Chapter 3

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Still drowsy, but more rested than he had felt for quite some time, Dean woke up from Cas' alarm clock going off an hour later. He had always been a light sleeper, so no surprise there. And he knew it would be senseless if he tried to fall asleep again, now that Cas would be up and getting ready for work.

Dean sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes.

Soft footsteps across the hall told him that Castiel had just made his way to the bathroom. He waited for the click of the door before getting up and entering the kitchen. A short look into the fridge told him... not much. Eggs were there, and some leftover bacon, and that was about it. Dean began to search for a frying pan and stumbled across a coffee caddy and filters.

He decided to set up some coffee first, and filled the water tank and then the filter with coffee powder before pushing the power button of the machine. Right then, Cas stepped into the room. Well, more like leaned against the door frame, just like he had when he entered during the night.

"Morning," he said, his voice deep as usual, but slightly roughened from sleep.

"Mornin'," Dean answered, quirking a short smile at him before turning to the kitchen table and carrying their tea mugs to the sink, where he washed them clean.

"You making breakfast?" Cas asked, quite happy to see Dean like that.

"Sure, the least I can do," Dean said quietly. "I was thinking scrambled eggs and bacon."

"I usually have toast, because I don't trust myself with the stove in the morning, but I surely won't say no to that," Cas rubbed his eyes before running his hand through his already tousled hair. "Thanks, Dean. I'll go shower."

Dean smiled a bit lopsided to himself. So Cas was not much of a morning person. Huh.

The frying pan was found quickly, and by the time Castiel returned from the bathroom, freshly showered and his hair carefully arranged – funny enough, Dean noted, just the way Jimmy had preferred it, the way Cas had always maintained his vessel. Anyway, by the time Cas returned, Dean had their breakfast ready, and they both sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

There wasn't much to talk about, the heavy weight still laying on Dean's mind, but at least eased a bit by their conversation at night.

Cas took a good mouthful of his coffee before he looked up and said, "I'll return from work around half past twelve. Then we can visit Sam. Is that okay with you?"

Dean nodded, chewing his scrambled eggs and bacon, but didn't say anything in response.

"Make yourself at home in the meantime, and feel free to use the TV or anything you want."

"I will. Thanks," Dean answered quietly, already knowing what he'll do once Cas would be out.

After breakfast, they did the dishes in mutual agreement, and then Cas grabbed his keys and jacket. "Here's the spare key," he said, handing a spare key to Dean, who accepted it gratefully.

"Take care," Dean wished him goodbye to work. "I'll see you for lunch."

"See you," Cas said simply and headed down the stairs.

Dean took a deep breath. He knew that Cas wasn't that naïve any more, and it was a great step to trust him with the key. Well, it wasn't like he wanted to take advantage of him. So Dean went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed before reading the local newspaper he found in Cas' mail. As far as he could tell, there was nothing suspicious going on around here. And particularly nothing maybe-Leviathan-related.

By then, it was already 8 a. m., and Dean headed out for some grocery shopping. It felt utterly strange to do something that... mundane. It felt so normal, like the kind of thing he did when he was still living with Lisa and Ben. But, yeah, 'normal' had its perks.

As Castiel's fridge had been mostly empty, Dean got pretty much all the basic stuff, bread, cheese, some sausages, bacon and eggs, as he had used them up for their breakfast, cereal and milk and some sweets. And, for good measure, a bottle of Borax-containing detergent. If Cas let him stay with him, he could at least pay him back like that.

When he opened the trunk of his baby to fit the groceries in there, he found something he thought he had long since forgotten, and an idea hit him.

The rest of the morning and noon, Dean spent with watching sports on TV and prepared some sandwiches for when Cas would come home from work.

God, life as a house wife had to be boring. Dean even began to clean up Cas' living room, until finally, at exactly half past twelve, the front door was opened with a click, immediately followed by a familiar voice. "Dean?"

"Living room," Dean answered.

"Hey," Cas said, poking his head through the door.

"Hey," Dean smiled, "I made some lunch for us, would you get it from the fridge?"

"Sure," Cas nodded, disappearing to get rid of his jacket. When he returned, he held the plate with the two sandwiches on it in his hands. "Thanks for doing the grocery shopping, Dean."

"Hey, if I'm staying here with you, I can at least contribute to the living expenses."

They ate in silence while a re-run of some football game flickered over the TV. Dean didn't even watch closely, because he admittedly felt a bit nervous. He had something planned, and he didn't know how it would turn out.

When they had finished up, Dean took a long swig of a bottle of water he had bought that morning, before he turned to Cas. "Cas, can we talk?"

"Sure," Castiel said, focusing on him while shutting off the TV with the remote.

"I meant to give you something, and explain something along to it," Dean began slowly, taking a deep breath. Then he reached beside the couch for the bundle of tan fabric laying there. Cas tilted his head to the side, wondering what Dean did. Dean stood up and unfolded the cloth, revealing Cas' tan trench coat, the one he had pulled out of the water that day.

"What is this?" Cas asked confused.

"Yours," Dean managed to choke out, but felt the tears welling up in his eyes once more. Goddamn, he was turning into a fucking girl over this. Sam would laugh at him.

"Mine?"

Dean nodded, rubbing over his eyes with the back of his hand. "C'mere and try it on. It'll fit perfectly."

Castiel got to his feet and stepped towards Dean, who held the coat so that Cas could slip it on easily. And when Cas turned around slowly, realizing how the coat fit perfectly on his shoulders, hugged his shape in that familiar way, Dean couldn't help it. Tears slipped down his cheeks, if he wanted them to or not. One thought was burning painfully in the back of his mind, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't entirely true.

He had his angel back.

Only that this Cas didn't wear a cheap tax account suit and no never-straight blue tie underneath the coat. Dean blinked through his tears to look at Castiel, who stood still in front of him, empathy shining in his eyes. "A lot of memories to that coat, huh?" he asked quietly.

"You have no idea," Dean choked out.

Without another word, Cas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders. Shaking his head slightly, Dean tried to pull himself together, but to no avail. There was so much undercurrent to all this, so much Cas couldn't know. Maybe it was time to talk about it.

Still shaking from head to toe and chin rested on Castiel's shoulder, Dean began to talk, quiet and his voice unstable. But he managed. "I pulled that trench coat out of the water of that lake they found you at. You were... not yourself. You were driven by some pretty nasty souls... Leviathans. Water demons. They made you walk into the lake, and we thought you exploded, because there was one big wave of black goo. That was the Leviathans spreading out through the water, into the water system, and... anyway, the coat is all that was left of you. I found it on the shore, and kept it all the time, all those months. Saw it in the trunk today when I went shopping and decided you should have it back."

"Dean..." Cas just said, and Dean didn't need to hear any more. He knew that Cas was speechless right now.

Dean pulled away from the hug and sniffed. Quietly, Cas reached under the couch table and handed a packet of paper tissues to him, which Dean accepted gratefully. "I cry a fucking lot around you," he snorted after blowing his nose.

Cas chuckled bitterly. "You've got your reasons. So, should we go to the hospital now?"

"Yeah, let me just get to the bathroom first," Dean nodded, heading out of the room to splash some cold water onto his face. At least his eyes wouldn't look as red and puffy then.

Castiel already waited for him at the door when Dean returned, ready to go. On some mutual understanding, they took Dean's car, and drove to the hospital, the ride barely lasting longer than a few minutes.

It was hard to go in there again, and if it wasn't for Sam, Dean wouldn't probably do it at all. They made their way up to the third floor, where Sam's room had been the night before, and the nurse that was on duty today didn't know Dean. After quickly introducing himself and Castiel, she led them to the window.

Dean swallowed hard. Sam still lay on the bed, unmoving, and the doctor who stood beside him only looked up from his clipboard when the nurse walked into the room to him. She pointed shortly towards the window, where Dean gave a short wave as matter-of-greeting. He nodded, his gaze still resting on Dean and Castiel.

She poked her head through the door then. "You may come in."

Fighting down the overwhelming feeling of panic and helplessness, Dean stepped towards the door. Cas apparently sensed what was up with him and patted him shortly on the back encouragingly. Dean shot him a short look over his shoulder in a silent thank-you.

"Doctor," Dean said, noticing how broken his voice sounded and immediately clearing his throat.

"Mr. Winchester, I've been told?" the doctor answered, eyeing Dean from head to toe.

"Yes, I'm Sam's brother. This is a friend of ours," Dean explained and pointed towards Cas. "So, how is he doing?"

He could barely wait for the answer, and the fact that the first thing he got as a response was a deep sigh didn't really calm Dean's nerves. Eventually, the doctor began, "He holds up good, considering the circumstances. Currently, he's still under strong medication so he can at least sleep and rest. All signs point towards the fact that he has suffered from extreme sleep deprivation, and that isn't even healthy for someone without mental problems. So you may say we let him sleep it off for the moment. We're watching his brain waves to be sure that he hasn't got any nightmares, but his medication should be enough to keep those off, too. We intend to wake your brother up tomorrow and start working with him."

Dean nodded, a bit absent-minded, eyes focused on Sam. He looked so peaceful. Dean couldn't remember seeing him that relaxed for way too long.

"Could you tell me about his state of mind before he broke down?" the doctor asked.

Dean pondered whether or not to tell him at least part of the truth. They needed something to work with. But if the doctors could even fix this, this whole mess that was Sam's soul, Dean didn't know, he could only hope. Hope was a rare thing these days, though.

"He had hallucinations. At first he thought he was in hell and tortured by Lucifer, and then he started seeing Lucifer, in person, in the same room as us, talking to him. He managed to cut it out by pushing at an old scar he got on his hand from cutting it on a shard of glass. I told him once he should hold on to that, that the pain would make him realize what was reality and what wasn't. That apparently didn't work any more, and, well, then there was the break down," Dean explained, feeling the doctor's and Cas' eyes resting on him. Cas didn't know much more than this, and Dean had just revealed quite a lot about Sam.

Castiel suddenly stepped away from Dean and towards the bed, silently looking down at Sam. An IV had been stuck in his arm, and multiple sensors were attached all over his body – above his heart, around his finger, on his head. A stubble had grown on his face and made him look much older than his actual 28 years. Dean watched Cas carefully when he bent down slightly to lay a hand against Sam's cheek, nuzzling it softly.

Dean didn't know how much Cas remembered, if he recognized Sam's face as he had recognized his, but the motion was so caring and soft that he had to tear his eyes away and pull himself together again.

The doctor was still taking notes on his clipboard. "Anything more?"

"No, not really," Dean said quietly. Oh, there was a lot more. There was just no way he would tell the doc about it.

"I hope you understand that you can't visit him during the next few days. As I said, we'll wake him up tomorrow, and we'll have to rule everything out that could be a trigger to him, which includes you. We'll call you every day and tell you how he is, if you wish that. But at least until we figured a few things out, we need him to be alone and unaffected by his surroundings."

Dean nodded in understanding, although it hurt. "Yes, please call me. And let me know when we can see him again."

"I'll let you know everything important. If you want to spend a few minutes in here, no problem. Don't touch any of the machines, though. You've got five minutes," and with that, the doctor left the room and shut the door, leaving the nurse to watch them through the window.

Thoughtfully, Dean stepped up beside Cas and looked down at his brother.

"I hope he's gonna be alright soon," Cas said silently.

"I wish I could hope that," Dean huffed. "There is so much broken in his mind, I don't know if the doctors here are in any way capable of fixing it."

"Which part didn't you tell them?" Cas asked carefully.

There was a short beat, and after a deep breath, Dean spoke low, "The part where Sam went to hell in order to prevent the apocalypse, and got resurrected immediately. Only that it was just his body that came back, lacking a soul. We found out about that roughly a year later, and by the time we managed to get his soul back as well, one and a half years had gone by. Death, one of the four horsemen, put it back into him and set up a 'wall', to prevent Sam from the memories of his soul. Because his soul was very damaged, having spent all this time in the cage with Lucifer and Michael, who constantly tortured him. And Lucifer had been hunting him ever since Sam was forced to break down the wall. Or something like that. I have no idea how he even lived during those last few months. Which is the part I already told the doc."

Dean reached for Sam's hand out of reflex, squeezing it tightly before letting go and laying it carefully back down beside his body.

"Oh," Castiel stated simply. "I... don't really know what to say to that. At least I understand why you aren't sure if the doctors can fix him."

"It's okay. Let's go home," Dean responded quietly.

With one last, worried glance at his brother, Dean turned around, intending to head for the door. Only with his hand on the doorknob he noticed that Cas hadn't followed him.

"What's up?"

"... you said 'home'," Cas said, avoiding his gaze and toeing at the floor.

Dean blinked. Once, twice. "Yeah, I did. Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," Castiel interrupted him quickly. "I actually... am a bit amused about your use of words. It's okay, though." Slight amusement swung indeed in his voice, but he didn't smile. Dean noted it gratefully. He really didn't want to joke around in the face of this horrible situation, in front of Sam. "Let's go home," Cas added.

They left the room together.