WARNING: This story contains lots of triggers. There is past rape/non-con, attempted rape/non-con, past underage non-con, drug use, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, withdrawal, alcohol addiction, trading sex for drugs, PTSD (panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares), minor character death, suicide attempt, dissociative identity disorder, depression, anxiety, and sex addiction.
OTHER TAGS: angst, lots of fluff, there's a baby and a cute dog, therapy, art, mythology, Ancient Aliens, and even more fluff, and a happy ending. :)
CHARACTERS: Endversey Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Andy Gallagher, Anna, Ash, Ava Wilson, Becky Rosen, Bela Talbot, Bobby Singer, Charlie Bradbury, Chuck Shurley, Crowley, Ellen Harvelle, Gabriel, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Jessica Moore, Jo Harvelle, Meg Masters, Missouri Moseley, Naomi, Pamela Barnes, Ruby, Samandriel (baby), Sarah Blake, Tessa, Zachariah, other background characters.
PAIRINGS: Castiel/Dean (the only explicit pairing), Castiel/Meg, Jessica/Sam, (background) Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, (past) Ruby/Sam, (past) Benny/Dean, Becky/Chuck, (mentioned) Gabriel/Kali.
Thursday October 23rd
Even before Castiel opens his eyes, he knows he's in a hospital. It smells like disinfectant and the lights are too bright, shining through his eyelids and making him see red. His right arm is throbbing, which makes sense considering it's broken, and when he lifts it it's heavy with what can only be a cast. And, oh, he's alive, which wouldn't be true if he were where he passed out, on his cabin floor with a needle in his arm.
He doesn't want to open his eyes, doesn't want to face whoever brought him in, but he wants to ask the nurse for some painkillers and some water for his parched mouth. Castiel can hear someone moving around the room but there are no voices to clue him in to his or her identity. He takes a chance and lifts his lids, squinting immediately at the annoying fluorescent lights and the whiteness of the room. There's a clock on the wall that reads 1:13 am. He's been out for nearly four hours.
There's a nurse with her back to him, doing something near the sink, and Castiel clears his throat. She turns around and he can't help but notice that she's pretty, with a kind smile and big brown eyes, and if he were in any other situation he would be hitting on her in a heartbeat.
"Oh, sweetheart, you're awake."
Castiel resists the urge to tell her that she couldn't possibly know if he's sweet or not, but he has a feeling any one of his siblings would tell him that that was rude, although he's never been one to stay in the zone of what is socially appropriate. She seems nice enough, though, and he wouldn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.
So instead he croaks out, "Water." Well, so much for not being rude. So he adds, "Please."
"Of course. I'm Stella, by the way."
Castiel closes his eyes as she fills up a Styrofoam cup, trying to find a comfortable position against the stiff pillow, but he gives up by the time the nurse is pushing the cup into his hand. He feels a pinch in his left arm and looks down at it; he's hooked up to an IV.
"This isn't the needle that was in my arm a few hours ago." What he had intended to say was thank you, but his mind is sluggish and apparently his manners have spiraled down the drain and were replaced with poorly-timed one liners.
Before he can correct himself she says, "I know, hun." Stella grabs his hand and envelops it in both of her own; they're soft. "You're very lucky to be alive. You must have an angel watching over you."
Castiel snorts at that. If he does have a guardian angel, it must have taken an extended vacation and never come back, failing to protect him from thirteen years of absolute hell. He doesn't say that, though, just squeezes her hand. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, her fingers gently traveling over his hand, until she looks at the clock and lets go.
"I'm sorry, I have other patients I need to check on. Here's the nurse call button if you need anything." She leaves the room, only to pop her head back in after a few seconds. "Oh, I'll let your family know you're awake."
Castiel opens his mouth to protest, to tell her please don't let anyone in the room, but she's gone before he gets the words out. Moments later the two people he was most dreading seeing come walking through the door.
"Leave," he practically growls.
"That is no way to talk to your elders," Naomi (who Castiel refuses to call 'mother') snaps. "Haven't you caused enough hurt as it is? Your ridiculous accusation, trying to end your life. This is not how I raised you."
Castiel laughs, a cold, mirthless sound. "You didn't raise me. Gabriel did." Her brow furrows at that. "And I wouldn't have tried to off myself if I wasn't trying to get away from him." He raises his good arm toward the man who's moved uncomfortably close to his bed.
"You're confused," Zachariah says. "You've been lead astray by the sins of the flesh and a desperate need for attention. The drugs, they've made you believe things that aren't true." It's exactly what he said in front of the entire church, the whole community, and they bought right into it. And now his mother is nodding.
"How can you believe him over me? Your own blood?" Castiel knows he really shouldn't expect better from her.
"Zachariah is a good man. And he's been been more of a father to you than your own ever was."
That is, of course, bullshit. "My father never hurt me."
"And neither did I." The balding man steps even closer and grabs Castiel's hand. He tries to yank it away but he's weak and Zachariah has a painfully tight grip on it. He looks at their joined hands and makes sure his disgust is evident on his face. "I'm going to pray with you, Castiel."
Castiel rolls his eyes, trying to cover up how absolutely terrified he is of the man and will he will do to him when they get back to the Garrison.
Cold fingers run over his palm, and the touch is infinitely more disturbing than when Stella had made the same gesture.
"Lord, Heavenly Father, I pray to You today on behalf of this sheep who has been lead astray by the Devil. I thank You for watching over him, for keeping him safe and bringing him back to us. There is a light inside his soul, buried by sin and immaturity, but it was not snuffed out tonight. Please, God, show him Your plans so that that light may shine bright again. In Your most glorious name, amen."
They leave shortly after that, dismayed by Castiel's response of "Fuck you" and his following refusal to say anything more. He dozes off until the nurse comes in about an hour later, called in by the button when the pain in Castiel's arm and recently acquired migraine became too much for him and he realized he needed something strong. He needs something to numb both the physical discomfort and the emotional distress his visitors brought him.
"I'm sorry, dear, I can't give you painkillers, but you can have some Tylenol."
Castiel sighs, but doesn't try to argue. Policy is policy, and she's just doing her job. "That would be good, thank you." So, his manners weren't completely obliterated.
Stella comes back a few minutes later with two pills in a little plastic cup and some sort of brochure in her hand. He eyes it as she hands him the Tylenol and his water.
"What's that?" He gestures with his right arm, a habit, which turns out to be a bad idea.
The nurse hands him the pamphlet with a sad smile. It reads "Riverside Residential Rehabilitation Facility."
"I'm sorry," she says again. "But we can't let you go home, for your safety."
This... this is good. Not as good as what he was going for a few hours ago, but it's the next best thing.
"You can either choose to go to Riverside, or we admit you inpatient here until you're stable."
Castiel makes up his mind before she even finishes her sentence.
Looks like he's going to rehab.