Febuwhump Day 22: Blindfolded. Dean rescues an abused Cas and tries to help him recover from the trauma he experienced.

Title: Me Again

It was the dark that drove him the most insane. He could have put up with everything else, but the sightlessness, never knowing what would happen next, not being able to prepare, that was what would put him in the ground.

At first, he wrestled with the shackles, not caring when the cruel metal bit into his tender wrists, but when yellow pus foamed on the open wounds, he did his best not to intensify the issue. They kept him chained to a pipe on the wall, about a foot off the floor, so that the only way he could relax was to let his hands hang from the handcuffs, but he was forced to hold them perfectly still to protect the festering skin. His feet were bound together by scratchy rope that rubbed him until he was bloody. There was no way for him to work it open when his hands were indisposed, although he certainly tried.

They undressed him when he first arrived and never returned his clothes to him. He pined for the warmth when the evenings grew cold and his captors neglected to warm the room they had imprisoned in. Since they had blindfolded him before he arrived, Cas had never seen the room. They allowed him to drink from a bowl, but the water was usually moldy, and when he thought he was going to starve to death, they would finally allow him to eat mush. He was forced to release himself on the floor and they would berate and degrade him when they swept away the excreta.

Other than that, the only time they interacted was to use him. Cas fought back for a long time, but eventually, he learned to lay still and stifle his whines of pain as best he could until it was over. Despite the lack of showers, the filth he lived in, and the maggoty food that he ate, it was this that made him feel the dirtiest. He had once slept with a female reaper, but after that, he only ever wanted to sleep with one person, but now he was tainted and Dean would never want him.

Dean. More than anything, he missed Dean. It hurt more to think of him, so Cas put him out of his mind a few months in. When he remembered him, a dull pain overtook his heart and despite all numbness, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He waited patiently for Dean to rescue him, but the rescue never came. The captors told him that Dean and Sam died and at first, he refused to believe it. It was clearly a tactic to break his spirit, but as time went on and Dean never came to save him, he resigned himself to accepting what could only be the truth.

He prayed to the angels and he prayed to God to liberate him, but after he concluded that Dean was in fact dead, he prayed for them to come and kill him, but the Enochian handcuffs kept his prayers from ever leaving the room.

Finally, Cas gave up. He let the void consume him. He shut down his emotions, his thoughts, and his soul and he became nothing more than a doll with a heartbeat. The captors were forced to shove food down his throat or else he would have simply stopped eating and wasted away.

Because of this, Cas didn't register the sounds of a struggle coming from the other parts of the house. There were sounds of furniture crashing, people cursing and screaming, bodies hitting the ground, but it fell on deaf ears. When someone shouted, "Cas? Cas!" it never occurred to him to respond. Dean busted through the door to his room and screamed the name again, but Cas still couldn't hear him.

Hands were on his body, like they had been so many times before, but he didn't so much as twitch. The touch was far away and he was in another universe now.
"Cas, please, be okay. Jesus Christ. What did they do to you? Please wake up. Hold on, I'm gonna get these cuffs off you."

The metal bracelets around his hands were gone and his hands landed on the floor. If his brain could register pain, he would have reacted to the pus-filled wounds slamming against a hard surface, but he couldn't and he didn't.

Dean fumbled with the rope around his legs and released his trapped ankles, but Cas made no move to flex the muscles there.

After years of darkness, the blindfold was lifted, evoking the first reaction from him that Dean had seen: the light assaulted his sensitive eyes and he screwed them shut and grimaced. "How long did they have that on you?" Dean asked, "Can you hear me?" Cas didn't respond, "I'm gonna get you out of here, buddy," he slid one arm beneath Cas's knees and the other under his shoulder, lifting him bridal-style. Some small part of Cas that still existed was awed by the warmth and he instinctively nuzzled into Dean's chest. "Oh, Cas," Dean sounded heartbroken.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut as Dean walked and when he was delicately placed in the backseat of the Impala, he frowned at the loss of heat. Dean draped something over him to protect his bare body and the door was slammed shut.

The car began to rumble and bump against the road. "Sam, I found him… It's bad. He's not responding to me… He's banged up, but not dying. He looks like he hasn't eaten in months… It's worth a try… Okay. I'll see you when you get back."

Cas couldn't fathom the conversation. He simply listened to the deep sound of Dean's voice and when he went quiet, Cas missed the sound.

Cas had no grasp on time anymore, so when they pulled up to the garage of the bunker, he wouldn't have known any time had elapsed at all. His body was limp when Dean picked him up, careful to keep the cloth covering him. "It's over now," Dean reminded him.

The next thing Cas knew, he was being set down, but not on the hardwood floor. He was on a comfortable, soft bed with a blanket beneath him and a pillow under his head. "I'm gonna clean those cuts. I'll be right back," Dean said on the off chance Cas would realize he was gone.

Cas laid still on the bed in the same position he had been in for months, almost unaware that he could move. He didn't hear Dean return or comprehend that the mattress dipping beside him meant that someone was there. Dean gently picked up one of his hands and held it in his lap. "This is going to sting, but I have to do it," Dean warned him, but Cas had long since stopped feeling pain and when Dean dabbed alcohol on the infected cuts, he didn't so much as wince.

Dean cleaned both wrists with alcohol then rubbed antiseptic on them before placing them back on the mattress. He moved down to Cas's ankles and repeated the process.

"Cas. I turned out the light. You can open your eyes now."

Cas remained still and a hand cupped his cheek, rubbing the skin beneath his eye and coaxing him on. "Please look at me. I want to see your eyes."

His subconscious prodded him to peer out from beneath heavy eyelids. He didn't focus his gaze on Dean, only stared blankly forward at the wall of Dean's room, but he did not see the posters or pictures hung on the wall.

"There you go. I missed those blue eyes. So you can hear me?" he waited for a response, but none came, "That's okay. We'll get there. I have to give you a bath.

Although Cas had spent the last year half-alive and in a vegetative state, he was more tired than he had ever been and he shut his eyes and snuggled into the pillow.

"I know you're tired, but bath first. Hang tight."
Water splashed in the porcelain tub in the connected bathroom. When the water finally stopped hissing as it poured from the faucet, Dean returned and picked the fabric off of Cas before lifting him up.

When his back first touched the water, he almost jumped out of Dean's arms in shock at the foreign feeling. "Woah! It's okay, buddy. It's just water. Quicker you get in, quicker you can get out. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Cas's body was still tense, but he stopped struggling and allowed Dean to place him in the tub. The water was lukewarm. Cas had known this feeling before, had been in a bath before. The corner of his lip tugged down when his mind touched the surface of reality before he returned to emptiness and listlessly allowed Dean to clean him.

Dean took a cup and poured water on his head to wet his hair, then picked up shampoo and began to work it into his scalp. Some of his hair had been rubbed out from where he had rested it on the floor. Dean took care not to scrub the tender skin there. He lathered up Cas's greasy, grown out hair and picked up the cup again. "Don't open your eyes," he said and poured water until all the bubbles had disappeared.

Dean took a cloth and doused it with soap. He started by scrubbing the nape of his neck, working in little circles, then his throat, and down to his chest. He picked up each arm and wiped away the dirt and grime. The bath grew murky as Dean continued. "Lean forward," Dean instructed, but Cas didn't obey. Dean gently pushed him forward and he moved easily, like a marionette.

He finished Cas's back and then submerged his hand in the water and cleaned Cas's stomach, but his hand stuttered when he tried to go lower. He knew what those men had done to Cas and he didn't want Cas to think he was one of them, but he did need to be cleaned. He tried to force himself to continue, but found that he was unable and moved on to Cas's legs. When he reached his feet, Dean massaged them, feeling between his toes. His nails were long and unclipped. Cas squirmed and Dean realized he had tickled him. He smiled tentatively. "Did you feel that?" he did it again and Cas wiggled, "I know you're in there," Dean said as much to himself as to Cas.

Dean pulled the plug out of the bath and let the water drain around Cas. He took a towel and ruffled Cas's hair and wiped away the water on his face. He dried his body and lamented the goosebumps appearing on his skin. "Can you stand up?" he asked, but Cas didn't reply so he stooped down and cradled Cas in his arms once more and returned to his room.

The bath had started to penetrate the fog around Cas's brain. He remembered that water, not just mildew-y, stale water slurped from a shallow dish, but real water, existed. It briefly occurred to him that hands were touching him and they weren't trying to hurt him.

He was set back on the bed and Dean disappeared again. When he returned, he began to dress Cas. He guided his arm into a sleeve, moved the shirt around the back of his body, and then awkwardly slid his hand into the other sleeve. When he finally managed it, he neatly buttoned the flannel and Cas noticed that his once permanently naked skin now had warm fabric on it. "It's comfy, huh?" Dean asked.

Dean wriggled on boxers next, anxious not to touch anywhere private, then he pulled on pajama pants. Cas's eyes had still been closed, but as his brain struggled to work, he curiously opened them.

Dean hoisted the pants around his waist and looked up to notice Cas was eyeing him. "Hi," he smiled.

Cas watched him. He knew this person. This person had taken him out of his imprisonment and hadn't hurt him. If only his brain would work, he might understand… but the awareness was already fading away and once again he was staring at Dean the way a baby would, with inquisitiveness, but no real thought process.

"I know I said you could sleep after this, but first you need to eat. When was the last time you ate? We should get you something easy on your stomach. I want to cook you a whole meal, but I doubt you can eat anything," he talked just for the sake of talking, so that Cas would remember his voice or latch onto the sound, "Alright, bread and banana it is, I guess."

Dean stood and Cas watched as he left the room. He felt the sleeve of the fabric with his fingers, kneading it.

Dean returned. "You have to sit up," he didn't bother waiting for Cas to respond and instead adjusted him so that he was propped up against the headboard, "Here," he held out the bread for Cas to accept. Cas studied the bread and slowly, like it was the first time he had ever done so, reached out and accepted the food. He held it in his hand and looked back at Dean as if to ask what next.

"Eat," Dean held another piece of bread in his hand and demonstrated taking a bite. Cas observed with fascination, then raised the bread to his own mouth and took an apprehensive bite.

As soon as the small chunk of bread entered his mouth, he was ravenous. He chewed it, savoring the flavor, and swallowed, immediately taking another bite. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at how fast Cas was moving since hardly budging before.

"Slow down, I don't want you to throw up. Drink some water," Dean procured a water bottle and held it to his lips to show him how to drink. He then passed the bottle to Cas who took it with his free hand, not willing to give up the rest of his slice, and followed Dean's example. Dean wasn't sure how much water got in his mouth in comparison to how much fell down his chin, but he still gladly gulped in the fluid.

Dean waited patiently for Cas to drink and eat until he decided that if he had anymore he would make himself sick. He felt guilty to stop him from eating more, but he'd heard about refeeding syndrome and he wouldn't take that risk.

Cas didn't blame him when he took the food away. He was already full, but unsure when he would get to eat again and intuitively tried to fill up.

"One more thing. I'm gonna clip your nails. This should only take a second," Dean retreated to the bathroom and returned. He lifted Cas's hand in his own and attentively clipped each nail. He felt Cas staring at him the whole time. When he finished with his hands, he moved to his feet. After it was done, and Dean collected the nails and threw them in his wastepaper bin, he helped Cas beneath the covers. Cas wanted to keep watching Dean to see what he would do next, but fatigue fought hard so he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He felt Dean's hands on his hair and fell asleep to fingers tenderly combing out his matts.

When Cas woke up the next day, he felt different. The thick haze in his mind was thinning. He sat up and found that Dean was laying awake beside him. "Dean," the name clicked in his mind.

"Cas!" Dean sat up, "I missed your voice. Do you remember me?" he couldn't resist pulling Cas into a hug. Cas froze for a second before melting into the touch.

"Yes," he couldn't remember everything, but he knew Dean. He loved Dean and he was safe when he was with him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cupped his hand around the back of Cas's head and hid his face in his shoulder.

Dean pulled back and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "What else do you remember?"

"I don't know."

"That's okay," Dean smiled and tears dripped down his cheeks, "You don't have to remember everything right now. I'm so glad to hear you talk, you have no idea."

Cas smiled back, matching Dean's reaction, but still unsure what it all meant.

"Do you remember Sam?"

"Sam," Cas repeated thoughtfully. He knew that name from somewhere.

"You'll probably recognize him when you see him," Dean jumped off the bed, "Hold on, I-" he stopped when he saw Cas reaching out for him.

"You're leaving."

"N- No," Dean sat back down and took Cas's hand in his own, "I can stay."

Cas leaned in and pressed his face against Dean's chest. Dean placed his arms around Cas and ran circles on his back. Cas couldn't remember anything ever feeling as good. "Are you hungry?" Dean asked.

Cas considered the question. He was out of touch with his body. It was hard to feel anything and right now the only sensation he could register was the incredible touch of Dean's fingers on his back and the overpowering warmth of his arms. "I don't know."

"You should eat. You slept like twelve hours," he said, but Cas didn't move away, "Okay, a little longer," he acquiesced, but he didn't want to pull away either. For years, he wanted nothing more than this. The part of him that had been missing for so long was finally reunited.

Dean let out a soft breath. Ten minutes after his leg fell asleep, Dean finally said, "You need to eat. Do you want to come to the kitchen?" Cas quickly shook his head. This was the only safe place he knew right now and he wouldn't be yanked out of it. "Then you have to wait here, but I'll only be gone a few minutes. Understand?" Cas nodded against his chest.

When Dean left the room, Cas stared at the door. There were voices echoing down the hall, but Cas couldn't make out anything they were saying. He waited at full-alert until Dean reappeared with a plate and a glass.

Dean sat on the bed beside him and handed him the plate, then held the glass for him instead of setting it on the table. Cas nibbled on the grilled-cheese sandwich Dean had made for him and picked the cup out of Dean's hands to take sips as he ate.

Dean wasn't sure what it all meant. He knew that healing wounds was one thing, but healing minds was another. There wasn't any easy get out of jail free card to repair a broken person, but Cas was already making progress.

Cas finished the sandwich and took the glass, guzzling down the rest of the water.
"Was that good?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded fervently. "Yes."

Dean laughed. "What do you say about turning the light on? Ready for that yet?" when Cas didn't reply, Dean slowly reached for the switch and flicked it on.

Cas threw an arm over his face and cowered. The light had zapped something in him and visceral fear electrified his body like when he had first been taken. He tried to suck in oxygen, but the air had become thin. He grasped at his chest and looked desperately at Dean.

"It's okay, Cas! You're safe. You're with me and I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you. That's over now. Breathe in. Deep, long breath, just like that," Cas took a shaky inhale, "And out, nice and smooth. Good job. Again," he coached Cas through deliberate inhales and exhales until his breath became even again.

"What happened?" Cas asked.

"You were having an anxiety attack. It happens."

Cas held a hand over his heart and felt the way it pounded on his chest. "Does it happen to you?"

Dean answered reluctantly, "Sometimes."

"Dean, I'm scared."

"I know, but it's going to be okay. You trust me, right?"

"Yes," Cas answered softly.

"So believe me when I say you're gonna be okay. And look, we've got the light on now. You're doing great. I'm so proud of you."

Pride gushed in Cas when he heard Dean praise him. He would put his faith in Dean and he could sense that he had before. "Thank you."

"No problem. So what do you wanna do now?"

Cas shrugged. He couldn't begin to contemplate his options.

"How 'bout some TV? Will you watch Scooby Doo with me? Hm, maybe not. What about Spongebob? That's a classic, right?"

Cas tilted his head as Dean talked. He watched Dean reach for the remote and turned on the TV that sat on the stout table across from the end of the bed, then settled back down. Cas was still staring at him intently and Dean suppressed a giggle. "Can I help you?"

Cas laid down and shimmied up to Dean, resting his head on Dean's chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. Dean was momentarily stunned. Cas hadn't been touched kindly for years, but Dean hadn't been held like this in as long as he cared to remember either. He thought his heart might explode in his chest. He rested his hand on Cas's arm and stroked him, losing all focus on the children's program. They fell back to sleep in each other's arms.

Cas gasped awake, hands clawing wildly at the air. He let out a scream and slapped his hands over his face. His eyes were wide and his stomach was turned in knots. Dean shot up. "Cas! What's wrong?"

Cas trembled, adjusting to his surroundings. He was in Dean's room, not at the mercy of his captors. He had had a nightmare. He let his hands fall and choked on a sob.

"It was just a dream. You're safe," Dean comforted. Cas sat up and fisted the blankets in his hands.

"I remember," Cas murmured.

"You remember what?"

"The room. What they did."
Dean touched a hand to Cas's knee. "You don't have to talk about it."

Cas shook his head. "They did things to me."

"I know."

"I needed you. Where were you?"

Dean's chest ached with guilt. "I looked for you every day you were gone."
"What took you so long?"

"I'm sorry. I tried. I promise, I tried."

Cas searched Dean's face for a lie, but all he saw was pain. "I believe you."

Dean's muscles loosened slightly.

"I want to try leaving the room now."

"You do?" Dean sounded afraid.

"Yes. I want to remember something besides that place."

"Okay," Dean could understand that.

Cas crawled off the bed and put his wobbly legs on the floor. He knew he couldn't stand on his own so he quickly grabbed onto the wall.

"Here," Dean hurried to his side and held out his arm, "Hold on to me," Cas complied and clutched Dean's arm as they shuffled out of the room into the hallway. He naturally moved in closer to Dean for protection from the new area. The whole place was vaguely familiar, like

déjà vu. They walked slowly down the hall, Cas feeling the cool tile under his feet, and marveling at the hall.

They reached the threshold that led into the library. "Careful, there's a step," Dean warned him.

A man was sitting at one of the tables, with shoulder-length brown hair and focusing seriously on a book. He looked up when they entered. Cas recognized him.

"Hi, Cas," Sam looked kindly at him.

"Hi," Cas replied nervously.

"You look good."

Cas wasn't sure if it was true, but he could sense that Sam didn't want to hurt him, so he tried to make himself relax.

"We're just going for a little walk. Whaddya say, Cas? Kitchen next?"

Cas regarded Sam once more before they made their way further down the hallway until they reached the kitchen. Dean helped him settle at one of the kitchen chairs. "Hungry?" Dean asked, exploring cabinets.

Cas tried to feel his stomach, to sense if he needed to eat or not, but he couldn't tell. "No."

"So we have dessert then."
Cas found Dean captivating, the way he bent over or reached for things, the smooth moves of his hands and the glow of his green eyes. He returned to the table with two plates and slid one to Cas. Cas picked up the fork and inspected the food, a slice of cherry pie.
Dean was already sucking in his slice so Cas copied him. The food was sweet, sweeter than anything Dean had given him yet, and he paused to absorb the taste. "Do you like it?" Dean asked.

Cas could tell he wanted him to say yes, so he answered, "It's delicious."
Dean beamed, red pie filling on the corner of his mouth.

Dean didn't bother putting the dishes away when they finished. Cas clung to him as they returned to the room, sapped from the effort. Dean helped him to the bed and started towards the bathroom, but Cas gripped his forearm. "Dean, I know you looked for me. Thank you."

Dean swallowed. "You're right. I should have gotten to you sooner. This is my fault. I'm gonna make it up to you."

"I believe in you. I know you did everything you could."

Dean sat down. "I did. You don't remember everything right now, but I owe you… so much. You have no idea what you've done for me."

"I don't remember, but I can feel some things. I know I'd do it all again. I would do anything for you."

Dean's sad eyes met his. Cas could see the guilt there, the shame, the belief that he didn't deserve it. "Cas, I-" Dean faltered.

"You mean everything to me. That's something I can't forget. There's no one else like you."

Dean dug his hands into his palms. Cas noticed and reached out to him. Dean gave his hands to Cas, who turned them over and ran his fingers over the marks. "You hate yourself, but I love you. I love you, Dean," he had known all along, but the words were only coming to him now.

Dean's throat was tight. "I love you too, Cas. What you went through, it was so much worse than anything I can imagine, but it killed me to know you were out there, going through God knows what, and I couldn't save you. It was all I thought about. I never got to tell you that I love you."

"It's okay, Dean," Cas was glad to finally be able to comfort Dean, "You already saved me long ago."