Island in the Flood
A short story inspired by MAX's "Lights Down Low"
When I was nineteen years old, I thought I had it all figured out. I'd just gotten out of high school, and I was taking over my late father's shop. After all, I'd been helping him fix cars since before I can remember. The job made decent money, and felt like a good way to keep his memory alive. Everyone in the small town of Lawrence knew us Winchesters were the best mechanics around. My fifteen year old brother, Sammy, was the center of my life. After our mother died in a house fire, I had practically raised the kid. I was super proud of him. Kid was absolutely brilliant, and had the biggest desire to learn. During his freshman year, everything went downhill. I started getting tired, even when doing things I'd previously considered easy. I got a cold in the middle in summer. I stopped eating as much, and I lost a lot of weight. Sometimes, it even hurt to move. I stopped being able to do difficult jobs. I was in my room during one especially bad fever when Sammy decided I needed to get checked out.
"Dean," he'd said, biting his lip, "Something's wrong."
Of course I responded that I was fine.
Sam sat up from where he was laying. "No, you're not fine!" He sighed. "Dean, you are obviously sick. You need to get this checked out, okay? For me, please." He laid back down and stared at me.
"I know, Sam, I know. I- I just don't know what to do," I'd responded. We'd laid on my bed and his head was on top of my chest. His knees had been bent as he tried to fit. He'd long since passed me up, which wasn't an easy feat since I was 6'1". And the kid was still growing. I ran my fingers through his curly brown hair, so long now that it reached his chin. I always joked about cutting it, which he hated. He had craned his neck to look at me, staring at me with his bright, hazel eyes. I knew he was about to tell me something serious.
"Dee," he whispered, using a nickname he gave me when he was four. "Please go see your doctor."
I dropped my head to my pillow. "Okay."
So I did. I went to see my primary care physician. He didn't know what to make of my symptoms, so he had me do some blood tests. I had my blood drawn, and it was sent away for a bunch of testing. A few weeks later, the results came back. I had way too many white blood cells. The majority of the white blood cells I had were underdeveloped, unable to fight off infection. And their growth far outstripped that of my normal blood cells. In other words, I had cancer. Acute Myeloid Leukemia, to be specific.
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the ugly, pink wall. The doctor started talking about where I could go for treatment options, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy thinking about Sam. This would devastate him. The physician handed me contact information for oncologists from the cancer center at nearest hospital, Lawrence Memorial Hospital. My hands were shaking so much I almost dropped the papers. I stumbled out of the building and went to my car. I slid into the driver's seat of my baby, a black '67 Impala. I put the key in the ignition and classic rock began to play from the radio. I turned it up and pulled out of the parking lot. With the music blaring, a single tear escaped.
Per the doctor's instructions, I met a hematologist named Benny Lafitte. He was a young man from Louisiana. Over the course of my treatment, we became very close. We were both very reclusive men, but we had a similar understanding of life. When we opened up to each other, we discovered we were very similar. He wasn't just a doctor; he offered comfort and a strong sense of support when the going got rough. We shared a bunch of inside jokes. During my stay at the hospital, I began to see him as a brother. My oncologist was a brash, older woman named Ellen Harvelle. She was like a mother to me. I'd started to receive chemo a little over a week after my diagnosis. It was horrible. I was always exhausted, bruised, and in pain. My normally bright, green eyes were dull. I couldn't stay focused, and my mood changed rapidly. After every treatment, I felt like I was going to puke. Sometimes I did. My dirty blonde hair fell out, and I spent extended periods of time in the hospital. That was probably my least favorite part. I didn't like hospitals. The smell of them reminded me of the time leading up to my father's death. Sammy tried to visit as often as possible. I told him to stay focused on his grades, and he dived even deeper into his school work. He tried to hide it, but I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. It killed me inside to see Sam like that.
It was a long journey, but five months after my twenty-first birthday, I went into remission. Sammy had just turned seventeen. When I received the news, Ellen and Benny brought me a pie, my favorite dessert. Sammy came home that Thursday to a big hug. When he asked what was up, I told him I was officially cancer free. He dropped to the couch, and we cried together. To celebrate, I made my signature cheeseburgers. Life was great. I started the mechanic shop up again. I was there for Sam when he graduated high school and was accepted into Stanford. It was a little lonely in the house by myself, but I called Sammy every week to see how he was doing.
"Dean?"
"How are you, Sam?" I smiled.
"Great! I'm getting ready to take the LSAT," he rushed out.
"I know you'll do fantastic, Sam." He groaned jokingly. My smile turned into a full blown grin when I asked, "Crash any parties?"
Sam laughed and responded, "No, but I got a girlfriend."
He went on to tell me about a brilliant, blonde girl he met named Jessica. He seemed really happy. Everything was looking up. My life changed for a second time when I went to the diner around the corner from our shop. I was in the middle of a repair when I decided to get a bite to eat for lunch. I had just walked in when I caught a glimpse of the most beautiful human being I'd ever seen. I ordered my burger at the counter and stared at him the entire time. He was wearing blue scrubs that I recognized from the hospital, and his hair was short, black, and messy. I couldn't help myself; I sat on a stool next to him.
"Dean Winchester," I introduced myself.
He jumped in his seat and turned to face me. The first thing I noticed was that his eyes were even bluer than the scrubs. His face had a naturally brooding look. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes. I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks. I knew for certain that my whole face was bright red.
"Castiel Novak," he eventually responded. His voice was much deeper than I expected. It just made him more intriguing.
We began talking and I found out he worked as a nurse at Lawrence Memorial Hospital. He was a bit strange, but a great conversationalist. I told him about my fight with cancer. We talked about anything and everything. I spoke a lot of Sammy, and he told me about his love for flying and the color green. Before I knew it, it was beginning to turn dark. Cas, as I'd taken to calling him, grabbed a napkin from a dispenser and pulled a pen from his pocket. He scribbled something down and handed it to me.
"Here," he said, "In case you'd like to meet up again."
It was his phone number.
Castiel and I began officially dating about a week later. On our first date, we went to the diner where we met. For our second date, we went to see a movie. Dinner dates, picnic dates, or just plain old movie on the couch dates, we did them all. Every time I saw him, his lips would quirk up into a small little smile. Without fail he'd say, "Hello, Dean," in one of the deepest voices I'd heard in my life. One time Cas and I went to a park and just enjoyed the presence of the other. As we walked around the lake, we talked about life, death, and everything in between. I'm not usually chatty guy, but something about Cas just let me open up to him.
"Y'know, Cas, I think we're a match made in Heaven," I joked.
He threw his head back and laughed. Turning to me he smiled and said, "You have no idea."
It was when he said things like that that I thought he was a little strange.
"Do you believe in God, Heaven, angels, and all that?" I'd asked him.
He looked at me like I was silly and say, "Of course."
When winter hit, Sammy and Jessica came to Lawrence to spend Christmas with us. Jess was perfect for Sam. She was perky and fun loving, but sensible enough to keep Sam sane. I could see why he'd fallen for her. Cas arrived shortly after, wearing the tan trenchcoat he always seemed to have on and rang the doorbell. I opened the door, and he grinned.
"Hello, Dean."
Sammy took an immediate liking to Cas. He'd told Cas that I needed someone that would make sure I didn't do stupid things. I don't know what he was talking about. The four of us decided to put up a Christmas tree to celebrate the holidays together. We picked out the tree from a farm and brought it into our house. I pulled out Mom's old Christmas decorations from when we were kids. Christmas music playing in the background, we slowly put together our tree. After the lights and ornaments went on, Sam and I had a squabble about which tree topper to put on.
"Sammy, we're putting a star on top."
"Dean, everyone knows that angels are the traditional tree topper," he argued.
Laughing too hard, Jess wasn't able to put in her own two cents. Castiel, on the other hand, look scandalized.
"You put what on the tops of trees?" he whispered.
Jess fell to the floor, cackling. Shaking my head, I grabbed the angel figurine from the box. Leaning onto my toes, I placed it on the top of the tree.
"The star and angel are just symbols, Cas," I said. He seemed confused, but oddly relieved.
Castiel had the strangest sense of humor. On Valentine's Day, he kept giggling at all the decorations. Not that I blamed him. All of the hearts and cupids' bows were a bit ridiculous. Instead of going crazy like most couples, we just went to the diner and had some hamburgers. That was Cas's favorite thing to eat. Afterwards, we laid on the couch and turned on the T.V. Somehow, we ended up watching All Dogs Go to Heaven. Cas laughed through what seemed like the entire movie. To be honest, that was probably why I'd left it on.
We spent nearly all our time together. Cas unofficially moved in about fourteen months after we started dating. Life was a dream. My business was running smoothly, Sammy was excelling in college, and Cas was enjoying his work in the hospital. I couldn't have been happier. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.
Every couple of months, I'd have a blood test taken to keep track of my blood cell count. On a Thursday afternoon, time came to a halt. The blood test I'd sent in about a week ago had come back. It showed an abnormally large amount of white blood cells. I felt my heart stop. Not again. But no matter how hard I tried to blink the numbers away, the results on the page stayed the same. My Acute Myeloid Leukemia had come back. I saw my life flash before my eyes: Sammy going off to college, the time I'd spent with Cas. God, how would I tell them?
Cas got home a bit after nine. He was tired, but smiled as he came through the door.
"Hello, Dean," he murmured.
"Cas," I whispered, stressed by the news I had to deliver.
Castiel walked over to where I was standing. "What's wrong?"
It was hard to breathe. I couldn't look him in the eye. I was fidgeting uncontrollably, so I sank down into the couch. Cas came over and took a seat beside me. My hands were shaking. In an attempt to get them to stop, I pulled at the fabric of my pants. He grabbed my hands and held them. I took in a slow breath and let it out shakily. I had to tell him eventually.
"My results came back from the lab," my voice was shakier than I'd have liked to admit. "My cancer has come back."
I'd be the first person to admit my life went downhill pretty quickly. Chemo started up again, and I spent almost all of my time in the hospital. Castiel somehow managed to land a spot as one of my main nurses. He didn't admit to anything, but I think he pulled some strings. Benny, Ellen, and Cas did their best to take care of me, but I only got worse as time went on. The intense bruising came back. I lost weight and became incredibly pale. Sammy came home from college to see me, so I put on a brave face. Inside, however, I was beginning to lose hope. I told him to keep pursuing his law degree, I'd be fine, I'd won the battle before. He'd worked so hard to make it, I wasn't going to let him throw it all away for me. After several months, my doctors decided to send me to Mayo Clinic in Minneapolis. They thought that the cancer center could help me get a leg up in the fight. But I'd done my share of research. I knew this was a last ditch effort.
The trip was awful. I'd always hated flying on planes, but everyone's staring didn't help. I was completely bald, and it felt like there were tubes everywhere. Cas was also on the plane, at home in the air. He walked over to where I was laying.
"Hello, Dean."
I opened my eyes to peek at him. "Hm?"
He leaned in and whispered, "Everything is going to work out in the end."
That struck me as an odd thing to say, but this was Cas, and I'd grown accustomed to the weird things he did or said. I trusted him.
"Okay."
They tried all sorts of different things at the Mayo Clinic, each somehow more uncomfortable than the last. Eventually, they told me what I somehow already knew. This was it; there was nothing more that could be done. They told us to go home and make preparations. Castiel was given orders to "make me comfortable." I received prescriptions for heavy-duty pain meds.
The flight home was even worse than the flight to Minneapolis.
Sammy came back home despite my protests. Whenever I tried talking about college, he'd glare at me until I stopped. I spent all my time at home. If I wasn't sleeping, I was watching T.V. with my brother, or spending time with Cas. He spent all his time at home with me, as both a nurse and a companion. Everyone was fussing around me too much for my comfort. Much of the time with him was spent talking.
"Cas, you should let go."
He furrowed his brow. "Let go of what? I'm not holding anything."
I sighed, a common action these days. "Of me. I'm dying, Cas. You need to move on."
"What?" He sat up straight.
"You heard me."
He laughed, which wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting. "That's ridiculous. I'll be by your side till the end of time."
I didn't bring it up again.
On a cold spring morning, I contracted the flu. Normally, that wouldn't be too big of a deal, but I was out of strength. I knew in my heart I had no more fight to give. For the following three days, all I could do was sleep. My breathing began to drag. Cas spent every moment next to me, holding my hand. Sammy often sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. On the Thursday of that week, I felt my life draw to a close. Slowly, my breathing began to putter out. I would go a few minutes without inhaling. My eyes flickered from Sam to Cas and then gently, my eyes closed and I puffed out my last breath.
Wherever I was, it was bright. It squinted on instinct before realizing that the light didn't hurt. The second thing I noticed was the absence of pain. I straightened my back and looked around. I couldn't see anything. Suddenly, everything came back to me. I had been fighting cancer, and I'd most likely just died. Given the light show, I was pretty sure I'd landed a spot in the good place. I stiffened when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Somewhere behind me a deep, gravelly voice spoke.
"Hello, Dean."