7.

Angel didn't wake up for two weeks. The nurses got to know Castiel by face and kept him informed about what was happening with his John Doe. A couple of them had even taken to calling him Angel after overhearing Castiel talking to him. He had taken to talking to the man he had hit nearly every day when he came in. Sometimes he talked about his life, telling Angel all about his estranged family and his unusual upbringing. Other times he talked about work, complained about his students, even read some of their work out loud. It was probably silly, but this was the first time he had ever told most of these things to anyone… and his confidante was in a coma.

At the end of the first week, his favorite nurse, a woman called Meg, informed him that they had to apply for state medical assistance. The same day, the lawyer Zachariah had recommended told him that he didn't need to worry about anything. Even if Angel passed away at some point, he was not at fault because he had not been under the influence, and the weather had truly been poor. They got the state assistance to pay for Angel's medical bills, which was good, but Castiel couldn't help but feel guilty. This man was in a coma, away from any family he might have, and Castiel wasn't even going to be in trouble for hitting him.

As the first week came to its close and Angel had been in a coma for a week and a half, Castiel couldn't help but despair. Meg said it was far too early to be worrying yet, but he saw the strain in her eyes when she said it. He knew that each day Angel remained in his coma, the less likely he was to wake. He could very well languish here, in a hospital with John Doe on his papers and no one looking for him.

Castiel visited a church for the first time in years, lit a candle and prayed. He prayed and prayed and prayed… And his prayers were answered. On a Friday two weeks after he had gone into the coma, Castiel's angel woke as if nothing had happened. Well, not as if nothing had happened. All Castiel knew was what Meg told him over the phone—that Angel's eyes had flicked open and, gasping, he had pulled the air tube out of his mouth—and he was rushing to the hospital. Luckily, he was already out of classes for the day. He had to fight through the public transportation system to get there and it ended up taking forty-five minutes, leaving him hot and in a poor mood.

The last thing he needed was to have his entrance barred as soon as he got there.

"Meg, I'm here to see Angel," he said, moving to sweep past the nurses station like he usually did, but she stopped him.

"Sorry, Clarence," she laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Angel's family is on their way… We can't allow you in now."

He stared at her for several minutes, words flying in and out of his head too fast for him to choose any. Then he simply nodded.

"Of course." He swallowed, berating himself for getting attached to a man he had never truly met—whom he had almost killed! It was ridiculous that for a couple of weeks, he had actually felt some kind of kinship with this perfect stranger. He realized that it would probably have been a disappointment to meet his Angel now. He could not possibly hold up to Castiel's expectations, and moreover, he had to be angry about losing two full weeks because of him.

He needed to leave. Now.

Pivoting on his heel, Castiel turned away without another word. He would probably never see Angel again, never speak another word to the man, nor see those green eyes looking at him as they had before closing for two weeks. But that was okay. He was fine. It was a good thing that Angel had woken, that his family was coming. Castiel didn't need to be here any longer. He pressed the down button for the elevator at the end of the hall, noting the light green paint on the wall for the first time and realizing he may never see that again. That was at least one thing to be thankful for.

"Cas! Wait!" Meg was running toward him, dark brown hair bouncing around her shoulders in waves.

He stood waiting for her expectantly, silently.

She put on one of those smirking half smiles that he had come to expect from her and held out a small piece of paper. He took it from her and just stared at it in surprise for a moment. It was a phone number, scrawled sloppily beneath her name.

"In case you ever got lonely," she drawled, looking up at him with something mischievous in her eyes.

He nodded. Yes. Maybe this would be a good idea. He needed to spend time with more people and Meg seemed nice. She was pretty, smart, everything he should want in a woman. He would call her.

Now…

"Um, maybe this isn't a very polite thing to ask, but… I thought you were gay."

Damien looked nervous as hell to be asking, fidgeting with the hem on his sleeves as he spoke, but Castiel didn't look at all offended. Cas was like that though. For someone who sure looked like he had a stick up his ass, the guy was pretty freaking laid back. Dean had to admit that it was one of the reasons he loved him so much. It wasn't like they never fought or anything, but Castiel was no hothead—a good thing because Dean really was. Castiel just evened him out.

Castiel shook his head and replied simply, "I choose not to identify with any specific label."

And that was that. Surprisingly, it was Michael who asked the next question. Anna's husband had been silent throughout the rest of the story, the look in his eyes more polite interest than anything else, but apparently he had been listening more than Dean had thought.

"Did you call her then?" he asked, blue eyes taking in Castiel's features studiously. "The nurse?"

Castiel smiled. "Yes, I did," he responded, a fond tone in his voice now. "We went on several dates, but it never moved beyond that. Perhaps if Dean hadn't reentered my life, we would have. She is a very interesting woman."

Dean rolled his eyes, distaste clear in the twist of his lips. "Yeah, interesting's one word for her."

Castiel sighed.

Then…

Dean woke with a tube in his mouth and a name on his lips. Blue eyes peered down at him with concern behind eyelids that felt glued shut. A car horn, a crash… beeping. Obnoxious, incessant, goddamn beeping.

Dean opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him was white, tiled, blurry because his eyes were unused to being open. He blinked several times, disoriented suddenly. Where the hell was he? How the fuck had he gotten here? Thoughts moved slowly through his mind, wading as through muddy water. He couldn't seem to collect his thoughts, and there was still that steady beeping, beeping, beeping. He flexed a hand, made to take a deep breath and recognized suddenly that there was something down his throat, pushing air into his lungs. Panic filled him and he was moving before he had consciously decided to, hands scrambling at the plastic tubing to pull it out as quickly as possible.

He gasped for breath and tried for words, not even sure what he was trying to say. All that came out was hoarse, garbled nonsense. He tried to pull himself up, found that he was unable to. Then he looked up to find the source the beeping to his right was a large machine that he was hooked into by a thing on his hand. He pulled it off and the beeping stopped, only to be replaced by one long, high-pitched sound.

A dark haired woman in purple scrubs came running into what he had figured out was his hospital room.

"Where the hell am I?" he demanded, his voice still little more than a grating whisper. "What happened?"

The nurse let out what was probably a sigh of relief that he was still alive despite the flat lining machine.

"Sir, you're in the County Hospital," she told him, her voice calm, as if she were talking to a wounded animal. He huffed out an annoyed breath at her tone, but couldn't find it in himself to be too mad because she was currently pouring him a glass of water. She added a bendy straw and then made to help him drink it. He swatted her hand away, grabbed at the cup himself, and then promptly dumped the cup full of water in his lap.

"Shit!" he hissed. The nurse rolled her eyes at him and then informed him, with more amusement in her voice than he appreciated, "You've been in a coma for two weeks. You're going to need to get back into using everything."

"Two weeks?" he repeated, horrified.