CASS
~Now~
May 2010
CASS HADN'T EXPECTED IT didn't see it coming, but the day that Sam Winchester made the decision to walk away from his brother and return to his version of a normal life had been powerful to say the least. From all outward appearances Sam seemed to be functioning at a normal level, maybe even excelling. But at night when Castiel would sit in on Sam's dreams he'd see something completely different. What lurked beyond the conscious mind was a mass of fear and confusion so thick that sometimes Cass wasn't sure Sam was ever going to find his way home.
SAM
~Now~
May 2010
NINE MONTHS AGO he'd woken up topside in Stull Cemetery, three weeks to the day after jumping into the pit he came out a bony battered heap; physically and emotionally at his breaking point. He was alone, with the exception of a singular raven that had flown overhead, calling out to him as he ambled down the dirt road just outside the gates. For hours he'd sat in the sunlight, afraid to move, unsure of where to go. It wasn't until the sun had begun its decent into the night sky that he'd managed to put himself together enough to leave the cemetery grounds—and even then, he didn't know where he was going.
For three or four days Sam shacked up in a rundown motel in Kansas City. Spent every waking moment trying to regain what he'd lost—find himself again, to figure out his next step. Every instinct told him to find his brother—to fix what had been broken. Every rationale thought exclaimed the opposite- told him to leave well enough alone. Dean finally had his own family, he was out of hunting, and he'd make it on his own. Sam would be a hypocrite after all if he didn't at least try to do the same.
After a week of solid phone calls and calling in huge personal favors from former professors Sam found himself back at Stanford. He enrolled in 15 credits for the summer term, enough to finish his undergraduate degree—and found himself enrolling in Law School at Indiana University for the Fall Term. The idea to move to Indiana had been simple; move on with his life—but do so at a distance in which he could occasionally check in on Dean. He had to admit that the odds of Dean finding him were substantially higher this way, but in truth there was a piece of him that hoped for that every day.
Now hunched over a table, stacked a foot high with textbooks, Sam rested his head on his hand and jotted down a series of notes covering Constitutional Law and Advanced Persuasive Writing and Oral Advocacy. The words on the page were starting to jumble, skitter across the page back and forth; he'd been at this for the past three hours. He was two days from finishing year one of Law school. And these two days would be an eternity if he couldn't get his head on straight enough to finish the work.
Leaning back in his chair Sam scanned the pile of papers he'd filled with writing and sighed. It had been years since he'd thrown himself into school like he was now. Years had passed since he'd first convinced himself school was the best option. Now years later he was trying to convince himself of these same things, but now just like then he couldn't help but feel like it was all a mistake.
~Then~
August 2003, Stanford
SAM SAT WITH HIS HEAD BOWED, staring at his cell phone, and wished he knew what the hell he was supposed to do. It had been two years give or take a day or two since he'd stormed out of the hotel, away from his father, out of his old life. Bouts of what he equated to home sickness were far fewer now— but the occasional reminder of family was still overpowering at times. Leaning back into the soft comfort of the couch, Sam's thumb caressed the hard plastic that remained silent and he wished he could make it ring.
There had been numerous nights in those early months that he had woken up in a cold sweat, expecting it to ring, wishing it would so that he would know they were alright. He'd missed one call from Dean earlier in the month, but no voice mail had been recorded and he'd been too damn stubborn to call back. Still, he took it as a sign that his brother was doing fine—or at least well enough to call. Scrolling through the names in his contacts folder Sam stopped, stared hard at Dean's name and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him.
"You alright Sam?"
Sam turned slowly. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't, "I'm fine." He said as casually as he could.
"You wanna talk?"
Sam sighed and closed his eyes. How could he convey to someone who didn't really know him—the real him- how much he missed his family? As far as everyone was concerned at school, his family had dropped him like a bad habit and he'd returned the favor. He'd successfully made them out to be the bad guys, disowning him for wanting to follow his dreams. But there was only so much lying a person could do and even with all this time and space between them he still hadn't gotten a firm grip on forgetting where he'd come from and why they'd been so mad. How could he explain that he worried about his father and brother everyday—that he was worried because, well their job was to hunt monsters? How could he explain just how badly he needed to know that they were alright when he'd convinced everyone that he'd stopped caring long ago?
"Sometimes, I just wonder what I'm doing here." He said simply.
Jessica's eyebrows rose as she picked up the phone. "What does that mean?" She asked taking the seat next to him.
"I don't know. Sometimes I think I should go back."
~Now~
May 2010
AGAIN TONIGHT SAM STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AT HIS CELL PHONE, seven years later and he still didn't know what he should do. It had been Jess that had steadied him, convinced him to stay at Stanford all those years ago, insisting that Sam follow his dreams and his family would come back around. This time he had no one in his corner.
Sam closed his eyes and rested his head on top of his folded arms, the light above the kitchen table was bright, almost blinding for his weary eyes. God, he was tired. He was tired and alone and if he really dug deep he had to admit he was long past lost and on the verge of completely loosing himself. Sam inhaled sharply and sighed, "Why'd you let me walk away Cass?" As his mind ran backward he swallowed hard and remembered the cool breeze that cut through the air the that night, the night he'd turned away from Dean for what he assumed would be for good. Exhaling he spoke again, "Sometimes I wish I could just go back."
~Then~
May 2009
A STEADY YELLOW LIGHT ABOVE HIM CAST OUT SHADOWS ON THE SILENT STREET, bouncing, dancing eerily around him. Turning his attention back to the house across the street Sam swallowed hard as he watched Dean set down at Lisa's dinner table. He looked tired, worn, much the same way as Sam felt.
"He's worried about you." It was a familiar voice. "You should let him know you're home."
Sam felt his shoulders drop as he watched a second shadow take form on street. He lifted his head turning it to the left; "He's fine Cass." Sam wasn't sure if he was saying the words to convince Castiel or to convince himself.
"No he's not." Cass shook his head, turned toward him his voice flat. "But you already know that. Sam you know I—"
Sam held up a hand cutting him off. "I know it'll be better if I stay away."
"Who are you kidding Sam? You know exactly what he's thinking, how he's feeling. You've been there before."
Sam grimaced. He knew exactly what Cass was getting at. The pain he'd felt when his brother had been ripped away from him—pulled into the inferno—it had nearly killed him. "What do I have to say to him Cass?" Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, "I mean I don't really," he kicked at a rock near his foot, "Have much to say to anyone right now."
"Sam…"
"I moved on when he left." Sam turned away. "He will too." At least Sam hoped he would. Next to him he heard Cass sigh.
"So you're going to run away?" It was the same bluntness Sam had come to expect from Castiel.
"I'm not running away." Sam said stiffly.
Cass glanced to him then back to house across the street. "Then what would you call it?"
Sam's head dropped, his bluff had been called, for all intents and purposes what he was about to do was simply; running away. "Why did you bring me back, Cass?"
"Oh," Castiel paused, "I think you know why."
As the words sunk in Sam scrubbed a hand across his face, "I didn't really deserve it."
Cass shook his head, stepped directly in front of Sam, looked up into his eyes and smiled, "If anyone deserved it Sam Winchester—it was you."
CASS
~Now~
May 2010
CASS CAN FEEL THE PAIN RADIATING from Sam Winchester as he sat in on yet another dream, a memory this time. It hurts him to watch the walls crumbling around these boys, but he can't be the one to stop them from destroying themselves, they have to learn to stop doing it every time they turn around. No matter what had started the twisted web that had become their lives, the past year had been nothing short of a disaster on levels neither Dean nor Sam could quite seem to comprehend, to be honest it was something Cass struggled to understand on a daily basis as well.
Cass exhaled, someday they would catch on; at least that was his hope, reasonable or not it would be necessary if the Winchesters had hope to find any peace in their lives. Especially considering the boys weren't his charges anymore. He no longer had the authority to heal and protect them from every problem that came around. Nor did he believe it to be in their best interest any longer, the more he had stepped in to heal and wash away the wounds the more license it seemed to give them to take risks that were unnecessary at best.
DEAN
AS DEAN DROVE ALONG HIGHWAY 17 just outside of town he felt a sense of calmness come over him. The cool wind, blowing through the driver's side window, blew across his face, invigorated him, he felt alive. He hadn't felt like this months, let alone years. It was a relief to have a purpose, a sense of direction again. He'd known from the beginning that leaving Lisa and Ben behind was his only real option; he knew he couldn't go on living a lie knowing where Sam was, knowing what Sam was going through.
Up ahead Dean looked to the tight corner that wrapped around HWY 17 and Jonesboro Ave. He'd driven this road hundreds of times in the past few months working on the construction crew. It struck him as odd that for someone who spent most of his life living in a car, there were few roads he could honestly say he'd almost memorized, but this was one of them. At the realization that he wouldn't be driving down this road again for months to come he felt free—his body relaxed, he was ready for the world again, he was going to get Sam back, he wasn't going to let him go as easily as he had.
As his mind wandered through scenes of his possible future he lost track of his presence. It was the bright lights of a fast approaching car that brought his thoughts back immediately to the world around him. With only a second to react he heard his scream echo throughout the sky and felt the impact of the car as it smashed into the Impala like a ton of bricks. In the instant his car went airborne he could the force of energy throw his body forward, and in slow motion he was vaguely aware of the sound of glass smashing, and metal bending as he felt the impact of the ground, gasping for air, everything went silent and then black.
CASS
IT WAS HOURS INTO SAM'S NIGHTMARE RIDDLED SLEEP that Cass felt the pull of a charge in danger, a warning system of sorts exclaiming the need for his sudden undivided attention. Flickering out of Sam's unconscious mind Cass allowed himself to be pulled through time and space, landing in the middle of what he could've only described as chaos. The high pitched squealing and scraping sounds of metal being cut echoed around him, reminded him of the sound of nails on a chalkboard. As awful as the noise had been it was nearly drown out by the sound of a chopper landing nearby. Intermittent sounds of fireman and other emergency personnel shouted out orders that staccato through the sounds of the night air.
As he stood there, he took in the entire scene, and there he finally spotted it, exactly what he had predicted he would find before him. Invisible to rescue crews around him, Castiel watched in silence as the medical personnel pulled a young man from the wreckage of a black '67 Chevy Impala.
AS HE OFTEN HAD IN THE PAST Castiel stood guard, this time at the entrance of trauma bay one, watching and listening to the scene unfolding before him. As much as he wanted to jump in and save the man before him, he knew this time had to be different. In order for the Winchesters to figure out and fix their lives, they had to experience the entirety of physical and emotional pain, no matter how bad it hurt.
As the E.M.T.s pulled the gurney through the double doors Cass listened to the information presented by the lead technician as if it had been rehearsed on the ride over, "Dean Winchester, 31 year old male, MVA, hit head on, rollover accident, no seatbelt, ejected from the front window. Lost consciousness at the scene, he's been in and out en route; we've got diminished breath sounds on the right, 150/98…"
Castiel shivered, took in a deep breath, closed his eyes and reminded himself why he doing this in the first place.
It was the sound of Dean's painfully elicited cries permeating through the trauma bay that snapped Cass back to the present seconds later. "Someone tell me we've got a chest and C-spine ready to go," a woman's voice called out into the room as Dean was lifted and slid on to a new gurney, "Let's get normal saline please. Start a central line. Get a CBC, chem panel, platelets, type and screen…"
"I know you're hurtin' right now Dean," An younger man, an intern more than likely, was directly above Dean's face, looking down at him, as he moved a stethoscope around on Dean's chest, "We're going to take care of you okay?"
Carefully, as if he were afraid of being detected, Cass approached the side of the gurney and drew in a deep breath taking stock of the injuries covering the man before him. He didn't need x-rays, vials of blood, or other diagnostic tests to tell him what was wrong; instinctively he just knew. There were the broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a massive hematoma in his abdomen stemming from a ruptured spleen, but that was just the beginning. Castiel sighed, even though the internal structure of Dean's body was crumbling and warranted the most consideration, it was the dirt and blood covering Dean's face that captivated his attention. For as much time and effort as Dean had always put in to building up walls to protect himself, his eyes had always glinted with hints of truth, and tonight behind the masked tough guy facade, they were terrified.
A tall nurse to Cass' left was working feverishly to cut away at what remained of the jeans Dean had been wearing. Cass watched the nurse, whose name tag read Tom, as he pulled away the thick fabric and let out and audible gasp as he assessed the mangled tissue and protruding bone, and as if on autopilot asked, "Can you move your toes Dean?"
A flurry of voices picked up pace as Cass watched two physicians prepare to cut into Dean's skin with a sharp surgical blade. Castiel knew once he saw it what was coming next, and chest tubes, he understood were not a painless procedure. As the incision was made and the doctors began transecting tissue, Cass stole another glance at Dean's face and held his breath. Water was rolling from Dean's eyes even as they were slammed shut, his teeth were clinched, and he too was holding his breath… trying not to scream. Once the doctors began maneuvering the tube through the chest wall Dean finally gave in and let's out guttural cry that would have caused any one without medical training to shudder.
"What do we got today?" A new voice stepped in, followed by the familiar voice from the young intern across from Cass, "A God-damn mess." He answered.
Moving away from the gurney Castiel found in all honesty he couldn't argue with the blunt assessment the doctor had just offered. Stepping backward he fought the urge to jump in and rescue Dean as he and done many times before. This time with incredible reserve he held back, watching as the doctors and nurses worked for several minutes assessing injuries and calming a struggling patient. Closing his eyes Cass inhaled sharply, they may never forgive him for deciding to go about fixing things in this way, but it was time to force Sam back to reality, make him realize all that he truly risked losing. As for Dean, Cass took a final look over at the man lying on the stretcher; it was time for Dean to learn to live for himself not just his younger brother.
