Doctor Moseley had scheduled Dean's appointment for eight o' clock – an unnecessarily early hour, if you asked Dean, but she most likely suspected, just as he did, that his family would visit very early and stay till late, so he might as well get it over with. He didn't know what to expect; he knew he'd much rather have stood up and walked on his own because he could move, especially since he got pain meds, but she came to his room and sat down in the chair Cas had occupied, pulling it back.
Dean politely returned her greeting. As far as therapy went, he was kind of sceptical, even though he wanted his memory back. He just couldn't imagine how she expected to fix it.
"Alright, let's get on with it. Here's the plan. First, we're gonna schedule a few therapy sessions, nothing out of the ordinary – and not every day, because we want you to live as normal as possible with your condition – and if it doesn't work, there are other methods we can try."
"What methods? Filling me up with meds?" Dean demanded. He expected her to answer honestly – her no-nonsense attitude had been the first thing he'd noticed about her and very welcome indeed, he didn't want to be babied – and he wasn't disappointed.
"In cases of dissociative amnesia, there is no use for meds, unless they are for unrelated afflictions."
"Like the headache and my chest."
"Exactly. As to alternative treatment – if therapy shouldn't help, hypnosis is an option, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"So for now, you'll try to read my mind?"
She shot him a don't-mess-with-me look. "We'll work on your current mental status. I don't want you freaking out. Actually, how are you?"
He shrugged. "Kind of – okay. I mean, there are moments I'm scared. It's just so freaky to wake up and be told you have this life and a little brother who's taller than life and a father who has no idea what to do, and a best friend – "
He stopped himself before he said anything too revealing. Her expression gave nothing away.
"That is completely natural. Have you experienced any memory flashes? Around your family, for example. I know they have been telling you stories. Anything ring a bell?"
He shook his head. He had appreciated what Cas had told him, had pictured them doing stuff, but he had never felt like that were actual memories. He could remember because Cas had told him, not because he had lived it, or that was what it felt like.
He explained it to her, and she nodded. He had no idea what she was thinking. Was it normal? Was he a strange case? Would he ever remember?
"How do you feel about your family?"
He blinked slowly. "That's kind of hard to answer because I just met them, don't you think?"
"Don't act like you don't understand me. I'm here to help you get better, and I can't do that if you're not feeling comfortable with the environment around you."
"I'm in a hospital."
"Not what I was talking about. What do you think about your family?"
He swallowed.
"Sam is hard not to like. I already do, a great deal. He looks like an over-exited puppy when he's happy." He smiled at the memory. "Bobby and Jody are pretty awesome, too. I swear they couldn't be nicer if they were my actual parents."
Until now, he'd been short and to the point. But he was aware that he had omitted two of the persons he had met, had deliberately not yet spoken about them.
His father. And –
Cas.
He really would rather not let her know that he was developing a teenage crush on his best friend, thank you very much.
As for Dad...
She didn't prod him, just sat there waiting, quietly.
"Dad is –" he began, then stopped. He couldn't even describe him.
"He's okay. I mean, he came to visit me and everything. He's concerned. It's just – "
And suddenly he understood what disturbed him when he thought about his father. Therapy, huh. Maybe it was useful after all.
"It's the others," he admitted.
When he didn't continue, she asked, "What about them?"
"It's how they react. To Dad. It's weird – they're relaxed, if a bit freaked out, when they're just in the room with me, but when he enters and talks to me..."
"Are they scared?" she inquired, and he wondered if she thought of abuse. He didn't think so. As far as he could tell, there were no old scars on him –
He realized that he had yet to look in a mirror. Still, as far as he knew, there were no scars that would point in that direction, and he doubted that the others would have let Dad enter the room if it had been the case.
It was strange how detachedly he could think about it because if something had happened, it had happened to him; but it was as if he was contemplating the life of a stranger.
"No. I don't think so. It's just –" He shrugged. "I have no idea."
"Does your father make you uncomfortable?"
"No." That was easy enough to answer. While he didn't really feel a connection with Dad, he certainly wasn't threatened by him.
She nodded.
"And Mr. Novak?"
It was the question he had feared, but he quickly answered, "He's great. I can believe that we're best friends."
He didn't say anything more, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. Damn mind-reading psychologists.
"Now that we have established that you are more or less content – and I know it's a strange word to use, but for the moment you are coping – what do you think about your life? I know you have learned a few things."
He thought back on the stories. They were full of movie nights and fixing cars and family parties, and all in all it hadn't sounded bad. He thought of the family that had been glued to his bed since he had woken up. He thought about Cas.
"It's good, as far as I can tell. Nothing I wouldn't want to remember."
It was weird to imagine that his brain had sent out some kind of signal that he wanted to forget his life, his family, his friends.
"I mean, I have a shop, and a family, and I'm apparently a pretty swell dude, if how they treat me is anything to go by."
He was growing more frustrated as he listed the reasons why he shouldn't have forgotten.
"Dean, breathe."
He became aware that he was indeed somewhat light-headed since he had fallen into ranting without admitting that he needed air, and took several long breaths.
"It is important that you don't blame yourself. Most cases of dissociative amnesia that have been examined had a link to either trauma or the wish to escape a certain situation, but that doesn't mean this is what happened here. Even with years of training one doesn't know the human mind completely. You can't heal properly if you feel guilty".
Dean was determined to take her advice. The least he could do was try and keep a positive attitude. He didn't want to be stuck with amnesia because of self-hate. That would be phenomenally stupid.
The therapy continued, although what she expected to happen from just talking about the situation, Dean couldn't say. But Doctor Moseley was not a bad person to talk to, and if it meant he'd get his memory back, he was glad to do it.
At the end of their session she produced a small mirror out of her pocket and Dean had never been more thankful in his life. In the part that he remembered, at least.
He studied the face that was looking back at him. It didn't feel familiar at all. If the guy had passed him in the street, he'd have given him a once-over and decided he was hot, but that was all.
He couldn't even decide whether he looked like a Dean or not.
He still thanked her as he gave the mirror back, wondering whether it would ever feel like his true reflection.
She'd just stood up when the door opened and Cas entered. He apologized and moved back, but she simply told him that "your friend" was doing well and that they were finished anyway.
Dean told himself that Cas blushing was in his imagination.
"I know Sam wanted to be here early," he said, sitting down, "but I expect he slept through the alarm."
"Kid has to be tired," Dean agreed. "With the exam and all that – "
He waved his hand, indicating the room. Cas smiled.
"How was your session?"
"Good, I guess. Nothing came to mind, though."
"We have to be patient," Cas answered, and Dean sighed.
"I know. That's what I keep hearing. But I wanna remember. Chasing Sam around and studying with you. Taking over the garage. I mean, I hear all this stuff about me, and I see you around me, and nothing connects".
"Dean – "
"And don't say it doesn't bother you. You're all great, you're putting up with it and being nice, but you have to be worried –"
"Dean – "
"And you have to expect that I remember, I know you do, and it's not like I blame you for it, it must be really freaking weird, but what if I don't, and you just want me back, the old me, and – "
"Dean – "
He was hyperventilating again and he forced himself to calm down. He guessed it was happening now as opposed to yesterday because he was realizing this was real. He was indeed trapped in a hospital room with no memories of how he got there.
"Dean," Cas said again and this time, his hand was on his upper arm. "Please. I know it's scary; I know it's unusual; I know you fear you'll never remember. But there is every reason to think that you will. And we'll be there for you every step of the way. We all – we all love you".
Cas prayed Dean hadn't noticed the slight hesitance at the word. He would think he'd meant in a family way. He never had to know. He never would know.
Dean sighed.
"I know, Cas. And that's part of the problem." When Cas frowned, he hastened to add, "I mean, I'm glad I woke up surrounded by you guys instead of alone, but it's kind of giving me – I feel bad for not remembering you".
"Don't," was all Cas could say, amazed that Dean was talking so openly about his feelings. He trusted him. Even though he didn't remember him, he trusted him.
Dean smiled at him weakly.
"I'll try," he promised.
The door opened and Sam barged in, flustered at having overslept, stammering an apology.
Dean shook his head.
"It's not like anything's about to happen just because you got some much-needed rest. Relax, Sammy".
He hadn't expected his brother to stop and stare at him, but that was what he did.
"Dean – " He dragged the second chair in the room closer to the bed rather than asking Cas to switch places – "You called me Sammy".
"I did?" he asked, trying to remember.
"Huh. I suppose I did".
When Sam just grinned, he asked, "That's good, right?"
"You always called me that. There was a time when I tried to make you stop, but good luck trying to make you stop anything".
Cas chuckled, and Dean let Sam enjoy the moment. Maybe it was a subconscious reaction after all, and his memories were still there, he just couldn't access them at the moment.
His family's mirth was interrupted by the nurse bringing breakfast, something Dean had been waiting for since he had woken up. Yesterday, all he'd gotten to eat was some sort of tasteless pulp that was supposed to be good for him, but since he'd been declared more or less healthy, he was allowed to have proper meals now.
It was when he was looking at the tray that it hit him that he had no idea whether he liked any of this stuff. Bread? Marmalade? Butter? Maybe he didn't like breakfast, period. Maybe he had never eaten in the morning.
He knew the basics of his life. He knew what he did, that he had a brother, a best friend, that he was a mechanic – but what else? The details were missing. He looked at the stupid, quickly cooling plastic cups of coffee and tea – apparently the nurse had been kind enough not to ask and just brought him both – and felt like crying.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
"It's stupid," he said, and hated how whiny he sounded.
"It's not," Cas stated softly. "Why don't you try everything?"
It was obvious and what he would have done anyway once he'd calmed down, but somehow Cas telling him that he could made everything better, and Dean smiled.
He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Then he quickly took two packs of sugar and dumped them in.
He heard Sam's intake of breath and looked up. His brother was looking like he had seen a ghost, and he all but let the cup drop.
"Sam?"
"Nothing," he quickly assured him, but his smile was not the open, happy one Dean had come to recognise. "I just realized I have yet to call Jess this morning".
He left and Dean looked at Cas, feeling helpless.
"Can you check that he's alright?" he asked.
Cas nodded and followed Sam. Dean decided that he might as well keep eating his breakfast since he couldn't get out of bed – Doctor Moseley would skin him alive.
The coffee tasted much better with the sugar taking away the bitter edge. After another sip, he added cream and eventually found the right mixture. He hummed happily and began buttering his toast.
Cas found Sam in the corridor, staring out the window.
"Sam?" he asked.
"It's – ridiculous really, Cas. I didn't mean to get upset. But..."
"I know. The coffee".
"He has only ever drunk his black, like Dad. Used to make fun of me for preferring more exotic choices. It was just a reminder. He's there but not really".
"Dean is Dean, whether or not he remembers and no matter how he drinks his coffee. He sent me after you".
"Really?" Sam demanded hopefully.
Cas nodded.
"The moment you left".
Sam relaxed, and Cas felt relieved. He couldn't allow his worries for Dean to block out his other friends' needs. Dean would never forgive him once he remembered.
"So are you going to call Jess?"
He shook his head.
"Did it as soon as I woke up. She was already studying".
They turned and went back inside.
Dean was happily munching on his toast, and Cas noted that his appetite had not been affected by his memory loss in the slightest.
"It seems you like it," Sam commented.
"It's okay. The tea really could be stronger, but the coffee's not that bad with cream and sugar in it".
Sam wondered if perhaps the accident had affected his tastes – after all, he had amnesia, so other aspects of his personality could be altered as well – or if it had been another attempt to make their father proud – drink his coffee black without sugar, just like him, show that he was a real man.
He really wished his father's views on what made a man weren't so archaic and primitive.
That his brother still liked marmalade was no surprise. When Sam could persuade him to have breakfast, it had to be sweet. Maybe he could bring Dean pie later today. Seeing his face as he got introduced to it would be incredible.
After Dean had finished, he looked at the tray, contemplating something.
"Do I even normally eat breakfast? It's such a strange thing to ask, but – "
"It's normal that you're curious," Cas interrupted him. "And no. You prefer just coffee".
"I tried to force you when we still went to school," Sam interjected. "As long as it was sweet, you didn't object too much".
Except for coffee, he silently added, but he didn't want to stress Dean by telling him he was not consuming food and drink like he used to.
There was a knock on the door and Doctor Moseley walked in, obviously expecting them to be there.
"Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak".
She had accepted Cas as family right away, not commenting on the missing resemblance, just like Bobby and Jody, and Dean was thankful for it. This whole thing would have been far more embarrassing if he'd had to explain that they were indeed his family without remembering them.
"Hey, Doc. More therapy?" Dean asked to hide the fact that he was a little bit worried seeing her again so soon. Maybe he'd said the wrong thing and she wanted to do more tests.
"Relax," she told him immediately with her weird mind-reading power, "I'm here to talk to your family."
"They need therapy too?"
She shot him a withering glare and he was quiet.
"Dean and I had our first session today," she informed them as if they didn't already know, but he wisely chose not to comment.
"He is well adjusted to the situation. As long as Doctor Dansley green-lights it, I have no problem with him leaving at the end of the week."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He was looking forward to getting up and out. He wanted to see his apartment, his garage, the house he'd grown up in, Cas' place. Maybe it would jog some memories.
"And the amnesia?" Sam asked, shooting Dean an apologetic glance. He really understood. Sam wanted his big brother back. And he wasn't reluctant to be him, again.
Did he just think of himself as a different person? But that was how it felt like. It was too confusing, so he concentrated on the doctor's answer.
"As I said, we can't be sure. I have hope that his memories will return soon, however; since he isn't overwhelmed by information about his life, feel free to tell and show him everything you consider fit. And even if it shouldn't help until he checks out, living in his own space should help."
With that, she left them alone, and another day of waiting began.
At least he would be able to get up tomorrow, as Doctor Dansley confirmed later.
Meanwhile, Sam had thought it would be a good idea to get some pictures to show him, and was on his way to the door when Cas intercepted him.
It was adorable to watch them try to make up reasons why the other should stay and they should fetch the pictures. Dean couldn't help but be filled with warmth at the sight. His family might be a little weird, but he'd rather have them go overboard with their affection than leave him alone.
And Cas of course –
No. He wouldn't think about him like that. He wouldn't.
Sam sat down again after Cas had left and Dean was acutely aware of being alone with him for the first time since he had woken up and been wheeled away.
Sam was clearly very fond of him, and was waiting for him to say something, anything that indicated he was starting to regain his memories, but sadly nothing came to mind. He still heard about himself like about some guy named Dean some things happened to.
He didn't know what to say. Typical conversation starters wouldn't do – He couldn't just ask, "How are you?"
He thought about how easy it had been with Cas. But Cas had never given him the feeling that he had to remember. Sam, although he was trying to accept the situation, couldn't hide the wish that he would drop the act and be his brother again.
"Bobby will come soon," Sam said, "He just had to work a little at the salvage yard."
"I don't want to keep him from work. He'd probably spend all his time here if he could," Dean answered, thankful for the topic. He was surely right. Bobby would be at his side 24/7 if his job and the hospital would have allowed him.
Sam, of course, was here to stay until he was released. Cas as well; he'd told him yesterday that he wasn't expected at work. Had taken time off work for Dean.
He forced himself not to think about it and looked at Sam.
He was studying him, obviously lost how as to approach him, and Dean finally asked, "Are we usually this awkward?"
He chuckled and relaxed slightly, and Dean decided he'd done well.
"No. You never shut your mouth".
"Because lawyers are always shy and quiet," he shot back.
"Not a lawyer yet."
"Soon enough. I'm sure you made it."
"Thanks". He looked at Dean and his eyes softened, "You are still doing it".
"What?" he inquired, confused.
"Putting others' comfort before your own."
He shrugged. "I was just telling you that I'm sure you passed your test. I'm not – "
"Are you alright? Really?"
"Honestly?" he began because he felt that Sam needed him to be honest, like he was with Cas. "I'm angry because I don't remember, but hey, at least I'm a kick-ass brother, right?"
Sam smiled. "Yes".
"See? Worse things to hear. And Doctor Moseley seems to think it will come back soon anyway".
"How was your first session?"
"Okay, I guess. She wanted to know how I was coping".
And just like that, they were chatting. Sam told him about life at Stanford and how Dean had read to him and cared for him and fed him when he was little.
His opinion of his father's care skills sank by the minute. Who let an eight-year-old look after a four-year-old on its own? He'd even cooked for his brother! Even with the shop, shouldn't Dad have been around more?
But he didn't tell Sam. If Dad was neglectful or worse, they hadn't told him for a reason, didn't want him to know about it yet.
He could understand – they probably wanted him to be happy and content and relaxed so his memories would return easily – so he found it easier to say nothing.
But he couldn't help but think that Dad could have done better.
He had no doubt that Bobby would have.
Their conversation turned to Cas after Sam had recounted a party that had ended with Dean and Cas having to run away because the latter had decided to ask a girl from school whether it was true that her father had left because he didn't want to have it "accidentally come up while we talk" and she had freaked out, resulting in her big hunk of a boyfriend stalking over to them.
"He's a weird dorky guy, isn't he," Dean commented.
"He can be. When did he arrive today?"
"Right after therapy".
There was a knowing look in Sam's eyes that Dean hoped didn't mean what he thought it meant. He'd believed he was hiding his infatuation well, but if the not-so-hidden amusement in his brother's face was anything to go by...
"Anyway, so I get that we're friends," he hastened to say. "He's just so nice."
He realized too late that he sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Sam grinned. "He is," he confirmed.
"But don't you think I shouldn't make him hang around all the time? He has time off work, but..."
"Try to convince him of that and see what happens," Sam suggested, sure that Dean wouldn't. It would have been funny to watch, though. He didn't tell Dean that he had seen the glances and blushes, that he was finally free from the self-loathing macho male persona he had forced on himself and that he was noticing for the first time what he was really feeling for Cas.
There was no doubt that Dean had certain instinct responses to them. He had trusted Sam and Bobby right away, he had a crush on Cas, and he was reserved around Dad. He didn't know why he was acting this way, probably didn't know that he was acting this way at all, but it confirmed that his brother was still in there. And hopefully taking note.
Sam had decided to try a more hopeful approach – if he freaked out, it wouldn't help, and he didn't want Dean to feel pressured – so he did his best to see it all as sort of funny.
Because if he didn't, he would realize how sad it really was that Dean only thought Dean was worth something when he couldn't remember himself.
For now, he was focusing on telling Dean embarrassing stories, trying to make him remember, and it was good to see him laugh, happy and carefree (of course aside from him having amnesia and worrying about it, but it was strangely less of a weight than the one he usually carried).
Dean was so open, Cas thought, his hands clenching around the wheel. He was so open and honest about his feelings, and somehow that made it more difficult to hide his own than usual.
Or maybe it was that Dean just didn't know, that he didn't know Cas, and it made him love him all the more.
He sighed and wondered where he should go. He wouldn't go to John; he and Dean had enough pictures of them and Sam. But he didn't want to look through both their apartments; he didn't want to stay away too long...
As if Dean would even notice. He liked him well enough, he was sure; but there was no recognition in his eyes, nor the comfort that came from years of friendship.
This isn't about you, he chided himself. Dean was with his brother, and they certainly should have all the time alone together they needed, so he would go to both their apartments. Since he knew Dean's like his own, it wouldn't take much time anyway.
Dean had always been sentimental and kept far more pictures of his family and friends than Cas; he preferred to have a few on his nightstand, next to his books, so that they were the first thing he saw when he woke up.
As usual when he entered his bedroom, the picture of him and Dean caught his eye. It was standing right in the centre; Sam had taken it last summer during a road trip. Just the three of them, and Dean happy and carefree for once. In the picture, Dean had his arm around Cas' shoulder, and he could still feel it, still feel the warmth of Dean's body next to his. Sometimes, he felt guilty because it could easily be surmised that they were a couple and that this was the reason he kept the picture in the place of pride, not that he was hopelessly in love with someone who could never reciprocate.
He shook himself out of it and went to grab the pictures; aside from the one with Dean, there was one taken in the scrap yard with Sam, Bobby, Jody, and John, and one of him and Gabriel from his brother's last visit.
He thought that Dean would like to know what he looked like, after hearing so much about Gabriel's tricks.
Dean had pictures scattered all over his apartment. Cas hesitated when he saw one of him and Benny. He should probably ask Sam if it was alright to take it, but Dean would want to know about him, he was sure.
Benny Lafitte had rode into town on a motorcycle two years ago, which had promptly broken down not far from the scrap yard. Bobby had naturally told him how to get to Dean's garage.
They had struck up an immediate friendship (and no matter how much Gabriel had teased him, Cas insisted that he hadn't been jealous). Benny had soon confided in Dean that he was not simply on a road trip, but a drifter who had recently left a biker gang – and Dean had given him a job at the shop.
Which was when the problems had started.
Cas had never had anything against Benny, although he'd been slightly worried when he had first seen the big burly man.
But Sam had been interested in the help Dean could barely afford, of course, and he had soon discovered Benny's record.
Which had ended with him flying down from Stanford to give his brother a piece of his mind.
It was one of the few serious fights they had had to Cas' knowledge, and he still remembered coming to visit Dean in the evening only to be greeted by Sam screeching, "He's a felon, Dean!" while Dean had shouted that it was his own goddamn business who he hired.
Cas had managed to calm them down and, to Benny's credit, he had noticed something was amiss with Dean the next morning and had offered to leave. Dean wouldn't have it, and he stayed long enough to make money to take him back to Louisiana, where he was working in his cousin's restaurant. He still stayed in contact with Dean, giving him credit for having straightened him out, while Dean insisted that he was already doing well when they met.
It was more proof of the generous heart Dean tried to hide, and even Sam had mellowed somewhat towards Benny recently.
And, to be honest, both him and Cas had been happy that Dean had found another friend, had allowed himself another friend amidst saving the garage and living his life in the confines John had given him.
Cas still didn't know how he'd defended Benny's job to his father; it was one of the few things they had never talked about. But Benny was in Louisiana and doing well and Dean had helped him greatly, and the more they could convince him he was a good man while he had amnesia, the greater the hope that it would stick afterwards.
As he made his way down the stairs, his phone rang. Gabriel. He realized he hadn't really kept his brother updated and winced.
He wanted to apologize, but Gabriel left him no time.
"So, apparently because summer break is coming up I can't immediately. All the more reason to open my own bar eventually. But as soon as I can – "
"I beg your pardon?" Cas interrupted him. Gabriel was a bartender in San Francisco, always eager to invent new drinks and tricks to impress customers.
"I am telling you that I can't leave for at least another week," Gabriel stated, enunciating every word.
"You really don't have to –"
"You don't think I wouldn't already be there if I could? You know Dean and I share a profound bond."
Cas didn't deem this worthy of an answer.
Gabriel sighed.
"Look, I know. I know I should visit more often, and that sometimes I don't call for months on end and you have to do all the work so we keep in touch. I know I'm not around as much as I could be. But this – I want to be there for you. All of you".
Gabriel rarely spoke like this. Maybe this was why he liked Dean after all; they were both closed-off emotionally.
Cas hadn't even wondered whether he would come, certain that he would not. He'd thought he wouldn't be interested, especially because Dean was more or less fine.
"Thank you," he said slowly.
Gabriel sighed.
"Alright, let's stop with all those feelings. Dean would be appalled. How is he?"
"He doesn't remember anything. But he's doing okay".
"That's something".
"I'm bringing him pictures as we speak, maybe they'll trigger something".
"They better" Gabriel said, "After all, it would be a shame if he didn't recognize my beautiful face the minute he saw it".
Considering Dean had chosen to frame the group picture of his last birthday party where Gabriel had quite obviously been already under the influence of too much alcohol and sugar, Cas thought that it would be indeed.
They ended the call with Gabriel swearing (or threatening, one could never be sure with him) to step on the plane once things had settled down into the usual holiday madness, and Cas drove back to the hospital.
It happened during another story about Bobby.
Sam saw Dean grow thoughtful and even though he knew what would come, he still wished it wouldn't.
"Sam? About Bobby..." Dean trailed off, looking unsure, struggling with thoughts he never would have allowed if he had still been in possession of his memories.
Sam didn't press him.
"I get that Bobby was around often, and that's awesome, he's nice and all... but what about Dad?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asked carefully. Selfishly, he wanted to keep this part of their lives from his brother, make it seem that he had had a sheltered and happy and unclouded existence. But it couldn't be. He had to find out.
"It's – Dad, wasn't he around?"
"He was."
"But then why does everyone only ever speak about Bobby?" Dean looked guilty now, probably remembering calling Bobby "Dad", and Sam hastened to answer. Anything to get that look of his face. He'd seen it often enough when Dean hadn't been an amnesiac.
"He worked a lot. And losing Mum took a lot out of him. But he was there".
Not often. Not in the way that mattered. But if he could shelter his brother from one thing, it was this.
Dean accepted his explanation, and any shame Sam might have experienced left when he contemplated that Dean would understand. Hopefully. Or at least not stay angry for very long.
"So how long do you think Cas will be?" Dean asked and he almost snorted. He'd thought he was obvious before, but this –
Thankfully he was spared the attempt to answer as Cas arrived at that moment, his arms loaded with pictures and photo albums.
Dean stared.
"We have heard of digital pictures, right?"
"You like to be able to pick up and hold them when showing someone," Cas informed him and Dean was struck by how well he knew him. That wasn't a surprise, of course, so he chose he wouldn't like to know why he was struck.
When would he finally get that they were friends?
"This is just a part of your collection," Cas told him, setting down the albums on the small table next to his bed.
"And these?" Dean pointed at the few framed pictures Cas had kept in his hands.
He could have sworn Cas blushed, but he ducked his head, making it impossible to study his expression. Dean, being the wise older brother he apparently was, ignored Sam's smug smile.
"The pictures we keep in our apartments for everyone to see rather than in albums".
Cas handed them to him, still not looking at him.
There were ten altogether. Three were of him and Sam – a pretty blond woman hanging off his brother's arm in one of them.
"Jess?" he inquired, and Sam nodded, his face lighting up as he saw his girlfriend's picture.
Dean chuckled and moved on after studying Jess' picture. She looked nice and was obviously as smitten with Sam as Sam was with her. Good for them.
Four of the pictures were of him and Cas, and they were always touching. A hand on a shoulder, sometimes even a waist. He managed not to frown. Was there something they hadn't told him? Maybe he and Cas used to date and had stayed friends afterwards. Maybe what he was feeling was old, pushing to the surface because of his amnesia.
He would have to ask. But he didn't know how, so he'd wait. Maybe he should ask Sam rather than Cas. It would be less embarrassing.
He looked at a short man standing next to Cas in one photograph and he answered his unspoken question.
"Gabriel. My brother".
"The trickster?" Cas nodded.
"He's coming for a visit soon, actually. He promised."
"Why?"
Cas blinked.
"Because you're in the hospital."
"I'll be out by then."
"And still an amnesiac." After a pause he added, "And Gabriel is your friend, too."
It was nice to know so many people cared, Dean reflected, and continued to study the pictures. When he held up one that showed him, a big guy and a motorcycle, he saw Sam frown ever so slightly and concluded that, whoever he was, Sam didn't like him much.
"Benny. He works in a restaurant in Louisiana".
Dean nodded.
In a way, it was nice to hear about all the people he'd met and who apparently cared enough for him to have their pictures taken together; but it was extremely frustrating as well. He simply didn't feel anything – no familiarity, no like or dislike, they were just faces of people he hadn't met.
He kept smiling though. He didn't want Sam and Cas to worry about him. More than they already did. He tried to imagine himself in their position. What would it feel like to see a loved one and realize all their yesterdays were gone?
He should really stop using the word love in connection with Cas, he realized with a jolt as he was leafing through the albums (seriously, had he never heard of digital photography? Still, it was nice to have the pictures in his hands, alright).
But there were so many photos of them that could easily have been misconstrued as couple shots. The whole more-or-less hugging thing was bad enough, but –
Was that Cas stealing a fry from his plate at a diner?
Sam laughed.
"I took that".
He'd guessed as much. Leave it to annoying younger siblings to take pictures when you just wanted to have a nice meal.
At the sight of the burger in the photograph, his stomach rumbled and he realized how much time had passed.
Sam laughed again, commenting that no matter what, his appetite would never change, and Dean turned to find Cas smiling at him, and in that moment, his amnesia didn't seem to be a problem at all.
The day passed fast. They ate lunch – Dean, to Sam's astonishment, ate the salad that came with the meat without complaining, even if he snagged Cas' piece of pie that he'd got from the cafeteria afterwards and, after he had taken the first bite, stared at it as if he'd just had a religious experience.
Bobby and Jody came after lunch with Dad. He still looked at Dean as if he was an animal at the zoo, but Sam supposed it could have been worse; at least he didn't mention the garage and told him how excited he'd been when he'd heard that he was going to be an older brother.
Dean's understanding smile at that story warmed Sam's heart. Dean liked him. He would soon remember him.
He had forced himself into being optimistic because, if he was honest with himself, the other option was too awful to contemplate.
But the day left them all feeling good, and when he and Cas finally said goodbye after dinner, he couldn't help but hope that Dean might regain his memory any second.
Jess encouraged him as well; apparently most memory loss was short-term, and since Dean didn't have any serious injuries, there should be no complications arising from it.
Despite the amnesia and the fact that his memories didn't seem to be returning anytime soon – he listened to stories, stared at pictures, and still had to remind himself that the guy was him – Dean felt relaxed as he was left alone.
No matter how things progressed, at least he had enough people in his life who cared.
Per his request, he'd been handed a new cell phone – his old one had been crushed by the drawer, and really, how had he escaped with so few injuries? – and he happily programmed the numbers of those he knew in it because they didn't have to sit at his bed constantly that way.
Sam, of course, told him that he'd be back tomorrow, bright and early; then again, he didn't have to work.
Cas was relieved due to his bad conscience at leaving KU to its own devices, even though he made it clear that he'd prefer to stay with Dean, but he shook his head; the end of the semester was around the corner anyway, and they could spend more time together then.
And if his heart beat faster at the thought, no one had to know.
He couldn't help but feel his opinion of his father sink further when he was actually thankful that he wouldn't have to come visit him alone. Imagine my audacity to expect my father to check in on me while I have amnesia, he thought drily, but was soon laughing at Bobby's promise that he'd try his best with the "buttonless thing" Jody had made him get.
Cas and Sam were the last ones to leave, and it was with Cas' smile on his mind that he fell asleep.