Swifter Than Reason - Chapter 3a
Go to the Introduction for synopsis and warnings.
Chapter 3 - Germany
Monday 07 June 2010, afternoon
Dean Winchester was sitting up.
On any other day this might not have been an achievement worth mentioning, but after three days of being on his front it felt great, if only because his cracked ribs didn't hurt as much when he wasn't lying on them. His back remained covered in saline-soaked gauze but a layer of cling wrap had been added to allow him to lean back against the mountain of soft pillows that had been brought in. It was only a temporary reprieve, he knew (he would be face down again shortly so that the saline could be renewed) but it was still very welcome.
The door opened and a tall pale man in a face mask and gown came in.
Great, thought Dean. Yet another doctor. He was really getting tired of being poked and prodded.
"My name is Balthazar Blake," said the man, holding out his gloved hand, then he looked at the bandages on Dean's hands, gave a wry half-smile and dropped it again. "I'm from SGINA Headquarters in Washington."
SGINA? Well, at least the questions would be different. "Staff Sergeant Winchester, sir. You're the guy that came over to help Major Milton?"
"Yes. I understand you've offered to help as well."
"Yes, sir. Well, I did it before. Don't see why it wouldn't work again. But the doc's only just got this infection under control and he doesn't want me exposed to new bugs. I'm surprised he let you in, actually."
"Well, I have a few questions that really couldn't be answered properly through a third party."
"That's all I seem to be doing lately, answering questions."
"I'll try not to take too long."
"It's OK, sir, I'm not going anywhere."
"And please stop calling me 'sir'."
"Yes, s-- ... Mr Blake.'
"Oh, not that either. Call me Balthazar, or Balt. We're much more informal at the Institute."
"Yes ... Balthazar."
"I understand you were present when Major Hanael Milton was killed."
"Yeah, I was in the helo when she was shot. She was protecting me and took a shot up under the vest. She wasn't too badly affected at first, tried to pass it off as a graze. But she died sometime that night and Cas -- Major Milton -- he was zoned when I woke up."
"So you brought him out of the zone."
"Yes. Well, I had to. He was the only other one left alive, and there was no way I could get back on my own."
Something in the man's face shifted and Dean wondered if he'd been a bit too flippant. He hurried on. "I'd have helped him anyway, don't get me wrong, it was just more important right then. More urgent. I had to get him out and moving fast before the Croatoans caught up with us."
"How did you manage it?"
"Just the usual way -- talk and touch, same as I learned in guide class at school." He looked at Balthazar but the man's face was impassive, and he was struck by a sudden feeling that he'd done something dreadfully wrong. "Look it was a long time ago. I mean, I might not have remembered it all, or I might have remembered it wrong, but it worked, didn't it? I can't have done it that badly."
"Relax, Dean, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just curious as to the precise details. I'd be grateful if you would go through it with me, step by step. Tell me what you did, starting from when you found that she had died."
Dean thought back. It had only been a few days ago but the memory was already hazy. He remembered sitting with Cas, holding his hand, talking to him, trying to get some response from him.
"I woke up while it was just starting to get light. It was really fu-- frigging cold and I hurt all over. I took a piss and I saw them when I turned back. Anna was dead -- stone cold -- and Cas was as still as a statue, sort of half-crouching, half-kneeling. I couldn't get any response to voice, so I tried patting him on the hand, on the cheek, then pinching the skin on the back of his hand. I remember ... I couldn't remember his name. I got his surname from his dog tag, and then I remembered Anna calling him Cas, so I used that name. He seemed to respond better to that. I told him I needed his help to get home, that Anna wanted him to help me -- which she did," he added, defensively. "I didn't make that up, sir, she told him not to give up, that he had to get home and find a new guide."
"It's all right, I'm not suggesting otherwise. How long did it take to bring him out, that first time?"
"Hours. Well, maybe an hour or so. It seemed like it took forever, though. I was getting really anxious because it was getting light and we knew that the Croatoans would have called in more troops for the search. I had to get him up and on the road before we got captured."
"Did you use any other modalities?"
"Sorry?"
"Any other senses? Or was it just touch and hearing."
"Just those. His eyes were closed and I didn't have anything to use for smell or taste. I mean, we were both pretty rank by then anyway, and I wasn't going to put my fingers in his mouth. So I just kept talking and patting his hand. Kept on saying I needed him, needed his help. Then he just woke up."
"He just woke up?"
"Yes, sir. Well, he opened his eyes, talked a little. He wasn't really with it though ... you know, like when you wake from the wrong phase of sleep. He was kind of dazed, couldn't focus, couldn't work out what to do. I had to keep him focused on things."
"How did you do that?"
"Gave him things to do -- little things, like opening the water bottle, opening the ration packs, picking up the litter, stuff he didn't have to think about." He help up his hands. "I know he's an officer, but I couldn't do much myself. I had to get him to help."
Blake gave him a faint smile. "I'm not going to quibble about the niceties of army etiquette. You did what was necessary for the sentinel at the time."
"I guess so."
"Did Major Milton become less dazed?"
"Yes, he started muttering about my injuries, he wanted to clean my back up, but we didn't have enough dressings and my shirt was really mucky anyway I told him it was a waste of time. He went a bit dopey any time he thought of Anna, but I kept on distracting him. And once we were on the road it was a bit easier, he got himself focused on driving and looking out for the enemy."
"Did he zone out again?"
"Yeah, a few times, usually when I was sleeping. Umm, I was getting feverish by then and I kept falling asleep pretty much every time the jeep stopped. There was one time that day when he went to scout ahead and I must have dropped off. I woke up alone and he wasn't anywhere I could see him and I kinda panicked a little. But then I found him and he was zoned and it only took about ten or fifteen minutes to get him back."
"So it became easier as time went on?"
"Yes. He wasn't zoning nearly so much and it only took a few words or a touch. Just as well really, I was getting sicker and I don't think I could have brought him out of a really deep zone. By the end of it he was holding me upright -- I was barely tracking at all."
Blake nodded, thoughtfully.
Dean wondered what was going through the man's mind. There was obviously something going on with Cas, though, something they thought Dean might have done. "He's going to be all right, isn't he? Major Milton, I mean."
"I'm not sure. He remains catatonic for the moment."
Well, damn. That didn't sound good. "Do you think it would help if I talked to him? I offered, seeing as how he responded to me before, but the doc doesn't seem to think it would help."
"It might, at least in the short term."
"Until you can find him a new guide, you mean."
"Perhaps." Balthazar looked at him with hawk-like eyes, and Dean felt as if he was being examined inside and out. "How did you feel, working with Major Milton?"
"How did I feel?"
"Yes."
"Umm, I'm not sure. I didn’t really see him during the extraction; he was directing Anna and the others, but I got the impression he was pretty competent. He was pretty cool during the attack on the helo too. After that -- we just did what we had to do. I mean, I really did need him. I was pretty useless physically and he was out of it mentally but I guess between us we made a good team.'
Balthazar nodded. "Yes, I think you did." There was a long pause.
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. Tell me, Dean, would you be willing to act as Major Milton's guide for a time?"
Dean nodded. "Sure. The guy saved my life, it's the least I could do. And Anna. She wanted him to find a new guide, and I owe her too."
"And how would you feel about becoming his new permanent guide?"
"What?" Dean stared at him. "Whoa, no. Seriously, man, I'm not good guide material. There's got to be a hundred people out there who would be better for him. He's a good guy, he deserves the best. Besides, I'm enlisted, he's an officer. There's no way around that."
Balthazar looked faintly relieved, if anything, and Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. That was a bullet he'd dodged by a hair's breadth. Permanent guide? That was so not him.
"And apart from the wounds, how are you feeling in yourself?"
"Pretty crap, actually. Still exhausted, but the doc told me that's normal after such a bad infection."
"Anything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your brother told me you mentioned an odd sensation under the skin."
"Oh, that. Yeah. I asked the doc about it but he said it was probably just a reaction to the sedative." Which Dean hadn't really believed, seeing as the odd feeling hadn't dissipated in the last twenty-four hours while the sedative had well and truly worn off, but he didn't have a better explanation.
"What does it feel like?'
"Like something crawling or vibrating just under the skin. Sort of shimmering. And I have a weird feeling that I need to be somewhere else. Up higher." He shrugged. "I don't think the hospital's about to get flooded, so I really don't know why."
Balthazar nodded slightly, as if debating with himself. "I have to be honest with you, Dean, I think that there is sufficient evidence for me to believe that you and Sentinel Milton have started to form a bond. What I can't tell at the moment is how deep or permanent that bond is."
"Bond?" Dean almost squeaked.
"At least a temporary bond. A grief reaction as intense as the one you described in Sentinel Milton doesn't usually dissipate so rapidly. For him to respond so well to you, to focus on you to the extent that he could put his own feelings and injuries aside ... well, that does suggest very strongly that he considered you to be his guide. Your own symptoms also support that theory. How much of that was purely due to the situation and how much is real and long-term, only time will tell."
"So it could be temporary."
"Or it could be permanent."
"Sonofabitch." Dean felt stunned. What the fuck had he done? He hadn't wanted to bond with the guy, he'd just tried to help. And all right, he'd been helping himself too, but it hadn't been purely selfish; he really had wanted Cas to get better and find a new guide as Anna had wanted ... just not so fast. And not him.
Thankfully, Balthazar said nothing and allowed Dean to work things out in his head.
"I just wanted to help," he muttered, plaintively.
"You did help."
"But I didn't mean to bond with him."
"Intent has nothing to do with it. A bond just happens. You work at making it stronger, deeper, more stable ... and of course you have to work at the other aspects of the relationship, be it conjugal, filial or platonic, but you can't create a bond just by wanting to. It simply happens."
"Fuck. Sorry."
"It's all right. I understand that this has been a bit of a shock for you."
"Yeah." He tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside him, but it was all too much, and he'd never been good at self-analysis, anyway, not like Sammy, who could describe each and every one of his feelings with eloquence. He should probably talk to Sam before things got too out of control, if they weren't already.
"So what happens now?" he heard himself asking.
"That's up to you. I know you've offered to help Sentinel Milton, but you may feel differently about it now that you know the risks."
"What happens if I don't?"
"I'll arrange for him to be transported back to the main Institute facility in Texas. We have an intensive rehabilitation program there. There is a good chance that he will recover to the extent where he can continue working, even if it's not as a sentinel."
"That's doesn't sound too good."
"The process of recovery is painful, in spite of everything we do, simply because of the depth of the bereavement. And the success rate is not as high as we would like, at least not the degree of success we would like."
"And what's the chance of him not recovering at all?"
"It's hard to estimate because every situation is different. But we do have a few sentinels around the country under long-term care. They remain unresponsive in spite of everything we've done."
"You really think Cas will end up like that?"
"I don't know. But a double bereavement is obviously harder to recover from than a single one."
"Damn. You're really putting the pressure on."
"No, actually, I'm trying very hard not to put pressure on you." Balthazar's tone was suddenly angry. "I'm going out of my way to explain the risks and consequences to you so that you can make an informed choice, and every word I say makes it less likely that you will choose what I think is the best option. Of course I want him to recover, and the fastest and easiest way to do that is to put you both in the same room and let the bond bring him out. I could have arranged that without even telling you. But if the bond is permanent and you don't want to be his guide, then that will only make things worse for him in the long run. I don't want to risk that."
Wow. Well, that was honest, at least. "Can I think about this?" he asked.
Balthazar nodded. "Yes, you should."
"How much time do I have?"
"A day or two at most. The longer he's catatonic, the lower the success rate. As it is, we're over three days behind because the Institute wasn't informed of his condition immediately."
"OK." Two days. He had two days to decide what to do with the rest of his life; what to do with the rest of Cas' life. "If my brother's out there could you ask him to come in? I'd like to talk to him."
"Of course."
Balthazar left, and Dean lay back against the pillows, ignoring the discomfort in his back and hands.
Sam must have been lurking just outside because he came through the door not five minutes after Balthazar had left.
"Hey, Dean, how are you feeling?"
"Like someone just ran over me with a tank. Did you know?"
"About the bond?"
"Yeah."
"I suspected. When you woke up yesterday you were more anxious about Cas than about yourself. And you said you felt twitchy, which is how I feel whenever I'm away from Gabe for too long."
"Sonofabitch. You could have warned me."
"I wasn't certain. And I didn't want to spook you. You'd only just woken up, after all. I thought there'd be a bit more time to get you used to the idea."
"I have two days."
"Two days?"
"Two days to decide if I want to be a guide or not. After that he's going to take Cas back to the Institute and put him through some rehab thing."
"Oh."
There was something off about Sam's response. Dean looked at him but whatever it was he couldn't decipher it. He wasn't even getting a bitchface. Sam's expression was a lot bleaker than it usually was.
"What's up, Sammy?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothing.'
"It's never nothing."
Sam hesitated a few seconds before replying, "I'm confused. I just don't understand what's going on in your head."
"Confused how?"
"I know you weren't all that keen on being a guide when you were younger, but now ... I don't understand how you can even contemplate living without your sentinel. I don't know why you aren't jumping at the chance to be with him for the rest of your life; why you aren't demanding to see him right now."
"Look, just because you had some fairytale instant bond with Gabriel doesn't mean that everyone has to. There was no instant connection with us. I didn't take one look at him and 'just know' he was my sentinel. He was Anna's sentinel and then she died and I just did the first aid I got taught and --" he broke off, feeling his throat tighten up. Dammit, he wasn't going to cry, not in front of Sammy. "I'm just saying, it wasn't like that."
Sam's eyes softened. "You care about him."
"Of course I care about him. He saved my life. And I got his guide killed in the process."
"That wasn't your fault."
"It was my fault. There were five people on that rescue mission and four of them died. All because of me."
"It doesn't work like that and you know it."
"It doesn't change the facts. I'm the one who got his sister killed. He isn't going to want me hanging around for the rest of his life."
"Isn't that up to him to decide?"
"Maybe, but I have to work out whether or not to bring him out of the zone. I know I can do that -- I know I can bring him round again, and if it was just going to be for a week or two I'd have no problem with it. But if I bring him out and it turns out it's permanent ... what do I do then?"
"Dean, you know I can't make that decision for you."
Dean heaved a sigh. "I know. It's just that it's so big. We're talking about the rest of my life here. And honestly, Sam, I'm not a guide."
"What's wrong with being a guide?"
"Nothing -- if you're the type. But I'm not."
Sam looked even more confused. "What do you mean by 'the type'? There's no one type of guide. We're all different."
"But you're all backup. You stand there and help the sentinel do his job. It's like you're an accessory. And that's just not me. I'm the quarterback, not the cheerleader."
Sam gaped at him, before his face got hard and angry -- an expression Dean had rarely seen on his brother's face since he'd left home. "Dean, do you honestly think I'm just Gabe's backup? Do you think I stand three paces behind and do what he wants me to do? Is that what you've been thinking of me for the last six years? That I'm just some sort of glorified personal assistant?"
"You gave up your plans for law school when you met him. You joined FLEA when he wanted to. You carry a sidearm now when you wouldn't even touch one as a kid. You don't go anywhere without him. Half the time I ask you a question and he answers for you. What the hell am I supposed to think?"
"Dean, that's so wrong. I can't even..." Sam took a deep breath and then shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin."
There was a tap on the window that caught their attention. It was Gabriel, and Sam immediately let go of Dean and got up. "I'll just see what he wants, then I'll come back."
Dean gave a bitter laugh. "I rest my case."
"I'll be straight back."
"Take your time. I'm surprised he didn't come in here with you to give me the sentinel point of view."
"That's exactly why he isn't in here. He knows it would be unfair."
That made Dean pause. "Well, then ... thank him for being a bit less of an asshole than he usually is."
"That will definitely make his day," Sam said, drily, and walked out of the room.
Dean lay back against the pillows and thought about the conversations he'd just had.
Why was everyone so concerned about being fair all of a sudden? Balthazar had emphasized the possibility of a permanent bond, Sammy wouldn't help, and even Gabe was holding back for fear of influencing him? For someone who'd been in the army and following orders for thirteen years it was a little bit much to be suddenly thrown down and told to make his own choice -- a choice that would completely change his life. It wasn't like he was asking for the moon. All he wanted was a guarantee that he would make the right choice, both for him and for Cas.
Then he ran that last sentence through his head again and groaned.
"I am so screwed," he told the ceiling.
~~~~~
He was half-asleep when Gabriel walked in about twenty minutes later. He braced himself for an onslaught -- hoping his injuries would restrict Gabe to verbal attacks -- and was surprised to find Gabe calmly sitting down in the chair beside the bed and looking at him.
They waited, each looking at the other.
Suddenly, Dean couldn't stand the silence any more. "So?" he asked. "You're here to talk me into becoming Cas' guide?"
"No."
"No?"
"It's not my decision to make. Though if you ask me for my opinion, I think Cas could do a whole lot better for himself with just about anyone else."
"Yeah, he could."
If Gabe was surprised by Dean's ready concurrence, he didn't show it. "I wasn't going to come in here at all, but Sam said I need to talk to you, to give you the sentinel point of view. When he told me what you'd said, I think he expected me to be angry on his behalf. But I wasn't. It actually confirmed something I've thought for years."
"What's that?"
"That you honestly don't see the sentinel-guide pairing as an equal partnership. And until you do, you're never going to accept me ... or Cas."
"Well, it isn't."
"It is. The problem is, you only see the superhero and faithful sidekick, like they show in the movies. You know, where the guide gets kidnapped or the guide gets attacked or the guide makes a mistake and the sentinel has to come to the rescue. In real life it's very different. I depend on Sam just as much as he depends on me. I can't go into details, obviously, but there's been more than one occasion when he's saved me, not vice versa. It is, in all respects, an equal partnership."
"But he changed so much when he met you."
"I'm sure he did. But the thing is, Dean ... so did I. You didn't know me before I met him, so you have no basis for comparison, but believe me, I changed too. It's inevitable in any long-term relationship. People change, Dean; people are always changing. Sometimes it's a smooth steady change, sometimes it happens in bursts. Becoming part of a sentinel-guide partnership is a huge step and yes, people change a lot. But it doesn't mean that the change is necessarily bad."
"I know that. But it's like he has no life without you."
"And I have no life without him. In fact he's much more likely to survive on his own than I am."
It was the matter-of-fact tone that got Dean's attention more than the words. "You'd die without him?"
"With our particular type of bond, I think it's more likely than not."
"But you had years without a guide before you met him."
"Before and after are not at all the same thing. Because I never had a guide until I met Sam, I had no idea how much of a difference it was going to make. Now, having been his partner for six years, if I lost him ... well, I'd be the one lying unconscious in a bed somewhere, unless I'm lucky enough to die with him."
Wow. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected Gabe to say. "How much of a difference did it make to you?"
"Honestly? Everything was easier. Clearer. Like ... have you ever heard an old 78-rpm record? It's scratchy and the music's not that clear and it's all a bit distorted ... but if you've never heard anything else it's wonderful, because you get to hear great performances, and you learn to filter out the hiss and the scratches so you can enjoy the music. That's what my life was like before Sam. When I met him it was like upgrading from a 78 mono record to a CD with top-of-the-line stereo headphones. There was no hiss, no scratch; the dynamic range was amazing; the music had shape and color and clarity like you wouldn't believe ... it was more than I could possibly have imagined. Sam ... Sam opened up the world for me. He anchors me and lets my senses soar."
Dean was astonished. He'd never heard Gabe say anything so eloquent before.
"Now imagine what it would be like having that CD player taken away and someone telling you that you will never hear anything but scratchy 78s ever again. That you will have to spend so much energy balancing your senses that you just can't think clearly. That anytime you're tired or hurt or miserable your senses will go out of control again."
"That's what it's like for Cas now?"
"For Cas it's even worse. He came online and Anna was there for him. He has never experienced life as a sentinel without a guide. He has no idea how to ground himself or how to abort a zone or a spike. For him, it's like losing all his senses at once."
"Shit." Dean was horrified. He'd known -- as everyone did -- that losing a guide was horrible, but he hadn't ever sat down to consider all the implications.
Gabe sighed. "Look, I didn't say that just to get you to feel sorry for him. I still think if there was any other option than you he'd be better off. But not sentinel rehab. Not sense suppression for the rest of his life. That's ... that's like condemning him to hell, forever."
"So I'm better than perpetual damnation. Gee, thanks."
Gabe snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, living with you would be perpetual damnation. I can't see how the two of you would ever be happy together -- you'd spend so much time fighting over who was in charge that you'd get yourselves killed. But you know, I meant it when I said it's not my decision. It's for you and Cas to decide. And I have the really, really difficult task of choosing whether Cas even gets a chance to make that decision for himself. Because I don't think he's going to come out of this zone without you."
"Really?"
Gabe shrugged. "From what I've read in his records and what you told Sam ... yeah, I think you two have a bond. And given the blood relationships, I think there's a pretty high chance this isn't just a temporary emergency connection, it’s a permanent bond. And I don't think you're ready for a permanent bond. I'm not sure you'll ever be. I think you're going to cause Cas as much pain as he'd have on his own in rehab. So, yeah, I really have no idea what to do."
Dean had no words. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I didn't mean to."
Gabe was silent.
"No, really. I did not bring him out of that zone for any reason other than to get us home. I didn't know it was going to create a bond. I didn't feel anything like Sam told me he felt when he met you - he said he just saw you and knew he was your guide. I didn't get any of that. I didn't even know it was a bond until an hour ago."
"Dean, it was never going to be exactly the same for you as it was for Sam. You're different people, you react differently."
"I know, but ... I would have liked a bit of a hint."
"Life doesn't work that way."
Dean sighed.
Gabe tilted his head. "Tell me, if you'd known then, back in Croatoa, that bringing Cas out of the zone would cause a permanent bond, would you still have done it?"
Dean thought about that one for a good long while. "I don't know. I mean, I think I would have, anyway, because leaving him there was not an option. But ... damn it, Gabe, what else was I supposed to do?"
Gabe shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think there's a right answer for that. You just have to do what you feel is right at the time."
"Oh, great." Now even Gabe was getting philosophical and Zen-like.
"Well, delightful as this chat has been, I'm going to go and take Sammy back to the hotel to shower and change and then I'm taking him out for dinner. He's barely eaten anything since we arrived, and I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to sample gugelhupf and Schwarzwalder kirschentorte. If I'm feeling generous, I might even bring you back some apfeltasche."
Dean regarded him with some suspicion. "If that's German for tripe or pig's trotters or something equally disgusting, I'll pass."
Gabe looked insulted. "Would I do that to an wounded soldier?"
"Yeah, you would, if the wounded soldier is me ... which it is."
Gabe laughed and left the room, leaving Dean to his thoughts and the prospect of another unappetizing hospital meal.
He wasn't expecting to see his brother again for a couple of hours or more, but Sam slipped into the room not five minutes after Gabe had left.
"You turning down Gabe's dinner invitation?"
"No, we'll go in a minute. I just wanted to check that you're OK."
"Yeah. As good as I can be, anyway."
"Well I'm glad you didn’t come to blows."
"Nah, he's OK. Still a dick, but OK."
"So you any clearer on the options?"
"Not really. You and Balthazar and Gabe -- there's a lot of information there I've got to process, and I still have no fucking idea what to do."
"Listen to your heart."
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I'm not."
"You're my brother, not an agony aunt."
"I can't tell you what choice to make, Dean. I'm not you, and I don't know Cas. All I can do is help you to make the choice for yourself."
"By listening to my heart."
"Yes. Or listen to your gut, if that's more acceptable to your manly sensibilities."
"Huh." Dean's grunt indicated how much he thought of that. "But what I don't get is ... how do I work out what part is bond and what part is me owing him my life and what part is guilt at getting the others killed?"
"I don't know."
"Shit, Sammy, I need help here!"
Sam moved closer and Dean felt his brother's arms go around him. It wasn't a close hug -- Sam had obviously been warned not to put any pressure on Dean's back -- but it was comforting anyway.
"You know it doesn't matter to me what you decide," Sam said, his voice low and soothing. "You're still my brother. You'll always be my brother."
Dean let his head rest on Sammy's shoulder. "I don't want to do the wrong thing."
"There's no right or wrong here."
"But what if I fail? What happens if I can't be the guide that he needs?"
"You'll work it out between you."
"But I'm not good with relationships, everyone knows that. Lisa was the longest I had and look how that ended."
"You weren't the one to end it."
"No, she did, because I wasn't good enough for her."
"Hey, none of that. She was the idiot who tried to make you choose between the Army and her. If she couldn't accept your career then she wasn't good enough for you."
"Well, I guess that's one problem I wouldn't have with Cas."
"No, Gabe says he's Army through and through. You'd get to do more special operations stuff with him."
"If I make the grade. And that's another thing -- it's going to be a long time before I can do combat training again. There's a chance my fingers won't heal well enough to handle weapons. What happens if I can't pass combat fitness? What happens if he's stuck with me as a guide and I'm holding him back?"
"You'll make it, Dean. None of your injuries are career-stoppers. You just have to take the time to let your body heal."
"Maybe."
"And when you look at it, being on extended sick leave will give you the time to do your guide training, since most of that will be theory or verbal. You already know the self-defense stuff and how to work within an organization, so you can skip those bits. By the time you're all healed up and ready to go back to your unit you'll have all the guide training under your belt."
Dean had to smile -- it was so typical of Sam to see the good side of every misfortune. "Never change, Sammy, never change."
~~~~~
He had asked for time to consider his options, but in the end Dean knew that there was only one choice he could make and still live with himself. Barely an hour after Sam had left him to think, he pressed the call button and asked for Balthazar.
The man had barely taken a step into the room before Dean announced, in a heavy tone, "I'll do it."
Balthazar raised an eyebrow, very elegantly, and asked. "What, precisely, will you do?"
"I'll do the guide thing. Bring him in here, I'll bring him out of the zone, and if he wants me as his guide I'll do it."
Balthazar sighed. "I'd have a great deal more confidence if you didn't sound as if you're on the way to the gallows. This is not supposed to be a life sentence, Dean. It's a long-term relationship; one that is, in some respects, closer than a marriage. It's not something to be done on sufferance, out of guilt or a misplaced sense of duty."
Dean stared at him. "You said you wanted him out of the zone!"
"And so I do. But not if it's going to leave him shackled to an unwilling guide."
Dean opened his mouth to expostulate, but he couldn't deny the truth of Balthazar's statement.
"No," continued Blake, "on the whole I think it might be better if I take him back to the States with me. I've been going through the files and I think I can provide him with half a dozen guide candidates once he's through rehab. A couple are even in the military. None with your experience, of course, but then Major Milton is getting a little old for active service."
"He's not old!"
"He's thirty-six. Admittedly, the candidates I have in mind are a lot younger -- as you know, most guide candidates fall off the books once they hit their twenties -- but I'm sure he'll be able to train his guide up to be an adequate partner."
Dean gaped at him. The thought of Cas being dependent on a young wet-behind-the-ears guide was horrifying. "No, you can't. Pairing him up with some kid is a sure-fire way to get them both killed."
"Possibly. But an older candidate isn't going to want to join the military -- even if he or she should pass the fitness requirements -- so the alternative is to pull him out of the Army and into a more sedentary occupation."
"You can't do that. Look, the Army is his life. He needs someone who can work alongside him. Someone who knows the military, who has skills that complement his own. Someone who can protect him while he's working in the field. You have to have people like that on the books."
"Someone with ten or more years' experience, combat veteran, qualified marksman, can fix any vehicle or weapon, able to bring a sentinel out of a deep zone even while severely wounded himself?"
"Yes, exactly."
Balthazar smiled, and Dean was reminded rather vividly of the crocodile from the Just-So Stories he'd read as a child. Then he realized how neatly Balthazar had led him into the trap.
"Fuck!" That exclamation held all the frustration, anger and resentment he'd been trying to hold back for the last day and a half. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, but with both hands broken and splinted it just wasn't possible. He settled for rubbing his face with the heel of his left hand.
When he looked up again, Balthazar was regarding him more benignly. "Do you honestly think that anyone else would be able to support and protect him as well as you can?"
"No." He thought about all the ways Cas could get into strife on his own, and knew he was condemning himself. "No, I don't." He took a couple of deep breaths and looked up at Balthazar. "You are one devious son of a bitch, you know that?"
"Only when it's necessary to be. But I think it helped, don't you?"
"Yeah, it did." He had to admit that it really had helped him to realize how he felt about Cas and about being his guide. Which didn't mean that he actually liked the prospect of being bonded, just that he didn't trust anyone else to look after Cas as well as he could. "OK. What happens now?"
"I'm going to arrange for Major Milton to be brought in here so that you can talk to him. I'm fairly confident, from what you've said, that you'll be able to bring him out of his catatonia within an hour or two."
"And then?"
"Then I talk to your doctor, work out the earliest date you'll be cleared for air travel, and get both of you over to the training campus in Texas. I estimate it will be two to three months, possibly more, before you'll be fit for military training, which should give us ample time to give you the guide training you need."
Dean nodded. "OK."
And that, apparently, was that.
~~~~~
Chapter 3b
Chapter 3 - Germany
Monday 07 June 2010, afternoon
Dean Winchester was sitting up.
On any other day this might not have been an achievement worth mentioning, but after three days of being on his front it felt great, if only because his cracked ribs didn't hurt as much when he wasn't lying on them. His back remained covered in saline-soaked gauze but a layer of cling wrap had been added to allow him to lean back against the mountain of soft pillows that had been brought in. It was only a temporary reprieve, he knew (he would be face down again shortly so that the saline could be renewed) but it was still very welcome.
The door opened and a tall pale man in a face mask and gown came in.
Great, thought Dean. Yet another doctor. He was really getting tired of being poked and prodded.
"My name is Balthazar Blake," said the man, holding out his gloved hand, then he looked at the bandages on Dean's hands, gave a wry half-smile and dropped it again. "I'm from SGINA Headquarters in Washington."
SGINA? Well, at least the questions would be different. "Staff Sergeant Winchester, sir. You're the guy that came over to help Major Milton?"
"Yes. I understand you've offered to help as well."
"Yes, sir. Well, I did it before. Don't see why it wouldn't work again. But the doc's only just got this infection under control and he doesn't want me exposed to new bugs. I'm surprised he let you in, actually."
"Well, I have a few questions that really couldn't be answered properly through a third party."
"That's all I seem to be doing lately, answering questions."
"I'll try not to take too long."
"It's OK, sir, I'm not going anywhere."
"And please stop calling me 'sir'."
"Yes, s-- ... Mr Blake.'
"Oh, not that either. Call me Balthazar, or Balt. We're much more informal at the Institute."
"Yes ... Balthazar."
"I understand you were present when Major Hanael Milton was killed."
"Yeah, I was in the helo when she was shot. She was protecting me and took a shot up under the vest. She wasn't too badly affected at first, tried to pass it off as a graze. But she died sometime that night and Cas -- Major Milton -- he was zoned when I woke up."
"So you brought him out of the zone."
"Yes. Well, I had to. He was the only other one left alive, and there was no way I could get back on my own."
Something in the man's face shifted and Dean wondered if he'd been a bit too flippant. He hurried on. "I'd have helped him anyway, don't get me wrong, it was just more important right then. More urgent. I had to get him out and moving fast before the Croatoans caught up with us."
"How did you manage it?"
"Just the usual way -- talk and touch, same as I learned in guide class at school." He looked at Balthazar but the man's face was impassive, and he was struck by a sudden feeling that he'd done something dreadfully wrong. "Look it was a long time ago. I mean, I might not have remembered it all, or I might have remembered it wrong, but it worked, didn't it? I can't have done it that badly."
"Relax, Dean, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just curious as to the precise details. I'd be grateful if you would go through it with me, step by step. Tell me what you did, starting from when you found that she had died."
Dean thought back. It had only been a few days ago but the memory was already hazy. He remembered sitting with Cas, holding his hand, talking to him, trying to get some response from him.
"I woke up while it was just starting to get light. It was really fu-- frigging cold and I hurt all over. I took a piss and I saw them when I turned back. Anna was dead -- stone cold -- and Cas was as still as a statue, sort of half-crouching, half-kneeling. I couldn't get any response to voice, so I tried patting him on the hand, on the cheek, then pinching the skin on the back of his hand. I remember ... I couldn't remember his name. I got his surname from his dog tag, and then I remembered Anna calling him Cas, so I used that name. He seemed to respond better to that. I told him I needed his help to get home, that Anna wanted him to help me -- which she did," he added, defensively. "I didn't make that up, sir, she told him not to give up, that he had to get home and find a new guide."
"It's all right, I'm not suggesting otherwise. How long did it take to bring him out, that first time?"
"Hours. Well, maybe an hour or so. It seemed like it took forever, though. I was getting really anxious because it was getting light and we knew that the Croatoans would have called in more troops for the search. I had to get him up and on the road before we got captured."
"Did you use any other modalities?"
"Sorry?"
"Any other senses? Or was it just touch and hearing."
"Just those. His eyes were closed and I didn't have anything to use for smell or taste. I mean, we were both pretty rank by then anyway, and I wasn't going to put my fingers in his mouth. So I just kept talking and patting his hand. Kept on saying I needed him, needed his help. Then he just woke up."
"He just woke up?"
"Yes, sir. Well, he opened his eyes, talked a little. He wasn't really with it though ... you know, like when you wake from the wrong phase of sleep. He was kind of dazed, couldn't focus, couldn't work out what to do. I had to keep him focused on things."
"How did you do that?"
"Gave him things to do -- little things, like opening the water bottle, opening the ration packs, picking up the litter, stuff he didn't have to think about." He help up his hands. "I know he's an officer, but I couldn't do much myself. I had to get him to help."
Blake gave him a faint smile. "I'm not going to quibble about the niceties of army etiquette. You did what was necessary for the sentinel at the time."
"I guess so."
"Did Major Milton become less dazed?"
"Yes, he started muttering about my injuries, he wanted to clean my back up, but we didn't have enough dressings and my shirt was really mucky anyway I told him it was a waste of time. He went a bit dopey any time he thought of Anna, but I kept on distracting him. And once we were on the road it was a bit easier, he got himself focused on driving and looking out for the enemy."
"Did he zone out again?"
"Yeah, a few times, usually when I was sleeping. Umm, I was getting feverish by then and I kept falling asleep pretty much every time the jeep stopped. There was one time that day when he went to scout ahead and I must have dropped off. I woke up alone and he wasn't anywhere I could see him and I kinda panicked a little. But then I found him and he was zoned and it only took about ten or fifteen minutes to get him back."
"So it became easier as time went on?"
"Yes. He wasn't zoning nearly so much and it only took a few words or a touch. Just as well really, I was getting sicker and I don't think I could have brought him out of a really deep zone. By the end of it he was holding me upright -- I was barely tracking at all."
Blake nodded, thoughtfully.
Dean wondered what was going through the man's mind. There was obviously something going on with Cas, though, something they thought Dean might have done. "He's going to be all right, isn't he? Major Milton, I mean."
"I'm not sure. He remains catatonic for the moment."
Well, damn. That didn't sound good. "Do you think it would help if I talked to him? I offered, seeing as how he responded to me before, but the doc doesn't seem to think it would help."
"It might, at least in the short term."
"Until you can find him a new guide, you mean."
"Perhaps." Balthazar looked at him with hawk-like eyes, and Dean felt as if he was being examined inside and out. "How did you feel, working with Major Milton?"
"How did I feel?"
"Yes."
"Umm, I'm not sure. I didn’t really see him during the extraction; he was directing Anna and the others, but I got the impression he was pretty competent. He was pretty cool during the attack on the helo too. After that -- we just did what we had to do. I mean, I really did need him. I was pretty useless physically and he was out of it mentally but I guess between us we made a good team.'
Balthazar nodded. "Yes, I think you did." There was a long pause.
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. Tell me, Dean, would you be willing to act as Major Milton's guide for a time?"
Dean nodded. "Sure. The guy saved my life, it's the least I could do. And Anna. She wanted him to find a new guide, and I owe her too."
"And how would you feel about becoming his new permanent guide?"
"What?" Dean stared at him. "Whoa, no. Seriously, man, I'm not good guide material. There's got to be a hundred people out there who would be better for him. He's a good guy, he deserves the best. Besides, I'm enlisted, he's an officer. There's no way around that."
Balthazar looked faintly relieved, if anything, and Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. That was a bullet he'd dodged by a hair's breadth. Permanent guide? That was so not him.
"And apart from the wounds, how are you feeling in yourself?"
"Pretty crap, actually. Still exhausted, but the doc told me that's normal after such a bad infection."
"Anything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your brother told me you mentioned an odd sensation under the skin."
"Oh, that. Yeah. I asked the doc about it but he said it was probably just a reaction to the sedative." Which Dean hadn't really believed, seeing as the odd feeling hadn't dissipated in the last twenty-four hours while the sedative had well and truly worn off, but he didn't have a better explanation.
"What does it feel like?'
"Like something crawling or vibrating just under the skin. Sort of shimmering. And I have a weird feeling that I need to be somewhere else. Up higher." He shrugged. "I don't think the hospital's about to get flooded, so I really don't know why."
Balthazar nodded slightly, as if debating with himself. "I have to be honest with you, Dean, I think that there is sufficient evidence for me to believe that you and Sentinel Milton have started to form a bond. What I can't tell at the moment is how deep or permanent that bond is."
"Bond?" Dean almost squeaked.
"At least a temporary bond. A grief reaction as intense as the one you described in Sentinel Milton doesn't usually dissipate so rapidly. For him to respond so well to you, to focus on you to the extent that he could put his own feelings and injuries aside ... well, that does suggest very strongly that he considered you to be his guide. Your own symptoms also support that theory. How much of that was purely due to the situation and how much is real and long-term, only time will tell."
"So it could be temporary."
"Or it could be permanent."
"Sonofabitch." Dean felt stunned. What the fuck had he done? He hadn't wanted to bond with the guy, he'd just tried to help. And all right, he'd been helping himself too, but it hadn't been purely selfish; he really had wanted Cas to get better and find a new guide as Anna had wanted ... just not so fast. And not him.
Thankfully, Balthazar said nothing and allowed Dean to work things out in his head.
"I just wanted to help," he muttered, plaintively.
"You did help."
"But I didn't mean to bond with him."
"Intent has nothing to do with it. A bond just happens. You work at making it stronger, deeper, more stable ... and of course you have to work at the other aspects of the relationship, be it conjugal, filial or platonic, but you can't create a bond just by wanting to. It simply happens."
"Fuck. Sorry."
"It's all right. I understand that this has been a bit of a shock for you."
"Yeah." He tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside him, but it was all too much, and he'd never been good at self-analysis, anyway, not like Sammy, who could describe each and every one of his feelings with eloquence. He should probably talk to Sam before things got too out of control, if they weren't already.
"So what happens now?" he heard himself asking.
"That's up to you. I know you've offered to help Sentinel Milton, but you may feel differently about it now that you know the risks."
"What happens if I don't?"
"I'll arrange for him to be transported back to the main Institute facility in Texas. We have an intensive rehabilitation program there. There is a good chance that he will recover to the extent where he can continue working, even if it's not as a sentinel."
"That's doesn't sound too good."
"The process of recovery is painful, in spite of everything we do, simply because of the depth of the bereavement. And the success rate is not as high as we would like, at least not the degree of success we would like."
"And what's the chance of him not recovering at all?"
"It's hard to estimate because every situation is different. But we do have a few sentinels around the country under long-term care. They remain unresponsive in spite of everything we've done."
"You really think Cas will end up like that?"
"I don't know. But a double bereavement is obviously harder to recover from than a single one."
"Damn. You're really putting the pressure on."
"No, actually, I'm trying very hard not to put pressure on you." Balthazar's tone was suddenly angry. "I'm going out of my way to explain the risks and consequences to you so that you can make an informed choice, and every word I say makes it less likely that you will choose what I think is the best option. Of course I want him to recover, and the fastest and easiest way to do that is to put you both in the same room and let the bond bring him out. I could have arranged that without even telling you. But if the bond is permanent and you don't want to be his guide, then that will only make things worse for him in the long run. I don't want to risk that."
Wow. Well, that was honest, at least. "Can I think about this?" he asked.
Balthazar nodded. "Yes, you should."
"How much time do I have?"
"A day or two at most. The longer he's catatonic, the lower the success rate. As it is, we're over three days behind because the Institute wasn't informed of his condition immediately."
"OK." Two days. He had two days to decide what to do with the rest of his life; what to do with the rest of Cas' life. "If my brother's out there could you ask him to come in? I'd like to talk to him."
"Of course."
Balthazar left, and Dean lay back against the pillows, ignoring the discomfort in his back and hands.
Sam must have been lurking just outside because he came through the door not five minutes after Balthazar had left.
"Hey, Dean, how are you feeling?"
"Like someone just ran over me with a tank. Did you know?"
"About the bond?"
"Yeah."
"I suspected. When you woke up yesterday you were more anxious about Cas than about yourself. And you said you felt twitchy, which is how I feel whenever I'm away from Gabe for too long."
"Sonofabitch. You could have warned me."
"I wasn't certain. And I didn't want to spook you. You'd only just woken up, after all. I thought there'd be a bit more time to get you used to the idea."
"I have two days."
"Two days?"
"Two days to decide if I want to be a guide or not. After that he's going to take Cas back to the Institute and put him through some rehab thing."
"Oh."
There was something off about Sam's response. Dean looked at him but whatever it was he couldn't decipher it. He wasn't even getting a bitchface. Sam's expression was a lot bleaker than it usually was.
"What's up, Sammy?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothing.'
"It's never nothing."
Sam hesitated a few seconds before replying, "I'm confused. I just don't understand what's going on in your head."
"Confused how?"
"I know you weren't all that keen on being a guide when you were younger, but now ... I don't understand how you can even contemplate living without your sentinel. I don't know why you aren't jumping at the chance to be with him for the rest of your life; why you aren't demanding to see him right now."
"Look, just because you had some fairytale instant bond with Gabriel doesn't mean that everyone has to. There was no instant connection with us. I didn't take one look at him and 'just know' he was my sentinel. He was Anna's sentinel and then she died and I just did the first aid I got taught and --" he broke off, feeling his throat tighten up. Dammit, he wasn't going to cry, not in front of Sammy. "I'm just saying, it wasn't like that."
Sam's eyes softened. "You care about him."
"Of course I care about him. He saved my life. And I got his guide killed in the process."
"That wasn't your fault."
"It was my fault. There were five people on that rescue mission and four of them died. All because of me."
"It doesn't work like that and you know it."
"It doesn't change the facts. I'm the one who got his sister killed. He isn't going to want me hanging around for the rest of his life."
"Isn't that up to him to decide?"
"Maybe, but I have to work out whether or not to bring him out of the zone. I know I can do that -- I know I can bring him round again, and if it was just going to be for a week or two I'd have no problem with it. But if I bring him out and it turns out it's permanent ... what do I do then?"
"Dean, you know I can't make that decision for you."
Dean heaved a sigh. "I know. It's just that it's so big. We're talking about the rest of my life here. And honestly, Sam, I'm not a guide."
"What's wrong with being a guide?"
"Nothing -- if you're the type. But I'm not."
Sam looked even more confused. "What do you mean by 'the type'? There's no one type of guide. We're all different."
"But you're all backup. You stand there and help the sentinel do his job. It's like you're an accessory. And that's just not me. I'm the quarterback, not the cheerleader."
Sam gaped at him, before his face got hard and angry -- an expression Dean had rarely seen on his brother's face since he'd left home. "Dean, do you honestly think I'm just Gabe's backup? Do you think I stand three paces behind and do what he wants me to do? Is that what you've been thinking of me for the last six years? That I'm just some sort of glorified personal assistant?"
"You gave up your plans for law school when you met him. You joined FLEA when he wanted to. You carry a sidearm now when you wouldn't even touch one as a kid. You don't go anywhere without him. Half the time I ask you a question and he answers for you. What the hell am I supposed to think?"
"Dean, that's so wrong. I can't even..." Sam took a deep breath and then shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin."
There was a tap on the window that caught their attention. It was Gabriel, and Sam immediately let go of Dean and got up. "I'll just see what he wants, then I'll come back."
Dean gave a bitter laugh. "I rest my case."
"I'll be straight back."
"Take your time. I'm surprised he didn't come in here with you to give me the sentinel point of view."
"That's exactly why he isn't in here. He knows it would be unfair."
That made Dean pause. "Well, then ... thank him for being a bit less of an asshole than he usually is."
"That will definitely make his day," Sam said, drily, and walked out of the room.
Dean lay back against the pillows and thought about the conversations he'd just had.
Why was everyone so concerned about being fair all of a sudden? Balthazar had emphasized the possibility of a permanent bond, Sammy wouldn't help, and even Gabe was holding back for fear of influencing him? For someone who'd been in the army and following orders for thirteen years it was a little bit much to be suddenly thrown down and told to make his own choice -- a choice that would completely change his life. It wasn't like he was asking for the moon. All he wanted was a guarantee that he would make the right choice, both for him and for Cas.
Then he ran that last sentence through his head again and groaned.
"I am so screwed," he told the ceiling.
~~~~~
He was half-asleep when Gabriel walked in about twenty minutes later. He braced himself for an onslaught -- hoping his injuries would restrict Gabe to verbal attacks -- and was surprised to find Gabe calmly sitting down in the chair beside the bed and looking at him.
They waited, each looking at the other.
Suddenly, Dean couldn't stand the silence any more. "So?" he asked. "You're here to talk me into becoming Cas' guide?"
"No."
"No?"
"It's not my decision to make. Though if you ask me for my opinion, I think Cas could do a whole lot better for himself with just about anyone else."
"Yeah, he could."
If Gabe was surprised by Dean's ready concurrence, he didn't show it. "I wasn't going to come in here at all, but Sam said I need to talk to you, to give you the sentinel point of view. When he told me what you'd said, I think he expected me to be angry on his behalf. But I wasn't. It actually confirmed something I've thought for years."
"What's that?"
"That you honestly don't see the sentinel-guide pairing as an equal partnership. And until you do, you're never going to accept me ... or Cas."
"Well, it isn't."
"It is. The problem is, you only see the superhero and faithful sidekick, like they show in the movies. You know, where the guide gets kidnapped or the guide gets attacked or the guide makes a mistake and the sentinel has to come to the rescue. In real life it's very different. I depend on Sam just as much as he depends on me. I can't go into details, obviously, but there's been more than one occasion when he's saved me, not vice versa. It is, in all respects, an equal partnership."
"But he changed so much when he met you."
"I'm sure he did. But the thing is, Dean ... so did I. You didn't know me before I met him, so you have no basis for comparison, but believe me, I changed too. It's inevitable in any long-term relationship. People change, Dean; people are always changing. Sometimes it's a smooth steady change, sometimes it happens in bursts. Becoming part of a sentinel-guide partnership is a huge step and yes, people change a lot. But it doesn't mean that the change is necessarily bad."
"I know that. But it's like he has no life without you."
"And I have no life without him. In fact he's much more likely to survive on his own than I am."
It was the matter-of-fact tone that got Dean's attention more than the words. "You'd die without him?"
"With our particular type of bond, I think it's more likely than not."
"But you had years without a guide before you met him."
"Before and after are not at all the same thing. Because I never had a guide until I met Sam, I had no idea how much of a difference it was going to make. Now, having been his partner for six years, if I lost him ... well, I'd be the one lying unconscious in a bed somewhere, unless I'm lucky enough to die with him."
Wow. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected Gabe to say. "How much of a difference did it make to you?"
"Honestly? Everything was easier. Clearer. Like ... have you ever heard an old 78-rpm record? It's scratchy and the music's not that clear and it's all a bit distorted ... but if you've never heard anything else it's wonderful, because you get to hear great performances, and you learn to filter out the hiss and the scratches so you can enjoy the music. That's what my life was like before Sam. When I met him it was like upgrading from a 78 mono record to a CD with top-of-the-line stereo headphones. There was no hiss, no scratch; the dynamic range was amazing; the music had shape and color and clarity like you wouldn't believe ... it was more than I could possibly have imagined. Sam ... Sam opened up the world for me. He anchors me and lets my senses soar."
Dean was astonished. He'd never heard Gabe say anything so eloquent before.
"Now imagine what it would be like having that CD player taken away and someone telling you that you will never hear anything but scratchy 78s ever again. That you will have to spend so much energy balancing your senses that you just can't think clearly. That anytime you're tired or hurt or miserable your senses will go out of control again."
"That's what it's like for Cas now?"
"For Cas it's even worse. He came online and Anna was there for him. He has never experienced life as a sentinel without a guide. He has no idea how to ground himself or how to abort a zone or a spike. For him, it's like losing all his senses at once."
"Shit." Dean was horrified. He'd known -- as everyone did -- that losing a guide was horrible, but he hadn't ever sat down to consider all the implications.
Gabe sighed. "Look, I didn't say that just to get you to feel sorry for him. I still think if there was any other option than you he'd be better off. But not sentinel rehab. Not sense suppression for the rest of his life. That's ... that's like condemning him to hell, forever."
"So I'm better than perpetual damnation. Gee, thanks."
Gabe snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, living with you would be perpetual damnation. I can't see how the two of you would ever be happy together -- you'd spend so much time fighting over who was in charge that you'd get yourselves killed. But you know, I meant it when I said it's not my decision. It's for you and Cas to decide. And I have the really, really difficult task of choosing whether Cas even gets a chance to make that decision for himself. Because I don't think he's going to come out of this zone without you."
"Really?"
Gabe shrugged. "From what I've read in his records and what you told Sam ... yeah, I think you two have a bond. And given the blood relationships, I think there's a pretty high chance this isn't just a temporary emergency connection, it’s a permanent bond. And I don't think you're ready for a permanent bond. I'm not sure you'll ever be. I think you're going to cause Cas as much pain as he'd have on his own in rehab. So, yeah, I really have no idea what to do."
Dean had no words. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I didn't mean to."
Gabe was silent.
"No, really. I did not bring him out of that zone for any reason other than to get us home. I didn't know it was going to create a bond. I didn't feel anything like Sam told me he felt when he met you - he said he just saw you and knew he was your guide. I didn't get any of that. I didn't even know it was a bond until an hour ago."
"Dean, it was never going to be exactly the same for you as it was for Sam. You're different people, you react differently."
"I know, but ... I would have liked a bit of a hint."
"Life doesn't work that way."
Dean sighed.
Gabe tilted his head. "Tell me, if you'd known then, back in Croatoa, that bringing Cas out of the zone would cause a permanent bond, would you still have done it?"
Dean thought about that one for a good long while. "I don't know. I mean, I think I would have, anyway, because leaving him there was not an option. But ... damn it, Gabe, what else was I supposed to do?"
Gabe shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think there's a right answer for that. You just have to do what you feel is right at the time."
"Oh, great." Now even Gabe was getting philosophical and Zen-like.
"Well, delightful as this chat has been, I'm going to go and take Sammy back to the hotel to shower and change and then I'm taking him out for dinner. He's barely eaten anything since we arrived, and I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to sample gugelhupf and Schwarzwalder kirschentorte. If I'm feeling generous, I might even bring you back some apfeltasche."
Dean regarded him with some suspicion. "If that's German for tripe or pig's trotters or something equally disgusting, I'll pass."
Gabe looked insulted. "Would I do that to an wounded soldier?"
"Yeah, you would, if the wounded soldier is me ... which it is."
Gabe laughed and left the room, leaving Dean to his thoughts and the prospect of another unappetizing hospital meal.
He wasn't expecting to see his brother again for a couple of hours or more, but Sam slipped into the room not five minutes after Gabe had left.
"You turning down Gabe's dinner invitation?"
"No, we'll go in a minute. I just wanted to check that you're OK."
"Yeah. As good as I can be, anyway."
"Well I'm glad you didn’t come to blows."
"Nah, he's OK. Still a dick, but OK."
"So you any clearer on the options?"
"Not really. You and Balthazar and Gabe -- there's a lot of information there I've got to process, and I still have no fucking idea what to do."
"Listen to your heart."
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I'm not."
"You're my brother, not an agony aunt."
"I can't tell you what choice to make, Dean. I'm not you, and I don't know Cas. All I can do is help you to make the choice for yourself."
"By listening to my heart."
"Yes. Or listen to your gut, if that's more acceptable to your manly sensibilities."
"Huh." Dean's grunt indicated how much he thought of that. "But what I don't get is ... how do I work out what part is bond and what part is me owing him my life and what part is guilt at getting the others killed?"
"I don't know."
"Shit, Sammy, I need help here!"
Sam moved closer and Dean felt his brother's arms go around him. It wasn't a close hug -- Sam had obviously been warned not to put any pressure on Dean's back -- but it was comforting anyway.
"You know it doesn't matter to me what you decide," Sam said, his voice low and soothing. "You're still my brother. You'll always be my brother."
Dean let his head rest on Sammy's shoulder. "I don't want to do the wrong thing."
"There's no right or wrong here."
"But what if I fail? What happens if I can't be the guide that he needs?"
"You'll work it out between you."
"But I'm not good with relationships, everyone knows that. Lisa was the longest I had and look how that ended."
"You weren't the one to end it."
"No, she did, because I wasn't good enough for her."
"Hey, none of that. She was the idiot who tried to make you choose between the Army and her. If she couldn't accept your career then she wasn't good enough for you."
"Well, I guess that's one problem I wouldn't have with Cas."
"No, Gabe says he's Army through and through. You'd get to do more special operations stuff with him."
"If I make the grade. And that's another thing -- it's going to be a long time before I can do combat training again. There's a chance my fingers won't heal well enough to handle weapons. What happens if I can't pass combat fitness? What happens if he's stuck with me as a guide and I'm holding him back?"
"You'll make it, Dean. None of your injuries are career-stoppers. You just have to take the time to let your body heal."
"Maybe."
"And when you look at it, being on extended sick leave will give you the time to do your guide training, since most of that will be theory or verbal. You already know the self-defense stuff and how to work within an organization, so you can skip those bits. By the time you're all healed up and ready to go back to your unit you'll have all the guide training under your belt."
Dean had to smile -- it was so typical of Sam to see the good side of every misfortune. "Never change, Sammy, never change."
~~~~~
He had asked for time to consider his options, but in the end Dean knew that there was only one choice he could make and still live with himself. Barely an hour after Sam had left him to think, he pressed the call button and asked for Balthazar.
The man had barely taken a step into the room before Dean announced, in a heavy tone, "I'll do it."
Balthazar raised an eyebrow, very elegantly, and asked. "What, precisely, will you do?"
"I'll do the guide thing. Bring him in here, I'll bring him out of the zone, and if he wants me as his guide I'll do it."
Balthazar sighed. "I'd have a great deal more confidence if you didn't sound as if you're on the way to the gallows. This is not supposed to be a life sentence, Dean. It's a long-term relationship; one that is, in some respects, closer than a marriage. It's not something to be done on sufferance, out of guilt or a misplaced sense of duty."
Dean stared at him. "You said you wanted him out of the zone!"
"And so I do. But not if it's going to leave him shackled to an unwilling guide."
Dean opened his mouth to expostulate, but he couldn't deny the truth of Balthazar's statement.
"No," continued Blake, "on the whole I think it might be better if I take him back to the States with me. I've been going through the files and I think I can provide him with half a dozen guide candidates once he's through rehab. A couple are even in the military. None with your experience, of course, but then Major Milton is getting a little old for active service."
"He's not old!"
"He's thirty-six. Admittedly, the candidates I have in mind are a lot younger -- as you know, most guide candidates fall off the books once they hit their twenties -- but I'm sure he'll be able to train his guide up to be an adequate partner."
Dean gaped at him. The thought of Cas being dependent on a young wet-behind-the-ears guide was horrifying. "No, you can't. Pairing him up with some kid is a sure-fire way to get them both killed."
"Possibly. But an older candidate isn't going to want to join the military -- even if he or she should pass the fitness requirements -- so the alternative is to pull him out of the Army and into a more sedentary occupation."
"You can't do that. Look, the Army is his life. He needs someone who can work alongside him. Someone who knows the military, who has skills that complement his own. Someone who can protect him while he's working in the field. You have to have people like that on the books."
"Someone with ten or more years' experience, combat veteran, qualified marksman, can fix any vehicle or weapon, able to bring a sentinel out of a deep zone even while severely wounded himself?"
"Yes, exactly."
Balthazar smiled, and Dean was reminded rather vividly of the crocodile from the Just-So Stories he'd read as a child. Then he realized how neatly Balthazar had led him into the trap.
"Fuck!" That exclamation held all the frustration, anger and resentment he'd been trying to hold back for the last day and a half. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, but with both hands broken and splinted it just wasn't possible. He settled for rubbing his face with the heel of his left hand.
When he looked up again, Balthazar was regarding him more benignly. "Do you honestly think that anyone else would be able to support and protect him as well as you can?"
"No." He thought about all the ways Cas could get into strife on his own, and knew he was condemning himself. "No, I don't." He took a couple of deep breaths and looked up at Balthazar. "You are one devious son of a bitch, you know that?"
"Only when it's necessary to be. But I think it helped, don't you?"
"Yeah, it did." He had to admit that it really had helped him to realize how he felt about Cas and about being his guide. Which didn't mean that he actually liked the prospect of being bonded, just that he didn't trust anyone else to look after Cas as well as he could. "OK. What happens now?"
"I'm going to arrange for Major Milton to be brought in here so that you can talk to him. I'm fairly confident, from what you've said, that you'll be able to bring him out of his catatonia within an hour or two."
"And then?"
"Then I talk to your doctor, work out the earliest date you'll be cleared for air travel, and get both of you over to the training campus in Texas. I estimate it will be two to three months, possibly more, before you'll be fit for military training, which should give us ample time to give you the guide training you need."
Dean nodded. "OK."
And that, apparently, was that.
~~~~~
Chapter 3b