Sam's flight wasn't until 3 pm, so he spent the first half of Sunday helping Dean crutch-proof his house. There wasn't too much to do since it was a single story, but they moved the living room furniture around to provide more leg room and stocked the freezer with microwavable meals. Dean had never been on his own before, not really, and wasn't much of a cook. Losing his best friend and roommate would have been hard enough without the broken leg. Sam wanted to do anything he could to help Dean adjust. He wished he could stay on for another week, but even if he could, Dean would never agree to let his baby brother stay and take care of him no matter how much he needed it. Sam wished he knew some of Dean's friends and neighbors better so he could arrange for someone to check in on him. The only local number programmed into his phone besides Dean's was Dr. Castiel's office. At least Dean had agreed to keep seeing him. Cas was an odd man, but he seemed to know what he was talking about and was genuinely interested in Dean's health. Among other things.

"Ok, I think that should about do it," Sam said as he surveyed their handiwork. "Need anything else before I go?"

"Nah man, I'm good. Just gonna watch some Clint Eastwood movies and chill."

"Ok, then I'm gonna catch the bus to the airport. Call if you need anything, ok?"

"Sure, Sammy. Thanks for coming down."

"Of course." He hugged Dean. "Love you, jerk."

"You too, bitch."

Sam shouldered his bag and headed out. As he walked to the bus stop he thought about what to say to Dean when the agreed-upon week was up. Seeing Benny's ghost was obviously a symptom of repressed grief and survivor's guilt, as he knew from personal experience in addition to his psych degrees. The only way out of this was through it and his brother should not have to face his ghosts alone. When Dean was ready to fight, Sam would be there.

***000***

Dean dropped the empty bag of Doritos to the floor next to him. It was day two of sitting at home doing fuckall and he was starting to get stir crazy. He flipped TV stations for a while, but didn't find anything interesting, so he decided to get up and stretch his legs. Hoisting himself up on his crutches, Dean winced as the blood rushed through his bad leg. He breathed through it and headed outside as it was a nice day and he was sick of the sight of his living room.

He sighed wistfully as he passed the Impala in the driveway.

"We'll be back on the road soon, baby."

Without consciously deciding to, he started walking toward the fire station. It'd been about a week since the fire and he was feeling much stronger. Once he got a good rhythm going on the crutches, he didn't even think about them anymore. As he passed through the center of town, he wondered how long it'd been since he really looked at the place. Had he ever? It was familiar enough from driving by, but he didn't think he'd ever actually gone into any of the shops despite having lived here for 5 years. He'd met coworkers at the local bar a few times, but that was pretty much it for his social life. Too busy saving lives to live one.

He decided to go into a used book store that also had records and comics in the window. Maybe he'd find something to help fill the time until his leg healed. It was cool and dark inside and smelled like nostalgia. He made his way to the records first. He didn't have a record player, but he remembered Dad playing classic rock records when he was little and liked to look through the familiar albums. Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Stones, looking at the album covers was like looking through a family photo album. Dean felt an unexpected pang of homesickness. Not for a place, but for the feeling of family. Sammy was all he had left since losing Dad in a car crash a few years back. He hoped that once Sam finished his degree they could make more time for each other.

Moving away from the records, Dean wandered over to the fiction section. His eyes moved over the titles, but he didn't really read them, still thinking about family and how he always seemed to lose the people closest to him.

"'Scuse me, space cadet, you're hogging the aisle here."

Dean startled and turned to see a chipper, petite redhead in a faded Star Wars t-shirt looking up at him.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Having a hard time deciding what to get?"

"Yeah, I haven't read in a while, but I have some free time I need to fill."

"What are you into?"

"I don't know. When I was a kid I liked scifi, adventure, fantasy…"

"The basics. Gotcha." She looked over the section for a moment, then pulled out Otherland by Tad Williams. "Try this. It's a four-part series that has everything- fantasy, danger, virtual realities, quests, it's one of my favorites. The first book is mainly character building, so get the first two. Should keep you busy for a while."

"Ok, thanks, umm… "

"Charlie." She shook his hand.

"Dean. Good to meet you."

"You too. Now be gone, I need to check the new arrivals shelf."

Dean let her pass and then headed to the checkout. On the way he passed a display of children's books and saw The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It was Sammy's favorite book when he was Lily's age. Dean grabbed it on a whim and put it on the counter with his novels. He figured since all of Lily's toys and books went up in the fire she must be pretty bored at Castiel's. That guy probably read medical journals for fun.

The walk back home felt infinitely longer than the walk out. Dean hadn't even made it a block when he had to stop and rest. His leg was throbbing and he couldn't catch his breath. As he leaned against a tree to give his underarms a break from the crutches he heard a jeep pull up next to him. It was Charlie.

"Hey, need a ride somewhere?"

"Naw, I'm good!" He tried to wave her off.

"Dude, I can't just leave you out in the sun to die." She smirked, "You're a local hero, after all."

Dean sighed. "You saw that channel 2 thing, huh?"

"Yeah. I couldn't place you in the bookstore, but it came to me after you left. Mr. Dreamy Fireman himself. If you get in I promise not to ask you for a selfie."

Dean's ego fought him, but the pain in his leg won out.

"Fine. No autographs, either."

Charlie leaned over and opened the passenger door for him.

"Thanks."

He tossed his crutches into the back and climbed in.

"Where to?"

"Just ahead, right at the stop sign."

Charlie pulled away from the curb and turned some K Pop on with her ipad. When they got to Dean's house she jumped out to admire the Impala while Dean disentangled himself from the jeep.

"What year is she?"

"67."

"Wow. I don't know anything about cars, but that," she pointed to Baby, "Is badass."

Dean chuckled. "Thanks. She's kind of a family heirloom. Keeping her running feels like a full time job sometimes, but it's worth it."

Charlie nodded understandingly. "I feel the same way about Chester." She gestured to her jeep. "He was my Mom's."

Dean got the feeling that Charlie didn't have a lot of family left, either. He sensed a familiar loneliness under her upbeat facade. "Hey, thanks for the ride. And the book recommendation, I've been going crazy the last couple days. I'd heard daytime TV was bad, but I had no idea just how bad."

"Anytime. Call me if you need a lift somewhere; I work from home and would take any excuse to get out." She grabbed her bag from the jeep and dug out a business card. "And let me know what you think of Otherland!"

"Thanks, I will."

"See ya!"

Dean went into the house as she drove off. It seemed even darker and more depressing than when he'd left. He sighed and flipped on the lamp next to the couch, then sat down and pulled out his new book.

**000**

Dr. Castiel scratched absently at the oatmeal caked onto his tie. Lily had refused to go to bed the night before and thus had woken up particularly toddler-ish this morning. He downed the remains of his third cup of coffee, skimming through the records for his next patient, Mrs. Peterson. She was an older lady, one of his father's first regulars, in fact, and a bit of a hypochondriac. The records were pages and pages of tests administered, almost all with normal results. He sighed wearily. Mrs. Peterson's favorite subject aside from her latest imagined ailment was Cas' father, Charles. She went on and on about how he'd been taking care of her since the Reagan administration and wasn't he such a nice man? So charming. You must take after your mother, James dear. She always called him James. Not Dr. James or even just Castiel, which is what most people called him. He couldn't correct her, either, because she'd known him since before medical school and loved to remind him of it. Castiel put his mug down and pulled up the full patient schedule for the day to see if there was a nurse practitioner he could pawn her off on. The new guy Steve was scheduled to do a preschool kid's yearly checkup. Perfect. Cas would gladly trade more sticky oatmeal hands for Mrs. Peterson.

He paged Steve, who was luckily still green enough to agree to the switch. After the kid's checkup Cas only had one more appointment before lunch: Dean Winchester's first physical therapy session. Cas smiled to himself, thinking it ought to be an interesting change of pace around here. He'd done a stint at a physical therapy clinic during college and actually really enjoyed it. Working with a handful of patients one-on-one for weeks or months, he felt like he was really making a difference in their lives. It wasn't like the endless stream of people coming in and out of his office to get prescriptions or referrals. Physical therapy was almost like laying hands on someone to heal them, it just took longer. He really got to know them and see their improvement day by day. Not just their physical improvement, but the emotional healing that happened alongside it as they recovered from whatever trauma sent them to therapy in the first place. Cas got the feeling that Dean Winchester had plenty of both kinds of healing to do, and he wanted to help as much as he could.