. It doesn't look like this is a mistake you can run away from. Just based on the old guys that come in this bar and complain about 'what if's… You look like they do. This could be one of those 'what if' moments."

Dean dared to let himself think he could have Cas. He dared to imagine what it would be like, having Cas in his arms, like last night, but permanently. In a moment where they both cared. Where one of them wasn't dying and the other wasn't having a mid-life gay crisis.

He knew it wasn't possible. The things he said, he wouldn't be able to take those back. Castiel would never forgive him for that. Even if he did somehow save Cas, they're friendship would never be the same.

He must have been quiet for a long time, because the bartender sighed and continued, "You and this young man, you're best friends, right?"

Dean nodded, slowly falling out of his thoughts.

"And you'd do anything for him?"

Dean instantly nodded again, unable to find his voice.

"Then give it a try. My wife is my best friend. You never know. Your future husband could be this guy. If it doesn't work out, go have a beer, then get over it. And continue to be best friends." The bartender tapped the bar with his knuckles, "You're over thinking this, kid. Now, pay for those beers, and go talk to your friend."

Grumbling as he stepped outside the bar, Dean was surprised by the silence of the morning. Well, it wasn't really morning anymore. It was late afternoon. Dean wasted his entire fucking day in that stupid bar. Jesus, how long was he sulking?

The bar tender was probably right. Apart from the whole if-it-doesn't-work-out-Cas-dies part. Dean's heart slid down to meet his stomach. God, he was an idiot. This entire time he was causing a huge fucking fuss and running from Cas, and all that's going to do is kill him. Dean couldn't handle living without Cas. The former angel had become his best friend. More than that; some days, Cas was the only reason why Dean got up in the morning. Because if Dean didn't teach Castiel what it was like to be human, who would? Sam? He'd probably tell Cas it was normal to eat salads and go on morning runs. He would ruin Cas's life.

The bartender did have a point. He would do anything for Cas. He'd die for him, he has died for him; that's more than most other people can say about their best friends.

Dean started walking; this morning he was so out of it, he didn't even drive Baby.

Cas probably was vomiting flowers all day and he was sitting on his ass, doing nothing to stop it.

Dean started to walk faster.

His poor angel probably feels like shit, and Dean left him, saying he won't ever like Cas like that. What the fuck! What kind of douche does that to someone?

The hunters legs started walking faster and faster; the more he reminded himself how much of a Dick Roman he's been to Castiel, the faster he runs.

Jesus, he was so dumb, so fucking dumb. Cas gave him everything, all he asked in return was for Dean to just like him a little bit. That's all he asked. He already had that, but Dean wouldn't let it happen! This was all Dean's fault! He's literally killing Cas!

Similar to the faze Dean was in this morning, the hunter hardly noticed that he'd run all the way back to the hotel room. He banged on the door, knowing he didn't have his key on him. He couldn't stop his fist; it kept slamming against the door, over and over and over.

When the door opened, a face Dean didn't recognize stared at him in bewilderment. Some old guy in a monkey suit.

"Where's the angel?!" Dean shouted, hysterical, pushing past the guy to look in the room. An old lady stood by the window, looking terrified. None of Dean's stuff was there. The beds were made.

Dean turned to the guy and asked intensely, "What room is this?"

The man fumbled for the room key, which had the number on it. "T-two twenty-one." He said with a slight accent.

Dean growled; a sound that clawed itself out his throat violently. This is his room. This is the hotel. Where the fuck is Cas?

He stormed out the room, ready to go yell at the receptionist in the lobby, when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Annoyed, but knowing that it was probably his brother, he pulled it out. It was a text from Sam. It just said four words that made Dean want to vomit. He felt sick as he ran down the stairs, skipping steps; his phone was gripped tight in his hand, still showing the text in small letters:

At hospital with Cas.

Cas got worse. His breathing stopped completely. The lack of eating made him pass out. He had another panic attack. Something is really, really wrong here.

Dean drove sixty the entire way. He nearly wrecked Baby twice, but he got to the hospital with her (and himself) in one piece.

Dean Winchester never felt this anxiety-ridden in his life. He rushed to the check in desk, where there was one nurse working. He tried to calm down, but the best that he got was a gruff, "Which room is my friend in?"
The nurse looked up at him with tired eyes, "What's their name?"

Dean paused. He didn't know. Would they say Castiel? Would that be too big of a risk, with all the fallen angels after Cas's ass? Even if they did, what last name would they give him? Novak? That was Cas's vessel's name, right? Winchester? Or is that too obvious too? The hunters had multiple aliases to go through. Which would they pick for Cas?

Before Dean could think of a name, any name, a hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him out of his panicked thoughts.

He turned and saw Charlie, clearly holding back tears. Dean choked on his breath and pulled the small ginger into a tight hug.

No. He was too late. This was his fault. This was entirely his fault. Dean was stupid and selfish and he was too useless to just fucking do this one thing for Cas. All he asked of Dean was to freaking like him? Literally how hard was that? Castiel is the most likable angel in the world. He was amazing and caring and perfect and kind and handsome and everything Dean should like in a guy.

Everything Dean does like in a guy.

Not in any guy. In Cas.

"I'm so…" Dean mumbled into Charlie's shoulder. He couldn't find the right adjective. Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself. He pushed his emotions down for the moment. He had to see Cas's body. He had to see what he did. He had to apologize.

"Where… where is he?" His voice sounded foreign to his own ears; emotional yet distant at the same time. Like it was obvious he was holding back.

"This way." Charlie mumbled, leading Dean by his hand. He let her, because if he didn't have this human contact right here, right now, he might think this was all some horrible nightmare.

The room was far back in the hospital, Charlie knocked on the door before she opened it. She let the door fall open, and then stepped aside so Dean could come in. He paused, taking a deep breath. He knew what he would see when he walked in there.

He'd see his mistake.

His "What if?"

He'd see the man he just realized he loved, dead on a cold hospital bed in an empty room. Dean bit his tongue, hoping no one would see just how quickly he was dying. Slowly he walked into the room.

It had only one hospital bed, in the middle of the room. Sam sat on a chair next to the bed. Monitors that were connected to Castiel's body. His eyes were closed and his skin looked pale, like a ghost. He looked like a wilted oak tree; once bold and strong, but now a shadow of what it once was.

Dean gulped painfully at the sight of his fallen angel.

"Cas…" He whispered, stumbling closer to the dead man. "I'm so sorry." He hesitantly grabbed the man's cold, limp hand and pressed it to his lips. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't bother trying to hide his tears now as he desperately held onto Cas's hand; praying to the angel, "Please, please, please come back to me."

"Dean." Sam said quietly.

Dean glanced up at his brother, who nodded awkwardly to the heart monitor. Dean slowly pulled his eyes up to the screen, afraid of what he'd see. He felt a numbing amount of relief flood over him when he saw the steady, healthy amount of tiny mountains, signaling a heartbeat.

"Oh, thank God." Dean felt the smile on his face as he couldn't help but lean over Cas's body and pull him into a hug. The hunter pressed his face into the crook of Cas's shoulder, soaking in his scent. "Jesus fuck."

"Blasphemy, Dean." He heard the deep, gravelly voice mutter.

Dean pulled back, his hands shakily holding Cas's face, "You… you talked. Cas, you're better!"

But the angel didn't smile. He awkwardly leaned back so Dean wasn't holding his face anymore. He looked away from Dean as he said, "I no longer suffer from Hanahaki Disease, if that is what you are referring to."

The hunter, as dense as he is, could still feel the awkwardness in the air around the two. "Cas?" Dean asked, but he didn't know exactly how to ask. As a form of response, Cas awkwardly tugged his hospital gown down slightly to show the start of a long scar down his chest. Dean's eyes widened as he realized, "You… you got the surgery?"

Cas nodded, looking up at Dean finally. He scooted more to a sitting position, and further back on the hospital bed. Once again away from Dean. That's it. The closeness is gone. Dean guesses he'll no longer have to talk to Cas about invading his personal space.

"So…" Dean's voice was small, fragile, "You don't…?"

"Unfortunately not." Cas said, his expression hard to read. "Any and every type of love I felt for you is completely gone." He paused, glancing over Dean thoughtfully, "You're just a human now."

"Just a human…" Dean mumbled to himself, backing away from Cas. "Right."

He backed up, stumbling over his own feet and hitting the wall behind him with a loud 'thud'. Dean's eyes flicked back and forth on two tiles on the floor. "Right."

Dean felt sick. "Excuse me." He mumbled as he pushed past Charlie to get out of the suffocating room. The hall didn't seem much better, so he kept walking; faster and faster until he got outside the hospital.

Even as fresh air hit him, he felt claustrophobic. He tried to take in deep breaths, but it felt painful. His lungs contracted when they were supposed to expand. He started coughing as he felt something rattle in his lungs with every breath.

Cas doesn't love him anymore.

Cas will never love him again.

He's just a human to Castiel now.

They probably will never be as close again.

The more Dean thought about it, the less he could breathe. The Winchester felt dizzy, suddenly. He fell to his knees in the parking lot and started dry heaving, trying to unclog his throat and get some air to his lungs.

He gagged and spit multiple times on the concrete. Groaning, he wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve. When he pulled his arm away, he saw the stains of fresh blood.

"Shit." Dean cussed.

He sat back on his knees and took a deep breath. He didn't want to look down at the mess in front of him. He knew what lay there, innocently.

A single white flower petal.

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