The Sun Doesn't Rise in Heaven { Destiel }

4 ' In Which Dean is an Entitled Snoop

It takes them more than an hour to stop the rivers of blood stemming from Castiel's wounds. The Ordinat poison prevents Cas's skin from knitting together, slowing the healing process of his body to almost nothing. Just as he escapes the jaws of death, the male nurse falls backwards, almost passing out.

"I'm sorry, My Queen," he pants, sweat dripping from his brow. "I have nothing left."

"It is no fault of yours, Olav," Mary tells him kindly, her gray eyes tired.

He rests while the other two nurses clean the excess blood from Cas's body. After they have changed his sheets, Mary instructs the women to settle Olav in his own bed, leaving her in the room with the stranger's unconscious body and her two sons. Dean knows his mother has been piecing together his insides, healing the more brutal injuries he'd been dealt. Her strength falters as the sun sets, Mary's breath coming in gasps that mirror your own.

"Mother, don't tire yourself," Sam says, breaking his silence.

He steps forwards from the back wall, worry in his blue eyes.

"I cannot leave him alone," Mary insists, forcing herself to push her magic harder and farther than she has in a long time.

"He will not be alone," Dean states nonchalantly. "You've been taking on too much, Mother. I have plenty of magic left to spare."

He is confident. He's recently repaired Cas's hamstring, returning the tendon to the muscle it had sprung from. Mary has left none of the vital healing to anyone but herself, and while she has surely saved his life, she will soon be spent of magic and energy.

The queen looks to her son, trying to see the hidden motives behind his gaze. She knows there is something he hopes to gain from the man. The youngest prince does not give without wanting in return.

"Should he perish, our work goes to waste," Mary tells him, her thoughts scattered from exhaustion. "Please, Dean, put your attitude aside for this man. There is more here than meets the eye. We need him alive."

Dean bristles, his green eyes flashing in anger. "I wouldn't kill someone we've spent hours of time to keep alive. Do you really think so little of me, Mother?"

They all know he lies, even he knows this, although none will say it aloud. That is exactly something Dean would do. As much as he cares for innocents, this man brought danger to his brother. Possibly brought enemies to his family. However, they are unaware of his private quest, his curiousness that revolves around the spectacle of the man his brother described. He wants the stories he has and will do whatever it takes to meet his ends.

Mary sees this determination in her son, although she does not know its source. The tired queen bows her head and relinquishes her hold on Cas. Her hands are coated in dry blood, and Cas's wound bubbles slightly once the pressure has been taken from it.

Sam catches his mother's shoulder before she falls, and Dean reluctantly places his hands where the queen's once were. His magic takes up where Mary's stopped, and his eyes widen at the evidence of all his mother has done for this wounded warrior.

"I will take over in the morning, if you think yourself capable of staying the night," Mary murmurs.

Dean turns to her. "You believe staying the whole night is necessary?"

"You saw what happened when I released him," Mary tells him, a slight edge back in her voice. "I can be back in a few hours if necessary."

"No, no," Dean amends, shaking his head. "Rest. I swear I will be here when you return n the morning."