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Title: In a Perfect World, People Have Common Sense (and health insurance)
Author: ladyyueh
Recipient: misachan
Pairing:Dean and Cas
Warnings:Dean’s language and abuse of italics
Spoilers: 6x20
Word Count: 2,300
Notes: This was written for deancastiel's Everlasting Birthday Challenge. Happy Birthday, misachan! I hope your day is fantastic! As for the fic: Don't hate me for the ending, please!
Prompt: Cas is badly injured during the fighting up in Heaven but when he's in his vessel the wounds don't show. Dean's still not fooled. And he's not letting it go. (exactly why Dean can tell --- profound bond, handprint hurts when Cas does, he's just quicker on the uptake than Cas gave him credit for --- totally up to you.:)

He screamed as he fell.

He burned from the inside out.

Raphael had spared him no mercy. The blow was fatal; painful and lingering. He could fight all he liked to stave off the inevitable explosion of grace and fire, but he would die.

He’d cried out for his Father as Raphael struck the fatal blow.

It was Dean’s name on his tongue as he tumbled into oblivion.


Castiel listened to Raphael’s demands with faint disgust. And when the archangel had devolved into outlining his blasphemous plan that disgust turned to choking horror.

After all they had endured, all that had been sacrificed, the lives that had been lost…how could he? How could anyone?

It was insanity.

And when Raphael beat him with negligent ease and satisfaction, Castiel didn’t raise a hand to stop him or retaliate. He stood—again and again—so that he could meet Raphael’s blows. Until he couldn’t. Lying at Raphael’s feet, he prepared himself to face the end.

It didn’t come.

“Tomorrow you kneel, Castiel. Or you and everyone with you dies.”


There was not enough time. Watching Dean at rest, seeing the small amount of peace he’d been able to find for himself, Castiel knew he couldn’t take that away.

He felt selfish. He wanted to reveal himself, place his troubles before his friend’s feet, and beg for his help. If he was to die, Castiel wanted someone beside him. At the end of the apocalypse, when the absolute end had been so near, he had despaired, but knowing that his companions were beside him, having their strength and courage on his side—it was more than he could have hoped for. More than he deserved.

Castiel wished he did not have this need. To want Dean Winchester to smile and joke about defeating “mutant ninja angels” with black humor, it was a weakness.

It should not fall to humanity to stop the threat. Dean Winchester should not be called to battle yet again.

Castiel took one last look, let the sight of a Dean that was safe and alive propel him to action.


Dean had fallen into bed after a belt of whisky and one last check on the protections of the house. The air had been chilly and the warmth of the covers and Lisa’s body heat had lulled him into sleep.

When he woke up it felt like he was suffocating. Why was it so hot?

“Dean!” Lisa shook him.

He groaned when he felt her cool hand on his forehead.

“Dean, you’re having a nightmare,” her voice was a soothing murmur.

Surprise and fear flooded through him and he sprung up from the bed like Dracula from his coffin.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t answer her. There was something. He was forgetting something. There was something important. What was it?

Lisa touched his shoulder.

They both flinched. Dean hissed as he peeled off his t-shirt and it was only when he looked down at the scar on his shoulder that he registered how it burned and throbbed.

Lisa swore and rushed out of bed.

Dean reached up to touch it so he could gauge the pain. Just what the hell was going on? Gingerly, he lined up his hand with the scar and then lightly touched.

“Sonofabitch!” He continued a litany in his mind. How the hell could a healed scar hurt so fucking much?

Angel scar, idiot.

“Dean?” Lisa was back. In her hands were a wet cloth and various tubes and bottles. The woman was awesome.

Efficiently, she slathered the site with some kind of cream and then covered it with the wet cloth. Dean gritted his teeth throughout the process, but as soon as the damp coolness touched the inflamed skin it was a relief. He popped the couple of aspirin she offered him and laid back.

“You’re lucky it’s a Saturday,” Lisa said. For him, it was. He had Saturdays off. Lisa’s schedule, on the other hand, meant her Saturdays were full up with classes and clients.

Dean sighed. “Go to work, Lisa. I’ll be okay by myself.”

Lisa nodded and got ready for work before leaving a couple of bottles of water next to his side of the bed and then heading out.

Dean told himself he’d take another couple of minutes before getting up and seeing if he had to research, but sleep crept up on him like a sneaky ninja bastard and he was asleep between one drowsy moment and the next.





"I’m here. Who’s…?"

I’m sorry.

"For what? …Cas? Is that you? CAS?"


“Cas!” Dean’s shoulder was on fire and adrenaline had him shaky and hyper-alert.

His gut was churning. “Castiel,” he called out hoarsely to an empty room. It was the first time he’d said the name aloud in months. “I need you down here, buddy.”


“Cas, if you can hear me: get your feathery ass down here before I do something stupid.”

Dean took it as a sign. Either Cas was being a douche or he couldn’t come. Considering he’d just been dreaming about Cas’s voice saying a shitty good-bye, Dean was betting on the latter.

At least now, inexplicably, he knew what he had to do.

He scrambled out of bed, tossing on some clothes and grabbing his keys before rushing out. He bypassed the truck and headed to the garage. He couldn’t even enjoy tossing the tarp and sliding into his baby. There was no time. Something inside him was insistent and demanding that he go ‘nownownow’.

Driving by some crazy instinct to a place that he’d never been before while that nagging feeling spurred him on was a fucking mess. (He’d decided to call it the Sam’s Gotta Potty Feeling, because all he got was ‘gotta go gotta go now!’ which was all Sam would say when he needed the toilet from age 3-5 along with his Potty Face, and Potty Squirm.)

In any case, having to turn abruptly and figure out how to navigate streets to get to that particular spot while driving as fast and possible was an exercise for his driving skills. It was a good thing Dean was a damned good driver.

When he finally arrived at the shabby, deserted building (and when were they not shabby and deserted, with big fat warning of ‘do not enter if you want to fucking live’?) he had to take a moment because the Potty Feeling was gone. It should have been a relief, and it was, but it really just set him more on edge.

It looked like it was the end of the line. Just what shit storm was he going to be walking into?


Armed to the teeth was as many deadly and varied weapons as he could manage, Dean snuck through the abandoned building. It’d been easy to get into, and despite its slightly rundown appearance, the fence surrounding it was well kept and fairly new.

Expecting hordes of demons or flocks of angels, Dean was unsettled when nothing and no one popped out to eviscerate him.

“Score against the Potty Feeling,” he muttered to himself as he cleared another room, this one filled with nothing but shadows.

Dean froze, senses on alert. He could have sworn—there! That had definitely been a sigh.

Moving closer, he held his shot-gun at the ready in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

The sigh of that familiar trench coat was a bigger relief than he could ever admit to anyone.

The fact that the angel inside the trench coat wasn’t moving immediately wiped any relief away.

He rushed forward, taking stock of Cas while making sure he wasn’t walking into an obvious trap.

A quick visual inspection showed him zip. Nothing looked wrong with Cas except that he was knocked out.

Dean cursed himself, but went to his knees to shake the guy. “Cas,” Dean said insistently in an effort to rouse the comatose angel. “Cas! Dammit! Wake up, Cas!”

Cas was unconscious, but his eyes were open and Dean couldn’t escape the sight of them. There was no pulse, but Dean wasn’t sure if he did have a pulse when he was conscious. In any case, his body was warm. No, not warm. Hot. As if he had a fever without the sweat. As if he was burning from the inside out.

“Shit,” Dean swore. “Cas, you gotta wake up man. I have no fucking clue how to help you. You have to tell me what to do. Cas—" his voice broke on the last syllable.

It felt too much like he was watching Cas die.

“Well screw that,” Dean muttered. “You fucking die on me and I’ll kill you.”

He man-handled Cas; half-dragging, half-carrying him to the Impala and arranging him so that it looked like he was asleep.

Habit had him driving to a whole other city before finding a crappy motel to check into and carrying Cas into a room as he complained—for everyone to hear—about his alcohol problem.

“Well, now what?” Dean asked himself.

When in doubt, call Bobby.


“What the hell are you callin' for, boy?”

Dean frowned. Who the hell had pissed in Bobby’s whisky?

“Bobby, need your help—“

“Are you huntin’, you idjit?!”

“No, but I’ve got a comatose angel of the Lord on a shitty motel bed.”

Dean didn’t get any pleasure from shutting Bobby up.

“What the hell happened to Cas?”

“Dunno. Found him like this. Hasn’t woken up once. No breathing, no pulse, but he’s burning up like he’s an oven.”

“Well, that helps,” Bobby muttered. “I’ll start in on the crap that can hurt an angel, but considering that there hasn’t been anything new written since the last time I went looking for information on angels it’s pretty easy to guess what probably happened. Considering where he said he was going, you’ve gotta know it was most likely another angel that messed him up.”

“Well, we were mostly looking for ways to gank Lucifer, Bobby. We need to find out how to help Cas.”

A big sigh. “Yeah, alright. Call you if I find anything.”

Dean hung up and tried to get comfortable in his chair. It was going to be a long wait.


Hello, Dean.

“Cas? Crap. I’m asleep, aren’t I?”


“Okay. Why the hell aren’t you waking up?”

“Cas? Answer me dammit.”

I’m dying, Dean. It’s taking all of my energy to hold myself together. I don’t have much time left—



“You can’t be dying. You don’t have a scratch on you.”

Raphael wounded me in Heaven. I’m wounded, the body I inhabit isn’t.

“That’s it? You’re just going to lie there and die?”

Dean, how did you find me?

“Don’t change the goddamned subject, Cas! You called me here! You brought me here to watch you die!”

I, what?

“The freaky angel scar you gave me. It started acting weird and I ended up making like a friggin’ magnet.”

I see.

“I’m glad one of us does.”

Perhaps it is an effect of our profound bond.

“Our what? Never mind. What are we going to do now, Cas? ”

I’m sorry I can’t be more help. Raphael plans to restart the apocalypse once he gains control of Heaven. I wanted to stop him, but he was too strong.

“I’d call you a moron for not telling me so that I could help you kill that rat bastard once and for all, but we don’t have much time. There's always something. Some loophole, some trick. Tell me how to save you, Cas.”


“Tell. Me.”

It requires your soul, Dean.

“Figures. What is it with you people? If it isn’t demons after my soul it’s angels after my body. What do we have to do?”

First, we must…


When Dean woke up in the uncomfortable motel chair he looked to Cas first only to find blue eyes staring at him with that familiar unwavering intensity.

“You’re awake,” Dean said stupidly.

“So are you. It was almost certain that one of us would die in the attempt,” Castiel said with an even tone.

Dean knew he should probably freak out about it, but frankly he’d died so many times that the near misses barely fazed him. Even the excruciating pain of having his soul used to patch Cas up wasn’t much to write home about. He was already compartmentalizing and shoving it away into a little box to be opened never. “It’s a friggin’ miracle. Do you need time or can we talk about ganking Raphael?”

If it was possible, Castiel looked even more tired. “Raphael can wait. There are things we have to talk about.”

Dean braced himself. Castiel’s talks rarely meant anything good. It was apocalypses this and end of the world that. “We’re not angel married after that, are we?” Dean joked.

“More like angel engaged,” Castiel said.

Dean choked on his own spit. “What!?”

The shadow of a smirk touched the edge of Castiel’s mouth and the corners of his eyes.

“Asshole,” Dean managed to accuse while laughing.

Dean enjoyed the laughter and motioned for Cas to go on once he’d finished.

“First, you must know that fighting Raphael is suicide—”

“Don’t try and talk me out of it, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “After all the shit he’s pulled, there’s no way I’d miss this. I’m all in.”

“And Lisa?” Castiel asked.

Dean’s smile was a painful thing to look at. “She deserves better. I’d’ve been dragged into this mess, even if you hadn’t been the one to do it. Raphael would have probably sent his mooks after me. Lisa’s better off without me painting a target on her and Ben.”

Castiel didn’t try to argue. “Well, then there’s one last thing we should address.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Cas.”

“I freed Sam from the cage.”




(no subject) - (Anonymous) - Jul. 6th, 2011 08:13 am (UTC)
ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:20 am (UTC)
Thanks muchly. :D
crimson_vipera wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 09:08 am (UTC)
Oh no You don't! Where's the rest? There MUST be more. =D

I loved this story. I wish things went this way in the show too.

ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:21 am (UTC)
Hah! No way. I'd basically have to rewrite the entire season. With characters that had common sense! And din't lie to each other! It can't be done. XD

I'm glad you enjoyed!
harmonyhelms wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 02:31 pm (UTC)
really good, I love their profound bond :)
ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:22 am (UTC)

Their profound bond makes me happy too. :D
mulder200 wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 04:19 pm (UTC)
He scrambled out of bed, tossing on some clothes and grabbing his keys before rushing out. He bypassed the truck and headed to the garage. He couldn’t even enjoy tossing the tarp and sliding into his baby. There was no time. Something inside him was insistent and demanding that he go ‘nownownow’.


Castiel didn’t try to argue. “Well, then there’s one last thing we should address.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Cas.”

“I freed Sam from the cage.”

Dun dun dun! Talk about leaving readers wanting for more.

And this is so the way Season 6 should have gone.
ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:22 am (UTC)
Hee! I'm glad you think so. ;-D
anncros wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 05:12 pm (UTC)
This was awesome! I love the idea of Dean feeling when Cas is injured. And from now on in my head-canon this is what happened in season six.

ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:24 am (UTC)
It was difficult enough writing this little bit with a Dean and Cas that didn't lie or dodge or practice self-denial. It was exhausting.

They just can't ask for help or make decisions in a healthy way, you know?

Thanks for dropping me a comment! :D
jem_018 wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 06:11 pm (UTC)
Thank you profound bound! :D

omg. I can't believe you left it there. So evil. :P

ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:25 am (UTC)
I thank it every time I see them together!

I know. I'm usually not so evil, but my Muse is turning kind of twisted. >.>
la_rubinita wrote:
Jul. 6th, 2011 07:19 pm (UTC)
Full disclosure! I love the boys, but the lack of communication in general makes my teeth hurt. I wish this is how it had happened in the show. Feel free to write more, wink wink :)
ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 7th, 2011 03:26 am (UTC)
Yeah, I agree. I spend some time yelling at the screen so the guys will get a clue and just talk to each other. HUG IT OUT, GUYS. HUG IT OUT.

I'm glad you liked it. :-)
misachan wrote:
Jul. 9th, 2011 04:58 am (UTC)

I love it, it's gorgeous. I especially liked the two short little dreams, especially how calm Cas is during the second about dying while Dean's freaking out. And Dean's reaction after the first one, the Considering he’d just been dreaming about Cas’s voice saying a shitty good-bye, Dean was betting on the latter.? That's just perfect.

Thank you so much!
ladyyueh wrote:
Jul. 10th, 2011 03:52 am (UTC)
No worries! You're definitely not the worst ever. Not even a little worst. Promise. :D

I'm so glad you liked it. And I hope your birthday was awesome!



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