A/N: I sketched out this plot a while ago, and I hope it goes according to plan now that I'm putting it into actual words. It's likely to be fairly long, but I'm a little inexperienced in estimating that right now. Give me time. :)

Two years prior

The road glistened in the headlights of the car as they swept around the curve. In the summer warmth, the lightly falling rain felt both a blessing and a threat, removing the uncomfortable edge from the heat while adding a muggy thickness to the air. Not enough rain had fallen yet to create deep puddles; the pavement shimmered like polished stone. Castiel smirked slightly, enjoying the poetic thought but knowing that it would have fled his mind by the time he was able to lay hand to pen and paper.

"Tell me again why we're going to this thing?" Jimmy sighed from the passenger seat. "I don't even know these people. They're just going to spend all night calling me by your name and starting conversations about concerts and parties I never attended." He slouched further down and glared out the window. "Not to mention that these parties are always packed shoulder to shoulder, and I have no desire to stand out in the rain just to be able to draw a good breath."

"We're going because you don't know these people," Castiel grinned at his twin brother. "You don't seem to know any people, or at least not any that are going to drag you out for some fun once in a while. Come on; your last paper of the year is in, and in a few days we'll be heading back home for another summer of parents, church, and family values." He rolled his eyes. "Last chance to live it up for a few months. I have your best interests at heart."

Jimmy grimaced. "My best interests are back in our climate-controlled room. I don't even drink, Cassie. I'm just going to wind up standing near any open window I can find, smiling and nodding like a freaking bobble-head doll. I know I'll be driving us home after, but is there any hope we'll be leaving before I'll have to scrape you off the floor?"

"Oh, it might not be that bad. Maybe I'll meet somebody, and you can drag me out of a bed, instead." Castiel gave an exaggeratedly feral grin and salacious wink as Jimmy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't be the first time such an event had happened, and Jimmy was still trying to forget the singularly scarring time that he had opened the door and discovered his brother entwined with a few more companions than he had anticipated. Jimmy didn't honestly believe that situation had been as lewd as the scene implied; it was more likely that varying levels of intoxication from their host's assortment of "party favors" had simply led to a lethargic group cuddle. Certainly, nobody in the room had seemed capable of anything more energetic than uncoordinated hair petting.

Castiel expended great effort toward presenting himself as reckless, Jimmy knew. He wasn't sure whether it was a reactionary statement against their conservative upbringing, part of an "artist's image" that his brother was exploring, or just a way to distinguish himself from his quieter twin. Jimmy could sense an edge around the mask, though; he didn't think the image went deeper than the skin that Castiel decorated with a handful of tattoos he'd designed himself.

"I can't remember which of these houses belongs to Andy's cousin," Castiel said, squinting through the windshield. The humidity and heat were causing the glass to fog slightly, and the beat-up car's old fan system was doing a poor job clearing the condensation. "None of them seem lit up enough for a party. Shit, it's hard to see out here…"

"Cassie, look out!" A deer, eyes glowing in the headlights, jumped out of the shadows beside the road, then froze. Castiel gasped, hitting the brakes, and felt the tires spin on the damp, slick pavement. A heartbeat stretched into years as he stared wide-eyed at the spellbound animal growing large in the windshield. There was no way the car would stop in time, he knew. He desperately cranked the steering wheel to the left, praying the deer would stay where it was. The car turned, slipped, spun; the world outside flew past his vision, too quickly to focus. They were sliding…the wheels caught the edge of the pavement, and his side window came crashing into his temple. There was noise…warmth…the feeling of vertigo…and blackness.

Flashing lights. The sound of a siren in the distance, approaching. Distorted voices on radios. Castiel couldn't make sense of any one thing, so he let them all wash through his hazy consciousness without attempting to process them.

"Sir, can you hear…"

Yes, he thought, without trying to communicate the answer.

"Hey, bring me that, I can't quite…"

He felt hands on his shoulders, though he didn't remember his car door opening. A tugging, shearing sensation, and his seatbelt ceased to hold him in place. Something, maybe arms, stopped him from falling…upward? No, he was upside down.

"Get his legs…"

Cas was carried through the air, passively allowing his limbs to be manipulated onto a firm surface. His eyelids were thumbed open, and a light shone into his eyes. Words were spoken to him, but they might as well have been a collection of meaningless noises for all that he was able to interpret them.

"I need some help over here – another…"

He was moving again, head swimming and stomach dropping unpleasantly as he was lifted into somewhere brighter and louder. A door slammed nearby, and a siren much closer began to wail as he felt the world rumble and he slid again into unconsciousness.

The next time Castiel woke, he was in a darkened room, lying in what he knew immediately was a hospital bed. Bandages covered his forehead, neck, and left arm, and a moment later, he felt a surge of powerful nausea surge through his body. Before he had time to panic, a white-clad figure appeared beside his bed. They were holding a curved plastic bowl, into which he promptly vomited.

"Easy, easy," the woman said softly. "Head injuries will do that. We gave you something to help with it, but they're not miracle drugs." She handed Castiel a tiny cup of water to rinse his mouth, then went to empty the basin. When she returned, she carried a clipboard and pencil.

"So, do you remember what happened? Why you're here?" Castiel gazed at her. He could remember lights and sounds, but there were gaps filled with emptiness in his mind. He had the sense that he didn't really want to scratch at them.

"Okay, that's normal. Your skull took a beating, so memory loss isn't unusual. You were in a car accident; do you remember that?" She tilted her head expectantly, clearly wanting him to come into the full recollection on his own rather than explaining.

Castiel tried. He remembered driving…a party. Had he been at a party? He narrowed his eyes, head starting to ache with the effort of use. The nurse was patiently waiting for him to speak, but his mouth seemed unwilling to cooperate. Steeling himself against the headache, he shook his head slightly.

"Well, don't worry. The doctor says you've got a concussion, but there's no other major damage. You were very lucky, considering…" She cut herself off with a sudden cringe, so quick Castiel might have imagined it. He wondered what he wasn't being told. Was she downplaying his injuries? He glanced over his body again, looking for evidence of more damage, but saw nothing obvious.

"So is there anything you need?" He gazed silently at the nurse, and she shrugged. "Okay, then. You can push the button if you change your mind, and we'll just come check on you if you can't talk into the speaker." She stared at him a moment longer, frowning a bit in an expression he couldn't read, before she left the room. Castiel closed his eyes and fought down the pain in his head until he could drift back to sleep.

It was hours later, by the light coming through his window, when Castiel woke to the sound of tense voices in his room. An authoritative sounding woman was quietly but sternly reprimanding, while other voices were louder with emotion and worry.

"– my son! I want the neurologist here right –"

"– must not disturb him, his concussion –"

"– need to tell him about Jimmy, but how – "

"– memory loss, and the shock –"

"Mom?"

The noise in the room, other than the beep of his monitors, suddenly cut off as though a song had ended with the drop of a conductor's baton. Three sets of eyes flew to Castiel, staring with concern. As the stethoscope-wearing woman moved to his side and took his jaw in her hand to peer into his face, he noticed that his parent's expressions were grave. His mother had obviously been crying, and not lightly; the only traces of her usual impeccable makeup lay in creases below her red-rimmed eyes. His father looked far older than Castiel had ever seen him.

"I'm Doctor Mills, Mr. Novak. I'm your on-call doctor tonight, and I just need to examine you before I leave you to your parents, who are going to stay calm, okay? You've had a pretty bad shake-up, and you need to rest so you can get better." Doctor Mills kept glancing at his parents while she spoke, frowning pointedly. "Now, how's your head this afternoon?"

Castiel considered. The pain was dimmed, and he could almost begin to feel his thoughts coalesce into understanding, but he still felt a strange numbness covering everything. He felt afraid of what lay below it, though he couldn't place his finger on why. He realized that everyone in the room was staring at him, and he remembered that the doctor had asked him a question. I should say something, he thought, but his brain and his voice were apparently still not on speaking terms.

"Why isn't he answering?" his mother hissed, pale and terrified-looking. His father gripped her around the shoulders with his arm, but he looked equally unsettled.

"Sometimes this happens as a result of trauma," Doctor Mills said gently, lifting the bandages around Castiel's head to check his wounds. "Mr. Novak, it's all right," she continued, compassionately addressing herself directly to him despite his inability to communicate with her. "There's nothing wrong with your vocal cords, and the scans we've done have shown no trauma to your brain. The issue you're experiencing is likely emotional, not physiological. You shouldn't worry about that, anyway. If it persists, after you give yourself time to recover, a counselor can help work with you."

She replaced his bandages and stood, preparing to leave. His parents glanced quickly between each other, appearing even more alarmed. "Doctor," his father said. "I don't…what should…" He wrung his hands slightly, eyes flitting from Castiel to the doctor and back. Castiel felt his blanket of detachment tremble slightly, and he had the urge to feign sleep – anything to avoid whatever was making his father so anxious.

The doctor paused, thinking. "Your son is healing," she finally said. "You can talk with him, but if he becomes agitated, we may have to sedate him, and I'd rather not do that. You know him best. If the holes in his memory will upset him more than the truth, then…you should fill in the holes. But gently." She sighed. "If you'd like me to send up our counselor, I can do that."

"I can talk to my son," Castiel's mother said firmly. She strode to the side of his bed, lifting his hand in both of hers. Castiel gazed into his mother's grief-filled face, filled with apprehension. He heard the doctor leave, and his father approached on the other side of the bed.

"Castiel, why can't you answer me?" his mother began, but his father shook his head determinedly, and she sighed. "It's okay. We were so scared, Castiel. When the hospital called, they wouldn't give us many details, just that it was serious. They said you don't remember what happened, but do you remember anything? Oh, how can you tell me what you do or don't remember?" She drooped in frustration.

"Son." His father regarded him for a moment, a thousand emotions showing. "You were driving the car, and you swerved. The police said there might have been an animal. Do you remember that?"

Castiel thought. Glowing eyes. Graceful neck. He nodded.

"Okay. Okay, then. The car slid, with the rain on the road. You rolled into the ditch next to the road. Can you remember?"

Spinning, flashing. The sound of tires squealing, the feeling of flying. Another nod. He felt his heart begin to race with the recollection, delayed adrenaline hitting his system.

His mother squeezed his hand, and he noticed tears begin to trickle. There was more, and it was much worse. The most horrible suspicion entered his mind. His memory was hazy, but he knew he would not have been alone in the car, wouldn't have been going to the party by himself.

He struggled with his mouth, trying to force it into action. He didn't want to know, but he needed to know. His twin had been with him, and if his parents were here and Jimmy was not, then it either meant that Jimmy had escaped unscathed, or…he swallowed hard. With immense effort, he swallowed and croaked, "Jimmy?"

In the hush that followed, the bleakness in his parents' faces told him everything he never wanted to know, and Castiel's life shattered.