Chapter Twenty-Six

Dean was unconscious.

"Shit." Sam dropped down beside him. "Shit, shit, shit, shit…"

Dean was breathing, just, but his eyes were rolling madly beneath their lids and his entire body was jerking and twitching as though assailed by some unseen force.

He was in the throes of a flashback.

"Shit! Dean, wake up. Snap out of it. It's not real, okay? You're fine. I'm right here, you're fine-"

Dean couldn't hear him. His back arched off the floor and his mouth stretched wide in a voiceless scream.

Sam braced himself for a violent outburst and grasped his brother's shoulders. "Dean!"

Green eyes flashed open. For a split second, he locked gazes with Sam.

No recognition, just like at the hospital.

"I'm sorry!" Dean gasped. He scrambled onto his hands and knees and scuttled backwards, head low and eyes fixed on the ground. "I'm sorry, please- please don't-"

"Dean, I'm not going to hurt you." He reached out a hand and Dean flinched away from him.

"I'm sorry, sorry, please, I'm sorry, please." He mumbled the words over and over, huddling in the corner of the room and trying to make himself look as small as possible.

"Dean, it's Sam."

His head jerked up. "No!" His eyes widened as he realised what he had just done; his fingers almost tore his hair out as he forcibly wrenched his head back down again. "Not Sammy," he whimpered. "Please, I'll do anything, just leave him out of this, he can't see me, you can't- you can't hurt him, please don't hurt him…" His arms reached out in supplication even as he pressed his body lower to the ground. "Please, I'm sorry, please…"

Sam didn't know what to do. Dean wasn't thinking straight, he wouldn't look at him, he wasn't listening, he wouldn't let Sam touch him. He was locked inside his own memories and Sam didn't know how to bring him out.

He tried to think of what had helped him when the wall in his mind had come crashing down. Pain had grounded him for a while, but there was no way Sam was going to hurt his brother. The only thing that had really worked was when Cas had shifted the crazy, and god knows Sam would gladly pull those memories out of Dean and into his own head if he could, but he didn't have that kind of power.

Shift it.

He only had one play here, and he had no idea if it would work, but he had to try.

He sat down on the other side of the room, crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap, trying to appear unthreatening. When he spoke, his voice was exceedingly gentle. "Do you remember proposing to Cas?"

Dean's breath caught.

"You asked me to help you. Said you were 'no good at all that romantic crap'. But you could have fooled me. I barely did anything; you came up with all of the ideas yourself. I just ran errands and kept Cas busy while you got everything ready. You couldn't have picked a better night for it. The air was still warm and there was just a hint of an ocean breeze. The beach was deserted and the waves were lapping gently against the shore. You took his hand and you walked barefoot across the sand until you reached your own little private grotto. You led Cas to the rockpool and told him to look down. He was entranced by this tiny world that was brimming with life and colour; he said he had never seen anything so beautiful, present company excluded, which made you blush." Sam laughed a little; Dean had skipped that part in the retelling, but Cas had told him later. In fact, he had filled in most of the details; Dean's account had been brief and his ears had turned bright red at sharing even that much.

"You reached in and pulled out a clam shell," Sam continued with a wistful smile. "Cas did that little head tilt thing that he does as you went down on one knee. You opened the shell and revealed the two simple silver bands inside. You stammered your way through the proposal, trying to put your feelings into words without actually using those words. Then you asked him if he would be okay with marrying you – you added that he didn't have to if he didn't want to, but if he did… And Cas said 'I do'. I'm surprised Chuck didn't turn up right there and then, to be honest. You put the ring on Castiel's finger and he knelt to give you yours. Then he kissed you. You curled up together on a blanket and ate the picnic dinner you had prepared as you watched the sun go down over the water. The colours in the sky that night were spectacular, and the stars seemed to shine brighter than usual." Sam smirked. "Your words, not mine.

"You fell asleep there. When you came home the next morning, you were the happiest I had ever seen you. You couldn't stop looking at the ring on your hand, like you couldn't quite believe you were wearing it, but every time Cas caught you he would take your hand and twine your fingers together so both rings were visible. It seemed to hit you a few days later; we were watching T.V and you suddenly blurted 'I have a fiancé!' Cas laughed and said 'Yes, you do'. A week later the bunker was filled with 'His&His' wedding magazines. You set a date and decided on a quiet little venue. We weren't expecting any guests… it didn't really end up that way though."

"Everyone was there," Dean whispered. "Mom, Dad, Bobby…"

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to rush over to Dean. It seemed like he was coming out of it, but any sudden move could send him spiralling back under. Sam kept his tone light. "I think your wedding must be the only one in history that had God himself officiating and an empty guest list filled by the souls of the deceased. That was one hell of a party."

Dean's voice was quiet, his gaze distant. "I danced with Mom. She kissed my hair and told me that she was glad that an angel had been watching over me after all."

Sam smiled sadly. "I remember."

Dean shifted position, coming up off his knees and drawing them to his chest; still defensive, but no longer cowering. "Dad shook Castiel's hand. I thought he would disapprove of us, but he didn't seem to care that we were both dudes. 'You found someone who understands the life,' he said. 'That's a rare thing. Hold onto him'. I couldn't believe it."

"Mom must be a good influence."

Dean's eyes focused in on him, as though he was only just realising that Sam was there. "Do you think they're happy?"

Sam thought about the way Dad had slung his arm around Mom's shoulders, the way she had leaned into him, the way he had whispered into her ear and she had laughed. Mom had let him lick icing from her finger and Dad had spun her across the dancefloor. They were both smiling all night long. John had been a very different man to the one Sam remembered from his childhood, and it had brought home to Sam just how much losing her had hurt him. "Yeah, man, of course they're happy. Soulmates share a Heaven. They're together; that's all either one of them ever wanted."

"Good, that's good," Dean said distractedly. A little frown was furrowing his brow, as though some thought was niggling at the back of his mind. Sam watched him anxiously, waiting for the memories to blindside him, but Dean just mused, "I wonder if me and Cas would qualify for the honeymoon suite upstairs, when our time comes."

Sam dared to breathe a little easier. "I'm sure you will. But that day is a long way off. You two are going to lead long and happy lives down here, together."

"That's what I'm hoping. But-" His face suddenly drained of colour. "Cas is missing."

Sam swallowed. "Yeah, he is." Wary of sending Dean into another tailspin, he approached slowly and took his arm to steady him. He didn't want to push this, but Dean had made the choice to remember because he wanted to help Cas. Sam had to respect that decision. "He was taken. By the same thing that took you."

Dean's face paled further. "Oh god. I think I'm going to-"

He doubled over and made an awful retching sound. Sam jumped out of the way just in time.

"Easy, Dean, take it easy..." Sam tried to brace him as his stomach rebelled and vomit splattered the floor.

"Sam-" Dean rasped. "Sam, we have to- we have to get to Cas. Before-"

He hurled again but his stomach had nothing left to expel. He jolted with each spasm in his gut while Sam held him and wished that he could make the pain stop.

When the worst had passed, Dean wiped his mouth with a shaking hand and struggled to stand. "We have to get there," he scraped through a raw throat. "Before that bastard does to him what he did to me."

"You remember?"

Dean's face was grim, his eyes were hard. "I remember."

"Are you… okay?"

"No." He made for the door, and every hobbling step looked agonising. "But Cas needs us."

"Dean, I can go-"

"I'm not sending you there alone," Dean growled. "This guy is a fucking psychopath. And I want to kill him myself."

ooOOoo