A/N: Hey all, this is a very Dean-light chapter, so don't shoot me for it. I promise I'm getting closer to Destiel, but this is a bit of plot outside of the romance storyline stepping in for a chapter. I hope everyone enjoys a trip into Sam's melon with Cas as his co-pilot. And I wanted to thank everyone now that I've hit 100 followers and 50 faves. I'm glad people seem to be enjoying reading this as much as I like writing it.

Chapter 20

In the Mind's Eye

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions."

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. American judge.

"So, how does this Vulcan mild-meld work?" Sam asked the angel, who tilted his head to the side and looked at him strangely.

"'Mind meld?'" Cas said, pronouncing each of the two words as though they were completely foreign to him because they very obviously had no meaning to him together. Sam just smiled. Of course he had no idea what the phrase meant. Dean had only introduced Cas to Star Trek a couple of weeks ago, and the episodes had been out of order and piecemeal thanks to a "best of" marathon while they'd been on a hunt.

"Spock. Star Trek." Cas's eyebrows twitched slightly and he nodded. Sam took that to mean he vaguely knew what he was talking about. He couldn't read the angel as well as his brother, but he'd been his friend long enough to have at least picked up a few things. "He can link minds with other people." The fact that it was Cas he'd been referring to as having this ability made the reference seem all the more appropriate.

"An astute analogy," Cas said. Sam was wondering if maybe Data was a closer comparison, but he'd personally only seen pieces of the first two seasons of Next Generation-enough to at least give a knowing nod to Dean when he adamantly stated the show got much more awesome after Riker grew his beard-and the few odd episodes when Dean would watch, and Cas hadn't seen any of them. It was better to stick with Spock. Spock they both knew.

"You have to let me in your mind, first of all. And that isn't nearly as simple as it sounds." There was very little difference in the inflection in the angel's voice, but the slight change was there all the same. Sam knew well enough to realize that was probably a bad thing for him.

"It never is," Sam said as he sat at the kitchen table opposite the angel.

"It may require me to make physical contact," Cas said in a voice that sounded more like he was telling Sam he was going to have to stab him with a needle rather than just touch him. Sam just raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was missing something to the physical contact thing. "Your brother reacts... violently to unexpected contact."

"Yeah," Sam said, "he's always been like that."

"I was unsure," Cas said. "My experience with your brother came after it would have been understandable for him to reject sudden contact." That statement went tucked away for later contemplation. It was fairly obvious that Cas knew, either because he was able to enter Dean's mind more easily or because he witnessed the older hunter during his time in hell. Sam was certain that it didn't come from Dean actually talking to Cas about his troubles or his memories. "Given that your memories of your own time there are returning, it didn't seem implausible that you would react likewise, if that was the source of Dean's unease."

And that statement made Sam wonder, not for the first time, just what tortures he probably experienced, himself, while he was in the Cage. He didn't doubt that Lucifer could be creative. He still remembered having the former archangel in his skull, and he had gotten enough of a glimpse of the angel's thought processes to know that being on the other end of them was probably a very bad thing.

Cas placed his hand at Sam's bare forearm. "I think this should suffice." Having the angel touching him felt… weird. He had very little contact with Cas, beyond accidentally bumping one another or the occasional arm thrown one another in celebration. This was out of the norm. Cas was a good friend, family even, but their interactions had a set the tone and length of time for any touching between them, and this was crossing over all kinds of lines.

Yeah. This is about as strange as if Dean suddenly reached over in the Impala to hold my hand. Cas is firmly in the brother category.

"This will probably go easier if you close your eyes." Sam obeyed. "Let's focus on the wall, first. I'm no expert at this, but I think that you should be able to make it appear as a physical wall in your mind."

As Sam tried to do as instructed, he felt something else, something foreign and itchy that made him want to squirm away. He was vaguely reminded of being eight years old and accidentally getting into some poison sumac when his dad had been on a hunt in Atlanta. He had turned out to be highly allergic to the stuff, more so than the normal red, itchy rash he got with either poison oak or ivy. The sumac rash had spread everywhere, including his face. It had made Dean, ever the inconsistent caregiver, fuss over him like a worried mother hen while at the same time calling him the Elephant Man or saying he looked like Rocky from Mask. Sam never did find out when twelve-year-old Dean had had the time to watch a movie with Cher, but at eight he had been too uncomfortable, covered in pink lotion, and seriously pissy with his asshole older brother to bother to ask.

"God..." he groaned. "What is that?"

"That is me. Focusing on the wall that will make it easier for me to come in."

Sam tried, though it wasn't easy to imagine a giant brick wall when it felt like he had poison sumac in the brain. He nearly had the wall visualized when he felt a not entirely welcomed presence at his side. He knew it was Cas, trenchcoat and all, but having him in his head made Sam want to scream. It felt as though even his cells and molecules were resisting the angel. And in a way, he supposed they were. After all, to demon blood, what could be more of a foreign antibody than an angel?

Ï can see some of the weak spots already, but it is probably best if we don't try to patch them up until we find out which of your memories should be forced back through." Sam nodded because he didn't trust himself to speak. They hadn't even gotten to the difficult part yet. All he had to deal with was Cas's irritating presence and the wall, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't scream inside his own head if he let his vocal chords-real or imagined-free. "You need to focus on the memories that have slipped through. Your instincts will probably tell you to try to get rid of me instead."

Sam tried. He really did, but in the end, he imagined scratching that obnoxious itch in his head. That was all it took for him to find relief. And for Cas to be gone.

He sighed as he opened his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You lasted much longer than I thought."

Sam let out a faint chuckle. "You expected me to fail?

"As with everything with you and your brother, I expect you may fail, but I also have faith that isn't wholly unfounded that you will succeed." Cas folded his hands on the tabletop. "This was a modest success."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, then pushed the few strands behind his ears. "It's different with Dean, though, isn't it?" He realized his question was somewhat vague. "The mind thing, not the faith." Though they were probably very different, as well.

The angel closed his eyes as though he didn't want to give something away. "I can fall into Dean's mind as though I were diving into a pool of water. I do my best not to unless it is an emergency because he likes it so little. I have only intruded upon his dreams on a few rare occasions." There was a pause then, as though he was about to relay a secret to the younger Winchester. "Though I was shocked at how real they felt."

"Dreams usually do," Sam said. "But you don't really have a frame of reference."

"I was falling for a whole year, Sam," Cas said quite seriously. "My Grace was fading away slowly. I had bug bites, I slept and I dreamed. I can say with some authority that this is different."

Sam was always amazed, this time no less than any other, that Castiel's expression could be so unchanging, and yet he could sound so full of awe that if he was a normal human being, he would be wide-eyed with wonderment. "That profound bond a little more than just shared experiences, isn't it?"

He got no response from the angel, other than a change of the subject.

"Now that you know what to expect," Cas said, "would you care to try again?"

#

"Son of a bitch won't answer the phone," Sam watched himself say. He was grateful that Cas had made him a bystander rather than an active participant in his memories. He felt bad enough that he'd called his friend that name even if it hadn't technically been him, or at least all of him—the situation was complicated even in his own head.

"Well, let's give it a shot." Dean began his prayer, and almost in unison both Sam and the past version of himself called his brother an idiot.

"You didn't come because you knew I was soulless and you'd have to explain," Sam said, more so than asked the angel standing to his right and still making him itch. Could he even get Calamine lotion for inside his head?

"That is largely the reason,"Cas said. "I was also otherwise occupied much of that year, you'll remember." There was a tone of regret in Cas's voice that Sam didn't think the angel was capable of putting on for show.

"Hello?" Sam heard the other him say.

"Yes," Other Cas replied.

"Hello? Hello." Sam had never actually done his impersonation of Cas in front of the angel, or so he had thought. He was vaguely ashamed that he had an impersonation of Cas in his repertoire, not that they didn't all imitate him from time to time, but Sam, like the others, only did it in private. Still, neither Cas looked insulted; in fact, Sam was now trying not to laugh at the other Cas's confusion and watched as the memory played out.

"It seems like soulless me was evil and an ass."

"I'm not sure that evil is the most appropriate word. I'd opt for selfish or self-serving. Your soulless self wouldn't have gone on a killing spree just for the sake of it. But if someone else got in the way of a goal or put your—his life at risk, you spared that person no concern. It was a very... angelic way of looking at the world."

"Unless the angel is you," Sam said as the memory started to fade.

"I'm no different from them. My goal merely changed." Sam knew how he would define what that changed goal was, but he wondered if Cas would be so honest. Still, he was ever the professional and continued on with clearing Sam's mind. "I believe that memory can stay outside the wall, but there is another that will require your help to shove back behind the wall. This will not be easy, and You must fight the memory. Not my presence."

#

"Poor little Sammy got left behind," Lucifer taunted. Though Sam was still a witness to this portion of his memory, he was very clearly experiencing all of the pain that the other version of himself had suffered. When Castiel had attempted to pull his friend out, Sam had cried out like he'd been burned. "Little angel took your body but left your soul."

Lucifer circled around Sam looking like that man Nick as Michael sat in the back of the room that seemed both confining and going on forever. He was still in Adam's body, but it was obvious that the body was deteriorating. "I wonder how long it will take them to notice that Sammy's not the same Sammy he used to be. Though I love your body and I fully plan to take it back when we get topside, it is nice not to be confined to one anymore." Nick's visage began to shift. "It lets me do things like this."

In the place of the man who had first said "yes" to the devil stood Jessica Moore. Though it was obvious that both versions of Sam recognized her instantly, it took a moment for Castiel to place the face of the woman with the ones he had seen in photos. Lucifer placed hand on Sam's arm only to make it turn blue then nearly black. Both Sams cried out in pain and reached for the spot that was slowly spreading from Lucifer's palm. "Look at that, a soul can get frostbite."

Michael didn't so much as bat an eye, which Castiel was certain irritated the younger of the two. He looked to be meditating, probably maintaining his reserves. "So, big brother, what do you think is happening up there? Can a body even walk around without its soul?"

"Of course, and a soulless body would probably be more willing to give permission, though you technically have permission already. I was able to get Adam to agree by forcing his soul out of this body and back to heaven."

Sam was nursing the arm that Lucifer had nearly frozen off, and the Sam remembering was doing the same, but Castiel could see no sign of actual injury to him. The angel tried once again to pull his friend out of his memory. "You spent all this time, all this planning for a battle royale between the two of you, and Michael, heaven's warrior, is biding his time?"

"This isn't where or how the battle is supposed to take place," Michael said. "And I still owe your brother a visit. Oh, I'm going to use him until his body, brain and soul are melted to nothing."

"Big words for the angel who's stuck in a cell," Sam said, sounding almost reminiscent of Dean. In fact, if Dean had been there, he probably would have patted his brother on the back. Before throwing himself in the path of danger, that is. He still would do nearly anything to save Sam

Michael's borrowed eyes opened and with a flick of the wrist, he twisted Sam's arm behind his back with a bone crunching snap. Both Sams cried out in pain, and Castiel couldn't be sure that when they returned to the waking world that Sam's arm wouldn't be snapped in half there as well. All Cas could do was be grateful that, if it was, it was at least a wound he could heal easily.

"Sam," Cas said loudly, hoping to cut through the effect the memory was having on the younger Winchester. The soulless memory had seemed to have no impact upon him, though Castiel couldn't be sure whether that was because Sam had been uninjured in that memory and overall less traumatic or because there was something different about these times in the Cage.

The tall hunter screamed again as Michael sent the other version of himself sailing through the Cage, hurling him into the nearest wall, which suddenly seemed much closer than it had just moments before. Castiel wasn't certain whether or not he should pull the man out of his memory or not. Sam hadn't yet asked for it, but the angel wasn't entirely sure if the hunter would be cognizant enough to actually ask to be let out of the horrible experience.

"Very impressive, big brother," Lucifer complimented Michael from inside Jess' body. "You know, if you decide to be a more active participant, this could be very fun." He got no further acknowledgment from Michael, who had gone back to meditating and attempting to preserve Adam's body for as long as he could.

The decision was taken out of the angel's hands when he realized that in the darker corners of this memory were little threads, little links to others, and while he didn't peer too long at them, he could tell that the torture, the things that were done to Sam by Castiel's oldest brothers—more so Lucifer than Michael—were unforgivable and might have been unimaginable if Castiel hadn't expected the very worst from Lucifer. Something was unusual about Sam's memories of the pit, and the angel knew that the only way he could allow Sam to remember is if the angel found a way to sever the tendrils that intertwined that year in the Cage, a year that Castiel knew well enough had likely been far longer in reality. Otherwise, remembering just one small piece would slowly pull all of the others out, and no one was ready for Sam to know all the details of what was done to him, body and soul, least of all Sam, himself.

"Sam!" Castiel shouted, placing his hands on either of Sam's shoulders and ignoring the pain it obviously caused him. It turned out that the agony he had been trying to avoid causing that was able to bring Sam back to the present, so to speak, and separate from this horrible memory. Finally, hazel eyes focused on the angel's and Castiel knew his friend was with him. "Sam, I need your help to push this back behind the wall."

Sam nodded, lips tight in the way Dean's usually were after an especially tough night of drinking when he was trying to prevent himself from vomiting. Castiel knew that sometimes extreme pain could cause such a reaction, and he didn't push for a verbal answer. "Try to imagine the memory as something physical, something that can be shoved through a whole in the brick wall."

It took some time and a great deal of struggling on Sam's part before they were suddenly faced with a bag of some sort. The two quickly ran to pick up the bag, which flopped and shifted as the item inside, perhaps seeds or rice, perhaps even bugs, made it difficult to sufficiently grasp and push. Each shove of the palm of their hand gave way in the bag's stuffing. They would push again and again and again and seem to get nowhere.

Until, finally, it shifted and shimmied to the point that it finally fit through the gaps in the bricks and Castiel and Sam were able to patch up the wall, though it was visibly not as strong as what Death had built. When it was all done, a tired-looking hunter placed his hands on his knees and breathed heavily from the effort. His head tilted up after a moment or two and he smiled at Castiel.

"Thank you," he said, looking genuinely grateful. "And please don't be insulted, but you're making me want to scratch like crazy. Would you mind getting out of my head?"

The angel shook his head. "I am not insulted at all." With that, he left.

#

Eyes open in the real world for the first time that night, Castiel gave Sam a concerned look. "How are you?" He began scanning the man for any signs of injury that may have shown themselves int he real world. Considering what had been done to him in the memory, it only made sense that they might show themselves in reality in one form or another.

"Sore," Sam said, honestly. Castiel noticed he was favoring the arm that Lucifer had first frostbitten and Michael had later broken. "Stunned. But I don't know why. I'm going to take a guess that's for the best and it's because what we did worked."

The angel nodded. "It hasn't fixed the problem. Merely bought us time."

Sam gave him a weary smile in return. "Time is a good thing."

#

Dean saw the nearby clock reading 4 a.m. That made for just over three hours of sleep, which was probably a new record for him, lately. He rubbed weary eyes and slid out from between the covers of his bed. He stood and yawned, wishing he'd be able to just settle back into that comfortable bed, but really, he knew he should just be grateful for the few hours he managed to get.

"You know, it was supposed to be your father. He was supposed to bring it on. But in the end, it was you."

Dean wanted to scream at his brain. It was bad enough he couldn't escape what he'd done in his dreams, but shouldn't he be given a little respite in the waking world? He'd supposedly been forgiven by God, so why couldn't he manage to just forgive himself?

"Oh, every night, the same offer, remember? Same as your father. And finally you said 'Sign me up.' Oh, the first time you picked up my razor. The first time you sliced into that weeping bitch, that was the first seal."

Even then, Dean hadn't remembered, hadn't wanted to remember who that woman on the rack had been, how she had begged him not to do this to her. He tried not to remember that he'd recognized her and after hesitation that may have lasted an hour, maybe a year, he finally cut into her.

"Hey, Cas," Dean heard Sam's voice whisper in the hallway, "thanks again."

Dean watched as his brother and the angel walked through the hallway, Sam's arm draped over Cas's shoulders. Whatever it was that had the two of them acting so chummy all of a sudden had their all of their attention. By now one or both of them would have been asking Dean about his sleepless nights, about the fact that Dean was 99 percent sure he wasn't quiet during the worst of his nightmares. Neither asked because neither noticed, and even though Dean knew he wouldn't have given them an answer, he couldn't help but feel marginalized by the entire situation.

And the fact that he was feeling this stupid, petty hurt at being ignored made Dean feel mad at himself along with the two now making their way down the hall, one to his bedroom and the other to Johnny's.