Waking up with tubes coming out of your arm is never the best way to start the day, Dean thinks. Of Course, being a hunter, these things happen more than you'd want them to. You get your ass kicked and you wake up in a hospital a few hours (or days) later. And it sucks, but you suck it up and move on. Since days have become more precious recently, Dean is a little more than pissed that he had reckless enough to actually end up being here.

Christ, he can't even remember what he had been hunting at the time. His muscles are sore, his right arm is broken, he has a headache to end all headaches, and even though he just woke up, he feels like he hasn't slept in weeks. Slowly, Dean rises from his position to get a look around the hospital room. Nothing special really, just the standard room.

Except instead of Sam holding a coffee cup and looking like he was gonna faint if he didn't wake up soon, there's some other guy in the room, one that Dean didn't recognize. He's not used to having guests other than Sam, especially when guests looked like they were beaten up nerdy looking dudes. His lip is split, there's a tear in his jeans, blood around the knee, and from what Dean can see, his knuckles are bruised. Wherever this guy was, he was fighting, too. In a trench coat. Who the fuck fights wearing a trench coat?

When Dean catches the guy's gaze, he seems to perk up a little.

Immediately, Dean was put on edge. Underneath all those scratches and bruises, the guy seems pretty harmless. But 'seems' is a dumb word to rely on in the supernatural world. That Lilith bitch wore a little girl as a meat suit, after all. So it stands to reason that Dean braces himself for whatever attack may come. Even if he is still exhausted, and one arms is out of commission, he's gotta prepare.

Where the fuck is Sam? He thinks.

"Dean," Trench Coat says, his voice gravelly. It's not the sort of voice a guy his size should have. "You're awake."

"Uh, yeah," He says, craning his neck to see if Sam is waiting outside, for whatever reason. "Couldn't sleep forever."

Trench Coat hums to himself, nodding.

"Yes," He sounds pleased with Dean's word. But after Trench Coat keeps staring at Dean, the pleased look is quickly replaced with one of concern. "What's wrong?"

Dean scoffs. Nothing gets passed this asshole, huh? 'What's wrong?' He's strapped to a hospital bed, and there's no one to break him out of this dump. Oh, and there's this really annoying guy who Dean doesn't know, and is way too close for comfort. Whatever.

"Nothing," Dean says instead, slumping back uselessly onto the bed. He's going to kill Sam later…

He better be okay.

Trench Coat narrows his eyes at Dean, and shakes his head.

"You should know better than to lie to me,"

Dean's expression blanks. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Now he was definitely weirded out. There was something off about this guy. Did Dean get into a fight with him? Is that what happened? What the hell is he even doing here?

"If you are worried about Sam, you should just say so," Trench Coat says, surprising and alarming Dean further. How the hell does he know Sam? "Sam is at the motel, sleeping. After waiting several hours for you to wake up, I told him to sleep."

And Sam just does everything he's told, does he? How much does he know about him and Sam, anyway?

Trench Coat must have noticed the distrust in his eyes.

"Dean?" He asks. The tone of his voice is strange. Dean can't tell if he's worried or annoyed.

"I need to get outta here," Dean says, mostly to himself. He isn't going to stay here with Trench Coat longer than he has to. The only thing he need, is to get back to Sam. There isn't time to just lay around here waiting to get better. Dean's fine. Really.

"No. Sam insisted that you get 'checked out' by the doctors. I agree. Not only did you sustain a head injury, you have been out for three days," Trench Coat says firmly.

Fuck that.

"You can't tell me what to do," Dean spits back. It sounded more than a little childish, but he doesn't really give a shit at this point. Trench Coat doesn't have a say in how he gets treated. "And Sam's not here, so he can't either." 'Course making a drastic escape might be harder than he thought. It still feels like he got hit by a truck.

"Dean," Trench Coat starts to stare him down, and damn, for a scrawny looking nerd, he sure can hold his own in a staring contest. "You will be able to leave once the doctors deem you well enough to do so."

Dean glares at Trench Coat. He obviously isn't going to help any. Sam might, though, if he complains enough.

"Yeah, whatever," He isn't attacking, isn't calling the Feds, or the police, so odds are he doesn't know who Dean and Sam are. Or: he does know, and he's a hunter too. Either way, it's best to keep his mouth closed, and get word from Sam. He's gotta know what's going on, right? If not, Dean could be in deep, deep shit. "Let me use your phone?" He asks, holding out his hand.

Trench Coat sighs, and reaches into his pocket. At least he knew when not to fight Dean on this. He slaps the phone in Dean's hand, but he didn't back away. Jesus, didn't this guy do anything but stare and lecture? It's like he has no idea what personal space is.

Without saying thank you, Dean starts punching in the numbers for Sam's cell. The phone doesn't even ring on the other end. It just goes directly to an automated voice message, telling him that the phone number was out of service. That's weird. Dean remembers him and Sam getting new numbers recently. Why would he change it so quickly, and when Dean was out? That's a dick move of him.

He hangs up, and starts to dial Sam's emergency number. Another fucking automated voice message. There was no way Sam would change both his numbers while he was out of it. Fingers starting to shake, he dials yet another number- this time, Bobby's.

Nothing.

What the fuck was going on? Did everyone drop off of the face of the earth?

There was no way Bobby canceled all his numbers right? He had to answer one of 'em. One of his FBI or State Marshall numbers. Any of them would do. If he's desperate enough (and he's getting there) he can call Ellen and see if she knows anything.

"Dean?"

"Shut up," Dean snaps, raising the phone to his ear again. Same deal. This is really starting to freak him out.

"Dean," Trench Coat says again. He sounds softer than he had before, almost sympathetic, which is really pissing him off. He has no idea what this is like.

The phone is suddenly taken away from him, and Dean wants nothing more than to get up and take it back, and he almost does, but his body fails him. He's stuck in this helpless position. Again.

Trench Coat dials a number and hands it to Dean. Before Dean can say anything, there is a voice at the other end of the line.

"Cas? Cas, did something happen? Everything okay?" Sam. Thank god.

"Sam? Sam, it's me," Dean says, the relief is too overwhelming to register what Sam had called him. "Everything's okay. You just gotta get me outta here, man, you know how much I hate hospitals." And there is some guy here who won't leave my god damn side.

"Yeah, alright, calm down, man." Sam says. Dean can hear that Sam is just as relieved as he is. Everything is okay. Jesus. That phone number thing really freaked him out. Someone better explain why all numbers are suddenly bunk. Maybe someone was getting close to finding Sam and Dean. It could have been an emergency. Yeah, that makes sense. Right? "I'll be there in fifteen. Think you can manage?" Sam breaks his train of thought, and it makes him smile a little.

"Shut up and get your ass over here, bitch,"

"Whatever, jerk,"

Dean hangs up and hands the phone back to Trench Coat reluctantly. There has to be some explanation for all the shit that's been going on. And since he's got some time before Sam gets here, he decides he's going to get some answers now.

"How'd you know Sam's number?" Dean asks suspiciously.

Trench Coat tilts his head and frowns.

"He gave me his number," The words are drawn out slowly, and if Dean was paying attention, he'd notice that they were laced with fear. However, he's more stuck on the idea that he and Sam almost never gave out their numbers. To anyone. Ever. And yet… Sam kinda did brush off the whole being reached by a strange number thing. That makes things even weirder.

"Why would he do that?" Dean asks himself.

This in turn makes Trench Coat frown further. It was obvious, even to Dean, that he doesn't like what he is hearing.

"In case of emergencies. You know this, Dean," He says, emphasizing his words.

But no, Dean really doesn't know that. They already have plenty of people who they can call in case of emergencies. Why the hell would they need to give this guy their numbers? Why would he be sitting here with Dean calling Sam? Holy shit… what if Sam didn't know until Webster's over here called him?

"You do know this, Dean… Don't you?"

"Look, buddy, I appreciate you giving me the phone and all that, but I have no idea why Sam would give you an emergency number. That makes no fucking sense," He says honestly, though he's kinda put off by the look on Trench Coat's face.

"Buddy." Trench Coat says, his voice far off and distant. He has this look on his face that Dean can't label, but he can tell that it's nothing positive. Dean refuses to feel bad about this. Maybe Sam and him were friends, but Dean doesn't do the whole friend thing. He doesn't trust people as openly, or as quickly. No matter how much of a puppy the person looks.

"You don't know me." Trench Coat says, more of a statement than a question.

"…No, I thought that'd be pretty obvious," It's not like he knows me, Dean thinks, trying to rationalize this guys response. Unless Sam and him have been talking about me. In which case, I'd have to kick Sam's ass.

"What do you remember?"

"Uh…" Dean should tell him to get the hell out of his room. He should tell him that it's none of his business what's going on in his life. Sending him away now might be a mistake. Just how much does this guy know about him and Sam? If he knows about the supernatural world, he might be a hunter. If he's not a hunter, then Dean should keep his eye on him until Sam comes around. To do that, he's gonna have to answer some questions, get a feel for what he knows, and what he doesn't know. "Sam was trying to get me out of a contract. Why?"

Trench Coat sighs. There's this long, uncomfortable pause, and Dean feels like he's said something wrong, or that it wasn't the answer Trench here was looking for.

"That was five years ago, Dean," He explains slowly. Trench Coat looks at Dean searchingly, and he can't fucking take it. There's no god damned way.

"That's not funny." Dean says immediately. His heart is pounding against his chest, like it always does when his fate comes to mind. Even toying with the idea that he some how managed to escape his deal wasn't in the forefront of his mind. This guy was out of his fucking mind if he thought that, even for a moment, Dean would believe him.

Dean waited for the guy to double over, to slap his knee and tell him how he had just got him. It's all supposed to be a big god damned joke, it's got to be. Trench Coat didn't seem to budge on the subject, though. He's got a great poker face. At least, that's what Dean has to hope for at this point. That it's all just a lie.

"That did not happen five years ago," He reasserts. "Don't you dare pull this shit on me."

Still, the man in the trench coat did not budge on the subject.

"Dean, I know that this might be difficult for you to believe, but we have known each other for years. We are…" The man paused, and looked away. Even though his perception is sorta skewed due to his anger, Dean could tell that he was conflicted about something. "Friends."

"Horseshit. I woulda remembered you." It's not like Dean has a lot of friends to remember, anyway. One who had a giant stick up his ass definitely would have been memorable.

"Unless something prevented you from doing so. In this case: retrograde amnesia," The longer this conversation went on, the more conflicted and emotional the man seemed to become. "Dean, the things that have happened in the past few years are complicated. Perhaps I should wait for Sam to get here. You would be more… comfortable with him explaining all the recent events."

The dark vibes that the man was giving off seemed to permeate in the air, and it made things even more uncomfortable than Dean wanted them to be. He just wanted the truth, upfront. But yeah, he was right. It's better that he hears it from Sam than some stranger.

There's a few moments of silence. Maybe a few minutes. Dean is still waiting for that punch line, but not so much from the Trench Coat guy. Trench Coat has taken it upon himself to make things weirder by not moving away at all. He just sort of… stood there, like he was watching over Dean, making sure that he wasn't going to run away. It was unsettling, and Dean had half a mind to tell him to fuck off when Sam came rushing in through the door.

"Sam, can you tell this guy that-"

"Sam, I believe that Dean is suffering from amnesia, and doesn't remember anything from 2008 on."

The fucking asshole cut him off. Again, Dean planned on telling him to go screw himself when he noticed something. Sam was fuckin' Rapunzel.

"Dude, what's up with the hair?"

Sam's face went from confused to in shock. Behind his eyes though, Dean saw something that wasn't there the day before. It's exhaustion. It's years and years of pain that he shouldn't have had to suffer, but did. It's wisdom from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's age.

Under Sam's scrutinizing gaze, Dean feels exposed, almost as much as Trench Coat made him feel.

"You think it's 2008?"

Dean's heart sinks. Holy shit. Sam is good at playing games, but not that good. And he knows that his brother would never, ever joke about something like this. It would be too over the top.

"Sammy, you tellin' me it's not 2008? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it's not possible for years to have passed." He hints at the deal, and it sucks bringing it up, but it's the only proof he has at the moment.

"It's 2013," Sam says.

Now Dean starts to worry. He looks back from his brother to the stranger, waiting for something, anything to happen other than this silence. It's suffocating him, being between two people who know more about what's going on than he does.

"No way. No, c'mon, we tried everything, there's no way-"

"Cas, can I talk to you outside for a minute, please?"

Oh. So then Trench Coat was Cas.

Cas frowns deeply and cocks his head to the side.

"Sam, I told Dean that you should tell him what he's forgotten."

"Just a minute. Please," Dean scowls when Sam looks back at him. If he really does have amnesia (what the hell? It's not like he's in an episode of Dr. Sexy. Things like this don't actually happen.), what is Sam waiting for? Why wouldn't someone just explain what's going on? To his frustration, Cas complies, and follows Sam outside the room.

Dean's head hits the pillow. He gets the feeling that the fun hasn't even started yet.

This is not something that Castiel has ever anticipated. Especially after the more recent events, he thought that things were going to get easier. Now, standing outside of Dean's hospital room, he feels more helpless than he has in a long time. However bad he was at comforting Dean beforehand has changed drastically now. Dean would not even let him close to his side. All those years of trust. Everything they've been through together. It's all gone now.

Sam sends a doctor to go talk to Dean and figure out how much damage has been done, he returns to Castiel's side.

Sam does not have it easy, eother. Explaining to Dean about all the horrors they have seen a second time will be an awful experience. Castiel wishes that he still had his grace, so that he could spare Dean the pain..

"So, what exactly does Dean remember? Did he tell you?" Sam asks.

Castiel sighs.

"The last thing he recalls is the two of you hunting a demon to get out of his deal," He gives Sam a meaningful look. "He believes that he is going to hell."

The moment that follows is heavy and uncomfortable. Those were the days that Castiel wasn't yet in the Winchester's life. At least visibly. What's surprising to Castiel, is that Sam doesn't look as devastated as Castiel feels. Years of Dean's memory gone, and he isn't upset?

"Listen, Cas," Sam shifts his weight from one long leg to the other, and crosses his arms. "Uh, what do you think about…" He clears his throat. It is apparent to Castiel that Sam is avoiding asking the question. He waits for Sam to finish patiently. Perhaps the situation is more stressful on the younger brother than he thought. "What if we don't tell Dean everything that's happened?"

The Winchesters have had some pretty bad ideas before, but this one strikes Castiel as particularly stupid. How can he let Sam keep information from Dean?

"Sam, that's not a good idea. You should know that by now. From personal experience, no less." Whenever one Winchester kept things from the other, things went wrong. It is well within Dean's right to know what's happened in his own life. He must know, or how will they be able to tell him anything at all? Leaving chunks of a story out will only make it more suspicious, and Dean will notice the holes in his past. On a more selfish note, he wants Dean to remember so that Dean could trust him again. They need trust, for when they hunt down whatever is left in the world.

"Yeah, but, think about it! Dean doesn't remember hell. It's like he never went. Do you have any idea-" Sam lets out a harsh breath. "And not only that, but he's been carrying all this crap for years. If I can somehow come up with an explanation as to why he's not currently rotting in hell, can you imagine how much stress he'll let go?" Castiel is now on the opposite end of the dreaded 'puppy eyes'. "For once, Dean doesn't have to think about everything, or be guilty about anything. Things have gotten better since we closed the gates… But with a clean slate-"

"His slate is far from clean. Even before hell, Sam-"

"Yeah, whatever. He could be happy. That's what's important. Right?"

It wasn't the best argument. Still, Castiel thinks back to all the tragedies that have occurred. It's not just hell that Dean has forgotten. There are deaths that he has blamed himself for, events that he couldn't have helped, and so many nightmares.

There were good times, too, Castiel thinks forlornly. And times that have yet to be played out. He looks back into Dean's room and watches how the man he has hunted with for several months now is throwing a temper tantrum as the doctor pokes and prods at him.

Would Dean believe him if Castiel was the one to tell him about all the horrors? Not likely. Not over his own brother. Either Castiel has to go along with Sam's plan, or be the one to hurt Dean with the truth. Is it possible for a heart to hurt due to emotional pain?

"You cannot hide the truth from him forever, Sam. One day soon, something will slip. Just moments before he called you, he tried to contact Bobby. How long do you think before it happens again? How long before he wonders about all of his deceased friends?" Castiel questions, slowly turning to look back at Sam. "What happens if he starts to remember on his own?"

"I know! I know, okay? I already thought about that. But just… god, just a few days. Please. That's all I'm asking," He pleads. "And even if we do end up telling Dean about everything… we can't do it all at once. We can't."

There, Castiel can see where Sam has a point.

"Let's just… get him through this, first. Once I know everything else is okay with him, we'll take him back to my…" He stops. Castiel supposes that Sam almost suggested that they bring Dean to his house to recover. So he hasn't thought about everything. Sam purses his lips before speaking again. "Well, I'll figure it out. Will you do it though? Will you keep everything to yourself?"

Castiel sighs again. He doesn't want to keep it to himself. It feels wrong to lie. The trust that is now gone along with Dean's memories would be hurt if he were to remember. Dean might never trust him again. After all they've been through, Castiel wouldn't have guessed that this would be his greatest challenge.

"Yes. For now," He says. "But we have to tell him soon, Sam. It isn't right to conceal his past from him."

Sam looks away, ashamed, but satisfied.

Now they just have to come up with a convincing lie for everything that's happened.

An experiment. I would like some feedback on this please!