Aspect of Ilusion 1 of 2 (Dean/Cas) PG-13
Title: Aspect of Illusion
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel centric with background Dean/Cas
Genre: Drama, character study
Warnings: Features non-detailed mentions of the American mental health system, concepts of faith. Brief hints of homophobia.
Word Count: 12474
Summary: Castiel wakes up in a hospital where everyone calls him Jimmy, they've never heard of the Winchesters, and the doctor is trying to 'cure' him of his angelic delusion.
Betas: megthelegend and m14mouse both looked this over many drafts ago and gave me focus, support and direction. All errors are still my own.
Note: Written for the very patient hugglewolf's comment_fic prompt Cas wakes up in a mental ward where the doctors try to convince him he is Jimmy Novak, and that believing he's actually Castiel the angel is just a symptom of his illness. They start to wear him down. Apparently, I fail completely at comment fic. Title is from the quote Great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion. ~ Robert Burton
*Now available in Russian thanks to ampr
Aspect of Illusion
"Cas."
Dean sounded worried. Castiel disliked it when Dean was worried. For all that his world consisted of one tiny mostly-human family, Dean had far too many people that he took into himself as his personal responsibility - Sam, Bobby, the whole of humanity. Being considered one of those burdens was a source of both irritation and joy to Castiel, and he tried to alleviate Dean's concern for himself whenever it was in his power.
"Cas!" The slight anxiety in Dean's voice had ramped up to anger, a response Castiel knew meant that Dean was trying to talk himself down from outright terror. It was important that he answer Dean and reassure his charge that he was fine very quickly.
Although, now that he thought of it, Castiel wasn't sure that he was fine. He had no idea how he'd gotten to this dark formless place or why he could only hear Dean and not actually see him. He could only conclude that there had been an attack of some sort that had robbed him of his short term memory. It must have been a powerful enemy to accomplish such a thing, but Castiel took comfort in the fact that Dean at least had survived intact. Sam too, presumably, or Dean's concern would not be aimed at Castiel alone.
He tried to answer. "Dean," he said. But although he spoke in his normal tone of voice, no sound came out of his throat - at least he couldn't hear himself if he was in fact making a noise. "Dean," he tried again, louder. He could feel the vocal chords of his vessel vibrating and his throat felt strained and raw as if he'd attempted calling out many times and not just once, but still he heard no sound emanating from his vessel. Not even, he discovered, the expected slide of fabric from the sleeves of Jimmy's trench coat as he reached out toward the sound of Dean's voice. If not for the perfect clarity of Dean's voice, Castiel would have worried for the state of his human hearing.
"Cas, damn it, open your eyes." Dean ordered.
Open his eyes? Castiel obeyed slowly, unaware until he did so that his eyes had in fact been closed.
He found himself looking up at an unremarkable white ceiling and he stared at it blankly, wondering how he had come to be laying down. He certainly had no memory of doing so. Perhaps Dean or Sam had put him in bed, but why? Castiel sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the small bed he found himself lying on and surveyed his surroundings with a single sweep of his head. It was a small, mostly featureless room with one bed, one dresser and no windows except for a tiny one inset high up on the room's single door. And most importantly, no Dean or Sam.
"Dean? Sam?" he called out uncertainly. There was no answer, and Castiel stood slowly, intrigued and disturbed by the slight ache in his back. Something truly powerful must have attacked him to affect both his memory and his Grace's ability to heal himself. He reached for the cell phone in the pocket of his trench coat only to discover that he was no longer dressed in his accustomed manner. Instead he was wearing gray sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt. He frowned at his bare feet, disliking the holes in his memory. Not knowing how he came to be dressed strangely was possibly even more disturbing than not knowing where he was.
Castiel had just resolved to try the door and search the surrounding area when the door swung open to admit a short balding man in a white lab coat. "How are we feeling today, Mr. Novak?" the man asked, not even bothering to glance up from the clipboard he was carrying.
Castiel was mildly surprised at the use of Jimmy's name, and he studied the doctor more carefully. The man was shorter than Jimmy Novak by an inch or two. He was rounded in the middle, but his arms and legs were more muscle than flab. His hair, while sparse was well groomed and cleaned. But neither his own nor Jimmy's memories contained any reference to the man.
The doctor looked up, possibly curious about Castiel's prolonged silence and got caught in Castiel's gaze. Dean often said its intensity was inhuman. That made sense since he was not, in fact, human. "Jimmy?" the doctor prompted, now frowning as if Castiel's lack of response was cause for concern. "Are you okay? Feeling up to your phone call?"
Castiel had been about to inquire about Dean and Sam, but being allowed to call the men themselves seemed a more efficient way to gather the necessary information. "Yes." Then because it was the human thing to do he added, "Thank you."
The doctor laughed. "Don't thank me Jimmy. You earned it. You've made excellent progress these last three weeks."
Castiel kept his silence, but he frowned inwardly. He couldn't have been there for three weeks. He'd been with the Winchesters just a few moments before waking up in this new place. Hadn't he? A feeling of unease rose in Castiel, and he forced it back down. It must have been a remnant of Jimmy's emotions trying to awaken. He was an Angel of the Lord, and he did not feel unease. He would call Dean, and Dean would know - if not what was going on - then at least what to do next.
***
Cas studied the common area of what he now knew to be the mental health ward of a hospital as he was led to a short line of other patients. It appeared harmless enough. There were a few plastic plants scattered around, several tables of varying sizes surrounded by the hard plastic chairs that Dean had once declared where secretly torture devices from Hell. (Castiel couldn't recall seeing any such chairs while in Hell, but he had been, admittedly, very focused on his mission.) On the wall opposite the nurses' station there was a small sitting area with cushioned chairs and a large couch facing a small television. Castiel didn't recognize the animated character running around on the screen, but no one was paying much attention to it anyway so he deemed it unimportant.
All of the patients were wearing various colored wristbands, and Castiel lightly thumbed over the blue band on own his right wrist. He noted that some of the patients in line with him also wore blue bands, though some wore yellow or green. They were all waiting quietly for their turn to use the ward's single phone, carefully supervised by a large blonde woman in pink scrubs. Her nametag told him that her name was Nurse Rippet.
Everything seemed calm and safe and normal, but something… Castiel hesitated to say 'felt off' even in the privacy of his own mind, but it was the term best suited to what he was experiencing.
Castiel tipped his head, pushing aside his human sight to look at the room properly - and found nothing. A quick survey of the room revealed that he couldn't see anything or anyone with his Grace. Their pasts and futures and souls were completely missing. Hidden from him or simply not there at all he couldn't yet tell, but either way it was quite disconcerting. He tipped his head to the side and tried again, but the only thing the second attempt yielded him was a headache.
The woman behind him interrupted his thoughts with a soft tap on his shoulder. "Excuse me," she said with a shy smile, "the line's moved."
Castiel looked forward and discovered that there was now a sizeable gap between him and the young man ahead of him. He took the two necessary steps to rectify the situation. "Thank you."
"Sure," she smiled again, more confident this time. "Are you calling home?"
"I am calling Dean."
Her blue eyes narrowed the way Sam's did when he was trying to puzzle something out in his head. "Is that your brother? Son?"
"Dean is..." Humans did not have a proper word for what Dean was or the nature of their relationship. "my friend." Then because that seemed woefully inadequate. "A special friend."
The woman's smile turned knowing. "Ah, a special friend." Inexplicably, she winked at Castiel. "He must miss you terribly."
"I'm not sure he's noticed that I am gone," Castiel told her, quite truthfully.
Her face fell and then twisted in some complicated way Castiel couldn't understand and she reached her hand out again, this time squeezing his bicep gently. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Sometimes it feels like no one cares - believe me, I know the feeling - but you are special and people care about you."
Castiel wished that he could see her into her properly. He suspected her soul would be battered and beautiful. "Thank you. I know. The same is true of you," he answered. Because it was true that his Father, at the very least, loved all of His children. She beamed at him, but before she could say anything more, it was Castiel's turn on the phone. He forced a small, unfamiliar smile for his companion and picked up the handset of the old fashioned, corded phone.
Castiel dialed Dean's cell number quickly, hoping the other man was able to answer it. A woman picked up on the third ring. Her voice was vaguely familiar though Cas couldn't immediately identify it, and that was as wrong as his inability to see things properly. "Is Dean there, please?" he asked, remembering the phone etiquette in which Sam had been instructing him.
For a long moment - three point five seconds to be precise - there was nothing but silence. Then - "Jimmy? Is that you?" the woman's voice was happy but there was a quiver to it, as if she was forcing the note of cheer into her tone.
The sound of her voice saying Jimmy's name sparked a memory not his own in Castiel's head. "Amelia," he said. He double checked the read out and confirmed that he had indeed dialed Dean's number. "Are you with Dean?"
The was a quickly stifled sob on the other end of the line. "No, baby, no. It's just me. Me and Claire. We miss you honey. Do you remember me and Claire?"
"Of course. You are Jimmy Novak's family."
"Your family, honey. You are Jimmy Novak." Amelia had given up all pretense of cheerfulness. She was sobbing openly.
"No…" Castiel trailed off, thinking over the best approach to the situation. Claire's memories had been left intact when her mother's had been altered, and she would possibly be better able to understand his predicament. Perhaps she could get a hold of Sam or Bobby: there was obviously something wrong with Dean's phone. "May I speak to Claire please?"
"No, I don't think that's a good idea right now." Amelia was still crying, but she was firm.
Castiel understood from her tone that Amelia would prefer to shelter her child from pain if she could help it. Therefore, explaining to Amelia was the best possible solution. "As you wish. I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord."
"Yes, I know you think you're an angel of the Lord."
Castiel was taken slightly aback at the sudden ice in her voice, and he paused briefly before continuing. "This would be easier to explain to Claire," he tried again.
"No. She needs her Daddy, not Castiel," Amelia refused.
Castiel couldn't argue with that. "I am sorry to bring you such news, and to have broken my promise to your family, but Jimmy is no longer in this vessel with me."
There was a loud broken sob from the other end of the phone, but Castiel pushed on. "I'm afraid some of my brethren showed no concern for Jimmy's life when ending mine. I regret not being able to keep my promises to him and your family. But I promise that you will all be reunited in Heaven and richly rewarded for you faith."
Amelia didn't answer. Castiel wasn't even sure she had heard him over the sound of her own pain. "Amelia?" He wished Sam was here - he was better at finding the right thing to say in these situations. He tried to think of things Sam had said to grieving family members in the past, but Dr. Z was suddenly standing in front of him, taking the phone gently and waving Castiel away before speaking in soft, reassuring tones into the receiver.
Castiel was grateful to see someone offering comfort to his vessel's widow. She was a good woman who didn't deserve the hand Heaven had dealt her. He hoped that when she calmed down she would find a measure of comfort in his words and would be able to offer Claire strength and support in dealing with their loss.
"Jimmy," Dr. Z said, disapproval radiating off of him as he hung up the phone. "You shouldn't have said that: your wife is distraught."
"I have no spouse. I was attempting to reach Dean. Do you know his condition and where I might find him?"
The doctor frowned, changing his disapproval to concern in the blink of an eye. "Dean? Dean Winchester? I thought you were doing better, Jimmy."
"Better than what?" Castiel asked, quite fairly he thought. "Is Dean alright?"
The doctor sighed, as if he was already worn out by their conversation. "Am I speaking to Castiel?"
Castiel moved in closer to the doctor and tipped his head to the side. "How do you know about me? Who are you?"
"I'm Dr. Z." The doctor's tone moved from exhausted to soothing with practiced ease. Castiel marveled once again at the human ability to shift emotional gears so quickly. "Do you know where you are?"
"I... No," Castiel was forced to admit.
"This is Sunnydale Medical Center. Your wife, Amelia, checked you in three weeks ago, suffering from hallucinations and delusions. Your name is Jimmy Novak. Your wife is Amelia Novak and you have a single child - a daughter named Claire. Does any of this sound familiar?"
Cas nodded. Of course those things sounded familiar. Castiel remembered Jimmy Novak's life better even than Jimmy himself. "Yes."
"Good," the doctor sounded as if he were praising a small child. Castiel did not enjoy the tone at all. "You've been doing very well." Doctor Z flashed him a small, bright smile followed almost immediately by a frown. "Until today. You shouldn't have told your wife that Jimmy is dead."
"I have no spouse," Castiel repeated, since the doctor seemed to have missed that fact the first time. "Amelia is my vessel's wife and she deserves to know that Jimmy has gone onto his reward and that he no longer shares this body with me." Castiel felt regret and something akin to sorrow in the fact that he'd been unable to return Jimmy to his family unharmed, but he couldn't let them live a lie.
The doctor shook his head and motioned for Castiel to follow him into the relative privacy of the room in which Castiel had awoken. When they were alone, Doctor Z said with a sadness that Castiel did not believe to be real, "I'm going to have to take you out of the blue level and revoke your phone privileges."
That was unacceptable. Without the use of the phone, Castiel would be unable to track down Dean. He'd never been impulsive in the long history of his existence until he'd pulled Dean Winchester from Hell and left his mark upon him without really deciding to do it. But now, impulsively, he decided to fly away at once to find the Winchesters. "My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. I am very sorry, but I must leave now to find my friends."
The doctor shook his head with another faux sad smile. "Okay, Jimmy, go ahead, fly away."
Cas hesitated, Dean always scolded him for disappearing in front of people, but he'd already told the doctor the truth of who and what he really was, so Castiel gathered his Grace to him in preparation for 'zapping' out of there and... found it unreachable.
He stumbled back in shock and fell to the bed - graceless in more way than one.
"Problem?" the doctor asked, not unkindly this time. He almost looked sorry for Castiel.
"My Grace," Castiel began with a frown. "It's being blocked. I can not reach it." Castiel didn't know any other way to explain it. He could still feel his Grace, but when he reached for it, it remained beyond his grasp. This was far more troubling than being unable to use his true sight. Many things of even human design could cause that. Castiel could think of only a handful of creatures that could bind an angel's Grace - none of them pleasant. Castiel began to worry.
No, it was more than that. His heart rate and breathing jumped in an irregular rhythm; his forehead and palms began to sweat; and his stomach churned and recoiled violently. Castiel had fought countless wars, been hunted by demon and angel alike, had descended into the very fires of hell, but he had never felt such discomfort as when he reached for his Grace once again and found it inaccessible. He suspected what he was feeling was terror. Castiel tried to push it and his vessel's physical reactions to the emotion away, but was unable to do even that much. That was when the panic really set in, and Castiel handled his fear in true Winchester fashion - by attacking.
"What are you doing to me?" he demanded, standing up and advancing on Doctor Z, "Who sent you? And where are Sam and Dean Winchester?" The last question was nothing more than a slow threatening growl in the doctor's face.
"Orderly!" Doctor Z yelled, nonsensically in Castiel's opinion. Dean was someplace well organized? That was confusing even by human standards. The doctor was backing away with real fear on his face, blocking Castiel's exit from the room. Castiel tried to push his way past the doctor, but whatever was preventing him from accessing his Grace had also taken away his angelic strength, and the two men - orderlies, Cas suspected - that rushed into the room at the doctor's command were easily able to contain him. His struggles to throw them off were completely ineffective and he was helpless to prevent Dr. Z from taking a needle from his coat pocket and injecting its contents into Castiel's neck.
Cas tried to resist the drug's pull, but he lost control of his vessel's muscles within minutes and he could only pray to his Father and weakly call for Dean while the orderlies put him back in bed and secured the restraints.
***
Cas was flying through darkness. No - not flying - swimming, swimming in something thick and black that kept threatening to pull him down. He was... frightened. He thrashed wildly with arms and legs and wings trying to break free, but it was no use. He was going to be sucked under and he had no idea what waited for him in the blackness.
"Cas."
The voice was distant but Castiel heard it and held it close. "Dean," he whispered to himself and crawled his way back toward the light.
"Cas."
"Dean?" the sound of his own voice woke Castiel from the unbroken blackness of unconsciousness. There was no answer and Castiel forced his eyes open, only to close them again immediately against horribly familiar sterile surroundings of the hospital room.
He was no longer tied down - thank the Father - but his throat was dry, raw from sounds he only vaguely remembered making. Castiel crawled out of his too small cot and stumbled on weak legs to the door to his temporary prison. "Hello?"
It was quiet on the other side of the door, and the lights had been dimmed. Castiel tried the handle in vain, and then slapped an open palm to the door a few times when it refused to open. "Hello? I require hydration. I am thirsty."
There were the soft sounds of footsteps approaching his door and an unfamiliar voice called through the door. "Please sit on the bed."
"I don't understand," Cas said genuinely.
"Sit on the bed so I can open the door," the voice repeated.
Cas still didn't understand how one related to the other but he backed up to sit on the bed again. Another man in a white coat - not one of the orderlies from before - opened the door. He had a larger plastic cup of water in one hand and a smaller cup with pills in the other. He handed both to Castiel.
Cas looked quizzically at the medication before downing the water in one swallow. The orderly produced a second glass from a tray in the hallway and handed it over as well. "Thank you," Castiel whispered, sipping at the second cup.
"How are we feeling Mr. Novak?" the man asked in a calm voice that somehow put Castiel more on edge.
"I have no way of knowing how you are feeling. I will be fine once I have left here."
The orderly smiled a smile that missed comforting by a mile. "That's right, Mr. N. We'll have you better and back to your family in no time. Just take your meds and get some sleep."
Castiel frowned. "I do not require sleep. I have only just regained consciousness."
"Come on," the man said in a cajoling voice, "don't give me a hard time Mr. N. You know I'll just have to report it to Dr. Z.
"That sounds like coercion," Cas observed with narrowed eyes.
"Aw, don't be like that, I just want a quiet night for me and a good morning for you."
Castiel doubted that, but he saw no harm in taking the pills. His Grace should be enough to prevent the drugs from affecting his vessel, even without him being able to access it directly. He swallowed the medicine down with the second glass of water and lay back on the cot, intending to put his mind to the problem of his confinement, but sleep overtook him almost before his head hit the pillow.
Thankfully his sleep was as natural as could be expected for a creature that had never slept before and dreamless, except for the insistent call of his name just before he woke up in a voice beautiful and familiar, "Cas."
**
Doctor Z arrived just moments after Castiel opened his eyes to a Dean-less world as if he'd been waiting for Castiel to awaken. "Are you feeling better this morning, Jimmy? More yourself?"
"Who else could I be but myself?" Castiel asked blankly. He reached for his Grace and tried to see the doctor with his true eyes but quickly stopped when the nothingness threatened to drown him in fear again. He locked the emotion deep within himself to examine at a later date. Right now it was unhelpful and was in fact detrimental to his efforts to figure out where he was and how to return to Dean.
"You could be Castiel," the doctor answered finally.
"I am Castiel," Castiel pointed out with a frown. This conversation was pointless. He needed to get in contact with the Winchesters somehow. "I feel much better today, and I would like to use the phone," he said, sitting up in bed to address the doctor directly. "Please," he added as an afterthought.
"Sorry, Jimmy," the doctor said with nothing like regret in his expression, "I've had to revoke your phone privileges after yesterday's incident."
A quick glance at his wrist showed that his blue band had been replaced with a new red band and Castiel narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "For how long?"
"Until Jimmy comes back and you forget about the Winchesters."
Cas drew back a little in surprise. "That's impossible."
Doctor Z's eyebrows went up in what Cas suspected was mockery. "You're the Angel of the Lord. Pray for a miracle."
Castiel nodded. That was possibly the most sensible thing the doctor had said yet. "Given my circumstances I believe it would be cruel to ask for Jimmy to be returned to his body. The risk of him being killed again is too great. But prayer is always a good idea. I have faith that Dean is looking for me: I will pray for my Father to grant him and Sam strength and guidance to help find me."
Castiel slipped off the bed to kneel at its side in the manner in which he'd seen Claire pray in Jimmy's memories, and closed his eyes to beseech his Father or any of his brethren who may have been sympathetic and listening. In the background Castiel was aware of the doctor attempting to engage him in conversation again, but Castiel ignored it and eventually Doctor Z gave up and left him in peace.
**
The orderly from the night before returned at dinner time.
"Hey, Mr. Novak, are you hungry? I got some grub for you."
"I do not require food, my Grace is sufficient to maintain my vessel." Castiel told him briefly before returning to his prayers.
"Aww, come on Mr. N, it's tuna salad, your favorite." The orderly cajoled.
Castiel didn't answer this time, but continued to pray, and after a few minutes, the orderly sat the tray on a the room's single small table and retreated.
For three days Cas prayed. He refused to eat and spoke only to inform the increasingly agitated orderlies and doctors that he would pray until Dean and Sam came for him. Occasionally his vessel betrayed him and he dropped into a fitful sleep, and always, right before he would reawaken he would hear Dean's voice, faint but unmistakably him, calling out - "Cas."
That voice gave him the strength to ignore the pain his stomach and the pain in his head and the terrifying weakness in his limbs and continue to pray. But by the third night he was too weak to fight when the orderlies held him down and the doctor pumped a sedative into him.
Cas didn't like the drugged sleep. It gave him nightmares of bloody feathers and burnt flesh. Once or twice he thought he heard Dean call to him, but it was as if the drugs were effecting Dean as much as they were effecting Castiel, and Dean's voice was fuzzy and far away. Cas struggled toward it anyway, fighting his way past layers of sleep and muddied memories until he heard Dean stronger and clearer than ever saying "Cas, wake up." And Cas did.
Castiel had been moved into another room at some point during his drugged slumber. The room he found himself in now was a more traditional hospital room - like something out of Dr. Sexy - with a TV on one wall and a second, empty bed next to him half hidden by a curtain. There was a needle dripping something into the back of his hand. Castiel frowned at it through the aching in his head and pulled the needle out with his other hand.
Rubbing the small bead of blood dripping from his hand absently, Castiel pushed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Before he could decide if his legs would support his weight a nurse came barreling into the room, her face business-like and concerned. She stopped short at he the sight of him.
"Mr. Novak, you're awake." She seemed surprised, but recovered herself quickly, rushing over to his bedside to push his unresisting body back into the bed and tucking the sheets firmly around him.
"Yes," he said flatly, allowing her fussing for the moment and pretending it wasn't because he was as weak as a new fledgling.
"And you've pulled out your IV," she accused gently, clucking over the wound as she cleaned away the worst of the blood with a Kleenex from his bedside table. "You shouldn't have done that."
"It was making me feel," Cas paused, searching for an appropriate word, "fuzzy."
"It was doing no such thing," the nurse argued, efficiently bandaging the small wound. "It was building your strength back up. Now, I don't have to put it back in, but you'll have to eat something for me. Can you do that?"
Cas did not like being treated like a small child, but even without his true sight he could see that the nurse was acting out of real concern and not a sense of malice so he nodded. Eating would be preferable to allowing an unknown substance into his vessel, despite the nurse's insistence that the IV was unrelated to his confusion.
The nurse smiled brightly at his concession and left with a firm admonishment for Castiel not to move. She returned quickly with a bowl of soup and a glass of apple juice. Cas eyed the food uncertainly but ate without protest. The nurse stayed and watched until he'd finished his meal and then she cleared his tray away, turning out the lights as she left. "Get some rest. We'll try something more substantial in the morning."
Castiel had only a moment to be disturbed at how exhausted he felt and how little control he had over his body's need for sleep before sleep pulled him back under. Just before waking there was Dean's voice again calling his name.
"Cas? Come back. Don't you dare do this to me, asshole. Fight it, Cas. Fight it."
Castiel was grateful for the directive. Passivity had never been his style, but following orders and taking action were. He ate everything that was put before him the next morning and limited his prayers to a few hours a day. He followed his medical doctors orders exactly, anything to aid his recovery, because now he had a mission. He had to get strong and fight his way back to Dean.
As Castiel expected, going a few days without food wasn't a terrible hardship on the human body, and he was almost up to his pre-fasting strength by the end of the day. Unfortunately, his true strength remained as elusive as his Grace. Castiel tried to teleport away from the hospital anyway, but he wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Obviously someone had done something to either his vessel or to the hospital itself, and panicking would get him no closer to recovering his stolen Grace.
No, not stolen - blocked maybe - he could still feel his Grace, weaker and dimmer than when he had first been dispatched to raise Dean from Hell, but still there - as much a part of him as his love for his Father, as his faith in Dean, more a part of him than the flesh that encased it.
Castiel needed to find out the cause of the block before he could remove it. He felt no need for modesty himself, but understood that humans felt shame in nudity, and he slipped into his room's bathroom at his first opportunity. Removing the thin, open backed gown that he found himself was an uncomplicated task, and Castiel let it drop to the floor quickly.
Jimmy's body was fascinating. It was pale and lean and he took time to marvel at the way muscle moved under skin as he bent and twisted. He had observed the muscles of others before, of course, but it was somehow different to be so deeply embedded into his vessel and watch the muscle move in response to his thoughts. It was even more interesting when muscles moved with no voluntary input from him - the rise and fall of his chest, the regular beating of his borrowed heart, the annoying flutter of muscle in one bicep for which he could find no cause.
All humans were his Father's works of art, and now Castiel found himself admiring the one that housed him for long moments before remembering his purpose. He began a careful inspection of his body, cataloguing sensation and inventorying every imperfection, but he found nothing out of the ordinary, and his spirits fell at the revelation. A mark upon his vessel would have been easier to find and deal with than something inside the large building.
"Mr. Novak? Are you okay in there?" The nurse called through the locked bathroom door, knocking sharply to get his attention. "Do you need help?"
"No," Castiel called back, quickly pulling gown and robe back on, "I do not require assistance." He opened the door and allowed the nurse to lead him back to bed.
"I wish to leave this room," Castiel informed the day nurse when he came in later to torture Castiel with needles and self inflating cuffs.
"No can do, Mr. Novak. You should have thought of that before you tried to starve yourself." The nurse looked up briefly from the mysterious notes he was making on Castiel's chart.
"I was not trying to starve myself. It was a religious fast." Cas protested. It wasn't precisely a lie. He knew of many faithful men who fasted in an effort to cleanse themselves. Castiel had been trying to communicate with his Father, even if the fasting part wasn't exactly part of the plan.
However Dean's assertion that he sucked at lying must have been true because the nurse eyed him doubtfully over the rims of his reading glasses. "Uh, huh. Well, it doesn't matter. A psych patient refusing to eat means you're stuck in the here until Doctor Z releases you."
Cas latched onto the words. "In the hospital, but surely not just this room. Is it permissible for me to take a walk?"
The nurse - Roy, according to his nametag - continued to look suspicious but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe. If I tell the doctor I believe you're fit to be up and around."
Cas smiled gratefully. "I am. I would be very grateful. It has been too long since I've seen my Father's creation."
"What?" Roy looked honestly confused, and Castiel assumed he didn't know the reasons for Jimmy's stay in the psych ward.
"My Heavenly Father," Cas added, hoping the nurse would accept the answer as a statement of faith and not see fit to mention it to Dr. Z.
"Oh," Roy's face softened and his smile turned more genuine. Castiel suspected he was one of his Father's faithful. "Yes, I see no reason why we couldn't add short walks to your recovery routine."
"Thank you," Cas said gratefully. "Bless you."
Roy held up a warning finger. "You can't go alone. A nurse or candy striper will have to escort you."
"Of course," Castiel agreed quickly. "Thank you again."
**
The candy striper assigned to him was named Cassie. Castiel believed that was what humans called irony. She was young and bubbly and if Castiel didn't love all of his Father's creations he suspected he would have hated her.
"Good morning, Mr. Novak," she gushed as she bounced into his room. "I hear someone's ready to do some exploring!"
Castiel drew back warily as she approached his bed. "Yes."
"Wonderful. I'll just go get you a robe and we'll be off." She bounced out of the room and back in again is a matter of seconds, this time carrying a blue robe. "Here we go. This will match your eyes," she declared with a smile and a wink.
"Thank you for this." Cas may have been slightly frightened by her exuberant behavior but he was grateful that her presence meant he could explore the hospital.
"Of course, Mr. Novak, it's my job and I'm happy to help." She smiled at him again and her genuine pleasure shone through, making Castiel feel more relaxed despite himself. "We'll just make a circuit of the floor to start with," she cautioned. "If you're feeling up to it we can go further."
Castiel felt perfectly fine after three floors, but after the fourth he was feeling fatigued. The full limitations of his de-powered vessel were frustrating, but he was grateful when Cassie helped him back into bed and even more so when she promised to return in the morning.
The evening after their second walk - when they'd explored all the floors above Castiel's own - Castiel was moved back to the psych ward where he'd started.
Castiel was disappointed, and searched the entire ward listlessly before retiring to his own room. There was nothing there, of course, but he'd suspected as much. If it had been in the ward then being out of it should have restored at least some of his powers.
But shortly after breakfast the next morning- oatmeal with none of the brown sugar and fruit Dean usually put in his - Cassie stopped by the ward to take him for another walk.
"I don't understand," Cas had said when the familiar young bubbly girl appeared at the door that separated the psych patients from the 'real' hospital.
"What's to understand? You like walks, I like walks, Dr. Z approved it." She said impatiently, smiling as she ushered him back to his room to change.
Castiel returned the smile hesitantly and allowed himself to be lead to the lower levels of the hospital. If Cassie thought it was odd that he wanted to explore every single floor of the hospital instead of going outside, she didn't show it. Cassie spent the next few days patiently leading Castiel around every nook and cranny of the hospital, showing off her knowledge of the history and architecture of the structure with great enthusiasm. Castiel listened attentively in case there were clues to his predicament in the hospital's past. There weren't but it did give him an excuse to ask questions and look at things more closely than he might have been able to do otherwise without arousing suspicion.
Castiel told her highly edited stories of his brothers and of the Winchesters, admitting to her that he had no idea what had become of them since he had arrived at the hospital. He lacked Dean's smooth way with women, but Cassie at least seemed to find his awkward smiles and stiff formal speech endearing because she checked both the computers and the extensive network of hospital gossip for news of two brothers who might have been brought to the hospital at roughly the same time as Jimmy. She found nothing, and Castiel was torn between relief that the brothers were presumably free and safe and profound loneliness that they were not nearby.
Castiel looked for them in the hospital anyway, trailing up and down each floor in search of his friends or the sigils binding his Grace while Cassie chatted with the nurses and kept one eye on him. Sometimes a patient or family member would ask what he was looking for and he would tell them a story about his friends Dean and Sam Winchester. After the first time, when he got sent directly back to his room with a stern warning, he learned to leave out his true identity as an Angel of the Lord. He was a big hit on the pediatric floors, and he found himself stopping by regularly although there was little chance of Dean and Sam being kept in the children's wards.
Occasionally a lost soul would call out to him and he would sit with someone for awhile in silence just to let them know that they were not alone, sometimes talking to them of his Father and sometimes listening to their confessions. Sometimes the nurses asked him to speak to someone in particular, and Castiel couldn't refuse to do his Father's work. The only directive he was still sure really did come from his Father was to love one another.
After a week Castiel was required to attend regular therapy sessions with Dr. Z as tradeoff for continuing his walks with Cassie. In the first one Dr. Z asked how he was enjoying the fresh air.
"Cassie and I have not yet left the building," Castiel explained shortly. He did not like these group exercises. The patients all had different problems from each other - and none were anywhere close to his own problem of being a powerless angel trapped with no means of reaching his companions - so the exercise of making them all sit in a circle and talk about irrelevant topics seemed a bigger waste of time than even his own, mostly silent, individual sessions.
Dr. Z raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? You've spent over a week exploring the hospital itself?"
"Yes," he answered shortly.
The doctor stared at him a moment, and when it was apparent that was all Castiel had to say on the subject asked, "May I ask why?"
"Yes."
Again, Castiel didn't elaborate until the doctor asked, with just a touch of exasperation that Castiel couldn't help but feel proud of evoking, "Why?"
"Cassie knows a great deal about he hospital. I believe she is enjoying showing off her knowledge to me." It wasn't the whole truth, but half-truths were something at which all angels excelled.
"I allowed the walks to continue for your benefit, Jimmy, not some random candy stripers," Dr. Z retorted with a vehemence Castiel did not understand.
"She is not a random candy striper. Her name is Cassandra Mills and she would never force me into something I did not want to do. She has a kind and generous heart. I enjoy the walks and her company it a great deal." Castiel considered that perhaps he'd been with Dean too long if he was walking the edge between truth and lies so closely just to be contrary. He didn't dislike Cassie but enjoying her company was a bit of a stretch.
The doctor's gaze narrowed at him but all he said was, "Very well, as long as you're enjoying yourself," and he moved on to pestering another patient. Castiel stared hard at the doctor for the rest of the session, wondering what or who the doctor didn't want him to find.
Castiel redoubled his efforts to search the entire hospital after that, including the areas he had already explored once, curious about the doctor's rush to get him out of the building. A week later, he was certain he'd seen every part of the hospital, including the restricted areas thanks to his budding friendship with Cassie, but had found no sign of Dean or Sam or anything supernatural that might have been keeping him powerless.
At the end of the month with a brief futile search of the maternity ward, Castiel was forced to accept that there was nothing in the hospital binding his powers. He reluctantly turned his thoughts to how to escape from the building without his usual angelic advantages.
He studied the shift changes and visiting hours. He paid attention to the security guards that roamed the corridors and the orderlies who watched him with more care than he liked. He waited and a vague plan began to form after a few weeks.
Continue to part two
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel centric with background Dean/Cas
Genre: Drama, character study
Warnings: Features non-detailed mentions of the American mental health system, concepts of faith. Brief hints of homophobia.
Word Count: 12474
Summary: Castiel wakes up in a hospital where everyone calls him Jimmy, they've never heard of the Winchesters, and the doctor is trying to 'cure' him of his angelic delusion.
Betas: megthelegend and m14mouse both looked this over many drafts ago and gave me focus, support and direction. All errors are still my own.
Note: Written for the very patient hugglewolf's comment_fic prompt Cas wakes up in a mental ward where the doctors try to convince him he is Jimmy Novak, and that believing he's actually Castiel the angel is just a symptom of his illness. They start to wear him down. Apparently, I fail completely at comment fic. Title is from the quote Great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion. ~ Robert Burton
*Now available in Russian thanks to ampr
Aspect of Illusion
"Cas."
Dean sounded worried. Castiel disliked it when Dean was worried. For all that his world consisted of one tiny mostly-human family, Dean had far too many people that he took into himself as his personal responsibility - Sam, Bobby, the whole of humanity. Being considered one of those burdens was a source of both irritation and joy to Castiel, and he tried to alleviate Dean's concern for himself whenever it was in his power.
"Cas!" The slight anxiety in Dean's voice had ramped up to anger, a response Castiel knew meant that Dean was trying to talk himself down from outright terror. It was important that he answer Dean and reassure his charge that he was fine very quickly.
Although, now that he thought of it, Castiel wasn't sure that he was fine. He had no idea how he'd gotten to this dark formless place or why he could only hear Dean and not actually see him. He could only conclude that there had been an attack of some sort that had robbed him of his short term memory. It must have been a powerful enemy to accomplish such a thing, but Castiel took comfort in the fact that Dean at least had survived intact. Sam too, presumably, or Dean's concern would not be aimed at Castiel alone.
He tried to answer. "Dean," he said. But although he spoke in his normal tone of voice, no sound came out of his throat - at least he couldn't hear himself if he was in fact making a noise. "Dean," he tried again, louder. He could feel the vocal chords of his vessel vibrating and his throat felt strained and raw as if he'd attempted calling out many times and not just once, but still he heard no sound emanating from his vessel. Not even, he discovered, the expected slide of fabric from the sleeves of Jimmy's trench coat as he reached out toward the sound of Dean's voice. If not for the perfect clarity of Dean's voice, Castiel would have worried for the state of his human hearing.
"Cas, damn it, open your eyes." Dean ordered.
Open his eyes? Castiel obeyed slowly, unaware until he did so that his eyes had in fact been closed.
He found himself looking up at an unremarkable white ceiling and he stared at it blankly, wondering how he had come to be laying down. He certainly had no memory of doing so. Perhaps Dean or Sam had put him in bed, but why? Castiel sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the small bed he found himself lying on and surveyed his surroundings with a single sweep of his head. It was a small, mostly featureless room with one bed, one dresser and no windows except for a tiny one inset high up on the room's single door. And most importantly, no Dean or Sam.
"Dean? Sam?" he called out uncertainly. There was no answer, and Castiel stood slowly, intrigued and disturbed by the slight ache in his back. Something truly powerful must have attacked him to affect both his memory and his Grace's ability to heal himself. He reached for the cell phone in the pocket of his trench coat only to discover that he was no longer dressed in his accustomed manner. Instead he was wearing gray sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt. He frowned at his bare feet, disliking the holes in his memory. Not knowing how he came to be dressed strangely was possibly even more disturbing than not knowing where he was.
Castiel had just resolved to try the door and search the surrounding area when the door swung open to admit a short balding man in a white lab coat. "How are we feeling today, Mr. Novak?" the man asked, not even bothering to glance up from the clipboard he was carrying.
Castiel was mildly surprised at the use of Jimmy's name, and he studied the doctor more carefully. The man was shorter than Jimmy Novak by an inch or two. He was rounded in the middle, but his arms and legs were more muscle than flab. His hair, while sparse was well groomed and cleaned. But neither his own nor Jimmy's memories contained any reference to the man.
The doctor looked up, possibly curious about Castiel's prolonged silence and got caught in Castiel's gaze. Dean often said its intensity was inhuman. That made sense since he was not, in fact, human. "Jimmy?" the doctor prompted, now frowning as if Castiel's lack of response was cause for concern. "Are you okay? Feeling up to your phone call?"
Castiel had been about to inquire about Dean and Sam, but being allowed to call the men themselves seemed a more efficient way to gather the necessary information. "Yes." Then because it was the human thing to do he added, "Thank you."
The doctor laughed. "Don't thank me Jimmy. You earned it. You've made excellent progress these last three weeks."
Castiel kept his silence, but he frowned inwardly. He couldn't have been there for three weeks. He'd been with the Winchesters just a few moments before waking up in this new place. Hadn't he? A feeling of unease rose in Castiel, and he forced it back down. It must have been a remnant of Jimmy's emotions trying to awaken. He was an Angel of the Lord, and he did not feel unease. He would call Dean, and Dean would know - if not what was going on - then at least what to do next.
***
Cas studied the common area of what he now knew to be the mental health ward of a hospital as he was led to a short line of other patients. It appeared harmless enough. There were a few plastic plants scattered around, several tables of varying sizes surrounded by the hard plastic chairs that Dean had once declared where secretly torture devices from Hell. (Castiel couldn't recall seeing any such chairs while in Hell, but he had been, admittedly, very focused on his mission.) On the wall opposite the nurses' station there was a small sitting area with cushioned chairs and a large couch facing a small television. Castiel didn't recognize the animated character running around on the screen, but no one was paying much attention to it anyway so he deemed it unimportant.
All of the patients were wearing various colored wristbands, and Castiel lightly thumbed over the blue band on own his right wrist. He noted that some of the patients in line with him also wore blue bands, though some wore yellow or green. They were all waiting quietly for their turn to use the ward's single phone, carefully supervised by a large blonde woman in pink scrubs. Her nametag told him that her name was Nurse Rippet.
Everything seemed calm and safe and normal, but something… Castiel hesitated to say 'felt off' even in the privacy of his own mind, but it was the term best suited to what he was experiencing.
Castiel tipped his head, pushing aside his human sight to look at the room properly - and found nothing. A quick survey of the room revealed that he couldn't see anything or anyone with his Grace. Their pasts and futures and souls were completely missing. Hidden from him or simply not there at all he couldn't yet tell, but either way it was quite disconcerting. He tipped his head to the side and tried again, but the only thing the second attempt yielded him was a headache.
The woman behind him interrupted his thoughts with a soft tap on his shoulder. "Excuse me," she said with a shy smile, "the line's moved."
Castiel looked forward and discovered that there was now a sizeable gap between him and the young man ahead of him. He took the two necessary steps to rectify the situation. "Thank you."
"Sure," she smiled again, more confident this time. "Are you calling home?"
"I am calling Dean."
Her blue eyes narrowed the way Sam's did when he was trying to puzzle something out in his head. "Is that your brother? Son?"
"Dean is..." Humans did not have a proper word for what Dean was or the nature of their relationship. "my friend." Then because that seemed woefully inadequate. "A special friend."
The woman's smile turned knowing. "Ah, a special friend." Inexplicably, she winked at Castiel. "He must miss you terribly."
"I'm not sure he's noticed that I am gone," Castiel told her, quite truthfully.
Her face fell and then twisted in some complicated way Castiel couldn't understand and she reached her hand out again, this time squeezing his bicep gently. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Sometimes it feels like no one cares - believe me, I know the feeling - but you are special and people care about you."
Castiel wished that he could see her into her properly. He suspected her soul would be battered and beautiful. "Thank you. I know. The same is true of you," he answered. Because it was true that his Father, at the very least, loved all of His children. She beamed at him, but before she could say anything more, it was Castiel's turn on the phone. He forced a small, unfamiliar smile for his companion and picked up the handset of the old fashioned, corded phone.
Castiel dialed Dean's cell number quickly, hoping the other man was able to answer it. A woman picked up on the third ring. Her voice was vaguely familiar though Cas couldn't immediately identify it, and that was as wrong as his inability to see things properly. "Is Dean there, please?" he asked, remembering the phone etiquette in which Sam had been instructing him.
For a long moment - three point five seconds to be precise - there was nothing but silence. Then - "Jimmy? Is that you?" the woman's voice was happy but there was a quiver to it, as if she was forcing the note of cheer into her tone.
The sound of her voice saying Jimmy's name sparked a memory not his own in Castiel's head. "Amelia," he said. He double checked the read out and confirmed that he had indeed dialed Dean's number. "Are you with Dean?"
The was a quickly stifled sob on the other end of the line. "No, baby, no. It's just me. Me and Claire. We miss you honey. Do you remember me and Claire?"
"Of course. You are Jimmy Novak's family."
"Your family, honey. You are Jimmy Novak." Amelia had given up all pretense of cheerfulness. She was sobbing openly.
"No…" Castiel trailed off, thinking over the best approach to the situation. Claire's memories had been left intact when her mother's had been altered, and she would possibly be better able to understand his predicament. Perhaps she could get a hold of Sam or Bobby: there was obviously something wrong with Dean's phone. "May I speak to Claire please?"
"No, I don't think that's a good idea right now." Amelia was still crying, but she was firm.
Castiel understood from her tone that Amelia would prefer to shelter her child from pain if she could help it. Therefore, explaining to Amelia was the best possible solution. "As you wish. I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord."
"Yes, I know you think you're an angel of the Lord."
Castiel was taken slightly aback at the sudden ice in her voice, and he paused briefly before continuing. "This would be easier to explain to Claire," he tried again.
"No. She needs her Daddy, not Castiel," Amelia refused.
Castiel couldn't argue with that. "I am sorry to bring you such news, and to have broken my promise to your family, but Jimmy is no longer in this vessel with me."
There was a loud broken sob from the other end of the phone, but Castiel pushed on. "I'm afraid some of my brethren showed no concern for Jimmy's life when ending mine. I regret not being able to keep my promises to him and your family. But I promise that you will all be reunited in Heaven and richly rewarded for you faith."
Amelia didn't answer. Castiel wasn't even sure she had heard him over the sound of her own pain. "Amelia?" He wished Sam was here - he was better at finding the right thing to say in these situations. He tried to think of things Sam had said to grieving family members in the past, but Dr. Z was suddenly standing in front of him, taking the phone gently and waving Castiel away before speaking in soft, reassuring tones into the receiver.
Castiel was grateful to see someone offering comfort to his vessel's widow. She was a good woman who didn't deserve the hand Heaven had dealt her. He hoped that when she calmed down she would find a measure of comfort in his words and would be able to offer Claire strength and support in dealing with their loss.
"Jimmy," Dr. Z said, disapproval radiating off of him as he hung up the phone. "You shouldn't have said that: your wife is distraught."
"I have no spouse. I was attempting to reach Dean. Do you know his condition and where I might find him?"
The doctor frowned, changing his disapproval to concern in the blink of an eye. "Dean? Dean Winchester? I thought you were doing better, Jimmy."
"Better than what?" Castiel asked, quite fairly he thought. "Is Dean alright?"
The doctor sighed, as if he was already worn out by their conversation. "Am I speaking to Castiel?"
Castiel moved in closer to the doctor and tipped his head to the side. "How do you know about me? Who are you?"
"I'm Dr. Z." The doctor's tone moved from exhausted to soothing with practiced ease. Castiel marveled once again at the human ability to shift emotional gears so quickly. "Do you know where you are?"
"I... No," Castiel was forced to admit.
"This is Sunnydale Medical Center. Your wife, Amelia, checked you in three weeks ago, suffering from hallucinations and delusions. Your name is Jimmy Novak. Your wife is Amelia Novak and you have a single child - a daughter named Claire. Does any of this sound familiar?"
Cas nodded. Of course those things sounded familiar. Castiel remembered Jimmy Novak's life better even than Jimmy himself. "Yes."
"Good," the doctor sounded as if he were praising a small child. Castiel did not enjoy the tone at all. "You've been doing very well." Doctor Z flashed him a small, bright smile followed almost immediately by a frown. "Until today. You shouldn't have told your wife that Jimmy is dead."
"I have no spouse," Castiel repeated, since the doctor seemed to have missed that fact the first time. "Amelia is my vessel's wife and she deserves to know that Jimmy has gone onto his reward and that he no longer shares this body with me." Castiel felt regret and something akin to sorrow in the fact that he'd been unable to return Jimmy to his family unharmed, but he couldn't let them live a lie.
The doctor shook his head and motioned for Castiel to follow him into the relative privacy of the room in which Castiel had awoken. When they were alone, Doctor Z said with a sadness that Castiel did not believe to be real, "I'm going to have to take you out of the blue level and revoke your phone privileges."
That was unacceptable. Without the use of the phone, Castiel would be unable to track down Dean. He'd never been impulsive in the long history of his existence until he'd pulled Dean Winchester from Hell and left his mark upon him without really deciding to do it. But now, impulsively, he decided to fly away at once to find the Winchesters. "My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. I am very sorry, but I must leave now to find my friends."
The doctor shook his head with another faux sad smile. "Okay, Jimmy, go ahead, fly away."
Cas hesitated, Dean always scolded him for disappearing in front of people, but he'd already told the doctor the truth of who and what he really was, so Castiel gathered his Grace to him in preparation for 'zapping' out of there and... found it unreachable.
He stumbled back in shock and fell to the bed - graceless in more way than one.
"Problem?" the doctor asked, not unkindly this time. He almost looked sorry for Castiel.
"My Grace," Castiel began with a frown. "It's being blocked. I can not reach it." Castiel didn't know any other way to explain it. He could still feel his Grace, but when he reached for it, it remained beyond his grasp. This was far more troubling than being unable to use his true sight. Many things of even human design could cause that. Castiel could think of only a handful of creatures that could bind an angel's Grace - none of them pleasant. Castiel began to worry.
No, it was more than that. His heart rate and breathing jumped in an irregular rhythm; his forehead and palms began to sweat; and his stomach churned and recoiled violently. Castiel had fought countless wars, been hunted by demon and angel alike, had descended into the very fires of hell, but he had never felt such discomfort as when he reached for his Grace once again and found it inaccessible. He suspected what he was feeling was terror. Castiel tried to push it and his vessel's physical reactions to the emotion away, but was unable to do even that much. That was when the panic really set in, and Castiel handled his fear in true Winchester fashion - by attacking.
"What are you doing to me?" he demanded, standing up and advancing on Doctor Z, "Who sent you? And where are Sam and Dean Winchester?" The last question was nothing more than a slow threatening growl in the doctor's face.
"Orderly!" Doctor Z yelled, nonsensically in Castiel's opinion. Dean was someplace well organized? That was confusing even by human standards. The doctor was backing away with real fear on his face, blocking Castiel's exit from the room. Castiel tried to push his way past the doctor, but whatever was preventing him from accessing his Grace had also taken away his angelic strength, and the two men - orderlies, Cas suspected - that rushed into the room at the doctor's command were easily able to contain him. His struggles to throw them off were completely ineffective and he was helpless to prevent Dr. Z from taking a needle from his coat pocket and injecting its contents into Castiel's neck.
Cas tried to resist the drug's pull, but he lost control of his vessel's muscles within minutes and he could only pray to his Father and weakly call for Dean while the orderlies put him back in bed and secured the restraints.
***
Cas was flying through darkness. No - not flying - swimming, swimming in something thick and black that kept threatening to pull him down. He was... frightened. He thrashed wildly with arms and legs and wings trying to break free, but it was no use. He was going to be sucked under and he had no idea what waited for him in the blackness.
"Cas."
The voice was distant but Castiel heard it and held it close. "Dean," he whispered to himself and crawled his way back toward the light.
"Cas."
"Dean?" the sound of his own voice woke Castiel from the unbroken blackness of unconsciousness. There was no answer and Castiel forced his eyes open, only to close them again immediately against horribly familiar sterile surroundings of the hospital room.
He was no longer tied down - thank the Father - but his throat was dry, raw from sounds he only vaguely remembered making. Castiel crawled out of his too small cot and stumbled on weak legs to the door to his temporary prison. "Hello?"
It was quiet on the other side of the door, and the lights had been dimmed. Castiel tried the handle in vain, and then slapped an open palm to the door a few times when it refused to open. "Hello? I require hydration. I am thirsty."
There were the soft sounds of footsteps approaching his door and an unfamiliar voice called through the door. "Please sit on the bed."
"I don't understand," Cas said genuinely.
"Sit on the bed so I can open the door," the voice repeated.
Cas still didn't understand how one related to the other but he backed up to sit on the bed again. Another man in a white coat - not one of the orderlies from before - opened the door. He had a larger plastic cup of water in one hand and a smaller cup with pills in the other. He handed both to Castiel.
Cas looked quizzically at the medication before downing the water in one swallow. The orderly produced a second glass from a tray in the hallway and handed it over as well. "Thank you," Castiel whispered, sipping at the second cup.
"How are we feeling Mr. Novak?" the man asked in a calm voice that somehow put Castiel more on edge.
"I have no way of knowing how you are feeling. I will be fine once I have left here."
The orderly smiled a smile that missed comforting by a mile. "That's right, Mr. N. We'll have you better and back to your family in no time. Just take your meds and get some sleep."
Castiel frowned. "I do not require sleep. I have only just regained consciousness."
"Come on," the man said in a cajoling voice, "don't give me a hard time Mr. N. You know I'll just have to report it to Dr. Z.
"That sounds like coercion," Cas observed with narrowed eyes.
"Aw, don't be like that, I just want a quiet night for me and a good morning for you."
Castiel doubted that, but he saw no harm in taking the pills. His Grace should be enough to prevent the drugs from affecting his vessel, even without him being able to access it directly. He swallowed the medicine down with the second glass of water and lay back on the cot, intending to put his mind to the problem of his confinement, but sleep overtook him almost before his head hit the pillow.
Thankfully his sleep was as natural as could be expected for a creature that had never slept before and dreamless, except for the insistent call of his name just before he woke up in a voice beautiful and familiar, "Cas."
**
Doctor Z arrived just moments after Castiel opened his eyes to a Dean-less world as if he'd been waiting for Castiel to awaken. "Are you feeling better this morning, Jimmy? More yourself?"
"Who else could I be but myself?" Castiel asked blankly. He reached for his Grace and tried to see the doctor with his true eyes but quickly stopped when the nothingness threatened to drown him in fear again. He locked the emotion deep within himself to examine at a later date. Right now it was unhelpful and was in fact detrimental to his efforts to figure out where he was and how to return to Dean.
"You could be Castiel," the doctor answered finally.
"I am Castiel," Castiel pointed out with a frown. This conversation was pointless. He needed to get in contact with the Winchesters somehow. "I feel much better today, and I would like to use the phone," he said, sitting up in bed to address the doctor directly. "Please," he added as an afterthought.
"Sorry, Jimmy," the doctor said with nothing like regret in his expression, "I've had to revoke your phone privileges after yesterday's incident."
A quick glance at his wrist showed that his blue band had been replaced with a new red band and Castiel narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "For how long?"
"Until Jimmy comes back and you forget about the Winchesters."
Cas drew back a little in surprise. "That's impossible."
Doctor Z's eyebrows went up in what Cas suspected was mockery. "You're the Angel of the Lord. Pray for a miracle."
Castiel nodded. That was possibly the most sensible thing the doctor had said yet. "Given my circumstances I believe it would be cruel to ask for Jimmy to be returned to his body. The risk of him being killed again is too great. But prayer is always a good idea. I have faith that Dean is looking for me: I will pray for my Father to grant him and Sam strength and guidance to help find me."
Castiel slipped off the bed to kneel at its side in the manner in which he'd seen Claire pray in Jimmy's memories, and closed his eyes to beseech his Father or any of his brethren who may have been sympathetic and listening. In the background Castiel was aware of the doctor attempting to engage him in conversation again, but Castiel ignored it and eventually Doctor Z gave up and left him in peace.
**
The orderly from the night before returned at dinner time.
"Hey, Mr. Novak, are you hungry? I got some grub for you."
"I do not require food, my Grace is sufficient to maintain my vessel." Castiel told him briefly before returning to his prayers.
"Aww, come on Mr. N, it's tuna salad, your favorite." The orderly cajoled.
Castiel didn't answer this time, but continued to pray, and after a few minutes, the orderly sat the tray on a the room's single small table and retreated.
For three days Cas prayed. He refused to eat and spoke only to inform the increasingly agitated orderlies and doctors that he would pray until Dean and Sam came for him. Occasionally his vessel betrayed him and he dropped into a fitful sleep, and always, right before he would reawaken he would hear Dean's voice, faint but unmistakably him, calling out - "Cas."
That voice gave him the strength to ignore the pain his stomach and the pain in his head and the terrifying weakness in his limbs and continue to pray. But by the third night he was too weak to fight when the orderlies held him down and the doctor pumped a sedative into him.
Cas didn't like the drugged sleep. It gave him nightmares of bloody feathers and burnt flesh. Once or twice he thought he heard Dean call to him, but it was as if the drugs were effecting Dean as much as they were effecting Castiel, and Dean's voice was fuzzy and far away. Cas struggled toward it anyway, fighting his way past layers of sleep and muddied memories until he heard Dean stronger and clearer than ever saying "Cas, wake up." And Cas did.
Castiel had been moved into another room at some point during his drugged slumber. The room he found himself in now was a more traditional hospital room - like something out of Dr. Sexy - with a TV on one wall and a second, empty bed next to him half hidden by a curtain. There was a needle dripping something into the back of his hand. Castiel frowned at it through the aching in his head and pulled the needle out with his other hand.
Rubbing the small bead of blood dripping from his hand absently, Castiel pushed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Before he could decide if his legs would support his weight a nurse came barreling into the room, her face business-like and concerned. She stopped short at he the sight of him.
"Mr. Novak, you're awake." She seemed surprised, but recovered herself quickly, rushing over to his bedside to push his unresisting body back into the bed and tucking the sheets firmly around him.
"Yes," he said flatly, allowing her fussing for the moment and pretending it wasn't because he was as weak as a new fledgling.
"And you've pulled out your IV," she accused gently, clucking over the wound as she cleaned away the worst of the blood with a Kleenex from his bedside table. "You shouldn't have done that."
"It was making me feel," Cas paused, searching for an appropriate word, "fuzzy."
"It was doing no such thing," the nurse argued, efficiently bandaging the small wound. "It was building your strength back up. Now, I don't have to put it back in, but you'll have to eat something for me. Can you do that?"
Cas did not like being treated like a small child, but even without his true sight he could see that the nurse was acting out of real concern and not a sense of malice so he nodded. Eating would be preferable to allowing an unknown substance into his vessel, despite the nurse's insistence that the IV was unrelated to his confusion.
The nurse smiled brightly at his concession and left with a firm admonishment for Castiel not to move. She returned quickly with a bowl of soup and a glass of apple juice. Cas eyed the food uncertainly but ate without protest. The nurse stayed and watched until he'd finished his meal and then she cleared his tray away, turning out the lights as she left. "Get some rest. We'll try something more substantial in the morning."
Castiel had only a moment to be disturbed at how exhausted he felt and how little control he had over his body's need for sleep before sleep pulled him back under. Just before waking there was Dean's voice again calling his name.
"Cas? Come back. Don't you dare do this to me, asshole. Fight it, Cas. Fight it."
Castiel was grateful for the directive. Passivity had never been his style, but following orders and taking action were. He ate everything that was put before him the next morning and limited his prayers to a few hours a day. He followed his medical doctors orders exactly, anything to aid his recovery, because now he had a mission. He had to get strong and fight his way back to Dean.
As Castiel expected, going a few days without food wasn't a terrible hardship on the human body, and he was almost up to his pre-fasting strength by the end of the day. Unfortunately, his true strength remained as elusive as his Grace. Castiel tried to teleport away from the hospital anyway, but he wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Obviously someone had done something to either his vessel or to the hospital itself, and panicking would get him no closer to recovering his stolen Grace.
No, not stolen - blocked maybe - he could still feel his Grace, weaker and dimmer than when he had first been dispatched to raise Dean from Hell, but still there - as much a part of him as his love for his Father, as his faith in Dean, more a part of him than the flesh that encased it.
Castiel needed to find out the cause of the block before he could remove it. He felt no need for modesty himself, but understood that humans felt shame in nudity, and he slipped into his room's bathroom at his first opportunity. Removing the thin, open backed gown that he found himself was an uncomplicated task, and Castiel let it drop to the floor quickly.
Jimmy's body was fascinating. It was pale and lean and he took time to marvel at the way muscle moved under skin as he bent and twisted. He had observed the muscles of others before, of course, but it was somehow different to be so deeply embedded into his vessel and watch the muscle move in response to his thoughts. It was even more interesting when muscles moved with no voluntary input from him - the rise and fall of his chest, the regular beating of his borrowed heart, the annoying flutter of muscle in one bicep for which he could find no cause.
All humans were his Father's works of art, and now Castiel found himself admiring the one that housed him for long moments before remembering his purpose. He began a careful inspection of his body, cataloguing sensation and inventorying every imperfection, but he found nothing out of the ordinary, and his spirits fell at the revelation. A mark upon his vessel would have been easier to find and deal with than something inside the large building.
"Mr. Novak? Are you okay in there?" The nurse called through the locked bathroom door, knocking sharply to get his attention. "Do you need help?"
"No," Castiel called back, quickly pulling gown and robe back on, "I do not require assistance." He opened the door and allowed the nurse to lead him back to bed.
"I wish to leave this room," Castiel informed the day nurse when he came in later to torture Castiel with needles and self inflating cuffs.
"No can do, Mr. Novak. You should have thought of that before you tried to starve yourself." The nurse looked up briefly from the mysterious notes he was making on Castiel's chart.
"I was not trying to starve myself. It was a religious fast." Cas protested. It wasn't precisely a lie. He knew of many faithful men who fasted in an effort to cleanse themselves. Castiel had been trying to communicate with his Father, even if the fasting part wasn't exactly part of the plan.
However Dean's assertion that he sucked at lying must have been true because the nurse eyed him doubtfully over the rims of his reading glasses. "Uh, huh. Well, it doesn't matter. A psych patient refusing to eat means you're stuck in the here until Doctor Z releases you."
Cas latched onto the words. "In the hospital, but surely not just this room. Is it permissible for me to take a walk?"
The nurse - Roy, according to his nametag - continued to look suspicious but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe. If I tell the doctor I believe you're fit to be up and around."
Cas smiled gratefully. "I am. I would be very grateful. It has been too long since I've seen my Father's creation."
"What?" Roy looked honestly confused, and Castiel assumed he didn't know the reasons for Jimmy's stay in the psych ward.
"My Heavenly Father," Cas added, hoping the nurse would accept the answer as a statement of faith and not see fit to mention it to Dr. Z.
"Oh," Roy's face softened and his smile turned more genuine. Castiel suspected he was one of his Father's faithful. "Yes, I see no reason why we couldn't add short walks to your recovery routine."
"Thank you," Cas said gratefully. "Bless you."
Roy held up a warning finger. "You can't go alone. A nurse or candy striper will have to escort you."
"Of course," Castiel agreed quickly. "Thank you again."
**
The candy striper assigned to him was named Cassie. Castiel believed that was what humans called irony. She was young and bubbly and if Castiel didn't love all of his Father's creations he suspected he would have hated her.
"Good morning, Mr. Novak," she gushed as she bounced into his room. "I hear someone's ready to do some exploring!"
Castiel drew back warily as she approached his bed. "Yes."
"Wonderful. I'll just go get you a robe and we'll be off." She bounced out of the room and back in again is a matter of seconds, this time carrying a blue robe. "Here we go. This will match your eyes," she declared with a smile and a wink.
"Thank you for this." Cas may have been slightly frightened by her exuberant behavior but he was grateful that her presence meant he could explore the hospital.
"Of course, Mr. Novak, it's my job and I'm happy to help." She smiled at him again and her genuine pleasure shone through, making Castiel feel more relaxed despite himself. "We'll just make a circuit of the floor to start with," she cautioned. "If you're feeling up to it we can go further."
Castiel felt perfectly fine after three floors, but after the fourth he was feeling fatigued. The full limitations of his de-powered vessel were frustrating, but he was grateful when Cassie helped him back into bed and even more so when she promised to return in the morning.
The evening after their second walk - when they'd explored all the floors above Castiel's own - Castiel was moved back to the psych ward where he'd started.
Castiel was disappointed, and searched the entire ward listlessly before retiring to his own room. There was nothing there, of course, but he'd suspected as much. If it had been in the ward then being out of it should have restored at least some of his powers.
But shortly after breakfast the next morning- oatmeal with none of the brown sugar and fruit Dean usually put in his - Cassie stopped by the ward to take him for another walk.
"I don't understand," Cas had said when the familiar young bubbly girl appeared at the door that separated the psych patients from the 'real' hospital.
"What's to understand? You like walks, I like walks, Dr. Z approved it." She said impatiently, smiling as she ushered him back to his room to change.
Castiel returned the smile hesitantly and allowed himself to be lead to the lower levels of the hospital. If Cassie thought it was odd that he wanted to explore every single floor of the hospital instead of going outside, she didn't show it. Cassie spent the next few days patiently leading Castiel around every nook and cranny of the hospital, showing off her knowledge of the history and architecture of the structure with great enthusiasm. Castiel listened attentively in case there were clues to his predicament in the hospital's past. There weren't but it did give him an excuse to ask questions and look at things more closely than he might have been able to do otherwise without arousing suspicion.
Castiel told her highly edited stories of his brothers and of the Winchesters, admitting to her that he had no idea what had become of them since he had arrived at the hospital. He lacked Dean's smooth way with women, but Cassie at least seemed to find his awkward smiles and stiff formal speech endearing because she checked both the computers and the extensive network of hospital gossip for news of two brothers who might have been brought to the hospital at roughly the same time as Jimmy. She found nothing, and Castiel was torn between relief that the brothers were presumably free and safe and profound loneliness that they were not nearby.
Castiel looked for them in the hospital anyway, trailing up and down each floor in search of his friends or the sigils binding his Grace while Cassie chatted with the nurses and kept one eye on him. Sometimes a patient or family member would ask what he was looking for and he would tell them a story about his friends Dean and Sam Winchester. After the first time, when he got sent directly back to his room with a stern warning, he learned to leave out his true identity as an Angel of the Lord. He was a big hit on the pediatric floors, and he found himself stopping by regularly although there was little chance of Dean and Sam being kept in the children's wards.
Occasionally a lost soul would call out to him and he would sit with someone for awhile in silence just to let them know that they were not alone, sometimes talking to them of his Father and sometimes listening to their confessions. Sometimes the nurses asked him to speak to someone in particular, and Castiel couldn't refuse to do his Father's work. The only directive he was still sure really did come from his Father was to love one another.
After a week Castiel was required to attend regular therapy sessions with Dr. Z as tradeoff for continuing his walks with Cassie. In the first one Dr. Z asked how he was enjoying the fresh air.
"Cassie and I have not yet left the building," Castiel explained shortly. He did not like these group exercises. The patients all had different problems from each other - and none were anywhere close to his own problem of being a powerless angel trapped with no means of reaching his companions - so the exercise of making them all sit in a circle and talk about irrelevant topics seemed a bigger waste of time than even his own, mostly silent, individual sessions.
Dr. Z raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? You've spent over a week exploring the hospital itself?"
"Yes," he answered shortly.
The doctor stared at him a moment, and when it was apparent that was all Castiel had to say on the subject asked, "May I ask why?"
"Yes."
Again, Castiel didn't elaborate until the doctor asked, with just a touch of exasperation that Castiel couldn't help but feel proud of evoking, "Why?"
"Cassie knows a great deal about he hospital. I believe she is enjoying showing off her knowledge to me." It wasn't the whole truth, but half-truths were something at which all angels excelled.
"I allowed the walks to continue for your benefit, Jimmy, not some random candy stripers," Dr. Z retorted with a vehemence Castiel did not understand.
"She is not a random candy striper. Her name is Cassandra Mills and she would never force me into something I did not want to do. She has a kind and generous heart. I enjoy the walks and her company it a great deal." Castiel considered that perhaps he'd been with Dean too long if he was walking the edge between truth and lies so closely just to be contrary. He didn't dislike Cassie but enjoying her company was a bit of a stretch.
The doctor's gaze narrowed at him but all he said was, "Very well, as long as you're enjoying yourself," and he moved on to pestering another patient. Castiel stared hard at the doctor for the rest of the session, wondering what or who the doctor didn't want him to find.
Castiel redoubled his efforts to search the entire hospital after that, including the areas he had already explored once, curious about the doctor's rush to get him out of the building. A week later, he was certain he'd seen every part of the hospital, including the restricted areas thanks to his budding friendship with Cassie, but had found no sign of Dean or Sam or anything supernatural that might have been keeping him powerless.
At the end of the month with a brief futile search of the maternity ward, Castiel was forced to accept that there was nothing in the hospital binding his powers. He reluctantly turned his thoughts to how to escape from the building without his usual angelic advantages.
He studied the shift changes and visiting hours. He paid attention to the security guards that roamed the corridors and the orderlies who watched him with more care than he liked. He waited and a vague plan began to form after a few weeks.
Continue to part two