A/N: So... this started out as a Neighbors AU and then got wildly out of hand. I'm not going to lie. It's kind of a train wreck. I'm so sorry.
"Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Only way I can live with myself, Cas. Just... promise me something?"
Cas' eyes narrow, wary of the request. He knows now that he is not always willing to do what Dean asks.
"Do yourself a favor, man, don't get to know me. Probably make a shoddy regular Joe too."
"I very much doubt that," Cas sighs as he places his hand against Dean's cheek. "Dean... are you...are you really sure?"
"Jesus Christ, Cas. Just do it already," Dean clenches his fists as Cas cups his cheeks and resignedly allows his grace to flow through Dean, taking the memories of the Mark, of the Trials, of Purgatory, of the Apocalypse, of Hell, of hunting, of everything in Dean's life that wasn't human - including himself - away.
Dean slumps backwards into his arms, a fragile shell of fragmented memory, and Cas lifts him up before pressing their foreheads together and whispering gently, "Not knowing you would be no favor."
One Year Later
Dean doesn't know the guy who lives next door all that well - what he does for a living, where he's from, and all that crap is a complete mystery - what he does know is that the guy pretty much lives to exasperate him.
The thing is, Dean forgets to close his garage most of the time -it's in his backyard, it's not visible from the road, and when his Baby's not in it, there's not much of anything of real value inside - and Cas takes this open door as some kind of blanket invitation to borrow his stuff.
It's not.
And Dean's told him time and time again that it's not. But every time Cas just sort of squints at him and says something stupidly logical like, "But if you were not using it, and I brought it back, you have helped me and I have not hindered you. I do not see the issue."
And whenever Dean growls back that he might have wanted to use the item, whatever it was, himself, his freaking stalker of a neighbor simply gives him a hard, calculating stare and states plainly how Dean's plans would have interfered.
"Could have wanted to go Tom Sawyer on my fence tonight, Cas. You don't know."
"You have been at work since sun up, and you told your brother not an hour ago you would meet him and his date across town for dinner. You really have the time to, uh, 'go Tom Sawyer' on your fence?"
"Just put the damn brush back, you freaking gremlin, and mind your own god damn business."
And so on.
But today, Dean, despite himself, is a little worried about the guy. Because his watering can has been missing for two whole days.
And, the thing is, Cas may be a pain in the ass who has literally never asked Dean's permission to go in his garage and knows far too much of Dean's personal business for his own good, but, for whatever it's worth, Cas has always, always brought his stuff back before he actually needed it.
And so, Dean is frowning over his withering begonias trying to convince himself that the odd feeling that has settled in the pit of his stomach is nothing. Cas just forgot to bring his watering can back because, really, the guy should probably join Dennis the Menace and Mrs. Kravitz on a top ten worst neighbors list or something.
But worry gnaws and gnaws at him until finally he finds himself at Cas' front door pounding on the knocker.
Once he's satisfied that only the deaf hasn't heard him knocking, he stuffs his hands into his jeans and glances around anxiously. Cas' crappy Lincoln is parked crookedly, more crookedly than Dean's ever seen it, against the curb, and so, since Dean's been in his front yard weeding for most of the day, he thinks the guy's either home or Houdini. And after three minutes of complete silence, Dean's leaning towards Houdini.
He's so startled when Cas does finally open the door that he forgets why he's there. He just gapes at Cas waiting for his neurons to fire.
Before they do, Cas says, in lieu of formalities, "Your watering can. Your begonias."
"Yeah, I..." Dean scratches at the back of his neck feeling kind of sheepish. Because, while he does actually need his watering can back, that's really not why he's there. "Yeah."
He doesn't know what exactly he thought was wrong here, and looking at Cas suggests that he's probably overreacted. From a glance at his slightly pale skin, Dean comes to the conclusion that, at worst, Cas has a cold, which is certainly reason enough for him to be a little absentminded, but not for Dean to come rushing over in a panic.
Except Cas completely disproves this theory by turning around, saying that he's going to his backyard to get the watering can, and abruptly doubles over, hissing in pain.
And like that Dean is over him pushing him onto his couch and digging for his cell phone. "What's going on, Cas?"
"Your watering can..." Cas starts and Dean shakes his head.
"Forget about it. Just tell me what's going on. You hurt?"
"I...my abdomen. I have not...I have not been stabbed, but it feels as though I have," Cas says.
Dean tries his best to ignore the way Cas sounds like he's speaking from actual past stab wound experience. "And you're not seeing a doc about it because...?"
Cas frowns for a moment. "I had sort of hoped the feeling would dissipate on its own."
"Okay. And, uh, how long you been hoping that?" Dean asks.
Cas knits his brow. "Since around this time yesterday, I believe."
"That long, huh?" Dean says. "Well, driving you to the hospital or calling 911. Your pick."
"This is a medical emergency?"
With the terrifying realization that Cas is dead serious, Dean kind of snaps. "Yeah, Einstein, someone stabs you, you treat it. You feel like you've been stabbed, you don't sit on it and hope you get lucky enough to have your dumbass neighbor, that doesn't even really like you, come check up on you. Now let's go."
Contrary to any expected reaction, Cas, though clearly still in pain, fights against a barely suppressed smirk the whole way to the Impala.
"What?"
"You came to check on me."
"Yeah, well, doesn't mean..." Dean abruptly drops his hand to bat Cas' away from the door to the backseat, "Hey, what... what are you doing? Get in the front. This ain't a taxi."
Cas shakes his head, as if he's just remembered something. "Of course."
XXX
Getting Cas admitted doesn't take much more than his vitals being checked and the triage nurse asking him a few pointed questions, throughout which Dean stands awkwardly to the side, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, unsure of what he's supposed to do.
On the one hand, he barely knows Cas, and he would clearly be leaving him in very capable hands if he just sauntered out the way he came in. On the other hand, he can't just abandon the guy who can't tell appendicitis from a hangnail.
And, if he's really honest with himself, he kind of likes this weirdly serious, dorky guy that won't stay out of his garage, and therefore doesn't think he should leave the guy here all by his lonesome.
So, when Cas, looking unaccountably hopeful, asks if he'll stay, Dean reaches over the arm of his wheelchair and squeezes his shoulder. "See you when you're down an organ, buddy."
"Well, it's not vital to my existence," Cas furrows his brow before adding gravely,"I think I will live."
Dean snorts before giving his shoulder another squeeze. "Dude, they do this all the time. You'll be okay."
XXX
Somehow, between Cas getting shuffled around the hospital and Dean trying to keep up with it, he ends up with Cas' coat. He's sitting in an unoccupied inpatient room, waiting for Cas to return from surgery, with the trenchcoat draped over the side of the chair, his cell phone buzzing insistently from inside the right pocket.
Figuring that whoever's trying to call Cas might be interested in knowing that his neighbor took him to the hospital, Dean tugs the phone out.
"Cas' phone. This isn't Cas."
"Dean?"
"Sam?"
It's difficult to say which of them sounds more confused.
"Why do you have Cas' phone?"
"Better question, why you calling Cas?"
"I'm friends with Cas," Sam says, as though this is common knowledge.
"Yeah? Since when? Never seen you two palling around next door," Dean says.
"Well, you wouldn't. He usually comes over here," Sam says, and Dean can hear a strained hesitation in this explanation that he doesn't like.
"Okay, well, your pal here is laid up," Dean says. "His appendix was about to pop so took him to the hospital."
"What?!... is he okay?" Dean's taken aback by how concerned Sam sounds. He knew Sam and Cas knew each other, but he didn't think it was very well. Apparently it was way better than he thought.
"Well, don't think he's going to be up for your nerdy running crap later, if that's what you're thinking, but think he'll be okay, Sasquatch."
"Okay, good. That's good. Well, text me the room number, and I'll meet you down there."
Way, way better than he thought.
Dean absently rests his hand against against Cas' coat. "Wait... do I know Cas?"
"Dean," Sam says haltingly, in a way that tells Dean that the answer is definitely 'yes.' "Just text me where you're at."
"Fine. You're going to spill when you get here," Dean says and the line clicks.
He drops Cas' phone into his lap and starts rubbing at his temple, trying to dredge up something that's just out of reach. There are giant gaps in his memory, whole years where all he can remember is him and Sam in the Impala together, taking on some vague mission to save the world. From what, he doesn't have a frigging clue. But he thinks the whole road trip vigilante thing hadn't really worked out for them in the end since what he doesn't remember, Sam won't tell him.
But he's starting to suspect that Castiel may be a big piece of the puzzle.
One Year Earlier
"You used up your grace because he asked you to take his memories?" Sam stares helplessly at Dean's limp form, lying peacefully in the backseat of the Lincoln as the night sky passes overhead. "Did you two think this through? At all?"
"I wanted to help him, Sam," Cas says. "He couldn't live with what he did. I feared what he would do."
"Did he know ...that you were using up your grace to do this?"
Cas looks down at the steering wheel evasively. "I suspect he would not have asked if he had realized what I was giving up."
"You're right. He wouldn't have," Sam says coldly.
He knows Cas thought he was doing the right thing, but, for Cas, that's usually the problem.
"I understand your frustration," Cas says. "But understand mine. I've been in Dean's place. I've had far too much blood on my hands. So much blood that I had to forget who I was, that I had to remove myself from what I did, that I had to choose penance over coming home, that I could barely forgive myself long after you and Dean had. The guilt of seeing that Mark gone only to see the two of us lifeless on the ground, spared only by the grace of God, is not something that Dean was ready to live with."
"But he would have been, one day," Sam says, shaking his head.
"He will remember, Sam," Cas says. "This is not permanent. My grace was not strong enough for that, and even if it had been, I would have been selfishly reluctant. I really would like to be remembered."
And although he's still generally pissed off about the whole situation, because clearly Cas and Dean are both incredible idiots, Sam is a little bit mollified by that. "Okay. So, how long's this patchy memory thing going to last?"
"Well, seeing the two of us together may trigger the memories, but that will really be up to Dean," Cas says. "He has to want to remember. And when he does, likely it will be a painful process, but we will be there for him."
"Yeah, of course we will," Sam says. "So, where are we taking him?"
"Sioux Falls."
"Okay. Why?"
"Dean told me some time ago that the two of you inherited Bobby's house, and after Dean told me what happened to it, I felt responsible for its destruction."
"Okay?"
"And...before I took Dean's memories, I used some of my remaining grace to build two houses there. One for you and Dean. One for myself, so I will be close by if you should need me. The houses are small, but I think they will be adequate."
"You can build houses?"
"Could. I could build houses."
"Right, right. Okay, well, if seeing us together is going to trigger something, maybe just one of us should be there?"
Cas nods wistfully. "I will call Nora and ask her to recommend me to another Gas N' Sip."
"No, Cas, I meant you. I've got some loose ends to tie up with the Mark. I've got to get the word out that Dean's not a threat anymore. And I'm going to write up everything that happened, and get that information filed away in the Men of Letters library and some other hunter libraries, so no one has to go through what we did. Then maybe I can stay with Jody? I think she's got a guest bedroom."
Cas' lips quirk at the corners.
"So take care of him for me, huh?"
Cas smiles. "I will do my best."