The Last Spark

Chapter 4

Waking up in the morning was still very strange for Castiel. There was something weird about it, as if for the first minutes he was only half awake, while the other half of him was still curled up under the gray cotton blanket. He exhaled deeply and took the first step, rubbing his eyes with his hand. When he reached the closet, he changed into one of his newly purchased white T-shirts, which was a little baggy on him and gave him a certain sense of comfort.

Probably, Cas will never be able to return to even a little tight things ever again, because after spending a whole day in Dean's huge sweater, which, like a blanket, neatly covered him from all sides, he completely lost the habit of wearing any other type of clothing. It was as if this ugly, stretched out at the neck sweater was a real icon of comfort and warmth.

Uncertain steps behind a closed door put Castiel out of his thoughts and he, without thinking twice, followed the sound.

Dean stood in the hallway with his back turned to Cas. Leaning his hand on the wall and slightly bending his back, he tried to catch his breath. Dean was wearing a long gray robe that was tied loosely around his waist and covered his knees a little. Even the fact that most of his legs were hidden by the cloth was enough for Castiel to notice how much his legs were shaking.

- Dean? - Cas's voice sounded slightly higher than usual as he took a couple of steps towards him. - Are you okay?

Dean flinched in surprise a little and, trying to straighten his back, replied:
- Yeah, good morning to you too, Cas.

He turned towards Castiel and smiled slightly. His face was incredibly pale, like fresh snow, and the huge bags under his eyes were already taking on a purple hue. From the former soft pink blush on his cheeks and lips, which gave Dean a special look, every time incredibly bewitching Cas, now there was no trace of it left.

He looked more like a cheap clay figurine from an inept craftsman than a real person. Something in his posture or expression betrayed his state, Cas was absolutely sure that Dean was feeling anything but normal. He tried to shift the weight to his feet, slightly pushing himself from the wall with his hand, but those, disobeying him, buckled and completely succumbed to the gravity of the earth.

The dull sound of a body falling to the ground echoed through the bunker and hit Castiel's eardrums with incredible force. He rushed to the man, trying to somehow soften the fall that had already happened. Cas feared that this fragile vaguely human-like clay figurine wouldn't be strong enough to resist. As if this figure will break into hundreds of small pieces, that will instantly scatter around and unevenly cover the floor. As if all that would remain of Dean's body would be some dry pieces of clay.

But Dean didn't crash, just let out a ragged breath as the back of his head hit the tiled surface with rapid speed. Castiel landed on his knees next to him and, lifting his head, quickly moved it onto his lap.

- Dean! - he shouted, as if the fact that he was calling Dean's name could somehow help.
But there was no answer. Dean's body, without any resistance, succumbed to all of Cas's movements, completely unresponsive to his voice.

- Dean! - Cas shouted again and slapped the man on the cheek, hoping to revive him. A fleeting touch was enough for Dean's skin to burn the surface of Cas's palm. He had a fever.

Castiel gently grabbed Dean under the shoulders with his left hand, put his right hand under Dean's feet and stood up, lifting his unconscious body.

He was a bit heavier, but still very light and hot again, as he was on the first day in the bunker, when Cas had to carry Dean as well, bypassing all the sharp corners of the hall on his way. Cas grabbed him a little tighter when he had to make a sharp turn towards the library in order to get through the narrow doorway and not hit a wall on accident.