Unforeseen Consequences - Chapter One
Dean figured the probability of being able to get through to Sam was significantly decreased after he watched Lucifer blow Castiel into a million pieces. That was something he hadn’t even considered, and it rocked him backward; Cas was gone. He wasn’t ready to give up, though, and was just about to start talking again when Michael reappeared. The two of them started arguing, loudly at first, then their conversation got quiet and Dean couldn’t hear anything they were saying. Which didn’t matter much now that they’d switched to speaking in Enochian. For a minute, it seemed Lucifer and Michael had forgotten they had an audience. Eventually, Lucifer reached a hand out to his brother, and Michael gripped onto his forearm with a look of resignation and sadness. Figuring the bell was about to ring for the prize fight, Dean looked to Bobby, then back to the archangels, having no idea what to expect.
He certainly did not expect Lucifer to turn toward Dean and throw a wink at him, just like Dean had done in the Beautiful Room not too long ago. That’s when it hit him - that wink hadn’t come from Lucifer, it had come from Sam. Before anyone else could do anything, Dean watched in horror at a distance as the Horsemen’s rings hit the ground, the field opened up below them and swallowed them both.
The useless scream of ”NO!” barely had time to escape Dean’s mouth before the ground split once more, spitting Sam right back up to the place where he’d been standing moments before. Dean scrambled toward him with almost superhuman speed, pushing away the idea that he might be running to clutch onto a dead body. The minute Dean’s arms were around Sam, though, he shifted and Dean could feel him breathing.
When Sam opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his brother, and he gave a weak smile. Still a Sam smile, though. “Tricked him”, he whispered, before his eyes closed again. Dean checked, found a strong pulse, and pulled Sam tighter into his arms.
At the same time, Bobby yelled, “Dean, we, uh…got some company over here!” Expecting demons, Dean whipped his head around in that direction to see Bobby standing over a whole but damaged Castiel, just as unconscious as Sam was.
Bobby and Dean were obviously perplexed, but neither wanted to do anything but get their asses the hell away from Stull as quickly as possible. Using their combined effort, they loaded Sam and Cas into the back seat of the Impala and Dean took off with Bobby riding shotgun, ejecting his Def Leppard tape from the player before he even got the car into drive. There was no discussion about their destination; they had no place else to go except for Singer Salvage.
“What the hell just happened?” Bobby asked, knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer. He and Dean both knew no answers would be forthcoming until one or both of their passengers regained consciousness. Their anxiety only heightened as they made it all the way back to the salvage yard without a sound or a move from Sam or Castiel. It was past midnight by the time they hauled both men into Bobby’s living room. Dean laid Sam out on the sofa and Bobby pulled the cot by his desk into the room for Castiel. They set about the familiar task of checking for injuries and found nothing too alarming, to their surprise. Cas had a few cuts and bruises, and his clothes were ripped badly. Sam had no physical damage other than some deep red scratches on his arm where Michael had touched him. Nothing to do now but wait.
Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long before Sam started to stir, and opened his eyes. He was scared to death until he remembered seeing Dean earlier, then recognized his familiar surroundings. Before he even had a chance to ask, Dean was handing him a glass of water. Draining it in seconds, he flexed his arms and legs, reassuring himself that he had control over his own body for real.
“Sam”, Dean asked, “what the fuck did you do? How-“
He spoke slowly, still exhausted and sore, but he wanted to get the whole story out, try to ease the fear and confusion he saw on the faces of his brother and their surrogate father. “Lucifer didn’t want to do it. He wanted to walk away, tried talking Michael into doing the same. Let his guard down, just for a minute, while he was telling Michael how much he didn’t want to kill him, they were still brothers…I saw my chance and took it. Got control back just long enough to throw the rings down. And yeah, I knew it was a big risk, but I kept going back to this remark Castiel had made to me, just before…something about the Cage not being meant to keep a human soul, being designed to hold in an angel’s grace. Figured my best chance was taking the fall and hoping Cas was right. Even if I did end up getting stuck down there, at least Michael and Lucifer would be stuck too and not roaming around up here anymore. Guess it worked, though.”
Dean lowered his eyes and asked, he couldn’t help it, and he just had to know. “Adam?”
“I’m sorry, Dean. Michael was telling the truth, Adam wasn’t there. I want to believe the angels kept their promises and sent him back to his mom, and I realize that may or may not be true, but there was definitely nothing left of Adam when we were out there.”
“I want to believe it, too. Either way, damn it, Sam, that was one hell of a risk. You scared the shit out of me, I thought you were gone.” Dean’s voice broke on that last word.
“I was going either way, Dean. I knew it as soon as Lucifer took the rings. None of us really thought I was coming back from that field; let’s be honest, even you have to admit that much. Even when I was falling, I figured that even if I died, there was a possibility that maybe my soul would go in the other direction.” Sam startled all of a sudden, sat up straight and went stiff all over. “Castiel. Oh God, Cas, I killed Cas, I killed him…” The tears were starting to roll when Bobby finally spoke up.
“Take a look over here, kid.”
When Sam’s eyes settled where Cas was lying on the cot, he shook his head. “How? What happened?”
“Hell if I know, he just showed up, knocked out on the ground right next to me a minute after you came back.”
“When he wakes up, we’ll ask him”, Dean said.
“If he wakes up”, Sam replied, still staring at Castiel. “What I did…”
“Not you, Sam. Not what you did. That was Lucifer and you know it. He’s gonna wake up, he’s not hurt, hardly a scratch on him, right Bobby?”
“Damn straight. One thing I know for sure, Feathers here is a fighter. He’ll come out of it.”
Right on cue, Cas let out a pained groan and turned slightly, his eyes fluttering then settling into an unfocused stare at the ceiling.
He knew immediately, the very second he was conscious, he could feel it…or, to be more precise, he couldn’t feel it. His Grace. Over the past few months, it had been fading to almost nothing, but now it really was gone. Castiel was overcome with terror, emptiness, confusion. He sure didn’t feel like himself; with his Grace gone and Jimmy Novak’s soul in Heaven, he should have been an empty vessel, but that didn’t seem to be the case. And why wasn’t he dead? He clearly remembered being killed, but what had happened after that? He could recall only darkness before he opened his eyes just now. He heard voices, heard his name, heard the sounds of concern from his friends, but couldn’t really understand any of it. Trying to move his head resulted in a sharp pain along the side of his neck. Cas remembered pain, the physical, human kind of pain he’d experienced while he was falling. Before he was able to form another thought, Dean was by his side, his fingers checking for a pulse at Castiel’s wrist.
“You hear me, Cas? You don’t look too bad but you’re scaring me. Just answer me, say something, if you can, please…” The desperation in his voice matched the tone he used when speaking to his brother after a serious injury. He didn’t want to open his mouth, but he couldn’t bear to keep Dean so worried.
“I hear you”, he said, realizing that his voice didn’t sound anything like it used to. “Sam…what happened to Sam?”
“He’s here too, man, he’s ok, a little roughed up but nothing we can’t take care of.” Not waiting for the next inevitable question, Dean continued. “Michael and Lucifer are back where they belong. Turns out today wasn’t a good day for the Apocalypse after all.”
Castiel returned Dean’s crooked smile with a small grin of his own. “Good, Dean, that’s…good, it’s, uh, for the best. And apparently I’m not dead, so, you know, that’s a plus, I guess.” The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth, as if they weren’t his own, but there was no getting around the fact that they were. A sinking feeling accompanied the realization that he’d been transformed even more profoundly than he thought.
The other three men in the room exchanged glances. Yeah, Cas’ voice was different, but so was his speech. While Dean whispered to Bobby about whether or not angels can have concussions or internal bleeding, Sam just sat and stared, so thankful for whatever had erased what he - Lucifer - had done while they were at Stull.
Surprising them again, Castiel huffed and said, “I am not.”
Bobby looked over and asked for an explanation. “Not what? Not concussed? Not bleeding internally?”
“Not an angel. Though I can’t rule out having internal injuries. I’m sore and it’s unpleasant, but I don’t feel like there’s anything really wrong with me, if you don’t count the whole Grace-ectomy thing.”
Now everyone was staring, and with good reason. Castiel knew he wasn’t acting like himself, but honestly, he wasn’t himself. Well, he was, kind of. Just not the same self he’d been before. Even when he’d been susceptible to human weaknesses like pain and hunger and cold, he still never got the hang of cracking jokes or making light of a serious situation. It seemed natural to him now, though. Dean’s influence, he was pretty certain.
“What are you talking about, Cas?” asked Dean, looking thoroughly perplexed.
“Look, this has been coming for a while now, we all know that. Before today, I was taking bus rides and scratching bug bites, remember? I guess whatever put me back together after Lucifer turned me into a puddle just worked with what they had. A body, but no grace.” He didn’t voice his question about whether or not he had a soul. No way to know, really, at least right now. Angels had no souls, and the one in his vessel had departed long ago. Cas was left with Jimmy Novak’s body - no longer a vessel - but a soul couldn’t just spring forth on its own. If he had one, the only explanation was that his Father had seen fit to give it to him at the same time as he was resurrected.
And that’s when Sam lost it. His quiet tears had gone unnoticed for the past couple of minutes, but now he was almost hysterical, sobbing so loudly that his breath sounded ragged. It was almost impossible to make out everything he said, but clearly he was blaming himself for Castiel’s non-angelic state and trying to express an apology. Dean was by his side in a blink, pulling Sam close and trying to quiet him with reassuring words that didn’t seem to make a single bit of difference.
“Sam, please”, Castiel started, finally able to turn to his side and look over at the brothers on the sofa, “you know it wasn’t you who did this. I just said it was Lucifer, everyone here knows it was Lucifer who killed me. He’s not the one who brought me back, obviously, but my current state is not something you caused, either. I won’t deprive you of the self-flagellation you and Dean seem to find necessary, but trust me when I tell you I’d rather be human than dead.”
“He makes a good point, guys”, Bobby supplied. Castiel managed to get a look at him then, seeing the exhaustion and worry on the older man’s face. They’d never been close, not really, but Bobby cared for Cas, had looked out for him and was still concerned but also relieved Cas was alive. “We’ve got time to figure all this out, anyway, now that we don’t have the end of the world hanging over our heads anymore.”
Sam calmed down a bit, but still couldn’t help himself from feeling that the loss of Castiel’s Grace was on his head. Knowing he hadn’t killed him was comforting, but Cas not being an angel anymore was a terrifying thought. Of course, he was right, so was Bobby - there were worse fates. Cas didn’t deserve this, though; shouldn’t have had to give up the thing that made him what he was because he’d decided to help them.
All of a sudden, Sam was taken over by exhaustion, and it seemed that Cas was as well. Dean and Bobby agreed they’d let the two of them sleep for as long as they needed. Neither of them felt it necessary to move the other men, so Bobby went to his own bed and Dean settled down in the room he always used to share with Sam when they’d stay there as kids and still slept in one bed. The events of the previous days had been mind-boggling, and Dean’s mind was going a mile a minute, but surprisingly enough he fell asleep fairly quickly.
The first couple of weeks were tough. Sam was making decent progress with staying awake for longer stretches and walking around the house without assistance, but he was still moving a bit slowly. He didn’t talk much, either. Bobby and Dean both had tried to coax him into conversation more than once, but it seemed his short time being controlled by Lucifer had taken quite an emotional toll. Sam spent a fair amount of his days either staring out the front window with a blank look on his face or sitting by Castiel’s side.
Cas hadn’t been recovering as quickly as Sam had. Bobby suspected he had unseen injuries that were trying to heal without the benefit of Grace knitting his pieces back together. He winced in pain when he walked gingerly to the kitchen or bathroom, and cursed loudly every time he stumbled. They were all still surprised every time they heard Cas use profanity; well, all of them except Cas. The easy explanation and off-handed jokes made the first night they were back were gone now, barely covered up by a cloud of sadness and anger. Honestly, the only time he didn’t look completely miserable was when Sam was next to him.
It was a strange thing to watch, Bobby thought, this bond between Castiel and Sam. Dean had always been much closer to Cas than Sam had. He suspected Dean might be feeling a little left out, unable to provide his brother or his former-angel friend with any comfort. Not for lack of trying, but because it seemed the only people who could comfort them were each other.
Dean, in fact, was feeling a bit out of place. He was the older brother, the one who was supposed to look after Sam, take care of him and make him feel better when he was hurt. He was the friend who always told the truth to Castiel, who trusted him with his life and who should have been able to comfort him now. So he did all that he could. Went out for supplies, prepared meals that he knew Sam would enjoy and included enough variety so that Cas could figure out what he liked and what he didn’t, even offered himself up for completely chick-flick moments.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Castiel and Sam seemed to improve significantly, both psychologically and physically. Conversations between the four of them were coming more and more often. They were all even starting to get used to this new sarcastic and acerbic personality that had become a part of this human version of Castiel. Comfortable enough for Dean to relent to Cas’ constant insistence that he needed to learn how to drive. Obviously, he let Cas start out on a junker from the yard until he got the basics down, and then he handed Cas the keys and let him drive the Impala for exactly five minutes. For the first time, he was in need of possessions, and Sam had taken him to buy clothes and boots and toiletries, even his own duffle. Sam could have guessed that Cas would pick out clothing that was similar to his own and to Dean’s.
One night sharing beers on the front porch, Sam asked what Castiel was planning to do now.
“Sam, I have nowhere to go and I don’t know a single person who is not in this house as we speak. Sorry to say it, but I guess you’re stuck with me for the time being.”
Trying to hide his relief that Cas didn’t want to take off on his own, Sam just replied, “Sounds like a good plan to me. Just remember that you’re stuck with us, too” with a smile that was returned in an instant. Dean hadn’t hesitated to accept that Cas would stay with the two of them, at least for a while. Sam was just glad Castiel wouldn’t be going anywhere, though he wasn’t sure why he had such a strong desire to stay close to Cas.
Not surprisingly, during those same few weeks, Bobby could tell Sam was starting to show signs of restlessness. Dean was a bit more reserved, still thinking his brother and friend might need more time to recuperate, but his wanderlust hadn’t gone anywhere. Cas was the one who finally brought it up, though.
“Bobby, as much as your hospitality’s appreciated, I’m kinda feeling like I need to get out of here. I think Dean and Sam are ready to get back on the road, too.”
And those were the words Bobby had been waiting to hear, even though they didn’t come from whom he’d expected to say them. He knew that wanting to quit hanging around his house all the time meant that they were feeling better. “Hey, I get it. I’d like y’all to come see me again soon, but I actually just heard of a case down south that might have your names written all over it.”
Covering the highlights of what seemed like a vengeful spirit in Alabama took less time than it took for all three men to pack up for the trip. Castiel spent almost the entire ride studying John Winchester’s journal.
Absently, Dean thought there was another similarity between Cas and Sam; the ability to read in a moving vehicle. Dean got dizzy and nauseated any time he tried.
As usual, Bobby had been right. Vengeful spirit, possibly and not exceptionally dangerous to take care of if you knew how (which they did) and even easier now with a third person to help cover all possible angles of attack. The job was finished more quickly than expected, considering how difficult it should have been based on past experience. Sam came out of it with a bruised rib, Dean with a few scratches across his forearm, and Cas with a gash above his left eyebrow.
Once they returned to their motel, Dean handed Cas a bottle of whiskey and Sam stitched up the cut on his forehead. It was no easier this time than it was when he first felt pain upon waking at Bobby’s months ago. The alcohol dulled it a bit, but having your skin sewn together with dental floss was clearly not an enjoyable activity. Cas did the best he could to maintain a brave face, but there was no hiding the pain behind his pissy comments.
“Don’t the two of you keep drugs around for this sort of thing? Pain killers?” he bit out between stitches. Dean shuddered at the memory of junkie-Cas before he fully realized for the first time that the future Zachariah had shown him would never come to pass. Before he could say anything, Sam rolled his eyes and said, “We keep that for serious injuries, Cas. Not five stitches above the eyebrow injuries.” The quit being a pussy was implied, and drained the anger from Castiel, replacing it with humiliation.
“Sorry, Sam. I just - this is the first time I’ve had to get my skin threaded back together. Guess I’d better toughen up some”, he finished with a self-deprecating huff of a laugh.
“No, man, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. You’re still adjusting to being human, I know this isn’t easy for you.”
They fell silent once again as Dean felt the familiar sting - he should be taking care of Sam and Cas, not just sitting there disinfecting his own little scratches. After washing his face and changing into a non-bloodied shirt, he grabbed the car keys and announced “I’m goin’ out for a drink”, and then the door was closing behind him before either of the two other men could respond.
“Look, Cas, I really am sorry. I know it’s going to take time for you to get used to-”
“Humanity?” asked Castiel, practically spitting out the word with a twisted grimace of a smile on his face. “I know that. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating when I can’t even heal a simple laceration, or the pain you feel in your side and chest. I should be able to fix all of this with a thought, and now I can’t do a damn thing. Not for myself, not for anyone else.”
Sam was taken aback by the tone of Castiel’s voice and his sorrowful words. “It’s not like that, man. I mean, technically, yeah, it’s like that so far as you not being able to heal wounds, but there’s a lot you can do. That spirit we came across tonight was more dangerous than we originally thought. Having you there made all the difference. Had Dean and I been alone in that fight, I guarantee you both of us would have much more severe injuries. You don’t have to do anything angelic or otherworldly to be an asset to our team. Anyway, I don’t give one single fuck what you can or can’t do. You’re our friend. You’re here, with me - um, you know, with us. Dean and me. And we want you here. For as long as you can stand being around the two of us constantly”, he finished with a self-conscious smile and a little chuckle, hopefully to break the tension.
“Guess you’re right. Now that I think of it, you still found Bobby’s input to be helpful the past year even though he was wheeling himself around because he couldn’t even walk. So, you know, at least I can walk. That’s something, right?” At this point it was becoming clear that the whiskey Cas had swallowed while being stitched up was starting to catch up with him as his words slurred and his eyes went all hazy and unfocused.
“Yeah, yes, it’s - it’s something. How about if we get you to bed?”
So tired and drunk (from a few sips of an alcoholic beverage, how humiliating), Cas let himself be manhandled onto one of the motel beds. With efficiency and his eyes glued directly to the landscape painting on the wall behind the bed, Sam removed Castiel’s clothing, leaving him in just boxers and socks. Pulling the covers up, he heard Cas whisper something into his pillow.
“What’s that?”
Cas turned his head and said “There are only two beds. Where will Dean sleep when he returns?”
Laughing, Sam replied, “If he gets back before sunup, I’d be surprised. He had his ‘I’m gonna pick up a chick’ shirt on. You can sleep in Dean’s bed.”
There was a moment when Castiel wanted to say something else, but his new limitations stopped him from speaking as he succumbed to a deep sleep.
When Sam heard the door open, sunlight was already streaming through the motel windows.
“I take it you had a good night?”
Dean stopped, pressing his back onto the closed door to the motel room. “Yeah, uh, definitely good, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
Sam just stared at his brother, wondering what could have kept Dean out until morning if not a one-night stand with a flirty bartender or a woman alone at the bar. Finally, Dean spilled it.
“I met someone. Stacy. And we went back to her place, both planning to fuck and be done with it, but then we started talking…”
“Talking?” Sam replied with genuine surprise.
“Yeah. About books and music and how she really likes dogs and also has a pain-in-the-ass younger brother. I didn’t fuck her, we didn’t do anything but kiss a little. Got her number, though.” Dean said, looking a little proud.
Castiel was still sound asleep in the other bed, and Sam asked “Why?”
“Well, I figured we’re all a little beat up, maybe we could stay and rest a few days. So in theory, I could actually call her, see her again, whatever.” Dean was doing his level best to keep his expression unreadable, but there was no such thing when it came to Sam.
“I can’t say I disagree about getting rested up. So, uh, yeah, you’re right, you could call…Stephanie?”
“Stacy”, Dean corrected him. OK, so this really wasn’t a one-night thing, or else Dean wouldn’t have remembered her name, or even asked for it, to be honest.
“All right, then. I’m awake now; I’ll run out and get us some breakfast. Take my bed.”
Glancing over, Dean asked “Is Cas all right?”
Sam honestly had no idea, so he just told his brother what he knew. “He got kinda tipsy from that booze last night. Might be hung over when he wakes up.”
As it turned out, they did stay in Huntsville for almost a week, and Dean left the motel to see Stacy every night. Once they were all well rested and healed, though, there was no excuse for staying. A nest of ghouls was waiting for them two states to the west, and they had to go.
While Dean packed his things and threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala, he got a sudden glimpse of the way Sam must have felt as a kid when they stayed someplace long enough for him to connect with people, then having no choice but to hit the road and not look back. He gave himself a minute to feel guilty over it, of course, because that’s just what he did. But he’d said his goodbyes, and even though they were getting back on the road, he was an adult now and if he wanted to look back, he’d damn well do it.
Six weeks and various hunts passed, the three of them traveling mostly in the southeastern part of the country. Cas yelled “Hell yeah!” the first time he knocked down all the cans Sam had set on a fencepost for him as target practice. He was proud of how quickly he’d picked up the skill once he’d started training. He asked Sam to help, because he thought Dean would be too impatient with his initial fumbling, the unfamiliar feel of a gun in his hand making him clumsy at first. Though he still preferred a blade out of habit (another thing he bonded with Sam over - they both preferred a knife to a gun), there were times when a firearm would be necessary, so he figured he’d better get on with learning to use them. Castiel didn’t even feel bad about pride as a sin, as he would have in years past. He was grateful to Sam for taking the time to teach him, and struggling with his new and confusing feelings toward the younger Winchester brother.
So, since things were going along just fine, obviously it all had to go to shit at some point.
On a clear night in the woods of western North Carolina, a black dog almost got the best of them. The thing was bigger, faster and more ferocious than the few Dean and Sam had encountered in the past. Before Dean managed to get a shot off, the creature snapped what felt like every bone in his right arm. It was Castiel’s bullet that brought it down, but the damage was done.
Armed with fake identities and insurance cards, along with their naturally menacing presence, Dean was immediately taken in for treatment once they got him to the closest hospital. Cas and Sam waited for news and finally were informed that Dean would be taken to the surgical ward to attempt repairing the damage to his arm. Hours later, a harried looking doctor approached them and ushered both men into the hallway outside the waiting room.
Looking at Sam, she said, “We did our best for your brother. He’s got a couple of metal plates and screws holding his bones together, but there isn’t much we can do to repair the ligament and tendon damage right now. Dean’s going to be all right with some rest and intensive physical therapy. I’m hopeful that he’ll regain at least fifty percent of his arm function within a few months. He’s not going to recover all of his range of motion from before and he might have to start learning to do a lot of things left-handed.”
Instinctively, Sam knew what that meant. There was permanent damage, and not having full use of his right arm and hand meant that Dean’s hunting career had just come to an abrupt end. He must have started to sag under the weight of the realization, because he felt Castiel’s strong grip on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sam”, he whispered, turning back to the doctor. “When can we see him?”
She raised her eyebrow at Cas. “You’re family, too? We only allow family to visit this soon after surgery.”
Now it was Castiel’s turn to lose his ability to speak. Sam cut in then. “Yeah, he’s family too.”
Hearing those words, Cas got an unfamiliar but warm feeling that he couldn’t identify at the time. A sense of belonging, which he missed terribly since being cut off from Heaven and the sounds of his brothers and sisters. He turned toward Sam hoping to portray his gratitude with just a look. Unable to say anything else, he simply asked the doctor to lead them to Dean’s room.
Neither of them were prepared for what they saw when they entered the hospital room. Dean was still out cold, probably due to the sedatives from the surgery. His left arm had an IV needle in it, fluids dripping down steadily from the bags hooked to the metal pole by his bed. His entire right arm and hand were covered in bandages over his cast, which started halfway down his hand and reached well above his elbow. It was also being propped up with some kind of…traction machine maybe? He looked years younger and so much smaller than he had just that morning.
For some reason, Sam’s first instinct was to reach out for Castiel’s hand. The reassurance of touch strengthened him a bit. “Doc said he wouldn’t wake up for at least an hour. You can go and get some coffee or food downstairs if you want.”
“No”, Cas replied immediately. “I’m not leaving you, Sam. We can wait together.”
Sam didn’t notice that Cas was still holding his hand until he was being guided into one of the visitors’ chairs. Cas kept his tight hold on Sam’s hand as he settled into the other chair, moving it closer. After just a little while, they both woke to Dean groggily saying, “Why the hell are you two holding hands? You look like there’s a reaper at the door. Is it that bad? Like, amputation bad?
Standing up quickly, Sam was at Dean’s side in a few seconds. “No, man, nothin’ like that. Let me just get the doctor, okay? She can explain it better than me.” Sam was out the door and into the hallway in a flash.
“Cas?” Dean began, his voice raw and shaky. “What’s the deal? How bad?”
“Pretty fuckin’ bad. Damn it, if I could have got that shot off quicker…”
“Nevermind that, dude”, he said, casting his eyes to his tractioned and casted right arm. “How bad?”
“Come on, just wait for the doctor”, Cas replied, his eyes not meeting Dean’s. “It’s…permanent, okay? Like, not gonna be how it was before.”
Sam returned with the doctor as Dean took in Cas’ words. He looked at her and asked, “Permanent?”
As she started explaining the situation to Dean, Sam shot a nasty look at Cas. Cas just shrugged and looked at the floor. Once the doctor finished up her assessment and answered a couple of questions for Dean, she left the three of them alone and no one said a word for a minute or two. Expecting Dean to scream and rant and curse, his brother and his friend were surprised when he just whispered, “Motherfucker”, tears welling up in his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“Not you, Dean. Us. It’s not like we’re gonna split up, right?”, Sam responded.
“Well you’re sure as hell not gonna hunt with a fuckin’ cripple as backup, are you?”
“So we take a break”, Cas said. ”Do what the doc says, get you some medical care, you heal up the best you can, and then we’ll see. Monsters aren’t goin’ anywhere.”
“What do you wanna do, head back up north, crash Bobby’s place again? The man’s done enough already, don’t you think?”
“That’s not our only option, Dean.” Sam was clearly getting frustrated. “We’ve got plenty saved up, we can find a place where you can finish your treatment, and like Cas said, we’ll just see what happens.”
“What the hell is supposed to happen, Sam? If I can’t hunt, I have to work. Ain’t no one hiring one-armed mechanics or construction workers.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Dean. We don’t have to map out the rest of our damn lives sitting here in this room. Hey, what about Huntsville? That was an okay town, you still talk to Shelly?”
“Stacy, and yes. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see me again like this. How the fuck do I explain this shit?”
Cas broke in then. “Car wreck. Simple. No questions asked. You can tell her more if the two of you get serious’”, he volunteered, obviously unaware of how it had worked out the one other time Dean had gone that route with a girl he cared for. “I know for sure there’s a major hospital there, and it’ll be cheap as hell to rent someplace for us to crash.”
“This isn’t just someplace to crash, man, you heard her. Six months, at least. Shit, I’m not even gonna be able to drive! God damnit!” And yeah, there was the cursing and shouting they were expecting.
“For now, Dean. For now, you can’t drive. People in fucking wheelchairs drive, people who actually do have an amputated arm drive. And work. And live their lives. People adjust. You can adjust.”
“Well, there’s no getting around that, is there?”
“No”, said Cas. “No, there’s not. If whoever the fuck it was would have just left me dead…”
When Dean saw the look on Sam’s face with those words, he knew he had to say something before Sam started getting all girly and emotional.
“Oh, shut your stupid hole, Cas. That thing woulda ripped my throat out if you hadn’t shot it when you did. You’re the one who said you’d rather be human than dead, right? So I’d rather be - whatever the fuck I’m gonna be - than dead. That line of thought is done. Don’t say that shit again. I’m serious.”
Cas had seen Sam’s reaction to his earlier statement and immediately got with the program.
“Yeah, sorry, I - just yeah, got it.”
Chapter Two