Thirty minutes of retching and fighting for breath later Dean came to his senses. He noticed that Castiel was not around. It meant that nobody would stop him. He decided to do the only thing that came to his mind, ignoring Bobby's pleads and threats.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Two hours of hollering and begging later Dean realized that no one would listen. Wherever Michael was, he had no intention to help anymore.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Forty hours later, when the headache was becoming unbearable and his mouth stung with the burning bitterness of bile Dean finally managed to drink himself to sleep, or rather knock himself unconscious with the whiskey.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Three days, seven bottles of scotch and five quarrels with Bobby later Dean finally accepted the lift to fetch the Impala.
He took a long shower that didn't ease the pain of his muscles, but managed to wash the stench away from his skin, making him feel less humane - as if he gradually dissolved in the reality that knew no mercy; that would remain the same no matter how much he cried and retched, and writhed, begging. He managed to walk and breathe and talk like he was a machine, still running only due to inertia.
The woman that drove him to where the car was parked said nothing but a few sentences, just when Dean was getting off her pickup:
"I've lost someone too," she confessed bleakly, looking straight ahead "Back then if anyone told me I'd survive I'd think that that person was crazy. But here I am, up and kicking. Just don't wait until you get back to normal or you'll wait until the cows come home. You'll survive and that's pretty much it."
The hunter bent to look at the woman sitting behind the wheel through the rolled down window. All he managed to choke out was a quiet "thank you."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was a long straight section of a neglected single lane road. Wheels rolling smoothly on dry asphalt and Impala's bass hum were giving Dean some makeshift peace, even though rationally he knew the world was falling apart. There was only one difference between this ride and a normal day. Baby's speakers remained silent. Dean could not stand music anymore.
...and it was not Baby anymore. It was just "the car".
Focusing on a job regardless the circumstances was an ability Dean had trained through years of being a hunter, but now it was alarmingly easy to cast all the worries away from his consciousness. As if it was too much too take. As if his mind expelled them like an ill body expels fester.
His brain welcome the hours of idle running, when the only thing he had to do was automatically repeating movements and reflexes imprinted in his nerves through years of living behind the wheel. The best he could do was to focus on the road ahead, let his eyes get used to cinereous twilight and drive. He would worry when he reached his destination. Now it was only him, a dark stripe of the road ahead that Impala devoured mile by mile; his hands on the wheel that was smoothed by years of handling, his back pressed against the leather seat that remembered the shape of his body.
He was startled by his phone chiming. Normally he would answer while driving, but this sudden stimulus that broke his numbness made him realize that he needed a pit stop anyway. Ignoring the solid line he pulled off and picked the call from an unknown number. Next second he was glad he had stopped.
"Dean Winchester, who is it?"
He heard a jerky sigh of a woman or a child at the other end of the line.
"Uhm... This is Amelia..."
"I'm sorry. Amelia who?"
There was another gasp melting into a quiet yelp. The woman stuttered, Dean almost heard her lips move, helplessly trying to form words. Finally, she managed to whisper:
"I hoped you would remember me. Amelia Novak. Jimmy's wife."
Dean felt like he was falling.
"What happened?" He barked. A part of him knew he should regret this harsh tone, but he didn't really care.
"They... I... Jimmy's in a hospital. It... It's bad. Very bad."
"And?"
A soft rustle hummed on the other side of the line. It sounded like Amelia tried to mask a sob by turning away.
"The thing is that I don't know if it is him, he's still unconscious. What if it's... This thing?" her voice was even weaker and jerkier when she came back, "Dean, it was not an accident. Doctors say he looks like he has been in a battle. Someone did this to him..."
Winchester sighed and rubbed his mouth and chin. He let out a sharp, angry breath.
"Text me the address."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was a regular night in St. Michael's Hospital, maybe even on the calm side of normal. Esther was lazily sipping her fifth coffee when Delilah entered the nurses break room and slumped down onto a white plywood chair on the opposite side of a small table.
"Whatchya doin?" Delilah asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. Her older colleague sent her a faint smile.
"The usual. Hoping that nobody will try dying on my shift."
The younger nurse ran her fingers through her short, dark hair.
"The mauled guy from fifth looks like he might," suddenly he straightened up and patted her friend on the forearm wiggling her prominent eyebrows "by the way, my drama sense is tingling. I mean, have you seen his boyfriend?"
Esther frowned.
"I thought there was a lady. That blonde, you know. Wife, I guess."
"Exactly!" sparks of amusement glinted in Delilah's eyes. "She's his wife, but she didn't know anything. Where he'd been, what could have happened, if he was taking medication, nothing."
The older, fair-haired nurse frowned chidingly.
"You should stop eavesdropping, you little sticky gossip..."
Delilah bristled, but she finally got that it was just a jest. She chuckled.
"Anyway," she continued, embellishing her expatiation with energetic gesticulation "I thought - the hell, perhaps he'd moved out, but why would he, I mean the girl is not my type, but she's cute - until I saw this hottie. I'm tellin' you, honey, it's the kind of guy that could turn me straight. These doe eyes, these DSL. I swear on my heart. And his dick extension?" she rolled her eyes with delight, "Superfly."
Esther almost choked on her coffee.
"His what?"
"Dick extension. It's parked down the alley. A 67 Impala. Impeccable black paint, matching leather upholstery, chrome hubcaps. If there wasn't so much Jerry Springer Show stuff going on, I'd ask him to give me a ride..." Delilah purred meaningfully.
The blonde clucked her tongue.
"Ok, that guy might be gay but it doesn't mean that him and the mauled guy are together. The guy from fifth looks straighter than... I don't know, he just looks extremely straight."
Delilah huffed and shook her head.
"Gee, he came here looking like he was run over by a corn picker and now he's wearing a handkerchief and has tubes in every hole. Everyone looks straight in an ICU, but believe me, sis, I know drama when I see it. I dunno how about the mauled guy, he's as good as brain-dead, but this iron closet? He's head over heels in love with the mauled guy. The way he looked at him - so cute I didn't know if I should puke or eat a family-size pack of vanilla ice-cream and cry myself to sleep. The wife seems to hate this butch... She did not know anything, but the butch knew. I'm telling you. The mauled guy left that blonde scout girl for that passion fruit and they've been living in a love nest somewhere over the rainbow. It all adds up, doesn't it?"
Esther did not answer, just shook her head, chuckling. The younger nurse looked at her somberly and announced:
"I'll bet my socks on it. If the mauled guy makes it, there's gonna be a divorce."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
He hadn't expected he would recognize Amelia, but he did. The sight struck him with the same force as when he saw her for the first time. She was fine, prim and demure. A lean blonde with porcelain skin and enchanting eyes that brought peace; with pale lips made for kissing children good night. She was everything that should be kept as far from the blood and pain, and misery of a hunter's life as possible. Dean felt a pang of guilt when he realized that if it had not been for him, these eyes would have never had to see what they had seen.
She was sitting by the bed; the sound of her gasp when she noticed Dean was all but drained out by the beeping and humming of life-support.
"Hi. How is..." the hunter began in a strangled voice "you had a child, right? What was her name?"
Amelia cleared her throat.
"Claire is at her aunt's. I haven't told her about all this. She's hardly accepted that her father is gone. She couldn't take it once again if..." her voice trailed away. She cast her eyes down. There was a fidgety, tentative gesture as if she instinctively reached out touch the man on the bed, but stopped halfway. Her embarrassment when she clasped her hands on her knees made it even more heart-wrenching.
Dean tried to remain as matter-of-fact as he could. By then he still hadn't even glanced at the unconscious man and was doing his best so that it remained so.
"Amelia, I really don't know. Cas has been through much. No human could survive it. Usually when a demon leaves its meat... a human, the human dies, but then again I know nothing about angel possession. Cas and I... We never spoke about your husband."
"But what if he..." the woman couldn't bring herself to wording her worse anxiety, "what do I do?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry. I just... I need to go."
Amelia quavered in protest:
"I thought you'd want to stay and wait."
Dean finally threw the man a quick glance and fell a wave of cold, nauseating numbness wash down on him. The sight caught him off guard, forced back a welter of memories he had bulldozed out of his consciousness. Guilt and anguish welled up in chest, streamed throbbing in his veins, draining strength from his muscles like a bad fever. Before he could stop the impulse, his fingers hovered around the man's bruised cheek and temple, tracked the uneven elevation of his split brow ridge, but Dean withdrew his hand before it touched the man's skin just like Amelia had.
"Yeah," he rasped absentmindedly, "I might stay in town overnight and wrap my head around things. If it's..." this time it was Dean who stammered, "if he wakes up by then and if it's Cas I'll have a few questions, but I'm leaving tomorrow evening at the latest."
"Dean, please," The woman sent him a weary, pained look.
A chair's metal feet scraped against the tiles when Dean moved it closer. In the silence that fell after Amelia's plead the sound was loathsome. Winchester sat down, rested his elbows on his knees; his gaze wandered the floor for a while before he spoke:
"Amelia, listen. I am doing my best. What you saw back then, these demons and angels, it was nothing compared to the shitstorm that's brewing right now. If it rains down, nothing will matter anymore. You won't have time to settle your little marital disagreements, 'cause you'll be running for your life. No one will be safe. The best way for me to help is to leave."
"And what if it's not Jimmy? What do I do?"
Dean sent Amelia a sidelong glance, then he went back to staring at the unconscious man.
"My advice? Don't get attached."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Esther beamed with pride when she entered the break room. She was so eager to share the news that she kicked her sleeping friend's calf.
The dark-haired nurse was startled awake. A while passed before she fully came to her senses and fixed her eyes on her friend. Esther was already making two cups of coffee when Delilah asked languidly:
"Waasssup?"
"See? I told you. No divorce."
At first Delilah failed to connect all the dots. When it finally clicked, she was wide awake within a second.
"What? Cut it out. Impossible. Fairy godmother is never off base."
Esther shushed her with a gesture, then sent her a bantering smile.
"Perhaps it's a punishment for sleeping right after you started your shift."
"Like you never did it," the younger nurse rolled her eyes, but she was grinning again when the blonde put a cup of coffee in front of her. "So what happened?"
"Everything was like you said. The wife and the other guy came here this morning, they both spoke to the mauled guy for like a minute, then the wife ran out crying and the hottie stayed. But then..." Esther stopped short to built up dramatic tension, "the hottie went out, I guess he must have said something to the wife. He left the building and the wife came back."
Delilah seemed authentically crestfallen.
"Dang... I really hoped he'd give me a ride."