Cas couldn't help but stare at the man as they led him down the hall that led to the solitary cell. For one, he was enormous, and for two, that was Sam. The Sam he'd been told wasn't real. But here he was, in the same place as Cas. For a few excruciating moments, Cas' hopes soared up, but he violently yanked them back down, like a child snatching the string of a helium-filled balloon before it could float away. Monsters aren't real. The phrase had been branded on his brain, not real, not real, not real. And besides, if this was the Sam from Cas' memories, there would be a Dean. And there wasn't anyone with this man. A small sigh escaped Cas' lips. There was no Dean.

"Jimmy." He looked up as Rebekka addressed him. "It's time to eat. Everyone else is already in line."

Cas looked up and around the room. Sure enough, everyone was gone. He stood and followed Rebekka down the short hall to the kitchen.

"Rebekka," he said softly. "Who is the new guy?"

"The tall one?" she asked, her delicate brown curls bouncing slightly as they walked.

Cas nodded.

"I don't know his name," she said. "But he's very sick, no one's allowed to talk to him yet."

Cas frowned. "I see."

She smiled gently at him. "Do you want to eat at a table with some other people tonight?"

He shook his head.

"Alright, then. Remember, you have a meeting tomorrow," she said as they neared the kitchen and the end of the line.

"I will."

"I'll see you later, Jimmy."

It had been a week, and Sam was finally being let out of solitary. Cas remember the time he'd spent in that awful place and shuddered. It was lonely. And if someone found you there, you would be defenseless.

Not real, he reminded himself.

He took a deep breath. Rebekka would like it if he talked to someone, he knew. And he couldn't help himself—he had to talk to this man that looked so much like Sam.

The tall man was escorted to a small table and two guards backed away a few feet, giving him some space. Cas stood up from his table on the other side of the room and went over to see if he could speak with him. He approached slowly, keeping a watchful eye on the guards, but they made no move to stop him, so he sat opposite of the new arrival.

The man didn't look up.

Cas cleared his throat, stuck his hand out, and introduced himself. "I'm Jimmy."

The man's head whipped up and he froze. "Cas?"

Cas dropped his hand. "Jimmy," he corrected, though there was a waver in his voice. He hadn't said Cas, had he? They would be furious if they found out he still thought of himself as that. He'd said Jimmy, he had. He wasn't stupid enough to say Cas. Not anymore.

The man's eyes narrowed. "…Jimmy? Novak?"

"How did you know?" Cas asked quietly, extremely aware of the guards' presence, only a short distance away.

"What do you mean? We've met," he replied, in an equally hushed tone.

Cas' felt his heartbeat accelerate, but he ignored it. "I'm afraid not. What's your name?"

"Ca—Jimmy, it's me. Sam. Don't you remember?"

Remember.

His name was Sam.

No.

Coincidence.

Not real.

"I'm sorry, no. I just came over to…" Why had he come over here? It was stupid. "…say hello."

"You're not real," Sam whispered, seemingly to himself.

"What?"

Sam squeezed his hand and Cas thought he glimpsed a scar on it, but he wasn't sure.

"I'm real," he assured Sam. Sam…but it wasn't. It couldn't be. Monsters. Aren't. Real. But Sam wasn't a monster…why couldn't he be real? If he was real, then Dean was real, and if Dean was real…

"Look," Sam said, eyes boring into Cas'. "You have to call Dean. He can get us out of here. Can you remember a number?"

Cas' heart all but stopped. Dean.

No. Dean wasn't real. It's not real. Dean was a good thing, and good things didn't happen for Cas. Not in his memories, and not in his—Jimmy's—real life. Dean couldn't be real.

But Sam was gazing at him with the most sincere expression he'd ever seen, and…what the hell.

"Yes."

Sam rattled off the numbers quickly, but forcefully, like he was trying to engrave them into Cas' mind as he said them. He glanced nervously over his shoulder and then turned back to focus on Cas. "Can you see him?"

Cas titled his head. "Who?"

Sam pressed his fingers to his temples and covered his eyes. Cas almost thought he heard him whisper, "Not real," but that was crazy.

Of course, he was in a mental institution. He knew that. So he probably was crazy himself, along with everyone else here. But he didn't like to think about that.

Sam suddenly leapt up, chair crashing against the floor. "It's on fire! Everything's burning!" he started shouting. "He's back! He's back, we have to get out!"

Cas cringed as the guards grabbed Sam's arms and wrestled him to the floor, not without a great struggle. A nurse came over and gave him an injection. After a few moments, he stopped fighting.

Cas laid in bed that night, rolling the numbers around in his brain, subconsciously burning them into his mind, right next to Monsters aren't real. He'd said he would call Dean for Sam. So he should. That was the right thing to do. Of course, he'd have to get his hands on a phone, but that shouldn't be too hard. All the employees had cell phones and if he couldn't get one of theirs, he could always sneak in and use the office phone. It wouldn't do to use one of his outgoing calls, because those were all recorded and how would he explain that?

When someone came around to knock on his door for the routine wake up call, he was still thinking, planning. He hadn't fallen asleep at all. He sighed and swung his feet over the bed, remembering when not sleeping hadn't mattered.

No, he corrected himself. Not real.

Breakfast was disgusting, as was all the food here, and he only nibbled at it. If he got caught using a phone without permission, there would be serious repercussions. But he had to. Maybe the number Sam had given him wouldn't even work. Maybe it was just a random set of digits, absolutely meaningless. But still, he'd said he would call, so he would.

He glanced up and saw Rebekka chatting with Kimmy. Employees weren't supposed to use their phones when they were working, but Kimmy did all the time. No one really noticed, except for Cas, so hers would be the easiest to procure. And if she noticed it was missing, she couldn't say anything because then they'd know she used her phone when she wasn't allowed. And by the end of the day, she would have "found" it again, so even if she knew it was Cas who'd used it, she couldn't say.

Cas thought it was a good plan.

Kimmy was on watch duty, so she couldn't leave her post until breakfast was over. Cas pushed the mush on his plate around, taking an occasional bite so he wouldn't look too suspicious. Slowly, the room emptied, and when the clock's minute hand struck the twelve, Kimmy left the room. Cas dumped the majority of his food in the trash and put his plate on the counter, stacked a top all the others.

He followed her down the hall, ambling along at an easy pace. She was wearing a sweater over her scrubs and pulled her phone from one of its pockets, pushing a few buttons before returning it to its place. Right side, sweater pocket, Cas thought to himself.

Today was one of the rare occasions when those with good behavior got to go outside and stay in the courtyard awhile. Luck must've been on Cas' side, because Kimmy was also scheduled as one of the people to go out with them. There was always a bit of a rush when they were going to the courtyard, because everyone wanted to spend as much time outside as possible. Cas usually didn't hurry to get there, but he followed the others at a brisk pace today, bumping into Kimmy and quickly apologizing.

He had it.

When no one was looking, he stored the phone in his sock and waited for an opportunity to present itself so he could call the number. He didn't know if he'd be able to get reception from his cell. For all he knew, the walls blocked the signal. Out here was his best chance. They had about an hour outside, but he could not get caught. Glancing around, he walked idly over to a small tree and sat on the side facing away from everyone else, and a safe distance away. It was skinny and did no good hiding him, but it made him feel less obvious. And if he rested his chin on his hand just so, and held the phone against his ear with the same hand…yes. It would work.

He reached down to "scratch" his ankle and quickly dialed the numbers—he didn't think he could ever forget them—and carefully brought his hand up to rest his chin on it.

The phone rang once.

The phone rang twice.

"Hello?"

Cas nearly let the phone slip from his grasp.

"Who is this?"

He couldn't remember how to speak.

"Hello?"

Say something.

"Anybody there?"

"Dean—"

The other end of the line was silent and for a moment Cas panicked because that was Dean, that was Dean, that was Dean. That was the human that had been put in his charge, that was the man he'd given everything for, and he didn't care if he was crazy or not, because that was his Dean.

"Who…" His voice sounded unsteady and just hearing it made Cas feel…different. Better and worse simultaneously. He wanted to cry or laugh or both, but mostly he wanted to get out. Dean was real. That meant everything was real. "Who is this?"

"It's me—" Cas said stupidly. "I mean—Jimmy—no, I mean Cas. It's Cas." I'm Cas. "I—Sam told me to call—he's here—you have to come. Something…he's not okay." He's real. It's real. He's real. "We're in Cleveland. At the mental institution. In Ohio." He had to hang up. Dean knew where they were. He'd come. But Cas had to hang up.

"Hold on—"

"Goodbye, Dean."

Cas slipped the phone back into it's hiding place after shakily erasing the outgoing call.

Dean's real.