This is Our Design

Ritardando Part 4

I'm so sorry for the late update you guys, you definitely deserve more than I deliver toward you. But what can I say? Writer's block is a bitch. Well, that and also because a certain band (Panic! at the Disco) has been calling my name and whisked me off to one of their concerts. #NoRegrets

This is the second to last chapter of Ritardando now that I'm behind (again) and the final one will be uploaded tomorrow, which will finally summarize the whole ficlet. #DestielisComing

And finally, I sincerely apologize to @Evangeleen74 for dragging this out. Hopefully my writing hasn't disappointed you at least.

Thank you for your patience, my little angels! (Just remember that you have a right to yell at me online so I can get my lazy ass out of bed and stop trying to read Hannigraham and brainstorm at the same time.)

Enjoy!

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By Thursday, it's obvious that something is wrong with Dean.

"He has a fever. I tried cooling him down with some rags; he's almost above 99 degrees, which, I am sure, is dangerous to the human body--"

"Can't you just use your grace?" Sam tiredly interrupts.

"I am afraid that human ailments are not my specialty, Sam. You...humans, are very fragile." He lies. Castiel is very fond of Dean, practically admires him; but their relationship, although friendly, tends to strain now and then between the secrets and lies that they suffer from on a daily basis. Dean will never be comfortable expressing himself to anyone; Castiel will never be trusted to take care of him when he needs to be taken care of. But even so, there's more to the story than just an angel fighting for attention: Castiel is no doctor, not a healer at all, despite what the Winchester's have told him. He hurts people, sacrificed over 50,000 humans for the lives of two boys, have killed his own kind; he has more blood on his hands than anyone else. Hands that should never touch those that he loves with kindness and compassion. The thought of hurting Dean when he is simply, 'just trying to help' is too heart wrenching to think of. Even so, Castiel's hidden expertise of the human body wouldn't help their predicament now. Last week, when Dean attacked Sam, Castiel had to resort to measures in knocking the hunter out, seeing as his grace wouldn't have any effect; he and Sam had to wrestle Dean to the ground, Castiel pulling two punches on him until his stubborn pain tolerance let up and Dean passed out. But the point is, what Dean experienced might have been psychological, never mind physical. Castiel can conclude that his hallucinations were so powerful that even Dean's hunting skills flew out the window, leading to him being tackled easily. And now, one week later, still brooding over the fact that Cas hit Dean, the angel can't say that he has any suggestions. He has no experience treating mental ailments within the human body, nor is he fond of counseling or giving therapy.

Dean's pained face melts beneath the angel's gaze; he is a broken faucet, leaking sweat everywhere, even the itchy motel sheets. He and Sam sit side by side, silently, one person imitating a stiff board while the other straddles their seat. Castiel counts five breaths before Sam speaks up again. "So..." he clears his throat as it comes out shaky, "what....What do we do? Your grace, i-it didn't work last time, or today. Dean's losing weight Cas, he's burning up, the nightmares came back. Bobby doesn't know what's wrong with him, we gave him medicine. It looks like Dean's--" Sam's breath hitches before he can speak the last word, his loathing temper of the idea sending him to backtrack and start over. "He's getting sicker and...it looks like there's no way to stop it."

"You forget that Dean is a fighter Sam. He will pull through." is what Castiel replies with, though his words come out hollow and hopeless. It's strange for him to be sitting at the deathbed of his best friend, useless and unable to help for the first time in a long time. The atmosphere practically smells like fever and it shows on Dean's sickly grey skin. If the situation goes South, he could die and then....and then what? Go to Hell again? No, no, Castiel can't have that! He can't stand the feeling of being useless when God practically created him to watch over the human world; although he was taught by other angels to never intervene with the insignificant beings below, Castiel shoved his nose in their business anyway. He watched and waited. He answered prayers. He slipped orphans and struggling mothers advice within their dreams of how they could fix problems and solve bad situations. So why is it now that the angel can't do anything? Why does Castiel hesitate when he knows the answer, can sense the solution to Dean dangling in front of his face?