Cas was flying through darkness. No - not flying - swimming, swimming in something thick and black that kept threatening to pull him down. He was... frightened. He thrashed wildly with arms and legs and wings trying to break free, but it was no use. He was going to be sucked under and he had no idea what waited for him in the blackness.
"Cas."
The voice was distant but Castiel heard it and held it close. "Dean," he whispered to himself and crawled his way back toward the light.
"Cas."
"Dean?" the sound of his own voice woke Castiel from the unbroken blackness of unconsciousness. There was no answer and Castiel forced his eyes open, only to close them again immediately against horribly familiar sterile surroundings of the hospital room.
He was no longer tied down - thank the Father - but his throat was dry, raw from sounds he only vaguely remembered making. Castiel crawled out of his too small cot and stumbled on weak legs to the door to his temporary prison. "Hello?"
It was quiet on the other side of the door, and the lights had been dimmed. Castiel tried the handle in vain, and then slapped an open palm to the door a few times when it refused to open. "Hello? I require hydration. I am thirsty."
There were the soft sounds of footsteps approaching his door and an unfamiliar voice called through the door. "Please sit on the bed."
"I don't understand," Cas said genuinely.
"Sit on the bed so I can open the door," the voice repeated.
Cas still didn't understand how one related to the other but he backed up to sit on the bed again. Another man in a white coat - not one of the orderlies from before - opened the door. He had a larger plastic cup of water in one hand and a smaller cup with pills in the other. He handed both to Castiel.
Cas looked quizzically at the medication before downing the water in one swallow. The orderly produced a second glass from a tray in the hallway and handed it over as well. "Thank you," Castiel whispered, sipping at the second cup.
"How are we feeling Mr. Novak?" the man asked in a calm voice that somehow put Castiel more on edge.
"I have no way of knowing how you are feeling. I will be fine once I have left here."
The orderly smiled a smile that missed comforting by a mile. "That's right, Mr. N. We'll have you better and back to your family in no time. Just take your meds and get some sleep."
Castiel frowned. "I do not require sleep. I have only just regained consciousness."
"Come on," the man said in a cajoling voice, "don't give me a hard time Mr. N. You know I'll just have to report it to Dr. Z.
"That sounds like coercion," Cas observed with narrowed eyes.
"Aw, don't be like that, I just want a quiet night for me and a good morning for you."
Castiel doubted that, but he saw no harm in taking the pills. His Grace should be enough to prevent the drugs from affecting his vessel, even without him being able to access it directly. He swallowed the medicine down with the second glass of water and lay back on the cot, intending to put his mind to the problem of his confinement, but sleep overtook him almost before his head hit the pillow.
Thankfully his sleep was as natural as could be expected for a creature that had never slept before and dreamless, except for the insistent call of his name just before he woke up in a voice beautiful and familiar, "Cas."
Doctor Z arrived just moments after Castiel opened his eyes to a Dean-less world as if he'd been waiting for Castiel to awaken. "Are you feeling better this morning, Jimmy? More yourself?"
"Who else could I be but myself?" Castiel asked blankly. He reached for his Grace and tried to see the doctor with his true eyes but quickly stopped when the nothingness threatened to drown him in fear again. He locked the emotion deep within himself to examine at a later date. Right now it was unhelpful and was in fact detrimental to his efforts to figure out where he was and how to return to Dean.
"You could be Castiel," the doctor answered finally.
"I am Castiel," Castiel pointed out with a frown. This conversation was pointless. He needed to get in contact with the Winchesters somehow. "I feel much better today, and I would like to use the phone," he said, sitting up in bed to address the doctor directly. "Please," he added as an afterthought.
"Sorry, Jimmy," the doctor said with nothing like regret in his expression, "I've had to revoke your phone privileges after yesterday's incident."
A quick glance at his wrist showed that his blue band had been replaced with a new red band and Castiel narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "For how long?"
"Until Jimmy comes back and you forget about the Winchesters."
Cas drew back a little in surprise. "That's impossible."
Doctor Z's eyebrows went up in what Cas suspected was mockery. "You're the Angel of the Lord. Pray for a miracle."
Castiel nodded. That was possibly the most sensible thing the doctor had said yet. "Given my circumstances I believe it would be cruel to ask for Jimmy to be returned to his body. The risk of him being killed again is too great. But prayer is always a good idea. I have faith that Dean is looking for me: I will pray for my Father to grant him and Sam strength and guidance to help find me."
Castiel slipped off the bed to kneel at its side in the manner in which he'd seen Claire pray in Jimmy's memories, and closed his eyes to beseech his Father or any of his brethren who may have been sympathetic and listening. In the background Castiel was aware of the doctor attempting to engage him in conversation again, but Castiel ignored it and eventually Doctor Z gave up and left him in peace.
The orderly from the night before returned at dinner time.
"Hey, Mr. Novak, are you hungry? I got some grub for you."
"I do not require food, my Grace is sufficient to maintain my vessel." Castiel told him briefly before returning to his prayers.
"Aww, come on Mr. N, it's tuna salad, your favorite." The orderly cajoled.
Castiel didn't answer this time, but continued to pray, and after a few minutes, the orderly sat the tray on a the room's single small table and retreated.
For three days Cas prayed. He refused to eat and spoke only to inform the increasingly agitated orderlies and doctors that he would pray until Dean and Sam came for him. Occasionally his vessel betrayed him and he dropped into a fitful sleep, and always, right before he would reawaken he would hear Dean's voice, faint but unmistakably him, calling out - "Cas."
That voice gave him the strength to ignore the pain his stomach and the pain in his head and the terrifying weakness in his limbs and continue to pray. But by the third night he was too weak to fight when the orderlies held him down and the doctor pumped a sedative into him.
Cas didn't like the drugged sleep. It gave him nightmares of bloody feathers and burnt flesh. Once or twice he thought he heard Dean call to him, but it was as if the drugs were effecting Dean as much as they were effecting Castiel, and Dean's voice was fuzzy and far away. Cas struggled toward it anyway, fighting his way past layers of sleep and muddied memories until he heard Dean stronger and clearer than ever saying "Cas, wake up." And Cas did.
Castiel had been moved into another room at some point during his drugged slumber. The room he found himself in now was a more traditional hospital room - like something out of Dr. Sexy - with a TV on one wall and a second, empty bed next to him half hidden by a curtain. There was a needle dripping something into the back of his hand. Castiel frowned at it through the aching in his head and pulled the needle out with his other hand.
Rubbing the small bead of blood dripping from his hand absently, Castiel pushed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Before he could decide if his legs would support his weight a nurse came barreling into the room, her face business-like and concerned. She stopped short at he the sight of him.
"Mr. Novak, you're awake." She seemed surprised, but recovered herself quickly, rushing over to his bedside to push his unresisting body back into the bed and tucking the sheets firmly around him.
"Yes," he said flatly, allowing her fussing for the moment and pretending it wasn't because he was as weak as a new fledgling.
"And you've pulled out your IV," she accused gently, clucking over the wound as she cleaned away the worst of the blood with a Kleenex from his bedside table. "You shouldn't have done that."
"It was making me feel," Cas paused, searching for an appropriate word, "fuzzy."
"It was doing no such thing," the nurse argued, efficiently bandaging the small wound. "It was building your strength back up. Now, I don't have to put it back in, but you'll have to eat something for me. Can you do that?"
Cas did not like being treated like a small child, but even without his true sight he could see that the nurse was acting out of real concern and not a sense of malice so he nodded. Eating would be preferable to allowing an unknown substance into his vessel, despite the nurse's insistence that the IV was unrelated to his confusion.
The nurse smiled brightly at his concession and left with a firm admonishment for Castiel not to move. She returned quickly with a bowl of soup and a glass of apple juice. Cas eyed the food uncertainly but ate without protest. The nurse stayed and watched until he'd finished his meal and then she cleared his tray away, turning out the lights as she left. "Get some rest. We'll try something more substantial in the morning."
Castiel had only a moment to be disturbed at how exhausted he felt and how little control he had over his body's need for sleep before sleep pulled him back under. Just before waking there was Dean's voice again calling his name.
"Cas? Come back. Don't you dare do this to me, asshole. Fight it, Cas. Fight it."
Castiel was grateful for the directive. Passivity had never been his style, but following orders and taking action were. He ate everything that was put before him the next morning and limited his prayers to a few hours a day. He followed his medical doctors orders exactly, anything to aid his recovery, because now he had a mission. He had to get strong and fight his way back to Dean.
As Castiel expected, going a few days without food wasn't a terrible hardship on the human body, and he was almost up to his pre-fasting strength by the end of the day. Unfortunately, his true strength remained as elusive as his Grace. Castiel tried to teleport away from the hospital anyway, but he wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Obviously someone had done something to either his vessel or to the hospital itself, and panicking would get him no closer to recovering his stolen Grace.
No, not stolen - blocked maybe - he could still feel his Grace, weaker and dimmer than when he had first been dispatched to raise Dean from Hell, but still there - as much a part of him as his love for his Father, as his faith in Dean, more a part of him than the flesh that encased it.
Castiel needed to find out the cause of the block before he could remove it. He felt no need for modesty himself, but understood that humans felt shame in nudity, and he slipped into his room's bathroom at his first opportunity. Removing the thin, open backed gown that he found himself was an uncomplicated task, and Castiel let it drop to the floor quickly.
Jimmy's body was fascinating. It was pale and lean and he took time to marvel at the way muscle moved under skin as he bent and twisted. He had observed the muscles of others before, of course, but it was somehow different to be so deeply embedded into his vessel and watch the muscle move in response to his thoughts. It was even more interesting when muscles moved with no voluntary input from him - the rise and fall of his chest, the regular beating of his borrowed heart, the annoying flutter of muscle in one bicep for which he could find no cause.
All humans were his Father's works of art, and now Castiel found himself admiring the one that housed him for long moments before remembering his purpose. He began a careful inspection of his body, cataloguing sensation and inventorying every imperfection, but he found nothing out of the ordinary, and his spirits fell at the revelation. A mark upon his vessel would have been easier to find and deal with than something inside the large building.
"Mr. Novak? Are you okay in there?" The nurse called through the locked bathroom door, knocking sharply to get his attention. "Do you need help?"
"No," Castiel called back, quickly pulling gown and robe back on, "I do not require assistance." He opened the door and allowed the nurse to lead him back to bed.
"I wish to leave this room," Castiel informed the day nurse when he came in later to torture Castiel with needles and self inflating cuffs.
"No can do, Mr. Novak. You should have thought of that before you tried to starve yourself." The nurse looked up briefly from the mysterious notes he was making on Castiel's chart.
"I was not trying to starve myself. It was a religious fast." Cas protested. It wasn't precisely a lie. He knew of many faithful men who fasted in an effort to cleanse themselves. Castiel had been trying to communicate with his Father, even if the fasting part wasn't exactly part of the plan.
However Dean's assertion that he sucked at lying must have been true because the nurse eyed him doubtfully over the rims of his reading glasses. "Uh, huh. Well, it doesn't matter. A psych patient refusing to eat means you're stuck in the here until Doctor Z releases you."
Cas latched onto the words. "In the hospital, but surely not just this room. Is it permissible for me to take a walk?"
The nurse - Roy, according to his nametag - continued to look suspicious but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe. If I tell the doctor I believe you're fit to be up and around."
Cas smiled gratefully. "I am. I would be very grateful. It has been too long since I've seen my Father's creation."
"What?" Roy looked honestly confused, and Castiel assumed he didn't know the reasons for Jimmy's stay in the psych ward.
"My Heavenly Father," Cas added, hoping the nurse would accept the answer as a statement of faith and not see fit to mention it to Dr. Z.
"Oh," Roy's face softened and his smile turned more genuine. Castiel suspected he was one of his Father's faithful. "Yes, I see no reason why we couldn't add short walks to your recovery routine."
"Thank you," Cas said gratefully. "Bless you."
Roy held up a warning finger. "You can't go alone. A nurse or candy striper will have to escort you."
"Of course," Castiel agreed quickly. "Thank you again."
