Jump the Track: chapter 3
Whoosh
Whoosh
Whoosh
Dean could hear the ocean. It sounded like the tide was turning.
He breathed in and out very slowly. Carefully. Anything more than that would be… bad. In…and…out. He was coming back to himself in strange pulses; it felt like he was wrapped up in cotton wool. In…and…out. It was important, he realized, that he didn’t move his head. He couldn’t be sure, but he had the horrible feeling that it might fall off if he tried. He couldn’t really feel any of his body, there was just a general… awareness, which made Dean grateful that he couldn’t feel, because he suspected that it would be painful if he could.
It took him some minutes to figure out that he couldn’t hear the ocean after all. It was the sound of his heart beating in his ears. So he was still alive, then. Gingerly, he swallowed. It didn’t hurt.
Opening his eyes proved a little more difficult; Dean had to persuade his body that yes, he really did want to wake up. Even when he was able to crack his eyes open a little way it took a while before he could get them to focus. He was eventually able to see that he was lying in a bed in a stark, white room. A hospital room. Oh. He’d… he’d been in an accident. He remembered that. He slowly ran his tongue across his chapped lips.
Dean’s mom was sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. Dean managed to give it a little squeeze, and Mary looked up, startled. Her eyes opened wide when she saw he was awake.
“Oh my god, Dean!”
Her other hand reached out to touch his face gently. He could see where the tears had dried on her cheeks.
“Mom…” Dean rasped, but apparently that was too much for his abused body. Talking made him cough, which made him inhale sharply, which made a jagged burst of fiery pain shoot through his lungs. Dean winced and breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to force his body back into relaxation. His head throbbed angrily.
“Shh, shh,” Mary soothed, pushing him back into the pillows. “It’s okay, love. Don’t try to say anything just yet.”
Dean looked at her and felt instantly calmer. The pain gradually lessened.
Mary smiled shakily. “You’re going to be fine. The doctors-” She paused to check the tremble in her voice. “The doctors say you had a close call, but that you’re gonna be just fine.”
Dean managed a smile. Her face blurred, swam back into focus, blurred again.
Dean slept.
…
The next time he woke up, there was a young blonde doctor in the room who explained to Dean that he’s almost drowned, and that he was very fortunate that he didn’t seem to have sustained any brain damage. He’d fallen into a small lake on the college campus and, she told him with a disapproving look, it would most likely not have happened if he hadn’t been intoxicated. She went on to explain to Dean about cerebral hypoxia and a load of other complicated medical shit that Dean didn’t understand. He was very grateful when she left.
…
The next day, Dean was able to sit up (with the assistance of a very cute nurse), and eat some soup. It wasn’t half bad for hospital food. It still hurt his chest to talk and he felt like he’d pulled every muscle in his body, but there was a TV in his room and he could work a remote, so that was something.
His family came to visit in the afternoon. None of them talked too much, knowing that Dean wasn’t up to it yet. Mary was sweet and attentive and made Dean feel one hundred times better just by being there. John barely spoke a word and had a strange, pained look on his face. Still, he squeezed Dean’s shoulder - a little more tightly than Dean would’ve liked - and gruffly told him that he was glad Dean was okay. Sam looked pale and scared, and could hardly look at Dean at all.
It was only then that it hit him - he had almost died. He’d really almost died. In fact, if the doctors were to be believed, he had died for a couple of minutes before he’d been brought back by… by… he couldn’t remember.
He’d almost died, and while his life might not matter to himself very much, he knew he mattered a hell of a lot to his parents, and to Sam. Sure, they fought and teased and were brothers, but Dean knew the fierce, protective love he felt for Sam, and he knew Sam loved him too. Sam looked up to him, much as Dean didn’t deserve it, and Dean’s death would have broken him. Dean had been an inconsiderate, thoughtless son-of-a-bitch.
Embarrassingly, when his family left Dean had started to cry. His mom hugged him tightly while his dad pretended not to see.
Dean blamed all the painkillers he was on.
…
The day after that, Dean actually got out of bed. He was very unsteady on his feet and his muscles screamed in protest, but he was determined. He shuffled over to the bathroom, thinking how awkward it was when you had to drag a saline drip behind you.
Glancing in the mirror, he could kind of understand why his family had all looked so worried: Dean looked like crap. He was pale and wan, and his eyes were bloodshot. Crap, had the nurse just been pity flirting with him that morning? He splashed a little water on his face.
Dean then began to tentatively examine his body for damage. There were scratches on his forearms which didn’t go too deep - that must have happened when he’d fallen. There were a couple of nasty-looking bruises on his shins, but he couldn’t think where they’d come from. He knew he’d pulled something in his back because it kept spasming painfully if he moved too quickly. The strangest thing of all was when he pulled up the sleeve of his pajama top. On his arm, just below his right shoulder, were some very weird bruises. Dean cautiously reached up to touch them, and that was when he realized that they were in the shape of a hand. Four fingers and a thumb were imprinted on his skin. Dean winced; they were tender.
So that must’ve happened when… when… he’d been pulled out of the lake.
He could remember more now. He remembered that dick Gordon had stolen his phone and his wallet. At least he’d never have to explain that to his family now. He remembered how he’d tried to get back to Pam’s, and felt a fresh pang of guilt over how he’d treated his friends. He could remember falling into the lake. He remembered the pain and terror he’d felt when he’d been dragged back to life, and he remembered that someone had been there to comfort him. He remembered that someone had held him tight. He remembered blue eyes. A shiver ran up his spine. Something had just occurred to him, and he thought he… remembered all of it.
Dean made his way painfully back to his bed. A nurse - not his favorite - was making up his bed. She smiled when she saw Dean. “You’re on your feet! Good. The sooner you start exercising those muscles the better.”
“Yeah,” Dean replied hoarsely. He still wasn’t breathing easily. “Um, I don’t suppose you know… where are the clothes I was brought in in?” Mary had brought him new pajamas and underwear, so he hadn’t really thought about his clothes till now.
She considered for a moment. “Well, they would’ve been taken to get washed, but I guess they’ll be in your cabinet there.” She gestured towards the small bedside cupboard beside Dean’s bed.
Dean waited until she’d gone, then he carefully stooped to open it. His jacket and jeans were what he saw first, but there on the shelf below was the thing he’d been expecting to see but which made his stomach flip all the same. It was Castiel Delacroix’s trenchcoat.
…
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said.
Sam looked up at him shyly.
“You okay, dude?”
“Yeah, I just… you really scared me.”
Dean grimaced. He was sitting up in bed eating a pot of green jello, and Sam had stayed with him while their parents went to get coffee. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“And… and when the hospital called it was the middle of the night. I woke up, and I could hear Mom crying, and I went out of my room and she was running about trying to get stuff ready, and Dad was just standing there, really pale, like he was too scared to do anything. I’d never seen them like that, Dean, and it-” He broke off, distressed.
Dean reached out and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Sam bit his lip. “I know. It’s okay, I just… it was so scary. Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry. I swear, I will always be your pain-in-the-ass big brother. Hey… are we cool?”
Sam smiled at him grudgingly. “I can’t believe you almost drowned in an ornamental pond.”
“It was a lake!” Dean said defensively. “A big lake!”
Sam snorted. “I’ve seen it - there were water-lilies. It’s an ornamental pond.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m telling Mom.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
They grinned at each other, and Dean started to feel better.
“Hey, Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“What?”
Dean pressed his lips together. He’d been obsessing over this since the day before when he’d figured out exactly who had saved his life.
“Dean, what?”
“I was wondering if you could do something for me. I was wondering if… when you go to school tomorrow, if you could… I mean if you get the chance…”
Sam sighed. “If you could finish this sentence before I graduate, that’d be great.”
Dean threw his empty jello pot at him. “Okay, Sarcasmo. I was just wondering if you could talk to someone for me. It’s… it’s a senior, and his name’s Castiel. Ask Jo if you don’t know who he is. Just… Could you maybe let him know that I’d really like to see him? I mean, if it’s not… if he’s not too busy. I just… I really need to see him.”
Sam nodded, determined. “Sure, I’ll do it.” He didn’t ask any questions, for which Dean was grateful.
Dean felt easier after that. He didn’t know what it was, but the thought of talking to Castiel Delacroix was becoming an obsession. It wasn’t just that Dean wanted to thank the guy, though obviously that was part of it. It was… a feeling that something really important had happened on Halloween, that something had taken place between him and Castiel that only they could understand, and he felt like if he could just be with the other guy he’d feel easier in himself. He felt like maybe Castiel had the answer to something.
Sam wouldn’t let him down, he was sure of that much. Always the over-achiever, the kid was incapable of leaving any challenge incomplete. He’d find Castiel and he’d give him Dean’s message. It all depended now on whether Castiel would be interested in seeing him. This thought sent Dean’s anxiety going again.
…
The next day was Saturday, and Dean was woken up at the ungodly hour of… well, ten-thirty in the morning, by Jo Harvelle.
Jo gently squeezed Dean’s hand, and he opened his eyes groggily. He smiled. “Hey, blondie.”
Jo made a strangled noise and threw her arms around his neck. She held onto him tightly, making Dean whimper in pain.
She pulled back, her eyes over-bright. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dean, did I hurt you?” She hit him hard on the chest.
“Ow! Jo, what the hell?”
“You fucking jerk!” Jo yelled. “Do you have any idea how worried we all were? Fuck! I mean, you just didn’t show up! We waited for ages and then your phone was dead, and… and then my mom called and told me… You’re a fucking dick, you know that, Dean?”
Dean nodded.
“And then! Then! I found out that all this happened because you decided to blow us off to hang out with a bunch of losers in the fucking cemetery! Have you any idea how that felt?”
“Jo, I-”
“No, shut up! I know you’ve been going through some kind of… crisis, or whatever, and I have tried to be understanding, but I am fresh out of patience! I’m sorry if we’re not cool enough for you now. I’m sorry we don’t like to get drunk and throw up every weekend. But we have been your friends for years, and we have stuck by you and we’ve loved you, and we don’t deserve to be treated like this!”
“Jo!” Dean said, horrified. “No, it’s… It wasn’t like that!”
“Then how was it, Dean? Please do explain it to me.”
Dean gulped. “I just… it was never like that. It was the other way around. You…. You guys are too good for me.”
“Say what now?”
“Well, do you really think I enjoy hanging out with those people? You think I prefer their company to yours?”
“It certainly seems that way.”
“Shit, Jo…” Dean looked away, frustrated.
“What?” Her voice had softened a little.
“You’re all leaving, okay?” It burst out of Dean before he could stop himself. “Come September, you and Ash and Pam are all gonna go off to college, and you’ll leave, and you’ll start your lives for real, and I’ll just be the guy who got left behind in Lawrence, and you’ll all move on and forget about me. So I’m just… I’m just making it so that I’m not left completely alone.”
Jo stared at him. “That... Can I just… Dean, that is the biggest load of self-pitying, self-indulgent bull crap I have ever heard.”
Dean scowled, irritated. “Well, that’s easy for you to say, you’re-”
“No, actually, it isn’t! Dean, you have no fucking idea.” She looked at him sadly, and Dean sucked his lower lip into his mouth. It had been better when she was angry. “Dean, do you really think I’d just move on and forget about you? Is that what you think of me? Yeah, so I’m going to college next year, but that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean I’ll be suddenly better than you! It certainly doesn’t mean I’ll forget about you. In fact, not seeing you every day and hanging out with you and talking to you is going to be one of the worst things about leaving! Dean, you’re… you’re my best friend, you idiot! You’re the one I built a den with in the back garden the summer I was nine. You’re the one who came to my twelfth birthday party in that stupid dinosaur outfit because I was going through that Jurassic Park obsession. You were the one I went to when Mike broke up with me, and you made me laugh and told me he was an idiot, and watched crappy movies and ate ice cream with me till I felt better. I could never forget about you, you jerk! And god, if you’d just talked to us you would’ve figured that out a long time ago! Cause I’ve… I’ve really missed you. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with my life, and trying to build a relationship with my dad, and I’ve started dating someone new, and… and I really needed you but you weren’t there.”
Dean’s throat felt horribly tight and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He climbed out of bed and pulled Jo into a hug, not caring that it hurt this time. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Jo sniffed. “I hate you.”
“I kinda hate me too.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot, Dean.”
“I know.” He pressed a hard kiss to the side of her head.
They separated, both turning away so they could wipe their eyes.
“You really scared me, you know,” Jo said mulishly.
Dean sat down on the bed. He picked at the scratchy blue blanket, focusing on the way the light coming through his window threw dancing shadows on it rather than the fact that he’d hurt his friend more that he’d possibly imagined. He really was a jerk. “It scared me too,” he breathed. His heart was beating hard from the effort of standing up. His head was aching dully.
“So will you promise me something?”
Dean nodded mutely. Right about now he’d promise Jo anything if it made things any better.
“Will you promise you’ll stop all this now? Please stop hanging out with those people. I don’t… I don’t want to spend any more time worrying about you.”
Dean swallowed hard and nodded again.
Jo came to sit down next to him. She linked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “Good, cause I don’t know what I’d do without you, doofus.”
They sat in silence for a while, which Dean was grateful for. He felt now more than ever that he didn’t deserve the friends he had, but he also knew that he couldn’t push them away anymore. He’d been horribly selfish, and the best thing to do was try to make it up to them. It had genuinely not occurred to him for a second that they’d think he wasn’t spending time with them because he didn’t like them anymore. God, Dean was a complete dick. He was going to have to turn things around. His life might not be going anywhere, but that didn’t mean the people he loved had to suffer.
“I need to talk to Castiel,” he said eventually.
“Hm?” Jo lifted her head and looked up at him, confused. “What, the weird guy from school?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? I wouldn’t think you’d have much to talk about.”
“Ordinarily I’d agree, but…” Dean hooked his feet around the bars under his bed. The cool metal was pleasant against his bare skin. “Jo, he was the one who pulled me out of the water. He saved my life.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It took me a while to remember, but it was definitely him. I just… I really need to thank him. And I need to know what happened. I can’t really… I can’t remember all of it, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I just. I really need to see him, I think.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
…
Mary looked a lot better when she came to visit Dean on Sunday; the worry had mostly gone from her eyes. She handed Dean a bag of clean clothes and the car magazine he’d asked for.
“So good news!” She beamed at him. “I spoke with your doctor, and she said that you could come home in a couple of days.”
Dean tried to smile; he didn’t know why this information made him so nervous.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll be back on your feet in no time. And you know, everyone from your dad’s garage wants to throw you a party.”
Dean grimaced. He looked over to the table beside his bed where there were cards and gifts given to him by his friends from school, his family, Bobby and the others from the garage. “I don’t deserve a party,” he sighed.
“Don’t be silly. They love you.”
“Mom, I… You do know why I almost drowned, don’t you? I went out and got drunk when I’d promised to spend the evening at Pam’s. I acted like an irresponsible idiot, and now I… I just don’t deserve people being nice to me.”
Mary looked pained. “Yes, I know what happened.” She was wearing a light blue sweater, and she was worrying at the sleeve, pulling it taught and flicking a finger across the fabric so that it made a soft popping noise. She always did that when she was anxious, and Dean resisted the temptation to reach out and still her hand. “Sweetheart, I…” She broke off and stared out of the window, her expression troubled.
“Mom?”
She sighed wearily, and Dean felt a fresh stab of remorse for the pain he must have caused her. “Dean, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and you haven’t been. Not for a while now. When you were little, you never stopped smiling. You were…” She laughed softly. “You were exhausting. But it was… wonderful. Do you know, I always knew when you’d woken up in the morning because as soon as you opened your eyes you’d start singing. It was so lovely. Your dad and I used to lie in bed listening to you singing and laughing to yourself, and it made us smile. Dean, it’s… it’s so hard when you have a child and you love them more than yourself, and you can see that they’re in pain but you can’t reach them.”
“Mom, I… I’m so sorry.”
She grabbed hold of his hand. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy. I… I know it must be difficult. I know Sam’s so intellectually bright, and everyone makes a big deal of that, but it doesn’t mean we love him more than you. You have to know that. Yes, we’re proud of him, but… Dean, I don’t care if you don’t go to college. It doesn’t matter - college isn’t for everyone. I just… Oh, Dean, I just don’t want you to give up on yourself. I know that if you give up now there will come a day when you regret it, and it would break my heart. Promise me you’ll try. Promise you’ll just get through this year, get your high school diploma. You may not think it, but you are smart, and you can do it. Just don’t give up. You have so many people who love you and who are rooting for you, and I… I just want you to be happy. Promise me you’ll try?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Dean whispered. “Yeah, I promise.”
…
Waking up now was like resurfacing. Dean didn’t know if it was because of the drugs they’d got him on or because regaining consciousness reminded him of the drowning now. And if that was the case, would it always be like this? Would there always be this panic associated with waking up, like it was a struggle, like he might not make it? Because that would suck.
Dean forced his eyes to open. It was Monday afternoon and he’d been watching TV, but he must have dozed off. Daytime programs were hardly scintillating.
He thought he was alone in the room at first, but then a strange frisson ran through him and he knew that he was being watched. Slowly, because he was still a little tender, he turned over.
Castiel was sitting Indian-style in the chair beside Dean’s bed, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin. He was staring at Dean intently, and apparently did not see any reason to stop doing so now that Dean was actually awake.
Dean stared back. He realized that he should probably be a little creeped out by all of this but, he figured, the usual boundaries of intimacy kind of didn’t apply with the person who brought you back from the dead. He was also filled with a sense of wonder. This was the one. The one who had saved him. The strange, pale boy sitting across from him had dragged him out of the lake, breathed life back into him, snatched him from death. Dean could have looked at him forever.
“They told me you were asleep,” Castiel said eventually. “But they said that I could wait.”
“Right.”
“I’m glad you’re better. Your brother told me that you wanted me to visit, so I came.”
“Yeah. Um… thanks.” Dean had never had to thank anyone for saving his life before, and he hadn’t thought it would be this awkward. It seemed crazy that as much as he had been desperate to meet Castiel properly over the past three days, now that he was actually here Dean didn’t have a clue what to say to him. He didn’t know where to begin. Castiel, however, seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort. He just sat and stared.
“What happened?” Dean asked quietly. “I mean, they told me the basics, but… what actually happened?”
Castiel looked at him, and Dean knew that he didn’t have to explain any further. “I don’t know why I was there. I mean, I don’t know why I went out. We don’t celebrate Halloween in our family, so there was no reason for it. I’d been feeling… restless. I’d thought that a walk might clear my head. I wandered around for ages; I didn’t really know where I was going. I didn’t want to go home because… well, I didn’t want to go home. But it was getting late, so I cut back across the college campus, and… and as I crossed the grounds I came across the boating lake. I don’t know what drew me to it. I just stood there, staring out over the water, and I felt… I felt troubled. It was like I knew that something was wrong or that something bad was about to happen, although I didn’t know what. You know? And then the moon came out from behind a cloud and I saw you lying face down in the water. You weren’t moving.”
“You pulled me out,” Dean whispered, instinctively placing his own hand over the bruises on his arm where Castiel had grabbed him.
“Yes. It was… really hard. You weigh a lot.”
Dean huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”
Castiel frowned, puzzled. “The thing I can’t explain is that… you were dead. You were cold and pale and you weren’t breathing. I couldn’t feel your heart beating. But when I touched you I knew. I knew that I could bring you back, and that you were still in there somewhere. I called for an ambulance and then I… I turned you over and I pumped the water out of your lungs, but you still weren’t breathing. So I…”
“You performed CPR,” Dean said softly. He had just realized that Castiel was as affected by all of this as he was. They looked at each other again.
“Yes,” Castiel said. “CPR.”
Which meant, Dean thought, that Castiel had breathed air back into his lungs, had beat his chest until his heart jump-started again. He had wrestled with Death, that night by the pond. He had battled for Dean’s life. And what was most amazing was that this awkward, strange, enigma of a boy had won.
Castiel lowered his eyes. “I remember shouting at you,” he said quietly. “Shouting at you to come back, telling you to fight. And then it was like you… you were thrown back into your body. Violently. You opened your eyes and you grabbed hold of my arm so tightly it hurt. I tried to comfort you, but you were so scared, and I… I don’t think you heard me.”
“You wrapped me up in your coat.”
A small smile. “Yes.”
“You know, it’s in the bedside cupboard if you want it back.”
“Thank you.” Castiel suddenly unfurled his legs and came to stand by Dean’s bed. He reached out and placed a hand over Dean’s heart. He didn’t appear to realize that what he was doing was weird, and in complete violation of all the personal space rules you’re supposed to have with someone you only properly met five minutes ago. “It’s beating,” he said.
“Um… yeah.” Dean was too surprised to actually do anything. “Yeah, I should hope so.”
Castiel gave a half smile. “The last time I checked, it wasn’t.” He didn’t take his hand away.
Dean swallowed. “It feels… weird.”
“Yes.”
Dean kind of wished that the other boy would stop staring now. It was starting to make him feel… exposed. “So… Castiel,” he said lightly, trying to break the tension. “How’d you end up with a name like that?”
Castiel frowned with confusion, tilting his head to one side a little so that he had the look of a bewildered puppy. “Well… it’s what my parents decided to call me.”
“Noooo, I mean why Castiel? It’s an unusual name.”
“Oh. We’re all named after angels in our family. It’s a traditional thing.”
“Seriously? So you’ve got a Gabriel?”
“My eldest brother.”
“And a Raphael?”
“One of my uncles.”
“Wow.”
“Do you really think that Castiel is unusual?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I never met anyone called Castiel before.”
“I have never met anyone called Dean before. Is that an unusual name?”
“Uh… not really.” Dean was beginning to think that Castiel might be some sort of alien who had read books about being human, but hadn’t put theory to practice much. Still, he was fascinated. Leaving aside what he owed to Castiel, being with him was the first time in god knows how long that Dean had felt a spark of real interest. “Uh… I was thinking,” he said. “I mean, I understand if you’re too busy or if you don’t really… I mean, I get that we’re pretty different, but if you ever wanted to hang out, or…” Dean cleared his throat, and turned away, embarrassed. He didn’t even know why he was saying this.
“You’d like to be friends.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well… yeah. I mean, you saved my life, and I… Well, you’re not like anyone I ever met before.”
“I’d like that. I haven’t had an actual friend before. The concept is… intriguing.”
Dean laughed. Clearly Castiel thought of him as some sort of science experiment, but he was somehow okay with that. He didn’t think he would get easily bored with Castiel’s particular brand of weird. “Okay then,” he said. “The doctor says I’ll be out of here tomorrow, so… I guess I’ll see you at school.”
“That would be good. Goodbye, Dean.”
Dean wasn’t sure why, but in spite of the lingering aches, the hospital food, and the knowledge that he would be even more behind than he already was by the time he actually got back to school, he felt cheerful for the rest of the day.
Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2