Still trying to shake loose my muse. I promise to get back to my stories soon! Please review?

He watched as the nurse buttoned up his shirt and then attempted to tie his tie around her own neck. It didn't seem to want to hang right and somehow he knew that wasn't the way it usually looked. After a few minutes of fiddling with it she managed to make it look presentable. She then placed it over his head and tightened it. He looked at her solemnly and wondered why it felt strange. Something seemed to be missing, but since he couldn't even remember his own name and most things felt strange he just smiled softly at her and waited for her to speak. He wasn't sure why they were getting him dressed in something other than the t-shirt and sweatpants that she had brought in for him, but he was sure she would explain. She always did. She was nice. Her name was Mary.

"OK Blue Eyes. You have visitors today. They think they know you."

They had called him John from the minute he woke up, but he knew that wasn't his name. He had no idea what it was, but he knew that wasn't it. The nice nurse always called him Blue Eyes and smiled at him gently, while others just looked at his chart and left. He liked her. She took a comb from the table behind her and combed through his hair.

"OK, you look presentable. I'll be right outside if you need me."

A lump formed in his throat and he felt a stinging sensation in his eyes. It felt foreign, like he had never felt it before. He wasn't sure what to do so he grabbed her hand.

"What's wrong sweetie? Aw, don't cry. If these people know you then you won't have to stay here anymore. Don't you want to get out of here?" She said as she brushed the tears away.

He shook his head and squeezed her hand tighter. This place was the only thing he knew…and Mary the only person he felt comfortable with.

"Do you want me to stay?"

He nodded his head vigorously and loosened his grip slightly, but did not let go.

"OK, I'll stay just till we see if they really know you." She said as she let go of his hand gently and pushed the wheelchair over to the window.

He looked out the window to the garden below. It reminded him of something, but he never could remember what it was…just that one of his favorite places looked something like it. His memories always seemed to be so close he could almost touch them, but so far away he would never retrieve them. Another tear slid down his cheek and he brushed it away. The tears felt so wrong, so foreign. He somehow knew that crying was not something he did before, but since he had seen other people cry he wasn't sure why he would be different.

There were voices in the hall and suddenly two people were standing in the door. A tall man and a slightly shorter one. He looked up at her and wrinkled his brow in confusion. They didn't look familiar, but yet they did.

"Oh my God. Cas! It is you!" the shorter one said and started toward him.

He shrank back in the chair as far as he could and reached for her hand. The man stopped and looked at her questioningly. The taller one just remained by the door.

"I'm going to take them outside and explain things. Are you OK to stay here by yourself?" Mary said, squeezing his hand.

He swallowed down a lump of fear and nodded his head.

She placed his hand in his lap and patted it gently. "It'll be OK Blue Eyes. It looks like they know you."

He took a deep breath and smiled at her slightly before she turned to leave. He saw the shorter man look at him with what seemed to be concern before he turned to follow Mary out into the hall. The taller one lingered by the door, but did not follow. He lowered his head and turned to look out the window, but listened carefully to the conversation outside.

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

"We don't really know. A jogger found him in the city park. We can't find anything physically wrong with him, but he hasn't spoken or attempted to walk since he's been here. He just does whatever we tell him to. I get him up and dress him and then he sits in the wheelchair by the window all day. Sometimes he will look at a magazine if I bring him one, but I think he just looks at the pictures."

"Can he walk? I mean…is he not able to or he just doesn't?"

"He just doesn't. He stands up when I ask him to but always sits back down in the chair as soon as I'm done dressing him or whatever."

"He doesn't know his name?"

"I don't think so. If he does I'm not sure he could tell us."

"Have you tried getting him to write it down?"

"Yes, but when he writes all we get is some strange figures, not letters. We first thought it might be a stroke affecting his language center, but we can't find any evidence of one."

He saw the taller one move out of the corner of his eye when the scribbles were mentioned. They made perfect sense to him, but no one seemed to be able to read them. The shiny books Mary brought him had strange letters, the ones he had deduced he was supposed to be using. They didn't make any sense though…only the spoken words. He heard the taller man ask for a sample of the writing and he chanced a look in their direction as the two men exchanged knowing glances. They know what they are!

"Give me a minute with him." The shorter man said as he turned to come back into the room.

He panicked slightly, but looked up as the man crouched down beside him.

"My name is Dean…and that's Sam." He said softly, motioning toward the taller man lingering in the doorway. "Your name is Castiel. Do you remember any of that?"

He shook his head and looked into the man's eyes. They looked somehow familiar, but he still couldn't make the leap to being certain that these were people he should be with. He knew from dreams and flashes of what he thought might be memories that some people from his past meant him harm. He wasn't certain if this Dean and Sam were good people or bad. The name…Castiel… sounded familiar, but even bad people could know his name. It seemed a strange name compared to the ones he had heard since he was here. He looked down at his hands, uncertain what he should do.

"Cas? It's me. Dean. Please…I know you remember me. You have to." The man pleaded, his eyes shining with tears.

He looked up and then back down, frustrated that he could not remember even when confronted by someone that apparently knew him. Mary said it might shake things loose, but he was as confused and uncertain as ever. The man held out the paper he had written on and then looked behind him as if he wanted to be sure no one was listening.

"Cas, this stuff that you wrote…it's Enochian."

The man handed him the paper and pointed to the place on the paper where he had written Castiel. "See? That's your name. You do know it."

Castiel looked at the paper and frowned, then looked back up at Dean and shrugged his shoulders. The man sighed and Castiel could tell he was frustrated with him, but nothing seemed to click. He wanted so much for this to bring back everything, but he was still scared and uncertain. Suddenly an image of fire and brimstone from his dreams rose up. This man was in the middle of it…torturing some poor soul…not him but someone else. He shrank back in the chair and put his hands up defensively.

"You remember it don't you? Hell?" Dean said as he rolled up his sleeve.

Castiel gasped as he revealed a large red handprint on his upper arm and he started to tremble in fear.

"You did this Cas. You saved me from that. You…um…gripped me tight and raised me from perdition. You don't have to be afraid of me. You stopped the torture. You saved us all."

Castiel frowned again and tried to remember more. Nothing else came but the smell of faint burning…like bird feathers being singed…and pain somewhere outside of his body. He looked behind him as he seemed to feel the heavy weight of something on his shoulders, but nothing was there.

"Wings, Cas. That's your wings."

People don't have wings. How can I have wings? Castiel began to shake his head vigorously and a guttural cry came from his throat. Mary came running back in and grabbed the man…ushering him quickly from the room and closing the door. She then came and knelt beside of him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

"He says your name is Castiel. Is it?

Castiel stopped trembling and looked at her intently. He wasn't sure. It sounded familiar, but he did not know.

"That's the Angel of Thursday you know. Maybe your parents were really religious?"

He started to cry…tears following down his cheeks in earnest. It didn't feel right, but it was the only thing his body wanted to do. Mary stood and rubbed his shoulders as they shook violently.

Angel? Wings? How can that be?

"I'm going to send them away and tell them to come back tomorrow. Maybe you will remember something by then when you've had a chance to think about it?"

He nodded and sighed, wishing that the feeling of fear would leave. He could handle uncertainty, since that was all he had known for months. Fear was something else, something he didn't like. Something he didn't seem familiar with.

Mary left and closed the door, but he could hear raised voiced outside. The man named Dean seemed to be angry, then Mary placed a hand on his shoulder and he calmed down. She was good at that…calming people down…and making them feel safe. He wondered what he would do for comfort when he left this place. Maybe he could just stay here…no…people get better and go home.

Home. Where is home? He had no impression of what home was. He had just deduced from other people talking about going home that it was a nice place in most cases where you lived with family members, but he could remember no one he called family. It made him extremely sad.

He looked up to see Mary coming back in and smiled at her as she knelt by the chair again.

"Dean wants to try one more thing…then if that doesn't help you remember they will leave. Is that OK?"

He started trembling again and rubbed his face with his hands. When he removed his hands he looked at them curiously as a faint jolt of what felt like electricity pulsed through his right hand. Confused, he looked at Mary and nodded. It was best to get things over with. If nothing the man called Dean said this time made sense maybe he would just go away. Mary motioned him in and gave him a stern look.

"Don't upset him anymore. I'll kick your ass if you hurt him."

"Yes, m'am. Just this one thing." Dean said as he approached slowly.

Dean was carrying a bag this time. He unzipped it and moved some things around before pulling out a bundle of fabric and shaking it out.

"It's a little messed up, but I saved it. I thought you might be able to fix it."

He reached out a trembling hand and touched it. It seemed familiar. A coat…his coat apparently.

"Do you want to put it on?"

He pursed his lips and thought for a second, then nodded his head and waited as Dean applied the brakes on the wheelchair. He stood up and waited. Mary always put his clothes on him. He didn't seem to know how.

Dean finally realized what he was waiting for and moved behind him to hold the coat out and pulled it up over his shoulders after he put his arms in the sleeves.

It felt right. The missing piece! He turned to face Dean and looked into his eyes, then down at his hand. The spark came back and he flexed it curiously. Dean looked down at the hand and then rolled up his sleeve again…waiting.

Castiel…I'm Castiel. He cautiously reached out and placed his hand over the scar. It fit…exactly. As he made contact the spark intensified and a power leapt through him that was familiar…home.

Castiel withdrew his hand and looked at Dean again. Dean smiled. Castiel frowned and cocked his head as Dean's eyes rose to a point over his shoulders. A split second flash of iridescence had revealed wings. Wings!

"Hello, Dean."