Title: Lost and Found
Author: Arisprite
Summary: Sam was twitching and drugged, hallucinating the devil himself, and then not three rooms down from his in the hospital, Dean finds a very familiar face. Too bad the man who answered to Jimmy Novak has no memories, is probably gonna go to jail for mass murder, and has a butt load of demons after him to boot.
A/N: So, I've actually be writing more in this story, so I hope you enjoy this next installment. There will be a good few more to come.
Warnings/Disclaimer: Mental illness, angst, hurt/comfort, as much swearing as the show, mentions of Sam's hallucinations, past violence.
It was only a minute or two after Dean woke that everything that had happened the day before came flooding back. Sam's terrifying break down, the hospitals (plural!) finding Cas... Dean rolled over and buried his face in the scratchy motel pillow. When it rains it pours. Sighing, he got up and showered quickly, trying not to think as the spray beat down on him. A coffee run later, and he was pulling into the hospital parking lot.
Inside, when the receptionist asked who he was here for, Dean paused for a second before saying Sam's name. Castiel was on the tip of his tongue (not that that would mean anything to them, as he was going by Jimmy here) but Dean didn't feel up to seeing Cas yet, to dealing with the crazy tangle of emotions that came with seeing the angel. He'd deal with Cas later. He followed the nurse (not Daphne this time, but an older woman named Sheila) until he reached Sam's door.
The nurse pulled open the door, greeting Sam like they were good friends while she checked him over. He looked much the same as he did last night, still beat to hell and back (literally) still pale and tired, still flinching at nothing. He was sitting up against the barred headboard, with an IV in his hand.
Sheila bustled around, adjusting things and doing nurse-y things, but was happy to explain that the IV was saline for hydration, and some anti-anxiety medicine to keep him calm. She did a few more things, with Dean standing awkwardly in the corner, and Sam following her movements with tired eyes, until she was done and left, leaving the door cracked behind her.
Then, they were alone, and Dean felt suddenly that he wanted to be anywhere but here. Nerves churned his stomach, and he shook his head at his ridiculousness. This was Sam. He took a step forward.
Sam's eyes, which had closed as the nurse left, opened lazily at his approach. They tracked his steps until they widened as Sam seemed to suddenly realize he was in the room.
"Dean? Are you really here?" Sam asked. His voice was shot. Dean nodded, and dragged the chair over to sit beside the bed. Sam flinched at the slight scrape, even though Dean had mostly picked it up. Dean decided to ignore it.
"Yeah, Sam. It's me again. How are you feeling?" Dean asked. By which he meant, 'hey, you still seeing the devil everywhere you go?'. You couldn't just say that though...
Sam seemed to get it though, his eyes flickering to the other side of the room, and then back to Dean. Dean glanced over as well, and as he expected, saw nothing.
"He's still here." Sam murmured, as if Satan could hear him. "They've got me on something, keeps me calm. It's nicer. He can't freak me out so much."
Dean smiled slightly to hear the relief in Sam's tone. "That's good." He patted Sam's arm, carefully avoiding the bandages wrapped around the mangled cut in his palm. Sam took a breath and raised his eyes to Dean's. They widened.
"He's saying it's poison, the the doctors are trying to kill me. He says I should rip it out." Sam's fingers, still under his moved towards the IV. Dean pressed down, grabbing the hand within his own two.
"You're not gonna do that though, are ya, Sammy?" Dean said, wrapping his fingers around his brothers. "The doctors aren't trying to kill you, they're making it better. You're going to leave that in and get better, right?"
Sam breathed in deep, and relaxed his hand, nodding. Dean felt his throat tighten. Oh, Sammy...
"Hey, why don't you lay down, bud? I'll help you sleep." Dean said.
Sam shifted downwards, but he started to protest once he was horizontal.
"I can't sleep, Dean. He stops me. He won't let me."
Dean moved from the chair to sit on the bed, leaning his elbow on the headboard.
"Sh, sh..." Dean ran his hand over Sam's hair, in need of a wash by this point. "It's okay. I'll keep him away. Just close your eyes."
Sam did, and took a deep breath. Dean started to brush his fingers through Sam's hair. After another moment, he began to hum, moving through everything from Metallica to The Beatles to that emo crap that Sam played that never seemed to get out of his head. Sam relaxed more and more under his touch, and Dean felt both of their breathing even out.
Then, just as Sam seemed to be finally falling asleep, he jerked harshly, sucking in a gasp. His breathing sped up after that, his eyes wide open and he flailed away from Dean in a panic. Dean lurched forwards, trying to hold onto Sam, to at least keep him from falling off the bed, but it just seemed to make it worse. Sam made a wordless noise of terror, and then blinked. Finally, he seemed to see Dean again, and not the hallucinations.
"D-Dean...Dean..." Sam stuttered and gulped, gasping his name over and over. Dean pulled him into a tight hug, as Sam broke down, his body shuddering and his breath wet. Dean's shoulder grew damp, and he'd admit without shame that his face did too. He muttered nonsense words and Sam's name, because he didn't know what else he could possibly say.
"Sammy," Dean whispered. He was realizing that he was losing Sam. He had been for ages-ever since Cold Oak, to be honest. Sam had never really come back to him. It was always only for a limited time, short lived and full of misery. If it wasn't Dean himself dying, it was Sam sneaking around with Ruby, or saying yes to Lucifer, or not having a soul, or going crazy. Sam was gone and back and gone again so many damn times, but Dean would never get used to losing him. The pain of it, especially after the good times had reminded him of all he'd once had, only made the grief the next time around so much worse.
Dean sniffed, and felt his breath hitch against Sam's neck. He couldn't do this again, couldn't mourn his brother another freaking time-he just gotten him back. He couldn't do it again, he just couldn't.
And Sam wasn't his only problem. Cas was three doors away. Dean blinked away fresh tears. It was the same with Cas. Losing him, and finding him and losing him all over again. Now he was back, but not all of him, not really. Cas wasn't there, and Dean didn't know what to do.
Please...I need some help.
Dean didn't know who he was praying to. Maybe Cas, maybe God, maybe no one at all. He didn't even know anymore.
Sam had quieted in his arms, only sniffling occasionally, and if it wasn't for his brothers gigantor body he'd think he held his five year old Sammy again, trying not to wipe his face on his sleeve because Deanie said so.
"Ah man, Sammy..." Dean murmured. "Everything's so messed up."
"Yeah," Sam replied, sounded choked. He trembled a bit in his arms, and Dean tightened his hold.
"I found Cas, Sam." Dean said after a moment, whispered, like it was a secret. Sam turned his head to look at him. "He's three rooms down from yours."
"He's alive?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Ass full of crazy...can't remember a thing. But alive and kicking."
Sam shifted, brows furrowed. He tensed for a moment, glancing to the side of the room, but then brought his shadowed eyes back to Dean's.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." Dean answered, and then sudden anger flared up. "I mean, he's the one who did this to you!"
Sam had the nerve to shrug. "We knew the wall would come down at some point. At least I got to have a little time."
"Not enough," Dean insisted. "It could have lasted your whole life, but Cas ruined everything. Then he had to go and die, and left us with all the Purgatory crap he let loose. And now he's back, but he's useless, and you're down for the count, and I have to deal with all this, Sammy...you can't leave me alone to deal with all this." Dean's voice broke, and he couldn't go on. Tears filled his eyes, and he shuddered in the grip of the emotions.
Then, Sam raised his hand up to brush the side of his face, trying to comfort even in his misery. Here he was, crying like a little girl, while his dying brother tried to make him feel better!
"Dean," Sam's raw voice whispered.
Dean sniffled, sucked in a clean breath and wiped his face with his hand, squeezing Sam's still uplifted hand as it fell back to the bed.
"I'm sorry," Sam finished, and Dean almost laughed or maybe that was a sob?
"Don't be. Just hold on, okay?" Dean said, and then a new determination filled him. "I'm going to make this better. I'll find someone who can help, something. Hell, I'll slap some sense into Cas. But I am not leaving you here to die."
He lay Sam back down, easing himself from the bed. Sam looked exhausted, shattered really, but there was love and hope and faith in his eyes, and that was enough.
"You just stay here, okay Sammy?"
Sam wiggled his hand around the room. "Not going anywhere." Dean nodded, and managed a grin.
"You keep that sense of humor, Sam." Dean said, and brushed the hair off Sam's forehead again. It really was way too long. "I'll be back later."
Dean left door ajar behind him, and stepped out into the hallway. People were starting to mill around, but so far there was only the inmates. He didn't see a white jacketed nurse or doctor anywhere. Good. Thus unsupervised, Dean walked down the hallway three doors, and stopped in front of Cas'. It was shut, as were many of the doors in the hall. Guess when you were crazy, you didn't have much of a reason to get up early.
He lifted a fist to knock, and then paused. He wondered if Cas would be asleep, if he even slept, angel that he was. Would he just be staring at the wall, or maybe he'd be doing one of the puzzles they handed out here?
Well, only one way to find out. Dean brought his fist down, and knocked.
At first there was no change from inside the door, then there was a slight shifting noise, and a foot step directly on the other side.
"Who's there?" Cas' voice called, sounding just the same, if a little tired. Dean stepped a little closer.
"It's Dean, from yesterday."
Slowly, the door cracked open revealing a braceleted hand and a sliver of Cas' face, enough for his blue eyes to peep through.
"Hey, man. How're you doing?" Dean said cheerfully. Cas' only response was to frown deeper. Well, nothing had changed there.
"What do you want?"
Dean felt his smile slip, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.
"Just wanted to keep you company for a while, see how you were doing?" Dean said, wishing he had a better cover story. Cas eyed him for a long moment, suspicion in his gaze.
"I suppose." Cas finally said, and turned from the door, leaving it open. Dean guessed that meant he could follow. He entered the room, and saw the other chair where he'd left it the night before. He brought it around so it was facing the first chair, where Cas was sitting down. It was directly in the light of the window. The sun had finally came out, and it seemed that Cas was basking in the rays. It hit the white of his pjs and made him almost blinding to look at, angelic even. The sight made an uncomfortable lump rise in Dean's throat.
"So..." Dean started, and Cas' eyes slipped from the middle distance haze they'd been in, though they didn't come to meet his gaze. "How are you feeling? You seem a little better; you weren't looking so hot last night."
Cas blinked and finally looked at him, tilting his head.
"It wasn't too warm in this building, why should I look hot?" He asked, and Dean felt his throat thicken again. That was something he hated about crying: once you started, it was so easy to just keep restarting again and again. You thought you'd gotten yourself under control, but someone says something, and there goes the waterworks again. He would have been fine, but Cas just sounded so much like the old Cas right then. He sniffed.
"It's just an expression, dude. I meant, you looked kinda horrible."
"Thanks," Cas said, and was that a faintest hint of sarcasm? Dean felt an absurd rush of pride. He cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck, searching for a subject change.
"So, what are you up to today?"
Cas shrugged. "There are activities in the main room, and I have therapy sometime today... To tell you the truth, I don't much like going to either."
Dean sat back in his chair, feeling lighter than he did before, which confused him. How could being with Cas make him feel better? He should be furious at the guy, after all that he did, after what he'd done to Sam! He should be inches away from closing his hands around his neck, but mostly he felt tired. Hell, yeah, there was anger. He didn't think he'd ever get over what Cas' actions had done to Sam, what they still might do...but he felt the need to treat this guy in front of him with kid gloves, just to play along and see. His roiling emotions, and scratchy eyes calmed down, and he breathed in deep.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes it's nice to just sit." Dean said. Cas nodded, and his eyes went back towards the window, although they still didn't focus on the outside completely.
"What would you do, then, if you could do anything you wanted today?" Dean asked, and Cas flicked his eyes towards the window, for real.
"I'd go outside. They have lovely gardens here, and I like the insects. I remember things about the insects." Cas' voice was wistful, and Dean blinked at the notion that bugs were something that stuck with Cas through the memory wipe: out of all the knowledge he had.
"What do you remember?" Dean asked.
"About insects?" Cas asked, and Dean chuckled a bit.
"Sure, about bugs."
What followed made Dean wish he'd been less open ended. As if he had been waiting for someone to ask about the one thing he still remembered, he launched into a entomology lecture that would put all the biology teachers he'd had to shame. Dean listened, letting the words wash over him, and rather enjoying (if not the topic) the way that Cas looked at him, and how his eyes brightened, and the load on his shoulders seemed to vanish for a moment.
When he wound down with a warm recitation of facts about bees, Dean thought he'd better interrupt.
"You sure do know your bugs, man." Cas nodded, something like happiness in his face. It was strange, making Dean feel both upset and glad.
He was broken from his thoughts by the door opening.
"Well, Jimmy, it's time for breakfast-oh!" It was Daphne. She bustled in and then covered her mouth at seeing Dean. "What are you doing in here?"
Castiel, stoic angel of the Lord, honest to goodness grinned at Daphne. "I was telling Dean about the insects that live in the garden."
Dean smiled and waved nervously. He remembered now how he wasn't supposed to be in here at all. He didn't think visiting hours had even started yet, they really only let him in to see Sam because he was new and distraught.
Daphne was blinking, and then recovered herself. She smiled at Cas. "Well, that was nice of him to sit with you, and listen."
"Yeah, good to see you...Jimmy. I'd better be going." Dean stood, and edged around Daphne. "Sorry."
Daphne turned to Dean. "Wait outside, I want to talk to you."
Dean smiled his best grin at her. "Of course." He turned to the door. "See you later, man." He said to Cas. Cas nodded politely, his face back to neutral...it was better than panicking, Dean guessed.
He had only leaned on the door for a moment before Daphne came storming out, and pinned him under her gaze.
"What did you think you were doing in there?" She asked, frowning. Her hair was pretty curly today, and with it and her glare she looked rather fearsome. Dean made himself as disarming as possible.
"I'm sorry, Daphne. I know you said to wait for the doctor's say so, but I just wanted to see him, make sure he was doing alright after last night."
Daphne's frown deepened, but now Dean saw that concern for Cas that he'd been counting on.
"The disturbance last night was because of you. What if he'd had another episode this morning? No one even knew you were, that's against policy!"
"The people at the front let me in to see Sam. I just stopped in with Jimmy for a minute."
"What were you talking about?" Daphne asked, and Dean shrugged.
"Bees, bugs, whatever the hell he wanted to tell me about. I didn't say much."
Daphne's shoulders wilted a little, and Dean knew he wasn't going to get into trouble.
"Well, as luck would have it, I spoke with the doctors last night. They want to speak with you, of course, but they did say you could visit him."
"Sweet," Dean said, clapping his hands together. "We done here?"
He went to go, somewhere, perhaps back to Sam's room, but Daphne put out a hand.
"Wait, Dean...I'm glad you found your friend, I am. And I'm glad Jimmy has someone, but you have to understand...his situation is very precarious. If he never remembers, he could stay here for the rest of his life, but if it does come back, and it's bad...he'll go to jail or worse. If you know anything, he could still go to jail just based on your testimony."
Dean looked at her. "I'm confused. If he was a mass murdering lunatic, wouldn't you want him out of your hospital?"
Daphne looked down. "I don't believe he did what they say. He's a good person, like you said last night. I just can't believe he would do any of that."
"I couldn't either, sister..." Dean muttered.
"What was that?"
"Uh, I mean, me either. Look," Dean gestured back towards the door. "Jimmy has been my friend for a long time. I thought he was dead, but it turns out he was here the whole time. Yeah, shit went down, but if there's any way I can save him, I will."
Daphne stared at him. "I believe you. Just, be careful."