Work Text:
The lunch rush at The Roadhouse was in full swing, with the usual crowd filling the tables and the kitchen buzzing with activity.
Dean Winchester, the head chef, was in his element, flipping burgers and tossing salads with practiced ease. Despite the hustle and bustle, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had been nagging at him all morning. His chest felt tighter than usual, his breaths a little more labored, but he chalked it up to the stress of the busy day.
Charlie Bradbury, his best friend and a paramedic, noticed the slight hitch in his movements. She had a sixth sense when it came to Dean’s health, having seen him through more than one crisis over the years. As she cleared a table near the kitchen, she glanced over at him, her brow furrowed with concern.
“Hey, sunshine,” she called, catching his attention. “You doing okay in there?”
Dean looked up, flashing her a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, just the usual. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Charlie wasn’t convinced. She knew Dean too well—he was the type to downplay his symptoms, never wanting to worry those around him. But something in his expression made her stomach knot with worry.
“Take it easy, okay?” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately.”
Dean nodded, but before he could reply, the world around him suddenly tilted. A sharp pain shot through his chest, radiating down his left arm. His vision blurred, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin. He stumbled back, clutching at the counter for support, but his legs gave out beneath him.
“Charlie…” Dean gasped, his voice barely a whisper as he collapsed to the floor.
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat as she saw Dean go down. She dropped the tray she was holding and rushed to his side, her mind racing as she took in the situation. Dean’s eyes were wide with panic, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. His hand clutched at his chest, and she knew immediately what was happening.
“Dean, stay with me!” Charlie’s voice shook with fear as she knelt beside him, grabbing his hand. She could feel the tremors running through his body, the rapid, irregular thud of his pulse beneath her fingers.
Dean’s lips moved, but no sound came out. His eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing hitched, then stopped altogether.
“No, no, no!” Charlie’s voice broke as she frantically checked for a pulse. It was faint, erratic, and then… nothing. Her heart plummeted as she realized his heart had stopped.
Without wasting a second, Charlie sprang into action. She tilted Dean’s head back, opening his airway, and began administering CPR. Her training kicked in, but this was different. This was Dean—her best friend, her sunshine. The thought of losing him was too much to bear.
“One, two, three…” Charlie counted aloud as she performed chest compressions, pressing down hard on Dean’s sternum. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. “Come on, Dean. Come on.”
The restaurant had fallen silent, the other patrons frozen in shock as they watched the scene unfold. But Charlie didn’t notice them. Her world had narrowed down to this moment, to the desperate fight to save Dean’s life.
She paused briefly to give Dean mouth-to-mouth, praying for a miracle, then resumed the compressions. “You’re not leaving us, Dean. You hear me? You’re not leaving.”
Minutes ticked by, each one more agonizing than the last. The fear gnawed at her, threatening to overwhelm her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. The doors of the restaurant burst open, and the EMTs rushed in, having been called by another employee.
“Over here!” Charlie cried, her voice cracking as she waved them over.
The EMTs quickly took over, one of them gently guiding Charlie aside. She watched with trembling hands as they worked on Dean, shocking his heart, administering medication, doing everything they could to bring him back. But nothing seemed to work.
Time slowed as the EMTs exchanged worried glances. They were running out of options. Dean’s heart had been stopped for too long. They shocked him again, and this time, there was a flicker of a response on the monitor—a weak, irregular heartbeat.
“He’s back,” one of the EMTs said, but his tone was grim. “We need to move him now.”
As they loaded Dean onto the stretcher, Charlie’s legs gave out, and she collapsed into a chair, her body trembling with the adrenaline and fear coursing through her. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Dean had been so full of life just moments ago, and now he was clinging to it by a thread.
She reached for her phone with shaking hands, dialing Castiel’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Charlie?” Castiel’s voice was urgent. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dean,” Charlie choked out, barely able to get the words past the lump in her throat. “He… he had a heart attack, Cas. He’s on his way to the hospital now.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then Castiel’s voice came through, tight with barely controlled panic. “I’m on my way.”
As the call ended, Charlie felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Bobby standing there, his face ashen. He had seen everything and was just as shaken.
“He’ll pull through,” Bobby said, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his own fear.
Charlie nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure Bobby or herself. She felt like she was in a nightmare, and all she wanted was to wake up and find that Dean was okay.
When Castiel arrived at the hospital, he rushed inside, his heart pounding with fear. The sight of Dean, pale and lifeless on the stretcher, haunted his every step. He found Charlie in the waiting room, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
“Charlie, what happened?” Castiel demanded, his voice shaking.
Charlie stood up, her hands trembling as she explained. “He just… he just collapsed. I tried everything, Cas. I did CPR, but he… he was gone for so long. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, and he staggered back, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under him. “Where is he now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“They took him into surgery,” Charlie replied, her voice breaking. “They’re trying to stabilize him, but… it doesn’t look good.”
Castiel felt his knees go weak, and he sank into a chair, his head in his hands. The thought of losing Dean—his beloved, his honeybee—was too much to bear. Dean was everything to him, the one person who made his world brighter, who gave him a reason to keep going. He couldn’t imagine a life without him.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as they waited. Castiel couldn’t stop the images that flashed through his mind—the memory of Dean’s smile, the sound of his laughter, the way he always made Castiel feel like he was home. He couldn’t lose him. He wouldn’t survive it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor emerged from the operating room. Castiel shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Are you here for Dean Winchester?” the doctor asked, his expression solemn.
“Yes,” Castiel replied, his voice trembling. “How is he?”
The doctor took a deep breath, his eyes softening with sympathy. “Dean went into cardiac arrest due to his heart defect. We managed to restart his heart, but he’s in critical condition. We’ve done everything we can, but now it’s up to him.”
The words hit Castiel like a punch to the gut. He struggled to breathe, his chest tightening with fear. “Can I see him?”
The doctor nodded. “He’s in the ICU. I’ll take you to him.”
Castiel followed the doctor down the sterile white hallways, his mind racing. When they reached Dean’s room, he paused at the door, taking a moment to steady himself before stepping inside.
Dean lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to various monitors and machines. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and the steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sign that life still clung to him. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight, his heart breaking at the fragility of the man he loved.
Slowly, Castiel approached the bed, his hands trembling as he reached out to gently take Dean’s hand in his. It was cold to the touch, and Castiel had to fight back the tears that welled up in his eyes.
“Dean,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here, honeybee. I’m right here.”
There was no response, no flicker of recognition, just the quiet hum of the machines and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Castiel sank into the chair beside the bed, never letting go of Dean’s hand.
As he sat there, memories flooded his mind—moments of laughter, of love, of quiet nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Castiel clung to those memories like a lifeline, refusing to let the darkness take hold. He couldn’t lose Dean. He wouldn’t.
“Please, Dean,” Castiel murmured, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against Dean’s knuckles. “Please come back to me, my love. I need you. We all need you.”
Hours passed, but Castiel didn’t move. He stayed by Dean’s side, holding his hand, talking to him, pleading with him to wake up. Charlie and Sam came and went, offering their support, but Castiel barely registered their presence. His entire world had narrowed down to this room, to the fragile connection between him and Dean.
At some point, Castiel’s exhaustion caught up with him, and he drifted into a fitful sleep, his head resting on the edge of Dean’s bed. He dreamed of a life where Dean was whole and happy, where they were free from the constant fear of his heart giving out. It was a life filled with light and laughter, a life he desperately wanted to hold on to.
But even in his dreams, there was a darkness—a cold, suffocating presence that threatened to pull Dean away. Castiel fought against it, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. Dean was slipping further and further away, and no matter how hard Castiel tried, he couldn’t reach him.
“Dean, no!” Castiel cried out in his sleep, his voice thick with panic.
He jolted awake, his heart racing, only to find himself back in the sterile hospital room. The dream lingered in his mind, leaving him shaken and breathless. He tightened his grip on Dean’s hand, his desperation mounting.
“Please, Dean,” Castiel whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me, my beloved."
As if in response, the heart monitor beeped erratically, the line spiking before dipping dangerously low. Castiel’s breath hitched as he watched the numbers drop, his heart pounding in his chest.
“No, no, no!” Castiel cried out, panic flooding his system as he scrambled to his feet. He pressed the call button, his voice trembling as he shouted for help. “Somebody, please!”
Within moments, the room was flooded with medical staff. Castiel was pushed back as the doctors and nurses swarmed around Dean, their voices urgent as they worked to stabilize him. Castiel’s heart ached as he watched them fight to save Dean, the fear and helplessness almost too much to bear.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as they worked. The doctor from earlier turned to Castiel, his expression grim. “His heart is failing. We’re going to have to perform another procedure to get it back to a stable rhythm. We’ll do everything we can, but you should prepare yourself.”
Castiel felt the world close in on him, the air thick and heavy with the weight of those words. He stumbled back, his knees buckling as the reality of the situation hit him. Dean was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“No,” Castiel whispered, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of the bed. “You can’t leave me, Dean. Not like this.”
As the doctors rushed to prepare for the procedure, Castiel leaned over Dean, his lips trembling as he pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “I love you, Dean. Please, please fight. Please come back to me.”
The doctors began their work, the room filled with the cold, clinical sounds of medical equipment. Castiel watched in horror as they fought to restart Dean’s heart, his own heart shattering with each failed attempt.
Dean’s heart stopped completely, and for a moment, it felt like time itself stopped with it. Castiel’s world went silent, the only sound his own ragged breathing as he stared at the flatline on the monitor.
But then, just as all hope seemed lost, the monitor beeped—slowly at first, then more steadily. Dean’s heart was beating again.
“He’s back,” the doctor said, his voice filled with relief. “He’s stable for now, but it was close. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”
Castiel collapsed into the chair, tears streaming down his face as the tension drained from his body. Dean was alive. He had come back.
When the room cleared, Castiel leaned in close, pressing his forehead against Dean’s. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for coming back to me, my love.”
Dean’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, Castiel thought he was imagining it. But then, Dean’s eyes opened—just a crack, but enough to see the familiar green beneath his lashes.
“Cas…” Dean’s voice was weak, barely more than a whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound Castiel had ever heard.
“I’m here, honeybee,” Castiel whispered, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m right here.”
Dean’s hand weakly squeezed Castiel’s, and he managed a small, tired smile. “You… you stayed.”
“Of course I stayed,” Castiel said, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s knuckles. “I’m never leaving your side.”
Dean’s eyes filled with tears, and he blinked them away, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. “I thought… I thought I was gone.”
“You were, my beloved.” Castiel said, his voice breaking. “But you came back. You fought your way back, Dean.”
Dean closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. “For you,” he whispered. “I came back for you, angel.”
Castiel’s heart swelled with love, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to Dean’s in a tender kiss. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Cas,” Dean murmured, his voice growing fainter as exhaustion overtook him. “Always.”
“Rest now,” Castiel whispered, his thumb gently brushing away Dean’s tears. “You’re safe. I’m here. I'll always be here, my honeybee."
Dean’s eyes closed, and he slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep. Castiel remained by his side, holding his hand, his heart overflowing with gratitude and love. Dean was alive, and that was all that mattered. The road ahead would be difficult, but as long as they were together, Castiel knew they could face anything.
They had fought through the darkness, and now, as the first light of dawn broke through the window, Castiel knew that they would find their way back to the light—together.