Cas' POV

One day, 6 years ago, when Gabe was 8 and I was 12, before dad went missing, before mum turned into the wreck she is now, I came home from school to find the house empty. Gabe was still at elementary school, so mum still picked him up on a daily bases, I was vaguely aware that they should have been back at least half an hour ago. Dad worked a confusing job, which none of us understood much, and due his 'high authority' as he put it, was in and out of the house all the time. He was rarely home for dinner. Because of this, I took an easy assumption that he was working. Mum and Gabe were also probably just running late.

I'd collapsed in front of the television, which I was so rarely allowed to watch, and flicked it to the first channel that looked remotely interesting. Embrace it whilst it lasts, I had thought, accept the consequences later.

But there hadn't been consequences, because almost two hours later, towards the end of a truly riveting documentary about penguins, still nobody was home; of course being the petty kid I was – I panicked. This was just the first time it was for good reason.

I called both parents' phones, but neither of them picked up. I asked our neighbours if they'd seen anything, but they claimed to have been out all day.

I was completely on my own.

I didn't fall asleep until 3am, which was late for a 12 year old like myself, I can assure you. I did the math; it was at least 10 hours I stayed awake losing my nerve: 10 hours of repeatedly calling my parents' phones, and considering whether on not to call the police. But I waited it out. Then I woke up 4 hours later to someone tenderly shaking my arm. "Get up, Castiel. Get up now – your brother needs you." I'd stared, confused and aggravated, at my mum for a good 15 seconds before I asked what was going on. "Gabe's ill." Is all she had said, and I found myself in the back seat driving to the hospital.

We'd arrived as he was going in for an MRI scan. The seizure that both mum and dad witnessed had lasted at least 10 minutes, way longer than an ordinary one, not that they were a frequent occurrence with us. This had been the first time.

45 minutes later when he came out I hugged him, because I didn't know what else to do. And then we were sent home with some drugs, booked hospital appointments, and hope of improvement. To be honest, we mainly left with the fear of it happening again.

For the moment that, was it. Then, a couple of less dramatic seizures and several doses of AEDs later, a now 10 year-old Gabriel was pronounced well again, if not cured.

Now that it's back, 4 years since the last… I don't know what to do with myself.

The three of us sit in a row in the waiting room, dishevelled and exhausted. I've been told by a rushed nurse that in a few minutes I'll be brought in to see Gabe's Doctor and answer a few questions. They're also trying to get in touch with our mum. Good luck with that one. I think.

"Cas?" I turn around to the voice, which belongs to Sam. I realise I've been staring blank at the wall for the last few minutes: thinking. Thinking about Gabe and mum and dad and how we're going to fix all this. If we ever even are.

"Yeah, sorry." I shake my hair about as if to exaggerate the new intensity of my focus.

"It's alright," he says meekly. And it's only then that I'm suddenly aware of what by brother's boyfriend has been through. (Boyfriend… in another situation I could imagine myself sneering at that.) For the reason that, as actual fact, I have never experienced one of Gabe's longest fits, I can't relate to the fear that must have been racing through Sam; how overcome he must have been by the threat of not knowing. For me it's not the pure terror of what's happening, but the immanent threat of what's to come, the result of this, and if he'll even make it through each one. He's strong, but a kid can only put up with so much. The doctors won't say it, but I know he's lucky he didn't go into a coma.

"I really am sorry, Sam." I blurt out.

"What? Why?" he looks confused, and… and I don't know how to explain how guilty I feel that he's been put in this situation.

I take in a lungful of air. "For this. Nobody should have to up with this kind of crap. Not Gabe, not you, me, or Dean." I look to him as I say this. "Not anyone."

"Yeah… I know." Sam slowly shrugs his shoulders, "But what are you going to do, eh?" This kid. He's too good for my brother.

And that's exactly what I say. I reach over to mess up his hair, long and light brown, unlike Dean's stubbled coffee coloured mess. Just as I do this, a nurse comes over with a clipboard.

"Castiel Novak?" He asks. I nod. "Great, I'm afraid we'll just need to get some personal details off you before you can visit your brother, if you don't mind?"

"Sure, sure, of course." I say eagerly, keen to rush through anything that will get me to Gabe slower.

He quizzes me and I answer each of the questions truthfully, although for some reason I feel like I've done something wrong. I brush the suggestion away; these nerves are really getting to me.

Okay, Mr. Novak, if you'd like to come with me." He gestures to a wide hallway, leading to one of the wards, and I rapidly start walking, already slightly behind his pace. At that moment, I hear small footsteps following me. I turn nonchalantly and see Sam striding to keep up with me.

"Sam," I frown. "I'm not sure you're allowed to come in yet… I'm really sorry, it's just the hospital has rules -"

"Sorry sir," The nurse has enigmatically appeared just behind me, and interrupted our conversation, which it appears he's also overheard. "We're really not permitted to let in non-family members on the first day of admittance. You'll have to wait a little while, but there's a fair chance you can drop in on visiting hours tomorrow."

Submissively, Sam bows his head and drags himself back to Dean. I present them with a half-hearted shrug of apology, I can't think of anything other than Gabe.

"Hey, Gabe." I smile at him, and it's not forced, since, at this moment, there is nothing much better I can imagine then seeing my only sibling alive and somewhere close to healthy. But damn it he's pale.

"Hey," Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he gives me one of his childish smirks.

"You alright there?" I drop into the chair beside his hospital bed, and try not to stare at the tubes weaving in and out of him. One is attached to a needle, slipped into a vein on his hand. I avert my eyes. It's fine. I tell myself. They're here to help.

"Yeah, I just… Oh God, Cas. I don't want to deal with this. Not again. I can't." Neither can I. But we will, Gabe, we'll either get through it or adjust to it.

"It's all good, we can deal with this. No problem, I'll just stay home a few days before you go back to school and we'll make sure all the teachers know…" I trail off; talking out loud about everything I'm going to do to help him. It's only when Gabe pinches my arm that I snap out of it and listen to what he's trying to say.

"Sure Castiel, that's all fine, that isn't the problem."

I frown, cocking my head to one side. "Then what is?"

"They've got in touch with mum."