Chapter 9

Two Days Later…

Castiel blinked heavily, looking around. He was lying on a rather comfortable bed, a rhythmic beeping pulsating from a machine to his right. Sunlight was streaming through the window. Looking down he saw he was in a hospital gown; his clothes were folded neatly on the chair by his bedside.

Groaning quietly, he sat up. His whole body was sore. His grace was still damaged, but it seemed to have recovered a little. Flying would be out of the question for a while.

Footsteps approached out in the hallway, and Sam appeared at the door.

"Cas," Sam said, entering the room with a small smile. "Good to see you up."

Cas surveyed the younger Winchester. Despite the casual tone of his voice, Cas could see his eyes were red and heavy, as if he hadn't slept well, if at all. The few lines on his face appeared deeper than ever.

"How long was I out?" Cas asked.

"Two days," Sam replied. "You OK?"

"I… appear to be all right. How's Dean?"

Sam's hesitation to answer sent a chill up Castiel's spine.

"Is… is he…"

"He's alive," Sam said quietly. "He's awake, actually. The doctors weren't sure even that would happen."

Castiel frowned up at Sam. What sounded like it should be good news appeared to add even more weight to Sam's shoulders. There had to be something he wasn't telling him…

"I was just heading there now," Sam continued. "You wanna get dressed and come with?"

Castiel nodded, throwing off the bed sheets. He had changed back into his normal clothes within minutes, and followed Sam down the hospital wing corridor.

After turning a corner, Sam came to a halt outside a room. The door was open, but Cas didn't hear any noise coming from within. Sam turned to face Castiel, a world of pain and guilt glimmering in his damp eyes.

"Cas…," Sam began, then paused to clear his throat. "Dean, he's… I should probably warn you… He's not the same."

Cas looked at him, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "What do you mean?"

Sam just shook his head, then turned and walked into the room.

It was the same sort of plain recovery room Castiel had woken up in. Sunshine glowed warm and bright, filling the whole room. But the bed was empty. In a pool of morning light, a familiar figure sat in a wheelchair, his back to the door.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly. "Cas is here."

The figure didn't move or make a sound. He simply continued gazing out the window.

Castiel glanced at Sam and then approached his friend. When he reached Dean's side, he stopped.

Dean's eyes stared, unblinking, out the window. He was slumped in the wheelchair, not a single muscle so much as twitching. He didn't turn to look at Cas, didn't utter a single sound. He just continued looking out the window, seemingly oblivious to anyone else's presence.

Castiel's heart clenched. "Oh, no…," he whispered.

He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean?" he asked.

Still no response.

Castiel backed away, a storm of emotion swirling inside his chest. He'd seen this before… Archangels had a way of using up their vessels, of breaking them because they were careless, self-righteous beings who never cared to notice how simple humans were affected by their possession. Hadn't Castiel himself warned Dean so many years ago that this would happen to him should he accept Michael? But Dean had been too stubborn to say yes then. Cas had been secretly relieved that this would never happen to the man he had begun to consider a friend…

And yet, despite all that, here they were.

Sam came to stand next to Castiel. Cas could see the younger Winchester had tried to put on a brave face for him before, but it was clear now how utterly heartbroken he was.

"Doctor says he's catatonic," Sam said heavily, his voice cracking. "Says it's permanent. From the bleeding in his brain."

"We'll fix this," Cas said flatly, fighting down the doubt leeching into his heart. "I'll fix this."

Before Sam could remind him how weak he still was, Cas stepped forward and gently placed one hand on Dean's head and closed his eyes. He searched inside himself for the source of his power. His grace flickered and waned, but perhaps he could use just enough to at least begin the healing process…

He called upon a small seed of his power, and directed it toward Dean. But Cas stopped. Something was wrong. Or really, something wasn't wrong…

Castiel opened his eyes and dropped his hand. He looked at Sam, confused. Sam gave him a questioning look.

"The bleeding wasn't the problem, it was a side effect," Cas tried to explain. "There's no physical reason for this. Perhaps Michael somehow damaged Dean's mind when he took control."

"Or when Dean kicked him out ahead of schedule," Sam remarked.

Castiel nodded, then placed his hand on Dean's head once more. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Cas' jaw dropped in horror.

He was no longer standing inside the hospital room. He was standing inside Dean's mind, only it no longer resembled anything remotely close to healthy.

Smoke permeated the air, so thick Castiel could barely see two feet in front of him. The sharp smell of ash and flames attacked his senses, and the ground felt soft, like overturned mud. When he looked down, he had to fight the urge to gag; the ground beneath him squelched with an inches-thick layer of soot that been trampled together with what could only be an unspeakable amount of blood.

Castiel gasped as his eyes flew open and he staggered backward from Dean, until his back hit the wall of the hospital room.

His heart pounded in his chest, a painful rage crashing through him. The lights flickered, and the whole room began to shake.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam cried, grabbing Cas by the shoulders. "Cas, what's wrong? What happened?"

Castiel fought to control himself, taking a breath until the lights were once again steady and the walls had ceased their rumbling. "It would have been kinder to kill him," he growled under his breath, pure hatred boiling his veins for the monster that had done this.

"What?" Sam asked, stricken. He'd never seen Castiel so angry. "What did you see?"

"It's his mind," Castiel said. "Michael didn't just damage it. There's nothing left. He obliterated it."