The Spark That Guides You Home (2/4)
They have to make a stop for dead man’s blood, because Sam’s not about to walk into a nest of vampires without it, not with Dean the way he is.
Granted, Sam’s seriously questioning the wisdom of bringing Dean along on this hunt, but he’s not sure that leaving him at home is a good idea either. Sam would prefer to keep an eye on Dean at this point.
And no matter how big of a jerk Dean might be-and he can be a real asshole-Sam had missed Dean like he’d miss an arm, like he’d miss half of his soul.
And while he might not feel as though he’s gotten Dean back completely, Sam doesn’t want to let Dean out of his sight for fear that he’ll disappear, or that having Dean back will turn out to be just a dream.
“I’ll go in and get the blood,” Sam says when they stop outside the hospital. “Just-stay here, okay?”
“Can I at least roll down the window?” Dean asks sarcastically, sounding more like his old self than he had since reappearing.
“By all means,” Sam replies, using just as much sarcasm.
Dean rolls down the window and tips his head back. “Take your time, dude.”
Sam smiles and heads inside the hospital, taking the elevator down to the morgue and greeting the attendant. “Hi, um, I think my uncle is here?” He makes sure his voice shakes just a bit, like he’s had a huge shock, and the attendant, a pretty woman in her mid-twenties and wearing pink scrubs, immediately offers a sympathetic smile.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she immediately replies. “Let me just check the records. What’s his name?”
Sam had made use of his time in the passenger seat while Dean was giving him the silent treatment by looking for records of those who had died in Cedar Rapids, who were likely to require an autopsy before the body was released. “Jim Donaldson.”
“Let me just find out where he is,” she replies.
Sam checks her nametag. “Thank you, Cindy.”
She smiles a little brighter at that, and Sam leans against the desk, wishing momentarily that he trusted Dean enough to bring him along. This is the kind of job that Dean had excelled at-charming watchdogs while Sam looked at a file for necessary information, or picked a lock or obtained blood from a corpse.
But Dean’s off his game, and Sam’s not sure he’d do even a half-decent job at charming the morgue attendant.
That’s a strange thought for sure, but Sam’s something of an expert on how badly a person can break, if enough of the right pressure is applied, and he gets the feeling that something about Purgatory had put Dean over the edge.
It’s not a place that’s meant for humans, Dean had said, and Sam had wanted to ask, “Like hell had been?” but he’d known better. Heaven and hell are the places where human souls go, but Purgatory is for monsters.
Sam’s not sure what that means in practice, but he can see the effect it had on Dean.
“Okay, right over here,” Cindy says, and leads him to a drawer that she pulls out. “Do you want me to stay?”
Sam shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
He pulls the sheet back and stares down at the man whose blood will kill a few vampires, at least with a little luck.
“Thanks,” Sam murmurs, and then he bends down over the body, as though grieving, and he pulls a couple of large syringes filled with blood from the corpse. When he’s done, he puts the sheet back over Jim Donaldson’s face and whispers, “Rest in peace. Please.”
He rubs his eyes for the effect, as though he’s been crying, and says, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Cindy replies. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Sam leaves quickly, and manages to get out of the hospital without anybody raising an alarm.
Not that anyone would expect someone to be extracting blood from corpses in the morgue.
“What happened to going to funeral homes?” Dean asks as he starts the car.
Sam shrugs. “If there hadn’t been an appropriate corpse, that would have been my next stop, but they drain most of the fluids from a body during the embalming process, and funeral homes usually have alarms. Morgues have attendants.”
“Female attendants?” Dean asks slyly.
Sam grins. “This time, anyway.”
Dean doesn’t ask if she was cute, which throws Sam off. His brother’s pretty reliable when it comes to that sort of thing-he asks if she’s pretty, and then he asks if Sam got her number-and he’s almost as happy when Sam’s getting laid as when he is.
Instead, Dean nods thoughtfully. “That probably made it easier.”
He says it like it’s an academic exercise, and Sam nearly demands that Dean pull the car over right then. He wants to tell Dean that he’s not invited, and he’ll deal with the nest on his own, but Sam knows better than that.
Right after Dean had disappeared, when Sam had still been disoriented and aimless, he’d been a little more careless. He’d taken stupid chances, and one time he’d close enough to Sioux Falls to wind up on Jody Mills’ doorstep after he’d been injured and hadn’t wanted to risk the hospital.
Jody had read Sam the riot act while she stitched up the slice in his thigh, and then she’d said, “And what happens when your brother shows up again, huh? Are you going to be six feet under and beyond his reach? It’s your job to stay alive for Dean, Sam, just like it’s his job to stay alive for you.”
That had changed everything, and Sam had been more careful after that. He’d started cultivating more contacts within the hunting world, until he’d rebuilt Bobby’s network and then some, all the while looking for some way to find Dean.
And now Sam has Dean back, and he’s just a little bit resentful of the fact that Dean clearly hadn’t stayed alive for Sam-he’d stayed alive for Cas.
It’s still daylight when they pull up in front of the abandoned warehouse where the vampires have been reported to be holing up. Sam looks up at the four floors of broken windows and graffiti-covered walls, and he’s not surprised that it’s become a nest.
Sam can’t see anybody around, so it makes sense that this would be a good hideout, with the empty buildings on either side and no sign of security.
Unless, of course, the vampires ate the security, which is possible.
They’ve coated their bullets in dead man’s blood, and Dean carries a crossbow with the bolts subjected to the same treatment. They’re each carrying a machete, and Sam hope that will be enough.
At first, it seems as though it might be. Daylight catches the vampires sleeping, and they each decapitate one vampire before someone raises the alarm. From there, it’s a bloody fight, with Sam shooting as many as he can before he takes their heads, with the bullets incapacitating them enough to make killing them a little easier.
Dean does the same with the crossbow before beheading two, and Sam feels relieved when Dean seems to be in the groove, capable of taking out any and all who threaten him.
And then Sam finishes one off and feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a sixth sense telling him that Dean is in trouble. He takes the head of his last vampire and half-turns, just in time to see the vampire grappling with Dean manage to take control of the machete, turning it on Dean, and Sam knows he can’t move fast enough.
He’s going to be too late, because Dean is frozen, staring at the blade slicing towards his midsection, and even though he could-should-twist away, he stays where he is.
Sam’s pretty sure that would have been the end of his brother, but in the next second, Dean has disappeared, and his lost machete is slicing through air.
From behind him, Sam hears Dean ask, “What the hell?” but he doesn’t care. He’s already moving, slicing off the vampire’s head in one smooth motion.
And that’s the last of them, and adrenalin is surging through Sam, and he’s pissed off. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he demands, catching sight of Cas standing just behind Dean.
Dean doesn’t even seem to recognize Sam, because he turns to look at Cas. “What the fuck was that?”
“You needed help,” Cas replies, as though that much should be obvious. “I came.”
“You disappeared on me!” Dean shouts. “You left!”
“I told you, it had been too long since I had watched the bees.” Cas sounds hurt, almost bewildered, and Sam feels a moment’s worth of sympathy for Dean before he finds his anger again. “I couldn’t stay.”
“Why?” Dean asks, almost anguished, and that allows Sam to tamp down his anger and listen. “You said you would.”
“I stayed with you in Purgatory,” Cas replies. “I kept my promise.”
There’s this charged moment between them, and Sam can feel the electricity in the room. Dean’s confusion and hurt is clear on his face, and Cas is obviously still completely batshit, and Sam-for a moment-catches a glimpse of how they must have been in Purgatory.
“Stay,” Dean urges. “There are bees in Sam’s backyard.”
“I can’t,” Cas replies, and then he’s gone again, and Dean sags like a puppet with his strings cut.
Sam wants to yell at Dean, but he can’t in the face of Dean’s obvious dejection.
“Dean,” he says softly. “What happened?”
Dean just shakes his head. “I forgot where I was for a minute.”
And that’s all he’ll say, even when he passes the keys to the Impala over to Sam, and Sam wonders if that’s as close to the truth as he’ll ever get.
~~~~~
Dean looks around him, feeling a mounting sense of alarm. He has no idea where he is, or where Cas has gone, but he knows he’s surrounded.
He hadn’t thought Cas would leave him, not like this.
Dean slowly turns, looking for any gap that might allow him to run-even though he has no place to run to.
There’s a yowl, and Dean puts his arm up to ward off whatever leaps at him, and then he’s somewhere else, with Cas’ hand gripping his arm, right over where Cas’ handprint had once been.
“Where were you?” Dean hisses, not wanting to risk drawing attention to them, just in case.
Cas shakes his head, his blue eyes still wide with fright. “I had to see if there was a way out. I don’t know how long I can keep you alive here.”
“Where are we?” he demands.
“Purgatory.” Cas looks around. “We need to find a hiding place.”
“Don’t look at me!” Dean protests. “I have no idea what to do in Purgatory.”
Cas shoots him a wry look. “Try not to die.”
“I think that goes without saying,” Dean says, but he grins, because right now things feel good between them, things feel like they used to.
“Come on,” Cas says, tugging at Dean’s arm.
Dean lets himself be pulled along, and he says, “I thought you’d left.”
Cas turns to face him, his expression serious and intent-and for the first time in awhile, completely sane. “I won’t leave you, not until I get you out. I will be with you every step of the way. I will protect you.”
Dean stares at him, shaken by Cas’ sincerity. “Okay,” he finally says. “I believe you.”
~~~~~
Castiel watches the bees with fascination, wearing the same jeans and t-shirt he had when he’d remembered everything, sitting on Sam’s back porch next to Dean. He’s not sure why, but it comforts him to think that he’s wearing Dean’s clothing; it’s a way to keep Dean close.
Things had been easier in Purgatory, where Dean had been the only thing-the only person-who mattered. Castiel had been able to focus there.
Here, he can’t help but remember what he’d done, all the harm he’d caused.
It’s easier to watch the bees, now that Dean is safe and doesn’t need him anymore.
Castiel leans in closer, paying particular attention to a fat bumblebee crawling over a cornflower, feeling the sun hot on the back of his neck.
It’s a warm spring day in Austin, Texas, and while Castiel is not particularly bothered by either heat or cold, he enjoys the feeling of the sun.
There had been no sun in Purgatory, no flowers, and no bees.
Castiel had missed them, but he thinks he might miss Dean more.
He’s reaching out to touch the petals of the flower, and then-
-the flower petals are soft under his fingers, and the sun is hot on the back of his neck.
He has no idea how he got here, or where he is, but he knows that he’s supposed to call Dean.
After a moment, he realizes that he doesn’t know who he is, and he stands and looks around. There are couples and families meandering through what looks like a garden, and it’s peaceful, even though he feels the immediate urge to hide.
He checks his pockets and finds something he recognizes as a phone, and after a moment of fumbling, he finds the contacts, and Dean Winchester’s name is there.
Somehow, this all feels very familiar.
With a feeling of trepidation, he hits the “call” button and waits with bated breath, his stomach twisting with anxiety.
Someone picks up on the second ring, and says, “Cas? Is that you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I don’t remember.”
He thinks he hears the man mumble, “Shit, not again,” but he quickly says, “This is Dean, and it’s going to be okay. Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I just woke up here.” He’s starting to feel a little panicky now.
“Okay, okay,” Dean soothes. “I can track you as long as your phone is turned on, so keep it on, and I’ll come find you.”
“You will?” he asks.
He can hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “I’ll always come find you. Do you have a wallet on you with a credit card?”
Searching his pockets, he finds a wallet. “There’s a plastic card here.”
“Perfect,” Dean says. “Find a motel with a cheap room and hole up there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” he replies, even though that seems inadequate. “Where will I find a motel?”
Dean sighs. “Look, are you in a safe place?”
“I’m in a garden.”
“Of course you are,” Dean mutters. “Just stay there, and I’ll call you back with directions to the nearest motel, okay?”
He does as he’s asked, because he sees no other choice. To seem less conspicuous, he wanders through the garden, looking at flowers, waiting for his phone to ring. When it does, he jumps and fumbles for it.
“Hello?”
“Seriously, man? You’re in the botanical garden?”
“I’m not sure what that means,” he admits.
Dean sighs. “Of course you don’t. Look, just find the entrance, okay? Let me know when you do, and I’ll direct you from there.”
“How do I know you?” he asks, walking in a likely direction.
“We go way back,” Dean replies with a sigh. “You saved my life-a lot.”
“Then we’re close.”
“Yeah, you can say that.”
He’s not sure what to ask, so he doesn’t say anything. He follows a group that all seem to be heading in the same direction.
“I’m at the exit,” he informs Dean as he walks through the gate.
“Great,” Dean says. “Trust me, I’ll get you to the motel.”
Oddly enough, even though he doesn’t remember what Dean looks like, he does trust him. “I trust you,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean replies. “Just follow my instructions.”
~~~~~
“I have to go,” Dean says. “Cas is in Austin, and he has no memory.”
Sam glances up from the stack of paperwork he’s been sorting through. “Again?” His tone is a little sly, which isn’t new. Sam’s been pissy for the last week, ever since the vampire nest, and while Dean can’t exactly blame him, he’s not inclined to explain either.
“You have no idea what it was like,” Dean says. “So, yeah, again. A hundred times, if necessary. I’m always going to find him, just like I’d always go after you.”
Sam makes a complicated face, and Dean’s out of the habit of reading his brother, but he can sense Sam’s discomfort. “Cas kept me alive, and he kept me going,” Dean insists.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Sam replies. “But you haven’t given me a lot of information as to what that means.”
Dean shrugs. “If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go myself, and I’ll take the Impala.”
For a moment, Sam appears torn, glancing at the stack of paper in front of him, and then at Dean. “I’d love to go with you, but I’ve got this to deal with.”
“Your loss,” Dean replies. “I’ll be back once I’ve picked Cas up.”
“No loss on my end,” Sam mumbles, and doesn’t look up when Dean leaves.
Dean tells himself that he doesn’t care, but that’s not exactly true. He does care, but he’s not going to let that stop him.
Cas has promised to be with Dean until he got him out of Purgatory, and he’d kept that promise. Dean had promised to stick with Cas, even if he keeps losing his memory.
Dean doesn’t mind driving to Austin from Des Moines. It’s a chance to let the silence hang, to not feel as though he has to make conversation, which is a good thing. Sam’s not happy with him right now, and he’s been shooting constant worried looks Dean’s way, as though he thinks Dean is going to fall apart at any moment.
It would probably be less annoying if Sam’s fears were unfounded. In truth, Dean suspects that he might just fly apart if the right pressure is applied.
He feels as though he’s riddled with stress fractures, and the right blow in the right place will make him crack.
Dean can’t quite get back into the rhythm of the life he’d left behind; he can’t connect with Sam, and he can’t remember the language that had been theirs alone.
Sam has moved on, but in a different way than when Dean had been in hell. This Sam has his shit together-he has multiple phone lines, and a network of hunters, like Dean’s disappearance hadn’t touched him.
His hands tighten around the wheel, and he begins to think that this drive hadn’t been such a good idea after all. If Sam were with him, Dean could focus on ignoring him, but he probably shouldn’t be alone with his own thoughts right now.
Dean cranks the music up, letting the strains of Led Zeppelin remind him that he’s here, on Earth, and not in Purgatory anymore.
There had been no music in Purgatory. Dean has to remember that.
He pushes hard, arriving in Austin early the following morning, heading straight for the motel where he’d directed Cas. He’d gotten Cas’ room number right after Cas had checked in, so he knows which door to knock on, wondering what his reception will be.
After a moment, Cas opens the door, still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing when Dean had seen him last.
There’s no recognition in Cas’ blue eyes, but he says, “Dean Winchester?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” he replies, and has to ask, “Do you remember me?”
Cas shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”
Dean manages a smile. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Do-should we leave now?”
Dean hesitates, then says, “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some sleep before we head back.”
Cas nods. “You didn’t say how we’d met, not really.”
Dean has to look away, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. It hurts that Cas doesn’t remember him, or the time they’d spent together, but Dean would rather have Cas with him. “It’s hard to explain if you weren’t there,” he replies. “You were-you saved my life. You were-are-my friend.”
“Then we were close.”
Dean swallows. He’s never had to explain what he and Cas are to anyone-he’s never tried. “Yeah, we were close.” He glances at the bed, and thinks of the night in the cave in Purgatory, just before Cas had gotten them out, when they had lain chest to chest, their noses almost touching. “I know there’s just one bed, and you don’t know me, but-”
“It’s strange, but it feels like I do,” Cas objects. “You’re the first familiar thing I’ve seen, even though I don’t recognize you.”
Dean nods. He can work with this. “Okay. Are you tired?”
“I wasn’t sure I should sleep,” Cas admits. “I don’t mind sharing.” He sits on the edge of the mattress. “Why do I think of a dark place when I think of you?”
“We’ve been in a lot of dark places,” Dean replies, sitting next to Cas, running a hand over the avocado green and orange bedspread. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Cas nods seriously, staring down at his open hands where they rest on his knees. “Did-do you love me?”
Dean can’t say. Instead, he curls his hand around the back of Cas’ neck and pulls him in close, resting his forehead against Cas’.
“I need you,” he finally admits in a low voice. “I’m not sure if it’s the same thing or not.”
“I’m not sure I’d know the difference.” Cas rests a hand on Dean’s knee. “You said something about sleep.”
Dean remembers to send a text to Sam, letting him know that he’s safe and he’s staying in Austin for a bit, and then they end up lying down on the bed facing each other. Cas is so close Dean can feel his breath on his face, and he doesn’t mind. It’s familiar in its own way.
He sleeps and wakes again to find they’ve moved; Cas is sleeping on his back, his mouth slightly open, snoring just a bit. Dean is mostly lying on his stomach, one arm slung across Cas’ waist. The late afternoon sunlight slants across the bed, highlighting Cas’ jaw and the three days’ worth of stubble there, his Adam’s apple, and the rise and fall of his chest.
They had both remained clothed, staying on top of the bedspread; it hadn’t felt right to suggest they do anything else. Cas doesn’t really know him, not right now.
And Dean is beginning to think that he’ll never have Cas back, not like he was.
Right now, though, it’s late afternoon in a crappy motel room, and Cas is next to him, and Dean is more comfortable than he ever had been in Purgatory.
He’d slept better than he had in Sam’s house. Dean refuses to think what that might mean.
Cas snorts in his sleep, and Dean smiles, then reaches over to the bedside table for his phone, checking for messages. He’s got a text from Sam that says, “Have fun. Let me know when you’re coming back.”
Dean wonders what it would be like if he just took Cas and drove, letting the road lead them along. Maybe that would anchor him the way nothing else had.
Not taking jobs, because he’s willing to admit-if only to himself-that he’s not ready for hunting right now, but just driving, as far as the Impala will take them.
He might have, except that he can’t leave Sam.
Cas’ breath catches, and he rolls towards Dean, opens his eyes, and smiles. “Hello.”
“Hey,” Dean says, and leaves his arm where it is, as though anchoring Cas to him. “Sleep okay?”
Cas frowns. “I think I dreamed, but I don’t remember.”
“That seems to be going around,” Dean jokes, pleased when Cas responds with a smile. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I brought you more clothes.”
Cas frowns. “Are we sleeping together?”
“Only when we have to.” As a joke, it falls flat, and Dean takes a deep breath. “Look, we were trapped somewhere for a while, and it was just you and me. We didn’t always have a choice about where we slept.”
“Where were we?”
Dean rolls away, sitting up, his back to Cas. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He’s had this conversation before with other people-he’s had some version of it with Cas, although he’d called himself Emmanuel at the time. But at least Emmanuel had been able to heal people, and so had some belief in the supernatural. This man-who is entirely human, from what Dean can tell-has nothing. He remembers nothing.
And Dean has no idea how many times he’s going to have to do this-explain to Cas who he is and what they are together.
There’s a long, tense silence, and then Cas says, “I’d prefer if you’d try, rather than shutting me out.” Dean’s still trying to figure out how to start when Cas adds, “I woke up in a garden with no memory other than your name, and from your reaction, this has happened before. I think there’s a good chance I’ll believe whatever you tell me.”
Cas has a point, and Dean sighs. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” Cas suggests. “How did we meet?”
Dean looks over his shoulder. “You were, or maybe are, an angel, and you pulled me out of hell.”
Cas blinks at him. “I was what?”
“You heard me.”
“Did I fall?”
Dean rises and then turns to look at Cas, still lying on the bed. “What do you know about falling?”
“Well, I don’t seem to be an angel anymore,” Cas points out.
“I don’t know what you are,” Dean says, the words harsher than he’d intended. “I don’t know, Cas! This isn’t the first time you’ve lost your memories, but you were definitely still an angel the first time it happened, maybe not the second. I don’t know!”
And this might be the thing that makes him crack, Dean thinks. His relationship with Castiel has always been complicated and messy-Dean recognizes him as family, but not blood. They’re friends, but Cas has betrayed him.
And Cas has saved him. He had, in fact, become Dean’s whole world in Purgatory. Dean doesn’t know what to do without him.
Cas rolls off the bed and approaches Dean. “It’s going to be all right.”
Dean barks out a bitter laugh. “How do you figure?”
“We’re here, aren’t we? Whatever else we are, we’re alive, and we’re together.” There’s a smile playing around the corners of Cas’ mouth. “I trust you.”
Dean shakes his head. “That’s probably a mistake.”
“I doubt it,” Cas replies. “Tell me more about the first time we met.”
Part III
Granted, Sam’s seriously questioning the wisdom of bringing Dean along on this hunt, but he’s not sure that leaving him at home is a good idea either. Sam would prefer to keep an eye on Dean at this point.
And no matter how big of a jerk Dean might be-and he can be a real asshole-Sam had missed Dean like he’d miss an arm, like he’d miss half of his soul.
And while he might not feel as though he’s gotten Dean back completely, Sam doesn’t want to let Dean out of his sight for fear that he’ll disappear, or that having Dean back will turn out to be just a dream.
“I’ll go in and get the blood,” Sam says when they stop outside the hospital. “Just-stay here, okay?”
“Can I at least roll down the window?” Dean asks sarcastically, sounding more like his old self than he had since reappearing.
“By all means,” Sam replies, using just as much sarcasm.
Dean rolls down the window and tips his head back. “Take your time, dude.”
Sam smiles and heads inside the hospital, taking the elevator down to the morgue and greeting the attendant. “Hi, um, I think my uncle is here?” He makes sure his voice shakes just a bit, like he’s had a huge shock, and the attendant, a pretty woman in her mid-twenties and wearing pink scrubs, immediately offers a sympathetic smile.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she immediately replies. “Let me just check the records. What’s his name?”
Sam had made use of his time in the passenger seat while Dean was giving him the silent treatment by looking for records of those who had died in Cedar Rapids, who were likely to require an autopsy before the body was released. “Jim Donaldson.”
“Let me just find out where he is,” she replies.
Sam checks her nametag. “Thank you, Cindy.”
She smiles a little brighter at that, and Sam leans against the desk, wishing momentarily that he trusted Dean enough to bring him along. This is the kind of job that Dean had excelled at-charming watchdogs while Sam looked at a file for necessary information, or picked a lock or obtained blood from a corpse.
But Dean’s off his game, and Sam’s not sure he’d do even a half-decent job at charming the morgue attendant.
That’s a strange thought for sure, but Sam’s something of an expert on how badly a person can break, if enough of the right pressure is applied, and he gets the feeling that something about Purgatory had put Dean over the edge.
It’s not a place that’s meant for humans, Dean had said, and Sam had wanted to ask, “Like hell had been?” but he’d known better. Heaven and hell are the places where human souls go, but Purgatory is for monsters.
Sam’s not sure what that means in practice, but he can see the effect it had on Dean.
“Okay, right over here,” Cindy says, and leads him to a drawer that she pulls out. “Do you want me to stay?”
Sam shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
He pulls the sheet back and stares down at the man whose blood will kill a few vampires, at least with a little luck.
“Thanks,” Sam murmurs, and then he bends down over the body, as though grieving, and he pulls a couple of large syringes filled with blood from the corpse. When he’s done, he puts the sheet back over Jim Donaldson’s face and whispers, “Rest in peace. Please.”
He rubs his eyes for the effect, as though he’s been crying, and says, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Cindy replies. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Sam leaves quickly, and manages to get out of the hospital without anybody raising an alarm.
Not that anyone would expect someone to be extracting blood from corpses in the morgue.
“What happened to going to funeral homes?” Dean asks as he starts the car.
Sam shrugs. “If there hadn’t been an appropriate corpse, that would have been my next stop, but they drain most of the fluids from a body during the embalming process, and funeral homes usually have alarms. Morgues have attendants.”
“Female attendants?” Dean asks slyly.
Sam grins. “This time, anyway.”
Dean doesn’t ask if she was cute, which throws Sam off. His brother’s pretty reliable when it comes to that sort of thing-he asks if she’s pretty, and then he asks if Sam got her number-and he’s almost as happy when Sam’s getting laid as when he is.
Instead, Dean nods thoughtfully. “That probably made it easier.”
He says it like it’s an academic exercise, and Sam nearly demands that Dean pull the car over right then. He wants to tell Dean that he’s not invited, and he’ll deal with the nest on his own, but Sam knows better than that.
Right after Dean had disappeared, when Sam had still been disoriented and aimless, he’d been a little more careless. He’d taken stupid chances, and one time he’d close enough to Sioux Falls to wind up on Jody Mills’ doorstep after he’d been injured and hadn’t wanted to risk the hospital.
Jody had read Sam the riot act while she stitched up the slice in his thigh, and then she’d said, “And what happens when your brother shows up again, huh? Are you going to be six feet under and beyond his reach? It’s your job to stay alive for Dean, Sam, just like it’s his job to stay alive for you.”
That had changed everything, and Sam had been more careful after that. He’d started cultivating more contacts within the hunting world, until he’d rebuilt Bobby’s network and then some, all the while looking for some way to find Dean.
And now Sam has Dean back, and he’s just a little bit resentful of the fact that Dean clearly hadn’t stayed alive for Sam-he’d stayed alive for Cas.
It’s still daylight when they pull up in front of the abandoned warehouse where the vampires have been reported to be holing up. Sam looks up at the four floors of broken windows and graffiti-covered walls, and he’s not surprised that it’s become a nest.
Sam can’t see anybody around, so it makes sense that this would be a good hideout, with the empty buildings on either side and no sign of security.
Unless, of course, the vampires ate the security, which is possible.
They’ve coated their bullets in dead man’s blood, and Dean carries a crossbow with the bolts subjected to the same treatment. They’re each carrying a machete, and Sam hope that will be enough.
At first, it seems as though it might be. Daylight catches the vampires sleeping, and they each decapitate one vampire before someone raises the alarm. From there, it’s a bloody fight, with Sam shooting as many as he can before he takes their heads, with the bullets incapacitating them enough to make killing them a little easier.
Dean does the same with the crossbow before beheading two, and Sam feels relieved when Dean seems to be in the groove, capable of taking out any and all who threaten him.
And then Sam finishes one off and feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a sixth sense telling him that Dean is in trouble. He takes the head of his last vampire and half-turns, just in time to see the vampire grappling with Dean manage to take control of the machete, turning it on Dean, and Sam knows he can’t move fast enough.
He’s going to be too late, because Dean is frozen, staring at the blade slicing towards his midsection, and even though he could-should-twist away, he stays where he is.
Sam’s pretty sure that would have been the end of his brother, but in the next second, Dean has disappeared, and his lost machete is slicing through air.
From behind him, Sam hears Dean ask, “What the hell?” but he doesn’t care. He’s already moving, slicing off the vampire’s head in one smooth motion.
And that’s the last of them, and adrenalin is surging through Sam, and he’s pissed off. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he demands, catching sight of Cas standing just behind Dean.
Dean doesn’t even seem to recognize Sam, because he turns to look at Cas. “What the fuck was that?”
“You needed help,” Cas replies, as though that much should be obvious. “I came.”
“You disappeared on me!” Dean shouts. “You left!”
“I told you, it had been too long since I had watched the bees.” Cas sounds hurt, almost bewildered, and Sam feels a moment’s worth of sympathy for Dean before he finds his anger again. “I couldn’t stay.”
“Why?” Dean asks, almost anguished, and that allows Sam to tamp down his anger and listen. “You said you would.”
“I stayed with you in Purgatory,” Cas replies. “I kept my promise.”
There’s this charged moment between them, and Sam can feel the electricity in the room. Dean’s confusion and hurt is clear on his face, and Cas is obviously still completely batshit, and Sam-for a moment-catches a glimpse of how they must have been in Purgatory.
“Stay,” Dean urges. “There are bees in Sam’s backyard.”
“I can’t,” Cas replies, and then he’s gone again, and Dean sags like a puppet with his strings cut.
Sam wants to yell at Dean, but he can’t in the face of Dean’s obvious dejection.
“Dean,” he says softly. “What happened?”
Dean just shakes his head. “I forgot where I was for a minute.”
And that’s all he’ll say, even when he passes the keys to the Impala over to Sam, and Sam wonders if that’s as close to the truth as he’ll ever get.
~~~~~
Dean looks around him, feeling a mounting sense of alarm. He has no idea where he is, or where Cas has gone, but he knows he’s surrounded.
He hadn’t thought Cas would leave him, not like this.
Dean slowly turns, looking for any gap that might allow him to run-even though he has no place to run to.
There’s a yowl, and Dean puts his arm up to ward off whatever leaps at him, and then he’s somewhere else, with Cas’ hand gripping his arm, right over where Cas’ handprint had once been.
“Where were you?” Dean hisses, not wanting to risk drawing attention to them, just in case.
Cas shakes his head, his blue eyes still wide with fright. “I had to see if there was a way out. I don’t know how long I can keep you alive here.”
“Where are we?” he demands.
“Purgatory.” Cas looks around. “We need to find a hiding place.”
“Don’t look at me!” Dean protests. “I have no idea what to do in Purgatory.”
Cas shoots him a wry look. “Try not to die.”
“I think that goes without saying,” Dean says, but he grins, because right now things feel good between them, things feel like they used to.
“Come on,” Cas says, tugging at Dean’s arm.
Dean lets himself be pulled along, and he says, “I thought you’d left.”
Cas turns to face him, his expression serious and intent-and for the first time in awhile, completely sane. “I won’t leave you, not until I get you out. I will be with you every step of the way. I will protect you.”
Dean stares at him, shaken by Cas’ sincerity. “Okay,” he finally says. “I believe you.”
~~~~~
Castiel watches the bees with fascination, wearing the same jeans and t-shirt he had when he’d remembered everything, sitting on Sam’s back porch next to Dean. He’s not sure why, but it comforts him to think that he’s wearing Dean’s clothing; it’s a way to keep Dean close.
Things had been easier in Purgatory, where Dean had been the only thing-the only person-who mattered. Castiel had been able to focus there.
Here, he can’t help but remember what he’d done, all the harm he’d caused.
It’s easier to watch the bees, now that Dean is safe and doesn’t need him anymore.
Castiel leans in closer, paying particular attention to a fat bumblebee crawling over a cornflower, feeling the sun hot on the back of his neck.
It’s a warm spring day in Austin, Texas, and while Castiel is not particularly bothered by either heat or cold, he enjoys the feeling of the sun.
There had been no sun in Purgatory, no flowers, and no bees.
Castiel had missed them, but he thinks he might miss Dean more.
He’s reaching out to touch the petals of the flower, and then-
-the flower petals are soft under his fingers, and the sun is hot on the back of his neck.
He has no idea how he got here, or where he is, but he knows that he’s supposed to call Dean.
After a moment, he realizes that he doesn’t know who he is, and he stands and looks around. There are couples and families meandering through what looks like a garden, and it’s peaceful, even though he feels the immediate urge to hide.
He checks his pockets and finds something he recognizes as a phone, and after a moment of fumbling, he finds the contacts, and Dean Winchester’s name is there.
Somehow, this all feels very familiar.
With a feeling of trepidation, he hits the “call” button and waits with bated breath, his stomach twisting with anxiety.
Someone picks up on the second ring, and says, “Cas? Is that you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I don’t remember.”
He thinks he hears the man mumble, “Shit, not again,” but he quickly says, “This is Dean, and it’s going to be okay. Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I just woke up here.” He’s starting to feel a little panicky now.
“Okay, okay,” Dean soothes. “I can track you as long as your phone is turned on, so keep it on, and I’ll come find you.”
“You will?” he asks.
He can hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “I’ll always come find you. Do you have a wallet on you with a credit card?”
Searching his pockets, he finds a wallet. “There’s a plastic card here.”
“Perfect,” Dean says. “Find a motel with a cheap room and hole up there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” he replies, even though that seems inadequate. “Where will I find a motel?”
Dean sighs. “Look, are you in a safe place?”
“I’m in a garden.”
“Of course you are,” Dean mutters. “Just stay there, and I’ll call you back with directions to the nearest motel, okay?”
He does as he’s asked, because he sees no other choice. To seem less conspicuous, he wanders through the garden, looking at flowers, waiting for his phone to ring. When it does, he jumps and fumbles for it.
“Hello?”
“Seriously, man? You’re in the botanical garden?”
“I’m not sure what that means,” he admits.
Dean sighs. “Of course you don’t. Look, just find the entrance, okay? Let me know when you do, and I’ll direct you from there.”
“How do I know you?” he asks, walking in a likely direction.
“We go way back,” Dean replies with a sigh. “You saved my life-a lot.”
“Then we’re close.”
“Yeah, you can say that.”
He’s not sure what to ask, so he doesn’t say anything. He follows a group that all seem to be heading in the same direction.
“I’m at the exit,” he informs Dean as he walks through the gate.
“Great,” Dean says. “Trust me, I’ll get you to the motel.”
Oddly enough, even though he doesn’t remember what Dean looks like, he does trust him. “I trust you,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean replies. “Just follow my instructions.”
~~~~~
“I have to go,” Dean says. “Cas is in Austin, and he has no memory.”
Sam glances up from the stack of paperwork he’s been sorting through. “Again?” His tone is a little sly, which isn’t new. Sam’s been pissy for the last week, ever since the vampire nest, and while Dean can’t exactly blame him, he’s not inclined to explain either.
“You have no idea what it was like,” Dean says. “So, yeah, again. A hundred times, if necessary. I’m always going to find him, just like I’d always go after you.”
Sam makes a complicated face, and Dean’s out of the habit of reading his brother, but he can sense Sam’s discomfort. “Cas kept me alive, and he kept me going,” Dean insists.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Sam replies. “But you haven’t given me a lot of information as to what that means.”
Dean shrugs. “If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go myself, and I’ll take the Impala.”
For a moment, Sam appears torn, glancing at the stack of paper in front of him, and then at Dean. “I’d love to go with you, but I’ve got this to deal with.”
“Your loss,” Dean replies. “I’ll be back once I’ve picked Cas up.”
“No loss on my end,” Sam mumbles, and doesn’t look up when Dean leaves.
Dean tells himself that he doesn’t care, but that’s not exactly true. He does care, but he’s not going to let that stop him.
Cas has promised to be with Dean until he got him out of Purgatory, and he’d kept that promise. Dean had promised to stick with Cas, even if he keeps losing his memory.
Dean doesn’t mind driving to Austin from Des Moines. It’s a chance to let the silence hang, to not feel as though he has to make conversation, which is a good thing. Sam’s not happy with him right now, and he’s been shooting constant worried looks Dean’s way, as though he thinks Dean is going to fall apart at any moment.
It would probably be less annoying if Sam’s fears were unfounded. In truth, Dean suspects that he might just fly apart if the right pressure is applied.
He feels as though he’s riddled with stress fractures, and the right blow in the right place will make him crack.
Dean can’t quite get back into the rhythm of the life he’d left behind; he can’t connect with Sam, and he can’t remember the language that had been theirs alone.
Sam has moved on, but in a different way than when Dean had been in hell. This Sam has his shit together-he has multiple phone lines, and a network of hunters, like Dean’s disappearance hadn’t touched him.
His hands tighten around the wheel, and he begins to think that this drive hadn’t been such a good idea after all. If Sam were with him, Dean could focus on ignoring him, but he probably shouldn’t be alone with his own thoughts right now.
Dean cranks the music up, letting the strains of Led Zeppelin remind him that he’s here, on Earth, and not in Purgatory anymore.
There had been no music in Purgatory. Dean has to remember that.
He pushes hard, arriving in Austin early the following morning, heading straight for the motel where he’d directed Cas. He’d gotten Cas’ room number right after Cas had checked in, so he knows which door to knock on, wondering what his reception will be.
After a moment, Cas opens the door, still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing when Dean had seen him last.
There’s no recognition in Cas’ blue eyes, but he says, “Dean Winchester?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” he replies, and has to ask, “Do you remember me?”
Cas shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”
Dean manages a smile. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Do-should we leave now?”
Dean hesitates, then says, “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some sleep before we head back.”
Cas nods. “You didn’t say how we’d met, not really.”
Dean has to look away, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. It hurts that Cas doesn’t remember him, or the time they’d spent together, but Dean would rather have Cas with him. “It’s hard to explain if you weren’t there,” he replies. “You were-you saved my life. You were-are-my friend.”
“Then we were close.”
Dean swallows. He’s never had to explain what he and Cas are to anyone-he’s never tried. “Yeah, we were close.” He glances at the bed, and thinks of the night in the cave in Purgatory, just before Cas had gotten them out, when they had lain chest to chest, their noses almost touching. “I know there’s just one bed, and you don’t know me, but-”
“It’s strange, but it feels like I do,” Cas objects. “You’re the first familiar thing I’ve seen, even though I don’t recognize you.”
Dean nods. He can work with this. “Okay. Are you tired?”
“I wasn’t sure I should sleep,” Cas admits. “I don’t mind sharing.” He sits on the edge of the mattress. “Why do I think of a dark place when I think of you?”
“We’ve been in a lot of dark places,” Dean replies, sitting next to Cas, running a hand over the avocado green and orange bedspread. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Cas nods seriously, staring down at his open hands where they rest on his knees. “Did-do you love me?”
Dean can’t say. Instead, he curls his hand around the back of Cas’ neck and pulls him in close, resting his forehead against Cas’.
“I need you,” he finally admits in a low voice. “I’m not sure if it’s the same thing or not.”
“I’m not sure I’d know the difference.” Cas rests a hand on Dean’s knee. “You said something about sleep.”
Dean remembers to send a text to Sam, letting him know that he’s safe and he’s staying in Austin for a bit, and then they end up lying down on the bed facing each other. Cas is so close Dean can feel his breath on his face, and he doesn’t mind. It’s familiar in its own way.
He sleeps and wakes again to find they’ve moved; Cas is sleeping on his back, his mouth slightly open, snoring just a bit. Dean is mostly lying on his stomach, one arm slung across Cas’ waist. The late afternoon sunlight slants across the bed, highlighting Cas’ jaw and the three days’ worth of stubble there, his Adam’s apple, and the rise and fall of his chest.
They had both remained clothed, staying on top of the bedspread; it hadn’t felt right to suggest they do anything else. Cas doesn’t really know him, not right now.
And Dean is beginning to think that he’ll never have Cas back, not like he was.
Right now, though, it’s late afternoon in a crappy motel room, and Cas is next to him, and Dean is more comfortable than he ever had been in Purgatory.
He’d slept better than he had in Sam’s house. Dean refuses to think what that might mean.
Cas snorts in his sleep, and Dean smiles, then reaches over to the bedside table for his phone, checking for messages. He’s got a text from Sam that says, “Have fun. Let me know when you’re coming back.”
Dean wonders what it would be like if he just took Cas and drove, letting the road lead them along. Maybe that would anchor him the way nothing else had.
Not taking jobs, because he’s willing to admit-if only to himself-that he’s not ready for hunting right now, but just driving, as far as the Impala will take them.
He might have, except that he can’t leave Sam.
Cas’ breath catches, and he rolls towards Dean, opens his eyes, and smiles. “Hello.”
“Hey,” Dean says, and leaves his arm where it is, as though anchoring Cas to him. “Sleep okay?”
Cas frowns. “I think I dreamed, but I don’t remember.”
“That seems to be going around,” Dean jokes, pleased when Cas responds with a smile. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I brought you more clothes.”
Cas frowns. “Are we sleeping together?”
“Only when we have to.” As a joke, it falls flat, and Dean takes a deep breath. “Look, we were trapped somewhere for a while, and it was just you and me. We didn’t always have a choice about where we slept.”
“Where were we?”
Dean rolls away, sitting up, his back to Cas. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He’s had this conversation before with other people-he’s had some version of it with Cas, although he’d called himself Emmanuel at the time. But at least Emmanuel had been able to heal people, and so had some belief in the supernatural. This man-who is entirely human, from what Dean can tell-has nothing. He remembers nothing.
And Dean has no idea how many times he’s going to have to do this-explain to Cas who he is and what they are together.
There’s a long, tense silence, and then Cas says, “I’d prefer if you’d try, rather than shutting me out.” Dean’s still trying to figure out how to start when Cas adds, “I woke up in a garden with no memory other than your name, and from your reaction, this has happened before. I think there’s a good chance I’ll believe whatever you tell me.”
Cas has a point, and Dean sighs. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” Cas suggests. “How did we meet?”
Dean looks over his shoulder. “You were, or maybe are, an angel, and you pulled me out of hell.”
Cas blinks at him. “I was what?”
“You heard me.”
“Did I fall?”
Dean rises and then turns to look at Cas, still lying on the bed. “What do you know about falling?”
“Well, I don’t seem to be an angel anymore,” Cas points out.
“I don’t know what you are,” Dean says, the words harsher than he’d intended. “I don’t know, Cas! This isn’t the first time you’ve lost your memories, but you were definitely still an angel the first time it happened, maybe not the second. I don’t know!”
And this might be the thing that makes him crack, Dean thinks. His relationship with Castiel has always been complicated and messy-Dean recognizes him as family, but not blood. They’re friends, but Cas has betrayed him.
And Cas has saved him. He had, in fact, become Dean’s whole world in Purgatory. Dean doesn’t know what to do without him.
Cas rolls off the bed and approaches Dean. “It’s going to be all right.”
Dean barks out a bitter laugh. “How do you figure?”
“We’re here, aren’t we? Whatever else we are, we’re alive, and we’re together.” There’s a smile playing around the corners of Cas’ mouth. “I trust you.”
Dean shakes his head. “That’s probably a mistake.”
“I doubt it,” Cas replies. “Tell me more about the first time we met.”
Part III