Chapter 1

So, hey, I'm back with another Destiel-fic. Completely canon this time. It was written for omgspnbigbang's hiatus olympics challenge on livejournal, but I decided to post it here as well. The story sets off, as the completely unoriginal title says, at the beginning of 7x17. Until then, I take everything that's canon as a given. And just for good measure, I have to add that I didn't know Cas would return as a healer when I began to write this. That's it from me, have fun with the story :)

Warnings: none, basically just spoilers.

As usual, I own nothing but this idea.

"Cas?" Dean croaked, his voice coming out dry and rough, and he knew it was from shock.

This couldn't be. Just couldn't.

Dean stared wordlessly at the man in front of him, the man with the familiar deep blue eyes and dark-brown hair. The man that once was Jimmy Novak, and now was Castiel. Had to be.

And yet, there was not a single feeling spreading in his chest. He didn't feel a spark of hope or joy or anything at seeing his old friend, not the familiar comfort of having Cas around, nothing like how it felt when they were still hunting together. Dean was sick of everything that life or destiny or whatever threw at him lately, he was sick of it all, sick to the point of feeling numb and empty inside. It had been so long that he felt something remotely resembling happiness that even now, there wasn't a thing that could lighten up his mood.

It was just shock.

Dean had just wanted to leave the hospital, couldn't bear it anymore to look at Sam through that window. His cheeks were covered in dried tears, and he didn't even care if anyone saw him like this, standing there in the hallway, his forehead leaned against the cool glass and crying. He didn't care because it was Sam, it was his baby brother, brought into a mental hospital because of hallucinations. Which Sam had had for quite some time, as he had told Dean before, and he hadn't been able to suppress them any more after he had actually listened to Lucifer that one time.

Once before, Dean had thought he had lost his brother to the devil, and it had almost torn him to shreds back then. Luckily, he had had Lisa and Ben to catch and comfort him.

But now?

He was alone, completely and utterly alone. The weight of the world was laying on his shoulders, and though he should have gotten used to that by now, this time there was no one to share it with. Dean had lost everyone, from Mom and Dad back in the day to Bobby and Cas, and now even Sam.

And the Leviathans were still out there.

He couldn't stand it, he just couldn't bear it anymore.

Sam lay in that sterile and clean white room, clad in white hospital clothing and looking so innocent in his sleep. Not like just hours before, when his eyes were blown wide in terror, screaming from the top of his lungs in pain, large hands holding his head. Just like that, he broke down, the only person Dean had left in his pathetic life, tearing the last steady factor away from him.

The doctors wouldn't let him into the room, because Sam was under strong medication to help him sleep and block his mind. Sam hadn't moved or twitched for a split second, and only the frequent beeping of the machines he was hooked to told Dean he was still alive and breathing. It fucking hurt to see him like this. Sam would get mental treatment once the doctors decided to let him wake up, or so they had told him, and despite the good old Winchester denial system, Dean knew Sam needed it. He had seen what Sam had looked like, what it had done to him, and Sam wasn't in any shape for hunting. In fact, he hadn't been in shape for hunting for the past weeks and months, and Dean had known, he had just ignored it.

And look how that turned out, he thought sarcastically.

That had been the point where he couldn't stand it any more and had fled. Dean had needed some fresh air, he had needed to get out of this clean environment. Damn, he didn't even have a motel room for the night. And he couldn't care less.

With one last, desperate glance at Sam, Dean left the building, slowly stepping down the stairs. He was so fucking tired and weary of it all. Part of him wanted to die, but the other part knew he'll make it through this. Because he always makes it though everything, and right now, he had to be strong for Sam. Had to still be there when Sam woke up.

And there was that man standing by the car, and he looked so oddly familiar. Dean blinked twice before stepping towards him.

"Cas?" he said again, voice breaking in the process.

He turned around, and Dean was immediately shell-shocked. Yes, it was Cas. But he looked wide-eyed at Dean, then turned his head again to look the other way, just to notice that no one was standing behind him.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked back confused, and the gravelly tone of his voice made Dean feel all sorts of weird things. He hadn't heard that voice in a way too long time, and the familiarity of it stirred the first feelings up within him.

Cas watched him carefully, shaking his hand in front of Dean's eyes in an attempt to make him snap out of his daze.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat. "Yes, of course, Cas."

"How... why do you keep calling me 'Cas'?"

Dean's eyebrows shot towards his hairline in confusion. "Because that's your name?"

"No, it's not. And I don't know you, for that matter. Who are you?"

Dean gaped. He didn't remember? "It's me, Dean."

Cas eyed him from head to toe. "I don't know any Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean just stared and stared, he couldn't help it. He was speechless, and shocked, and disappointed.

Cas had apparently sensed or seen it, because he dropped his head onto his chest in defeat with a quiet, sad sigh. "Look... Dean. I'm sorry, really, I am, and if I am supposed to remember you, please bear with me. I suffer from amnesia, I don't know anything since about... one year ago. I lost all other memories. So please believe me if I say I don't want to hurt you."

"I see," Dean nodded, digesting the news. Well, that was hard.

"But I get that we knew each other before?"

"Yes, we do," Dean affirmed, eyes focused on the floor to not show how he really felt. Just the thought that everything of him was gone, that Cas had no memory of everything they did, of everything they lived through together – it was so much, Dean didn't even know where to begin. It hurt to loose a friend, and it hurt even more to have him back without him being your friend any more.

"Look, Dean, I... I mean, I'm trying to find out about my past, but haven't found anyone in this last year who knew me before. So, I know it's late and the fact that you're here at the hospital should mean some serious business and all and... I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just wanted to ask you if you would like to talk to me, about the past and us and... everything," Cas said, uncertainly and a little shakily, and Dean could sense it with every word how uncomfortable he was. His Cas had never been uncomfortable in his presence; awkward and nerdy, yes, but not like this.

It hit Dean like a brick that to Cas he was a total stranger. And yet, despite everything that happened – or maybe because everything that happened – he felt obligated to help him. "Yes, of course."

Castiel nodded with a grateful smile. "Thank you, I appreciate it. When would you like to meet?"

"Actually," Dean checked his watch. "It's only seven p. m. If you don't plan on going to bed now, I'd have time, and god knows I could use a little distraction."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Cas huffed, and Dean scowled. "You wanna come over to my place? Have a coffee?"

"Sure."

"Where is your car?" Castiel asked, looking around, until his eyes fell onto the black Impala directly parking in front of the car he's standing beside. "Wait," he said, stepping forward.

Dean watched in amazement as the other man stepped to his car, placing his hand softly on the cold metal and running his hand along the trunk. Cas gasped before he looked back at Dean. "I know this car."

And for the first time in what felt like ages, a chuckle rippled out of Dean's throat, bubbling up from somewhere Dean had forgot he had. "Of course, how could you forget her?"

"Her..." Cas sighed silently. "She is an exceptional car."

"Thanks," he answered, even managing a short, lopsided smile.

A warm, familiar feeling re-appeared within Dean, another thing long forgotten – the affection he held for Castiel back when they were hunting together, when they were Team Free Will, when Cas was still like a brother to him.

"C'mon, let's get going. You drive, I'll follow," Dean suggested, deliberately breaking the moment.

Castiel turned around, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips, and for a short moment, there was that familiar staring into deep blue eyes, and Dean couldn't help but flinch a little. It was too much for now. Too much for him to handle. He quickly averted his eyes, and Cas got the hint and went back to his car. There wasn't much to say, and they drove off through the small town.

After just a few turns, Castiel's car – a blue Toyota, which Dean screwed up his face at – came to a halt, and Cas left and locked it. Dean parked his baby behind it on the sidewalk and killed the engine.

Wordlessly, the two men met to go upstairs, and when Dean saw Cas' apartment for the first time, all he could think of is: yes, that was it. This was exactly how he pictured Cas' place would look like. Tidy and clean and functional, yet warm and lively.

"Come in, Dean," Castiel said, heading for the kitchen. "So, coffee?"

"Coffee," Dean answered with a nod and looked around.

"Living room's that way, make yourself at home!" Cas' voice sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by the coffee machine purring to life.

Dean toed off his boots and put his jacket on the coat rack, before he entered the living room, which was dominated by a small three-seat brown sofa. He sat down and took another look at the TV with the shelves around. It was decorated modestly, and the shelves were stacked with books. Still, it was evident that Cas didn't live here for too long. A few books about medical treatment, especially for people with amnesia were laying around on the coffee table.

He browsed through one of them when Castiel returned with two mugs in his hands. "Milk and sugar?"

"Just sugar, please," Dean gratefully took the cup from his hands and smiled shortly. "Thank you."

When Castiel was seated on the couch and had taken a first sip from his coffee, his blue eyes locked with Dean's. The hunter didn't know what to expect, so he waited for a moment, waited for Cas to begin to speak.

"So, I actually don't really know where to begin," Cas admitted quietly. "Why don't you just tell me why you were at the hospital."

Dean swallowed. "I was there because of my brother. He had to be checked in yesterday, he had – has – hallucinations. It's a long story, you know. Anyway, why were you there?"

"Daily treatment and meeting with my support group. I still have a lot to attend, and despite the fact that I have been in this clinic for this whole year, they still couldn't figure out why I actually have amnesia. This makes the treatment even more complicated," Cas explained.

"Where and how did they find you?" Dean asked. Cas looked up, frowning and clearly confused. "I mean, when you regained consciousness. The first thing you remember? You know?"

"I was found laying at the shore of a lake, a few miles into the countryside, with no memories whatsoever. I could talk, strange enough, but I didn't remember anything, not even my name. So when I came to the hospital they called me John Doe, because I didn't even have any ID on me. For the moment, I live by that name. How did you call me before, though?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in that trademark way of his. Dean smiled sadly at the display of old habits.

"I called you Cas," Dean retorted, surprised by the softness in his voice, "which is short for Castiel."

"Castiel? Huh. Weird name. What's my surname?" Cas shook his head in confusion.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. Now for the harder part. "You've got none."

"How do I not have got a surname? Or do you just not know it?"

"No, I mean... I know that you've got no surname. Just Castiel," Dean answered patiently and waited for the inevitable.

"No person has just a first name and no second," Cas sighed. "How could that be?"

"Because you're... ugh, okay, Cas... listen, this is hard. This will sound weird as hell, and I'll tell you a lot of things that'll sound weird, but you can believe me, every part of it is true. Sadly."

Castiel nodded, but Dean could almost see the great, big, blinking question mark above his head.

"It's because you're not a person, by that definition. You're an angel of the lord."

"I'm what? Are you kidding me?" Cas shouted out in surprise.

"Hell no," Dean chuckled bitterly.

"There's no such thing as angels," Cas said.

And Dean full-on laughed at that, laughed how he hadn't for years.

Cas frowned at him. "What's so funny now?"

"This, exactly this sentence," Dean still laughed, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, "was what I said to you when you told me you were an angel all those years ago."

Cas swallowed and fell quiet for a few moments.

"How did we get to know each other? What were we to each other?" he asked, sadness in his voice.

Dean sighed. "We were friends for four years. And the story of how we met is actually... Not remotely funny. And very, very weird."

"C'mon, just tell me and let me judge for myself."

"You were, and I quote, 'the one who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.'" Dean even used the air quotation marks on this, which eased the tension that was building up on Castiel's side a bit. "You raised me from hell."

"Wait, so let me get this straight... I'm an angel and I pulled you out of hell? Why?"

Dean chuckled with his mouth pursed. "Because 'God had plans for me.' You wanna hear the story? The whole, really-fucking-weird story?"

"Yes, of course," Cas nodded matter-of-factly and frowned.

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. For starters, I've lost my mum when I was four years old. I've got a younger brother, his name is Sam-" Dean looked up at Cas for any reaction, but apparently, the name didn't ring any bells, "Sam and I are hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures, like demons and dschinns and pagan gods and so on."

Cas' eyes widened.

"And to make a long story short, it began with Sam dying because of the yellow-eyed demon's – Azazael's – stupid plan to host a supernatural version of 'American Idol'. Namely, he searched for the next demon leader. Sam had been thrown in there and got killed. I couldn't stand it, I just had lost my dad a few months back, and Sam was all the family I had left, and besides – he's my brother, I practically raised him. I'd do anything for him. We grew up on the road, our Dad kept hunting the demon that killed our mother – Azazael, the one I mentioned before. But I digress. I saved Sam by making a deal with a crossroads demon. Usually, a deal like this gives you ten years to live, before your soul is collected and thrown to hell. I, because I was responsible for Azazael's death and all, only got one year, but it was good enough as long as I got Sammy back. In the year that followed, we tried desperately to find a way out of my contract, but failed, and I was killed and went to hell... that's were you enter the stage," Dean took a long breath after that speech and drank from his cup of coffee.

"Wow," was all Castiel answered, but he seemed to believe Dean. "Okay. That's... wow."

"We met, as I said, about four years ago. We summoned you to a barn, and the first thing I did when I saw you was stab you with a demon knife," Dean couldn't suppress the chuckle at the memory of those blue eyes looking at him completely unimpressed and pulling the knife back out, letting it drop to the floor.

"Because you thought I was a demon?"

"Yes, because usually only demons can bring someone back to life. For the record, we didn't know about angels until then. Not until you. You stepped in there, pulled the knife back out and... said those exact lines I told you before. I asked who you were, you said 'I'm Castiel, I'm an angel of the lord.' And when I asked who you really were, you said 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.' You even left a mark of your hand on my shoulder from that particular episode, but it vanished after you healed me some time later."

"So angels can heal people?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, and themselves. That's why the knife didn't bother you. Didn't you notice any strange abilities you have? Snapping things out of thin air? Something like that?"

"No, not really," Castiel retorted, snipping his fingers and staring at the table, where- nothing happened. "The only thing that comes to mind is that I don't get sick. Like, at all."

"Huh," Dean just said intelligently. "So you've apparently gone human completely."

"What does that mean? Is there a way to not get completely, but partly human?"

"Yes, there is. You once had lost all your angel-mojo due to being cut off from heaven," Dean huffed.

"Why was I cut off from heaven?"

"You rebelled."

"Why did I rebell?" Cas eyes were blown wide in confusion.

Dean swallowed and avoided Cas' eyes as he answered. "You rebelled because of me."

"What did you do?" The questions just kept coming.

"The question is rather... what didn't I do. Sam and I were supposed to be the respective vessel for an angel. And if we had said yes – because an angel needs your consent to take over your body – the apocalypse would have happened. I was supposed to be Michael's vessel, Sam was supposed to be Lucifer's. We kept resisting until the end, and despite heaven's orders and despite destiny had been written otherwise, you were on our side. That's why you rebelled and were cut off, because you chose free will instead of orders," Dean chuckled fondly. "Back then, I once called us 'Team Free Will.' Sam, the ex-blood-junkie, you, Mr Comatose, and me, highschool dropout with 6 bucks to his name."

"Why was Sam an ex-blood-junkie?"

And so it went on, Dean explaining all the way through the story of Lillith and the seals, Ruby and Sam and the demon blood, Sam killing ruby, starting the apocalypse, how Zachariah wanted to push Dean to say yes-

"Who's Zachariah?"

"Your superior. Doesn't mean he's a better guy, he actually was more like a massive pain in the ass. One of the angels that defined to me that angels are dicks," Dean stated dryly.

"So there's more angels? Why didn't some of them rescue me? Or tell me or... do something?" Cas asked further.

"Most of them – or, make that all of them as far as we knew them – are dead. There were Michael and Lucifer, both locked in the cage now, and Raphael, Balthazar, Rachel, Anna, Uriel, Gabriel – all of them dead. And Zachariah, the dick, goes to my account." He quietly pondered before adding, "Yes, I think that were all. Any names there that ring any bells?"

"Well, apart from the usual knowledge of the bible... I don't know. I have to think about this," Castiel answered thoughtfully. "That is some seriously heavy stuff you've been through."

We've been through, Dean wanted to correct him. But this wasn't the Cas that was with him all this time. This wasn't the Cas that had- oh god, yes. How could he forget. "Yeah, it was kinda heavy, but we had our moments. You know, one evening you made us getting kicked out of a brothel for calling out one of the hookers – Chastity was her name, by the way, fucking hilarious – on her daddy issues."

Dean laughed and Cas followed with a deep, rolling sound that Dean hadn't heard ever before. "Great. More stories of that kind?"

"When one of the four horsemen, namely famine, appeared during our tour to prevent the apocalypse, you shoveled a couple hundred bacon cheeseburgers into you," Dean chuckled.

Cas laughed even more, and the sound of it made Dean smile. He wanted to hear more of it.

"We once had a chat on the phone while standing merely inches apart."

The soft, bubbling laughter ebbed away into a sad smile. "It must hurt you that I don't remember any of this, Dean, but... I dunno, maybe it helps me remember. I have no idea what caused my amnesia, I'm still trying to figure it out. Either way, I'm happy to have met you again. And I am terribly sad to hear that I miss out on many good and meaningful memories. I wish I could remember," he said bitterly.

Dean quietly stated to himself that he better not remembered everything. Because that would include civil war in heaven, working with Crowley, Superman going dark side and Leviathans. And pain, lots of pain for both of them, and Dean didn't want that. For a moment, Dean just wanted to enjoy what he had. He had regained a friend, he had the chance to start anew. There was that initial amount of trust that only Cas managed to stir up within him, and it had been there since Dean had him seen standing beside the Toyota.

Then suddenly, Cas looked up to meet Dean's eyes, and this time it was different. He leaned slightly forward into Dean's personal space – so that hadn't changed as well – and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Slightly confused by the unexpected closeness, Dean squirmed a bit back, but Castiel just watched him.

"Now that I properly see you, I feel like I... like I know you. I didn't remember your name, but now- it's weird. Like I've seen you before."

A soft thumb rubbed along Dean's cheek before the hand was withdrawn. "But you're not my ex-boyfriend or something, are you?"

Dean shook his head vehemently. "God, no. We never had something like that going on. Just friends." Always just friends. "But, Cas... listen, it's late. I probably should get going, find a motel for the night."

"Oh no, forget it. If we've been friends for years, it's the least I can do to offer you my couch to crash on. Please, Dean. It's no problem, really. And you don't have to go far to the hospital to see Sam."

Dean watched him carefully, not sure if it was okay.

"Dean," Cas said insistently. "Please. Stay a little longer. I want to get to know you, want to hear more of us and the past and all. I want to fix things. Please give me the chance to."

"Okay, then I guess I can't say no," Dean answered with a short grin. "Let me just grab my duffel bag from the car, I'll be right back."

The rest of the story, the dark part, still lay heavy on his mind when Dean went down to his car to get the bag. And he knew he had to tell Cas at some point, but it would be difficult, to say the least.

When he returned, he found Castiel standing in the door to the bathroom, only dressed in pajama pants and brushing his teeth. Pushing the heavier thoughts to the back of his mind, Dean gave him a short smile and made his way to the living room. He quietly changed into pajamas before joining Cas in the bathroom.

Dean didn't know if it was just sleepiness taking over or his mind playing tricks on him, but standing here and looking at them in the mirror made him think, if in another lifetime, another universe, it could have worked this way. A simple life, a sleepover at a friend's place, drinking beer and talking and watching football all night. But it seemed like the Winchesters weren't supposed to lead a happy life. Even now that he had Cas back, Dean knew that he couldn't expect everything to get better, because it never worked that way.

Of course, there was still Sam laying in the hospital.

He sighed heavily, and Cas caught his eyes in the mirror for a split second, before he bent down to spit out the foam. Dean pushed the thoughts aside.

A few minutes later, Dean had settled onto the couch, covered in a soft blanket that smelled oddly like Castiel. Who stood in the door and looked down at him, waiting for Dean so he could turn off the lights.

Dean nodded, feeling how he got sleepier by the second. He hadn't slept on a decent bed in ages, and this couch was too comfortable to be true. "Thanks, Cas," he said quietly to the man in the door frame.

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do. I'll have to work tomorrow, but feel free to leave for the hospital whenever you want. I'll leave the spare key at the table by the door."

Surprised, Dean blinked at him. "You're giving me a key to your place?"

"Well, of course. We're friends, right? Or we were friend. And call me crazy, but I feel it, somehow, and I trust you. You are a good man, Dean Winchester."

Dean huffed sarcastically but said nothing.

"Good night, Dean," Cas' gravelly voice sounded from the door after he had shut off the lights in the living room.

"'Night, Cas," Dean mumbled into the pillow he was resting on.

Soft padding sounds and the click of a door followed, and Dean wondered if he should laugh or cry or both. He settled for sleep, in the end.

Chapter 2 will be up soon.