Would You Say I'm Worth It

Shot Through The Heart

Dean is wrapped in about three blankets on his bed like a burrito, desperately trying to get warm as his body is overtaken in the chills of withdrawal. He's asked that the lights be left off, so only his TV illuminates the bedroom.

Sam dropped him off back at the bunker and immediately left with a call in with Marguerite for more of her cure-all super juice that Dean had loved so much before. Castiel stayed behind to take care of Dean.

Dean was tired of needing to be taken care of.

Cas softly knocks on the door, creeping in and crouching in front of Dean, beside the bed on the floor. Dean glances at him with glassy eyes, to see he is being offered a glass of water. Dean feebly accepts, taking a few small sips before allowing Cas to set it on the nightstand.

"Can I get you anything else, Dean? Did you want to walk around?"

Dean groans softly. "I'm afraid if I move, I'll puke." He closes his eyes tightly as a pang of pain shoots through his head, just behind his eyes. "I'm just fucking cold." He murmurs into the soft covers.

Cas places the back of his fingers against Dean’s forehead, which was indeed chilled and clammy. Before long, he would switch back to a boiling hot fever, always swapping between the two dreaded states of discomfort.

Cas pulls his hand away, and Dean opens his eyes. "Hey, you were warm." He pouts. "Come back."

"Would you like me in bed with you, Dean?" Cas can't help but smile, a warm blush filling his cheeks.

Dean hums in approval, and Cas climbs under the covers behind Dean, wrapping his arms around the human's trembling torso. Dean gasps a bit at just how drastically different their body temperatures were - the juxtaposition makes goosebumps scatter across his freckled skin.

Castiel nestles his face into the crook of the hunter’s neck from behind, his breath hot as he leaves soft kisses against his skin. Dean rests his arms on top of the angel's where they linger on his waist, thumbs moving thoughtlessly in small circles. Dean isn't watching the movie anymore at this point, he's finally feeling sleep just within his reach as the Seraph’s body temperature thaws his core.

"If I didn't feel like dog shit, I'd be taking full advantage of us having the place to ourselves, I hope you know that." Dean mumbles out, bringing one of Castiel’s hands out from under the blankets to kiss his fingers.

The angel rumbles in a gentle laugh against Dean’s back. "I know. I know you would." He kisses the side of Dean’s head before leaning back into the pillow. "Get some rest, Dean. You need it."

But Dean doesn't sleep, of course he doesn't. As discreetly as possible, he shifts from the angel’s embrace and slips into the bathroom, throwing up in a violent mess of wretches and gags. Eventually he is able to wash his hands and face in the sink, wobbly on his shaky feet, his body quickly heating up. He is practically dying of thirst, and decides to take his chances and see if he can make it to the kitchen. As he passes the coffee machine he notices his cell on the counter, charging. He touches it to check the time, and notices a notification on the screen for two new missed calls.

Benny’s name follows.

Dean's body seems to forget its sickly state as his heart pounds in triumph, while he slips into the dungeon for as much privacy as possible.

He's not brave enough to take the stairs in his current condition.

Dean hits the call button and waits…and waits, and waits. Finally, just as he's about to give up, the call goes through.

"Dean?" Benny addresses cautiously, praying that it wasn't Sam using his phone to deliver dreaded news.

Dean sighs heavily in relief. "Holy Hell, you're alive." Dean exclaims in disbelief. "Thank God you're alive."