Chapter Text
The hospital smells of antiseptic.
It's a scent that's familiar to Dean, but he still doesn't like it. Dirt, blood, smoke, burning flesh, he'll take all of it. He's used to that. Hell, he's even used to the slightly stale smell of the bunker now, even though it was unoccupied for the last decades. He's been in hospitals a million times, whether being a patient himself, visiting another, or investigating while on a case.
But there's just something about that antiseptic smell that Dean can't get used to.
He wishes, not for the first time, that Inias or Rachel had been able to heal him up. Hell, he'd have even taken those other two douchenozzles if it meant he wouldn't have to lie here in a damned hospital bed for the next twenty-four hours. But thanks to their little excursion at the warehouse - i.e. the dethroning of the Queen of Heaven, it's total chaos (again) up there, according to Inias. All the angels currently on Earth are currently cut off from the power - or most of it, at least, like the important healing stuff. They can still pop in and pop out whenever they want, which Dean finds completely unfair. But, Inias had said, it wouldn't be permanent. Once things settled down in Heaven, once they managed to get everything reorganized, they'll be able to regain what they've lost.
Hopefully.
The room is a double room, for which Dean is grateful. He's not quite certain how Sam managed to swing it, but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
At least now he doesn't have to go searching for Cas.
It takes him two days to get out of ICU, lots of confusion over missing paperwork, and a great deal of persuasion on the part of one Balthazar, who somehow manages to convince the attending physician that this is Dean's brother, a man named Jimmy Winchester. But now he's stable - although not awake yet.
He's been in a coma for the past three days and Dean is going crazy.
"Do angels even have comas?" he had demanded from Samandriel, who shook his head sadly and gave Dean an odd look, as though confused. And when Dean had leaned back and said, somewhat testily, "What?" Samandriel had just looked even more sad.
"Angels don't have comas, Dean."
It had taken Dean a moment to figure it out, and then he had all but thrown a lamp across the room, because no, no, this was not fair, this is not how it was supposed to have gone down. It was not ever supposed to have ended with Cas in the state he was in, it was not supposed to have ended with so many questions still unanswered, it was not supposed to have ended with Heaven in chaos and the demons still roaming.
It was not supposed to have ended with Cas is a damn coma for who knows how long.
And it was not supposed to have ended without Dean having said goodbye first.
"The doctor's still aren't certain what's causing the coma," Charlie tells him, when she comes to visit from her own room, a floor above. She looks loads better than she did when they first came, even if she's dragging an IV cart around with her and she's got two broken ribs and a concussion, as well as a fractured wrist. "They stopped the internal bleeding, but they're confused because he doesn't have a head wound."
Both of them look over at the bed beside Dean's, which currently has its curtains drawn back so that the pale face of Castiel can be seen. His eyes are closed, of course, and his head is slightly turned away, his chest rising and falling slowly. He looks so unbearably small, so terribly fragile, that Dean is almost afraid - no, scratch that, he is afraid, because he doesn't want Cas to die, he can't have Cas die, and what was the point of everything they'd just done if this was the result?
What was the point of giving him hope that Cas was still in there somewhere if only to take it all away again?
He knows they did good. He knows that they did freaking awesome. Hell, they took down both the Queen of Heaven and the King of Hell in one go and it was beautiful. And now two of the biggest baddies are dead and gone, never to have to be worried about again. Now they can just focus on closing the Gates of Hell, sealing the rest of the demons back inside, and they'll be good. They'll be back to hunting wendigos and shapeshifters and djinn and everything will be back to the way it was supposed to be in the first place.
Except it won't be. And it won't ever be, because now that he's had Cas in his life, Dean doesn't want to live a life without him.
He'll do it if he has to. He'll push forward, hold his chin upright, march onward. Do his duty, because he is Dean Winchester. He is John Winchester's son. He is a soldier, and moving on, moving forward, is what he does.
He'll move this time, but it won't be forward.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The visitors that come and go in room 16A at Saint Luke's Hospital baffle the nurses, because in spite of the fact that they only sign in a few people at a time, there always seem to be a strangely large number of people in the room itself when one walks by.
One visitor is always the same - an unusually tall man with dark hair to his shoulders, always tired looking, but never failing to show up every single day. Sometimes he falls asleep at the bedside of the loud one, and the patient always snaps for everyone else to be quiet, when really it should be the other way around.
Sometimes the dark haired one is alone. Other times he brings someone with him. A skinny Asian kid comes several times, along with a woman who looks as though she could be related to him; then a woman in a Sheriff's uniform who flashes her badge imperiously when the nurses come to kick everyone out one evening because visiting hours are over. Sometimes an odd looking man with a cowboy hat and a sock puppet is known to make an appearance.
The redheaded young woman from the floor above is also a frequent visitor, after she's released. The patient in 16A still has a week or two left, not that he's determined to stay that long. He's already tried leaving twice, only to be dragged back by a security guard the first time, and the tall, dark-haired one the second time.
The nurse on duty thought she heard him mutter something like, "Seriously, Dean?" as they both traipse back into the room.
Sometimes, when the nurses peek in, they can see other visitors - a short man sucking on a lollipop, a man with a strange accent and a bottle of gin in hand (one that's soon confiscated). A pale-faced young man with a slightly childish visage in a weird looking red and white striped uniform. A brown-haired man in a dark suit and a lighter haired woman in jeans and a blazer.
The nurses are always confused at how these people manage to get in to a supposedly restricted room.
It's a double room, but while one of the patients is constantly awake (and constantly squabbling with all of his visitors), the other patient remains silent and still.
The doctors say he'll never wake up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Sam."
"Dean, no."
"Sammy."
"Dean, no."
"Come on!"
"What part of 'no' did you not get?"
"The part that began with an 'n' and ends with a 'no.'"
Sam gives him Exasperated Brother Look #442, but Dean is not about to back down, not about this.
It takes some wrangling, and it definitely takes some bargaining (more than Dean was hoping to bargain), but Sam finally agrees that he'll take Charlie and Kevin back to the bunker with everyone else for a few days and Dean will stay here with Cas. He's already been discharged, but he's not about to leave, at least not anytime soon, but Sam's been awake for almost twenty-four hours (a freaking miracle these days), and Dean wants - needs him to go home and get some rest.
"Remember that time I told you that you don't need to take care of everyone?" Sam asks, as he slings his bag over his shoulder, but Dean just grunts in reply. His eyes flicker to Cas, then back to Sam, and there is a catch in his throat now, which feels very dry.
"I can't leave him, Sammy."
Something in Sam's expression softens. He glances at the figure on the bed and then back to Dean, reaching up a hand to clap him on the shoulder, his fingers squeezing slightly. There are no more words exchanged, but no words are needed.
Dean goes to sit beside Cas.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The first hour is spent in complete silence.
The second hour is spent with Dean telling Cas all about what happened after the incident at the warehouse; about how Charlie made fast friends with Rachel, and the two of them spent a while just talking about Heaven and the angels on the way to the hospital. About how Gabriel not-so-subtly smuggled booze into Kevin's hospital room and got all the nurses in there giggling and laughing with him. About how Balthazar smoked a cigar in Dean's room and accidentally set off the fire alarm (a situation that was thankfully hastily remedied before chaos had erupted).
About how Kevin developed a sort of thing for Charlie, only to heave a sigh of resignation upon discovering that her preferences weren't quite in line with his own (she let him down easy).
About how Samandriel told Dean all about Castiel's time in Heaven, and how he had changed after meeting the Winchesters.
About how Charlie had fallen asleep one day with her head in her arms on the side of Dean's bed and how he'd thought that it was actually okay, because he hadn't wanted her to leave either.
About how he, Dean, can't seem to get himself together.
"Wake up," he says. "You gotta wake up, man."
But nothing happens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The second day after everyone leaves is much like the first. Sam calls around noon, asking how Cas is, and when Dean asks about how Sam is, he gets a tirade about how Gabriel and Balthazar pop in constantly and wreak havoc just because they can, and how Garth and Charlie have become friends, and how Kevin sleeps all the time because he's just so tired and Sam can relate to that because it's hard to sleep when you have too many people around and everyone is driving him nuts.
Dean hangs up the phone with a small smile on his face for the first time in a long time.
It's on the third day after everyone leaves that Dean makes a decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's late. The clock on the wall reads something like 11:30pm, but Dean is so tired, he's not quite certain his vision is accurate. He's not technically supposed to even still be here, but a few choice words with the nurse on duty gave him some extra time. He's been dozing on and off out in the waiting room when he's forced out of the room, but with each day that passes, each day that Cas doesn't wake up, Dean gets more and more desperate, the outcome growing bleaker and bleaker.
He's not sure how much longer he can stand this.
"Cas, you know," he says, and it's just like he's back in Purgatory, sitting up in the branches of a thick pine tree (he used to climb them to keep himself less of a target for the monsters at night), staring up into the starless sky, letting his thoughts out to the angel.
He's back in Purgatory this time - but it's a different kind of Purgatory, and this time there's no angel to be found.
"I'm kind of a dick," Dean says quietly, and lets out a rueful laugh, linking his fingers together. He's leaning against the edge of the bed, his forearms on the pathetic excuse for a mattress. "I make all sorts of stupid mistakes, and man did I ever make one with you."
It's supposed to be a joke, but the laughter is hollow. His expression flickers. It's hard to continue; his mouth feels dry.
"Cas, I don't know...if what I'm doing is right," Dean says. "I don't know which path I'm supposed to take anymore. All I know is that I need to keep my little brother safe."
His throat tightens. Something is making his vision blur.
"And you," he whispers. "I need to keep you safe. Cas, I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I...let you go. See, the truth is, I'm not used to...having anyone else in my life other than Sam; it's been just me and him for so long. And you know that; you've known that for years, just how damaged I am."
He swallows, closes his eyes, and starts again. "But Cas, you stayed anyway. You never left - at least, not at first. You did at the end, but you did it to protect me."
A faint smile flickers across his face. "Just like you did in Purgatory. And here I am running around, gettin' my ass kicked, so I can protect Sammy. So I can protect you.
"...but I failed, didn't I, Cas? I didn't keep you safe, even though I wanted to, even though I tried so damn hard to keep us together, to keep us from breaking, and you still broke. I failed Bobby, I failed Sammy, I failed Benny. And I still failed you. "
The hospital is so quiet this late at night, so solemn. The only sound is the steady beep beep coming from the monitor above Cas's bed. Dean looks at him, his eyes tracing over the familiar face, the eyes that are now closed, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to die without really dying.
He needs to accept that Cas is not going to ever wake up because this is life. This is the reality that he has been handed.
Slowly Dean stands, and his chest feels tight, but he has to do this, he has to leave now, because if he doesn't, he'll never leave, and he'll never let go. He'll spend his entire life regretting, wondering, paining.
Quietly he leans over, his face aside Cas's, and when he speaks, it's low and quiet, barely above a whisper, into Cas's ear.
"Your footsteps were the ones I wanted to walk beside for the rest of my life."
And then he straightens and looks at that face one last time, looks at the face of the man who he's known for six years, who he's fought beside, who he's bled beside, who he almost died beside - who did everything for him, because of him, and it's like looking into the past and the present and the future all at once. He does not walk behind Cas, and Cas does not walk behind Dean.
They will always be side by side in the end.
Dean closes his eyes and takes a breath. He opens them again, and a faint smile is on his face, Dean's fingertips brushing tenderly against Cas's cheek one last time.
"Good night, Cas."
And then he walks away.
He doesn't get very far.
"Good morning, Dean."
There's a soft sound behind him, and then fingers are wrapped around Dean's wrist. Gentle fingers, lacking strength, but it's enough to stop Dean in his tracks, enough to make his heart seize in his chest, enough to make him feel as though there's not enough air in the room. He turns around so fast he almost cracks his neck, and when he does all he can see is blue, so much blue that it's almost blinding him.
Cas is awake.
Dean takes a step back towards him, leaning over him, and Cas looks utterly exhausted, but his hand shifts a little, and when Dean looks down he can see Cas's fingers slipping through his, twining their hands together, and Dean swallows hard, takes a breath -
- and smiles.
"I need you," says Dean.
"I love you," says Cas.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlie decides that maybe her life isn't so bad, when you think about it.
After all, she's got two amazing "brothers," who kick some serious monster ass. She's got a sweet bunker to live in with her own private room and though she has to share a bath with Linda Tran, she's pretty all right with that. She's got her own laptop and her own fake IDs, courtesy of Sam and Dean. She's currently learning how to shoot a gun, thanks to Dean's excellent tutelage, and Sam's got her working on research, and saying something about how she'd make a "great Woman of Letters."
She's got Kevin to play video games with, and occasionally Dean will join in when he's not on a hunt. The bunker has a steady stream of visitors, from Garth (who always brings pizza and beer), to Rachel (Charlie wonders whether it's bad to flirt with an angel - but then she remembers a certain other pair in the bunker, and decides that it's totally fine), to Samandriel, who is always sweet. Gabriel even pops in every now and then, but his visits are usually chaotic and filled with booze and unexpected female guests (not that Charlie's complaining).
But most of all she's got Dean and Sam - and Cas. Cas, who upon arriving back at the bunker on his first day home, was the first to thank Charlie for what she had done in the warehouse. She'd blushed and hemmed and hawed, but accepted it, and had caught the smile on Dean's face as he showed Cas to his room.
They're not obvious. It'll take some time to get back on the right footing, Dean explains. They all need time to adjust before they take on the next big thing - namely Sam's last trial. And things have a way of popping up unexpectedly.
But every once in a while, Charlie will look over and see the way Dean stands behind Cas while he teaches him to cook, see the way his finger rests casually through the belt loop of Cas's jeans. Sometimes she'll see the looks given to each other across the room - entire conversations held without so much as a single syllable uttered verbally, because the language that Dean and Cas speak to each other is not a vocal one, it's a heart one, a soul one.
Charlie knows that things aren't going to be easy from now on. There's still a long road ahead of them. And yeah, sometimes it's crazy, sometimes it's dangerous. Sometimes Dean is too overprotective, and sometimes Garth leaves his dirty socks lying around whenever he comes to visit (and somehow whenever he doesn't come there are still socks).
But for now, she decides, as she picks up her gun and heads to the shooting range, things are pretty all right.
My family is pretty all right.