White.

Everything is white when Cas wakes, his eyes seeing nothing but shimmery brightness as he tries to figure out where he even is. All he can make out are blurry images here and there, nothing concrete enough to give him any clue to where he is or what happened.

But even though he can't see, oh can he feel. The pain rushes through his body the moment he comes back into consciousness. It makes him wish that sweet stupor to return to him, to engulf him once again in that brilliant state of nothingness. Cas feels like he's been run over by a train a thousand times, and the absolute searing agony almost makes him pass out again. He probably would have if his vision didn't suddenly return to him, his eyes taking in the sterile white hospital room he's situated in.

And like a thousand memories rushing into his head at once, Cas remembers everything. The fight, the gunshots, Dean's hand in his own. The pain, the cloudy unconsciousness, his final instructions to the Winchesters, thinking he was done for. And of course, the last thing he saw before he woke up here. That precious minute where he came out of unconsciousness to see a broken Dean holding his wrist, sobbing out his love for him. He remembers his mind screaming at him to say something, to acknowledge that he is alive, but the inky blackness overtook him before his mouth could find the words. And then a horrifying thought breaks into his consciousness, the machines attached to his pulse whirling with the realization. What if the Winchesters didn't make it? It would have been his advice that threw them all over the edge, his words that would be responsible for their deaths. His breath quickens and he feels woozy again, the black seeping into his vision as a nurse comes barreling in to the room, checking Cas' vital signs in a rush.

"Oh my goodness, you're awake!" the nurse says brightly. Cas's eyes whirl until they find the figure in white standing before him, an older, petite Asian woman with a warm smile directed at him. "We thought you would never wake up."

"Wha…what day is it?" Cas mumbles, finding it hard to speak the words. It only then occurs to him that he's hooked up to all different kinds of machines and a breathing tube is preventing him from speaking.

"Its June 9th, my dear," she says quietly. "You've been in a medicated coma for about a week now at St. Peter's Advocate Hospital in Rockford. You were admitted last Tuesday."

A week?

"You're wounds needed time to heal," the nurse chimes in again. "You have a broken wrist and several gunshot wounds to the right shoulder, plus you broke quite a few ribs too. It will be awhile before you're fully functional again, but a nice man has been by quite often to see you the past few days."

A nice man? Cas's heart soars with pride. Could it be possible that the Winchesters survived?

"Can I see him?" Cas says, but it comes out in a garbled mess.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the nurse calls out, coming to remove the breathing tube from his throat.

After a round of heavy coughs, Cas restates his question again. "Can I see this man?"

"Of course. He's probably in the lobby now. I'll go get him," she says, throwing him one last grin before she retreats out the room and Cas is once again alone.

A week. He's been out a week. Do you know what can happen in a week's time? Wars have broken out in a weeks time. New laws could have been made. People in Vegas get married and divorced in a weeks time, and Cas missed all of it? His mind just can't fathom the fact that he's been out for an entire seven days with no realization.
But all that fades into the background when the door softly clicks open and a figure steps through. Cas's heart soars when he sees a pair of boots come through the door frame, but it automatically crashes and burns when he sees who they belong to.

Michael.

His smug brother appears in front of Cas's bedside, his arms folded over his chest while those trademark Novak blue eyes flash at him. Cas would know those eyes anywhere because he last saw them aiming a gun at him from the pursuit car that fateful night. It makes his blood boil with absolute hatred. How dare his brother land him in the hospital and then have the nerve to visit.

"Get out," Cas says coldly, harshly. "Get out and leave me alone. You tried to kill me and I don't want to see your face ever again."

Michael comes around to Cas's side and looks at him sadly. "Oh brother, how little you know. If you were aware of my motives I think you would feel different."

"What motives? Your only motive is to do whatever Father asks of you. Daddy's blunt little instrument you are."

"Yes, it was father's orders that led me to that pursuit, but I wasn't aiming at you, Castiel. It was the Winchesters he wanted, not you. If anything he only begged that I bring you home to the family so you two could work things out. He just didn't want to see you make a bad choice, that's all."

Cas snorts. "So in order to get me back he sends his only loyal son out to shoot down my friends and drag me back. Yeah, my mind is totally changed now."

Michael sighs, his eyes clouding over with pain. "Castiel, I only did what I had to. I follow Father's orders and that is all. He asked for two dead Winchesters and you back home, so I did as he asked."

"Like a mindless solider? Did you ever stop once and think that this is wrong? Oh wait, I totally forgot. You don't have one original thought in your body."

Cas watches as his brother grows angry, his fists clenching together. "You see, Castiel, this is why I'm the one Father always trusts. You and Gabriel let emotions get in your way, but I don't. I can separate work from feelings, and that makes me the most vital to Father's plans. I can kill without a second thought while you and Gabe would ponder over the rights and wrongs. It makes me efficient-"

"It makes you a monster," Cas cuts in angrily. "A psychopathic killer. You are a robot, not a person. And I'm not going home with you after this is all over. I'm leaving with the Winchesters and I don't care if you chase us to the ends of the earth. I'm not going back to that hellhole we call a home."

Silence rings through the air with Cas's words. This is obviously not what Michael expected, and to be honest, Cas didn't expect this either. He always thought if he had to deal with Michael again all of his bite would fade like old times, his scathing words kept in his mind instead of in his mouth. But there is a fire inside him, an inferno that is burning bright like a beacon and it won't be held back.

After forever, Michael opens his mouth and speaks. "There is no home to go back to, Castiel. That last act was the final order from Father. He thought he was going to pull through but he died here last Wednesday. Gabriel is no longer with us either. He passed before paramedics could reach him." He hesitates. "And…I don't want to be alone. Come back and be my brother, Castiel. We could be the next generation of Novak hitmen, you and I. A new frontier."

Cas can't believe what he's hearing. "You want me to forgive you for trying to kill me and my friends and come back home? The place where I was trying to escape from? No way in hell, Michael."

His brother looks on with him with weary eyes. "Then where will you go, brother?

"Wherever the Winchesters go. They're my family now."

Michael looks down at his brother with a knowing gaze, one that sets Cas on edge. He knows something Cas doesn't.

"Oh Castiel…you must not know. If you leave with the Winchesters it will be with only one. The younger one- Sam is it?- is recovering nicely in immediate care as we speak. But Dean…" Michael trails off.

Cas's heart starts to pound against his chest. He can't mentally prepare himself fast enough before the words slap across his face.

"…Dean Winchester is dead."

No. No way in hell his Dean is dead. Nope. Michael is a dirty liar who is trying to manipulate him. No it can't be true, because a world without Dean Winchester in it is a travesty, an abomination, and Castiel Novak will not have it.

"You're a dirty liar," Cas says harshly. "Get out of my sight."

"I know the news is hard to take, Castiel, but it is true." Cas huffs out a breath. "No, I don't believe you for a second." Michael sighs heavily. "I can get his death certificate if you want. I can find a doctor to break the news to you himself. I can even wheel Sam Winchester down here if you deeply desire it, but I don't think you want to see a man that broken right now."

Everything in Cas's mind goes into a frenzy, his heart monitor running off the charts. All he can think of is the word no. No, no no. No, no, no no no no. A chorus of "no's" running together until the word is visualized in his imagination, blocking his vision. He can feel himself crashing, falling apart, but he holds on to that small bit of hope, that tiny piece of him that thinks Michael is a liar.

"What is going on here?" the nurse says as she rushes in, the same Asian lady from before. When she sees Cas in his state, she just shakes her head. "He told you about your friend, I see. I'm so sorry for your loss."

And with that, Cas's last bit of hope crumbles. Everything is in a flurry as the nurse tries to calm him down, but Cas is completely unhinged, his breathing heavy and his sobs loud and angry. He tries to scream, but he doesn't get the chance before the nurse hits a button and he slides once again into that inky blackness, welcoming the unconsciousness with open arms.

He doesn't see when a familiar face with freckles and eyes like emeralds walks into the room to look over his body. He doesn't feel the man lean down to leave one soft featherlight kiss on his forehead, and doesn't hear him walk out with silent tears running down his face.

One Year Later

It took Cas two weeks to be released from the hospital, mostly from the psychological break that happened after the news of Dean's death. The doctors were concerned when Cas wouldn't respond to them those first few days after, only blinking and staring at the wall ahead of him. The doctors threw around words like psychiatric ward and mental hospital, but after Cas got the jist of what they had planned for him he snapped out of it, trying to prove to the doctors that he was completely stable. It took a lot of acting, but eventually the doctors released him with orders for bed rest and lots of fluids, saying he could go if he lived with someone who could keep an eye on him.

And that's how he ends up here in a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon, sipping Chai tea while editing a new manuscript for his boss. It doesn't reach his mind that a year has already passed since Dean's death, the anniversary occurring in a few days time. And yet even though it was a tragedy and Cas would never forget the first man he ever loved, still loved, he finally felt like he had moved on. It makes him smile, because there were days when he didn't think that possible, and he looks up from his work to reminisce for a bit.

The doctors came to him one afternoon with a verdict. He could either go to a mental hospital for rehabilitation or find someone to live with and look after his well being. He knew his options were limited after the fallout with Michael and his cousins, but there was still one person he knew he could trust. His lifelong friend Meg Masters was more than happy to pick up the broken pieces of Castiel and pull him back together, and it only took one call to get her on a redeye plane to Chicago. When her face came through that door with his release papers in tow, it was the first time Cas had smiled in weeks.

But of course, that little bout of happiness that came with Meg's presence couldn't last. Once she got him back to Portland he easily sank back into his sadness, only coming out of his room those first few weeks to do the bare minimum essentials such as eating and showering. He knew he should get out there, explore the new city that is his home, but it was like an anchor was tied to his chest, pulling him down to the bottom of his sorrow until he didn't know if he could even stand up straight anymore. Everything he did reminded him of Dean, from the Vonnegut books on his floor to the ACDC songs that came up on his iPod. Even when he tried to put any thought of the Winchester out of his mind, it came back in seconds. The man haunted him like a ghost, whispering memories and old conversations into Cas's ear.

He was broken, lost. Dean had become such a part of himself it was like a piece of him died too, crumbling away into the earth. It felt like he was being pulled underground, and everyday he had to claw to the surface. He was suffocating under the grief and he had no clue how to cope with it. That is, until his phone rang one day and Sam Winchester was on the other end of the line.

At first Cas didn't answer when the phone chimed, letting it go to voicemail over and over again. It wasn't until the fifth straight sequence of rings that Cas finally answered the call reluctantly.

"What do you want, Sam?" Cas said, more harshly than he intended.

"Hello to you too, Cas," Sam replied back, his voice biting and heavy. "Way to answer your phone after a thousand tries."

"Sorry if I'm not in the mood to talk; if you haven't noticed we both lost someone close to us only a week ago. Not really in the mood for conversation."

"Cas…" Sam began, but Cas didn't want to hear the sympathy speech.

"Give it a rest, Sam. Don't tell me everything is going to be okay, because its not. Dean's dead and there is nothing I can do about it. It was my fault-"

"Hey!" Sam interrupted, "Don't talk like that. It wasn't your fault and you know it. I was just calling to see if you would be willing to talk to me face to face. I got word that you moved to Portland after the accident so I came to visit you. Just thought we both could use a friend right now."

Cas thought it over. Was he ready to see the brother of his dead lover? Sam loved Dean too, and possibly it would be good to get all of this off sinking darkness off his chest with someone who understood.

"Fine," Cas agreed wearily. "I'll meet up with you. Where are you at?"

"Outside your friend's apartment."

"How did you…"

"I can't explain right now," Sam said, and Cas senses a bit of falseness in his tone. "Just come downstairs and we'll go somewhere to chat."

And so Cas did just that. He hung up and tried to look halfway decent, pulling on a pair of khakis and a worn out Bears t-shirt with his good side. His entire right body was bandaged up from the gunshot wounds and his wrist was in a cast, which only made him look even more broken. He looked in the mirror but didn't try to fix the disarray that was his hair. With a tight breath, Cas pulled on his shoes and descended the steep staircase of Meg's apartment building, and found Sam Winchester leaning against the reception desk.

He thought he tried pretty hard to look normal, but one glance from Sam says otherwise.

"Dude…you're a wreck. And is that a Cheeto stain on your shirt?"

Cas looked down. Well there goes to put together routine. "I feel like a wreck, Sam," he replied. "I can't hide that no matter how hard I try. Don't you feel the same?" He noticed that for just losing his brother, the Winchester looked pretty well put together.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Sam whispered in a sad tone, but his eyes lacked that harbored sadness Cas thought he would see. What was up with him?

"So…where shall we go?" Cas asked in a formal tone. Even though he'd conversed with the Winchester many times before, they still didn't have the easy friendship like him and Dean had.

"I saw a nice looking bookstore right down the road with some couches inside. Wanna head over?"

Cas managed to pull up a smile even though it didn't reach his eyes. "Sure."

And so they went and spent the entire afternoon talking about everything and anything. What Sam's plans were now that he was away from the hitman life, if Cas was ever going to pursue a job, where Sam should go now that he isn't tied to Chicago anymore. The only blatant omission from their talks was Dean, the two playing chicken with the name, neither of them bringing it up. It took them an hour and a half for Sam to finally come forward and just blurt it out, getting the wound out into the open.

"Cas, how are you really doing without Dean?"

He hesitated, not knowing how much he should let on. "I'm okay."

But of course Sam didn't buy it. "No, you're not."

That's all it took for Cas to break down the walls, whispering harshly into the quiet air. "You know what? Fine. I'm not anywhere near okay. I feel like a part of me has been ripped out of my chest and I can never get it back. I'm in pain and it isn't from the wounds I'm still suffering from. He's gone, Sam, and I don't know what to do without him. I'm alone and lost and I don't have the slightest clue of where to go from here. The only thing I know is that I have to stay alive. Nothing else matters now. But yet-," Cas waited, eyeing the Winchester with a tight stare- "you seem to be coping just fine. What's up with that?"

He automatically wished he could take it back when Sam shot him a dark glance.

"Do you think I'm not grieving? I lost a brother, Cas! Do you think I'm not broken by that? Dean was the best man I knew, still is. Its been a week and I still look back and expect to see his face behind me. They wanted to crush the Impala but I made them release it back to me because I couldn't bear the thought of that damn car being destroyed. I've got my Uncle Bobby working day and night to fix that car because its the closest thing I have to Dean, even though half the time it smelled like old fast food and I begged Dean to get rid of it. I see him in everything I do even though I'm thousands of miles away from where he died, so don't tell me I'm not grieving."

Cas didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me."

Sam breathed heavily, his mouth set in a hard line. "Maybe this was too soon to meet up. I think I have to go now, get some space from all of this. But I think I'm staying in the area, so would you mind getting together with me soon when I'm more prepared to talk about this?"

Cas only nodded. "Of course. I think we both need more time apart. You really do remind me of Dean a lot, Sam. It's a bit overpowering right now."

"And you remind me of the better man he became when he met you. Its a bit too fresh. I'll give you a call okay?" Sam said with a sad smile on his face.

Cas agreed quickly. "Of course. See you around, Sam."

The Winchester only gave him one quick salute before walking out the doors. Cas hasn't seen the Winchester since.

Weeks passed after his meeting with Sam, and Cas wasn't getting any better. The days were getting longer, summer was finally here, but he didn't feel any joy. Instead he spent the days in his room with the blinds closed, ignoring every call from the Winchester. Eventually they stopped all together.

It wasn't until Meg dragged him out of the house one day that he saw how badly his appearance had become. The rings around his eyes were shadowed like a raccoon's, and he hadn't shaved in weeks. His hair was in disarray and he probably smelled like beer and Fritos, the only food he had been consuming.

"Do you see what you're doing to yourself?" Meg yelled at him when they stepped into the fresh summer air. "You're killing yourself over someone who has been dead for months! Now you can be sad about it and grieve, but don't for one second think your pity party is beautiful like those sappy novels you read. If you don't live, then what did Dean die for, huh?"

Of course he didn't want to hear it, but he couldn't deny that Meg was right. Dean would have wanted Cas to live his life, and he imagined the look on Dean's face if he saw Cas in this state. It is that look alone that fueled Cas into action, going out with Meg to buy him new clothes and belongings. Meg encouraged Cas to get as much of Dean's influence out of his life as possible, saying that if he didn't start fresh he could only dwell on the past and not the future. Cas used the little money he had to buy a stack of new t-shirts and jeans, and Meg chipped in to buy him a nice suit for work interviews.

A few weeks later, Cas landed a job at an editing company in the city. A few months later and Cas was promoted from proofreader to junior editor, even meeting with clients to discuss new books the company was interested in. And without even really trying, Cas suddenly realized he was honestly happy with his life, and even though the absence of Dean stung like a part of him was missing at times, he had learned to get along without the Winchester by his side. Of course he would always miss him, that was a given, but for the first time Cas felt like he could live his life without the constant reminder of Dean's absence haunting him, the guilt that Cas is responsible for Dean's demise slowly fading until it is only a shadow in the past.

Cas thinks about all of this while he peruses over the new book he's pitching tomorrow to his boss, a fantasy novel about two brothers who hunt monsters for a living. The story is written by a newbie to the author world, a strange guy named Carver Edlund whom Cas has met a few times. The whole concept it a bit cheesy to him but he reads on anyway, getting lost in how the author phrases words like a symphony, the writing so fluid he can't help but be pulled in.

When he gets to a chapter break Cas looks up to take a drink from his coffee, but the mug freezes halfway to his lips when his eyes lock with a man standing outside the glass windows, a man Cas knows too well and never thought he would see again. Emerald eyes framed by dark lashes stare back at him, the face covered in familiar freckles.

He doesn't even feel the mug leave his hands until he hears it crack against the wooden table. Doesn't even notice the barista rush over to clean up his mess. Doesn't notice anything but the hallucination in front of him, because it has to be a hallucination. But even when he tries to blink a thousand times in a row, the man before him doesn't disappear before his eyes. The figure walks forward and into the door, and before Cas knows it the man is standing right before him.

This can't be real; it has to be a dream, so Cas voices the only question that pops into his thoughts.

"…Dean?"

PLEASE DON'T SEND A LYNCH MOB AFTER ME FOR PSYCHING YOU OUT LIKE THAT! I'm sorry for the emotional turmoil I may have caused, but sometimes the story writes itself. That is what happened here, and I'm glad this happened in the end. But don't worry about waiting long for the grand finale! I will be posting the final chapter this weekend if homework doesn't get in the way, and all questions will be answered. Also, thank you for sticking with this story for the past few months. I love seeing all the comments, and I'm really excited about finishing my first full-length fic. You guys are the best, okay?

-Rae