Thank you Jenjoremy for working your beta magic on this for me, and Gredelina1 for encouraging and supporting. Thank you all for reading xxx

Chapter Sixteen

With each mile Dean drove away from Sam, the tighter the cord tied around his heart seemed to grow. It wanted him to go back to Sam where it was tethered on the other end. It was for Sam that he had to go though. If he was going to save him, he had to leave him first, even though it felt impossible.

He estimated that it would be a sixteen-hour drive to Emmanuel, and if he didn't sleep, he would make it by morning. That plan was soon defunct as he was exhausted by the time he was halfway across Idaho. He knew he had to stop and sleep or risk the same fate as Sam. It had been brought home to them all just how dangerous it could be to drive sleep-deprived, and Dean's nights hadn't been peaceful lately.

He pulled into the lot of the next motel he came to and walked into the small office. There was a young clerk sitting behind the desk reading. As the kid lowered his book, Dean checked the cover. With the way his life had been going lately, he almost expected it to be one of Chuck's books, but it was one of those sci-fi stories Sam had enjoyed when he was young.

The kid was pimply and his hair needed washing, but he was friendly and polite as he checked Dean in and recommended a diner down the street to get something to eat. Dean thanked him and handed over the cash. It felt weird to be paying with real money rather than a scammed card, but also good. It was the kind of thing Sam would have liked to do.

He took his key to the room down the block and let himself it. It was sparsely furnished, but the bedding on the king-size bed was a clean blue and the carpet didn't have too many stains. It was better than a lot of places Dean had stayed with Sam over the years.

He had Elsie's packed sandwiches and snacks to eat, so he didn't bother to go to the recommended diner. He just sat down at the table and opened the package. He took one bite of the sandwich before realizing he wasn't going to be able to stomach it without settling his nerves first. Before the wreck that would have meant a drink, but now it meant a call to check on Sam. Ideally that would mean calling Sam himself, but he had no idea if he'd talk or not if he tried, so he rang Alfie and Elsie's number and waited for them to answer, imagining the old rotary phone ringing in the hall.

It was answered by Alfie in his formal telephone manner. "Alfred Foster."

"Alfie, it's me," Dean said.

"Dean, I wondered when you might have a chance to call. How are you?"

"I've stopped in Idaho. I need to get a few hours of sleep at least before setting out again."

"Sleep for as long as you can," Alfie said. "You know better than anyone how dangerous it can be to drive tired."

"Yeah, I know. I will. How's Sam doing?"

He heard Alfie's sigh crackle the line. "He is the same."

"Has he asked for me at all?"

"I wish I could say he has. Perhaps your explanation registered with him more than we thought. He hasn't said anything at all."

Dean wished for different, too. He didn't want Sam upset, but to know his absence had registered at all would have been better than nothing.

"Did he eat?" he asked.

"Yes, and he took his medication without complaint. He had dinner with us and then took himself off to bed. Elsie has checked on him and she says he is quiet though awake still."

"You'll check on him again?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Of course. I am an old man so am up many times in the night. I will check on Sam each time."

"Thanks, Alfie. If he does ask about me, tell him I'm fine and will be back soon. I'm hoping I'll get this Emmanuel to leave fast so I'll be back early Thursday."

"I will, and you drive safe. Sam isn't going anywhere, and this Emmanuel will probably be unaccustomed to your usual driving speeds. We have to keep him cooperative."

"I'll be careful," Dean promised. "It's not a problem. I better let you go. You're probably busy."

"I am not busy at all," Alfie said. "Elsie is having a late night in the studio working on a new project, so I am just keeping up with the world's news while I wait for her. We can talk as long as you need, Dean. Tell me about the journey."

Dean smiled. It was a dull subject as most of the journey was along the fairly bland interstate. He appreciated what Alfie was doing for him, though, offering company, so he began to tell him about the gas station he'd stopped at that was so proud of their new restrooms that they had posted before and after pictures on the wall. Alfie laughed at the story and Dean smiled to himself as he appreciated what good friends he had found in Alfie and Elsie. When it was over, when Sam was well again and they left, he was going to miss them.

Orchard Mesa was a nice area to the west of the Rockies. Dean passed attractive houses and tried to build a mental picture of what Emmanuel would look like. He guessed at a retiree, maybe having a medical background like Alfie.

He wondered when the healing thing had started. He didn't think it had been going on for too long as hunters monitored healers after their tethered reaper hunt, and news would have spread to them if there was a genuine one out there. He tried to guess at how it had been discovered and what had created the ability. He hoped it wasn't another preacher the way Roy Le Grange had been. He didn't want to sit through a sermon on the drive back to Oregon. He would if he had to, of course, but he was hoping for a normal guy that wasn't particularly loquacious that just happened to have healing hands.

The idea amused him and he smiled to himself, feeling better now that he was close to his destination, more in control. Soon he would be on his way back to Sam, and that would feel even better.

He pulled onto the street Mackey had given him and looked at the houses. They were mostly white, set back from the street with high steps to reach the doors. The number he'd written down was at the very end of the street and he drove slowly toward it, pulling up a few houses away. He needed just a minute to brace himself. So much rode on this—especially Sam's state of mind. There was nothing more important in their lives at that time.

A deep blue station wagon drove past him and pulled onto the driveway in front of the house he was there for. Dean watched carefully as the driver's side door opened and a woman climbed out. She was pretty, with shoulder length reddish brown hair. She went to the trunk and opened it to retrieve the grocery sacks there. The front door opened and a man stood in shadow. She turned and said something, and then the man walked down the steps.

Dean's breath was punched out of him. He was frozen in shock, watching in disbelief as the man went to the car and brushed the hair back from the woman's face. He said something that made her smile, then he took two of the sacks from the car and hefted them into his arms. He glanced at Dean's car for a moment before walking up the steps and into the house.

Dean's paralysis broke and he slammed the car into gear. He did a U-turn in the road and sped away, his heart pounding and breaths coming fast.

He couldn't believe what he had just seen. It was impossible. Castiel was dead, not living in Colorado, dressed like an elderly man ready for a couples' bridge night. He was dead!

Dean drove recklessly fast through the streets before a near miss with a garbage truck brought him back to himself properly. He had to stop and breathe. He couldn't drive like this. He pulled over on the side of the road and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself. He didn't think he could deal with this.

How was it possible? If Castiel was alive, why hadn't he come to them? He could have helped them clean up the mess he'd created. Dammit, he could have fixed the damage he'd done to Sam.

He should have been there, not living what looked like a pretty damn good life while every hunter was slogging against the Leviathans that he'd freed and Sam was suffering in his own mind. And Dean. He deserved better from Castiel. He had been a good friend to Castiel, defending him to the end. He'd helped him fix his mistake even after what he'd done. The angel owed him. Dean was living a nightmare, and his friend should have been there. He'd needed him.

He pulled his phone from his pocket with a shaking hand and dialed. Elsie picked up after only a moment. "Hello?"

"Elsie," Dean said, his voice coming choked from the lump in his throat.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"I found the healer," he said.

"And he won't help?" she asked.

It was the natural assumption to come to after hearing the tone of Dean's voice, and Dean wished it had been that easy. He had been confident that he could persuade 'Emmanuel' to help, but he didn't know what he was going to do with Castiel. He hadn't come to them; he had chosen himself, not them or the world. What could he do to make him help them now? It wasn't like Dean could threaten him. He couldn't do anything but beg, and Castiel's stint as God and the cruel things he had done made Dean sure he wasn't going to be swayed.

"It's Castiel," Dean said. "The healer is Cas."

"Your angel friend?"

"He was a friend, yeah. I don't know what he is anymore. He was supposed to be dead, Elsie, but he's not. He's living this suburban life, and he looks happy. After what he did to Sam, he's happy!"

"I don't understand. What did he do?"

"He was the one that did this to him. Castiel broke Death's wall. That wall was protecting Sam from it all, his memories of Hell, but Castiel broke it to distract us when we were trying to stop him from making a big mistake. He was going to destroy everything, and we had to stop him. I had to leave Sam, alone and lost, to try, and I was still too late. Castiel did it. That's what's out there now, Leviathans." He broke off, panting, realizing he'd said too much.

Elsie didn't seem concerned about the Leviathan revelation though. She sounded calm as she said, "You said Castiel could heal though."

"Yeah, he's an angel."

"Then this is even better, isn't it? You already know he can do it. And he owes you. He'll help."

"But why didn't he come to us sooner?" Dean asked. "If he'd wanted to help us, he would have come to us straight away. I don't think he cares about owing us anything."

"You need to make him care," Elsie said. "Tell him what's happening. He'd have to be very hard-hearted to not help you now."

"He's an angel, Elsie. They're not like us. I don't… Hold on." His phone was beeping. He pulled it from his ear and glanced at it. It was Sam's monitor alerting him. "Elsie! Sam's seizing!"

"I'm going," Elsie said, and then there was the click of a disconnected call.

Dean closed his eyes and took a breath. When he'd left, he hadn't considered how hard it would be to know Sam was seizing while he was so far away. He could imagine far too clearly what was happening to him right now. Sam suffering while Alfie and Elsie watched him, knowing there was nothing they could do.

There was nothing Dean could do either, nothing but turn the car around and go back to Castiel and beg for him to help Sam. He had to push down his doubt and anger—because he was angry with the angel, very angry—and get Sam help. That was what mattered.

He put the car into gear and pulled away from the sidewalk.

The ride back to Castiel's house seemed to take too short a time. Soon Dean was pulling up outside and climbing out. He locked the car and walked up the steps to the door. Taking a breath, he knocked.

The woman he had seen outside opened the door. She had a sweet smile and kind eyes, and she looked pleased to see Dean. Perhaps she had seen Dean sitting outside before and thought he was finally gathering the courage to ask for help.

"Hello," she said gently. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I hope so," Dean said. "I'm looking for…" He broke off, unable to say the name.

"You need Emmanuel," she said. "Come in."

Dean wondered if she knew who Emmanuel really was. Had Castiel told her the truth or was he using her to hide out here and avoid his responsibilities?

He followed her into the airy hall with cream walls and a tawny rug. She led him into a living room with high-back armchairs and a small couch. At the back of the room was a dining table and chairs. The only sign of Castiel that Dean could see was photographs of him and the woman on the mantlepiece.

"I'm Daphne Allen," she said. "I am Emmanuel's wife."

"Dean," he said.

"Well, Dean, take a seat and I will tell Emmanuel you're here."

Dean sat on the edge of one of the armchairs and clasped his hands between his knees. He was nervous about seeing Castiel. How was he going to react? Was he going to sit down and listen to Dean or just kick him out for arriving and interfering in his new life? Did he see this as some form of witness protection even?

Daphne came back into the room followed by Castiel. Dean waited for a sign of recognition, but there was none at all. He just held out a hand to Dean to shake and said, "Hello, Dean. Daphne tells me you need my assistance."

Dean nodded mutely, examining Castiel for a tell. There was none. He smiled welcomingly, but there was no sign at all that he knew who Dean was.

Castiel had proven he could act in the year leading up to the Leviathans being unleashed, as he had completely fooled them until the very end, but Dean didn't believe he was acting now. He suspected Castiel had no idea who he was. Could he have some kind of amnesia? Did that even happen to angels?

Dean felt a surge of anger. The fact Castiel could have this, his slate wiped, none of the guilt for what he had done, while Dean and Sam lived with the aftermath wasn't fair. Then again, what in life was?

He pushed down his anger and gave Castiel a tight smile. He had to treat this meeting as a hunt. He was playing the part of a stranger, and he needed information and help from this person.

Castiel took a seat and folded his hands in his lap. "What is ailing you?" he asked. "I can't sense anything."

"It's not me," Dean said. "It's my brother."

"Ah, I see. And he's not with you?"

"No. We couldn't move him. He's in Oregon."

"That's not a problem," Emmanuel said. "I can go to him."

"You'll do that?" Dean asked.

"Of course. It is my mission to heal, and sometimes the ailing cannot come to me in person. I must go to them."

The combination of this with the fact Castiel didn't seem to recognize him made Dean think he really didn't remember. If he had, he would have found a way to refuse Dean. Not that Dean would have let him. Now that he was there, he realized he needed him and would have to find a way to get him to Sam, even if it meant taking him there at gunpoint. He seemed willing though, and Dean thought his amnesia was actually a blessing. It was going to get Castiel to Sam and that was what mattered.

"What is his diagnosis?" Castiel asked.

"He's got a few," Dean said. "He was in a car wreck and he had liver damage and a traumatic brain injury. His liver has healed now, but we're still dealing with the brain injury. He's got some mental health issues, too. He has PTSD from something that happened to him before the accident, and now he's got some kind of disassociation thing going on. He's shut down from us." He drew a breath. "Is that something you can fix?"

"Perhaps," Castiel said, exchanging a look with Daphne. "I have only healed physical illness thus far, but I will absolutely try with his other ailments. I should be able to make life a little easier for him at least."

It wasn't the assurance Dean had hoped for, but he still had hope. Castiel was an angel, whether he knew it or not, and that meant serious power. He should be able to do something. He had a better chance than any other healer Dean could have found.

"You must have had a long journey," he said. "I will make you some tea while you rest and then we can leave. I see you drove here. Will you be driving back? I am unable to fly as I don't have the correct documentation."

"Me either," Dean said. "It's not that bad a drive though. We can get there by tomorrow evening if I drive right through."

Castiel nodded. "I will make tea. Daphne, do you think you could pack a bag for me?"

"Of course," she said gently. She touched Castiel's arm before she slipped from the room and Dean heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Castiel stood and walked into the hall. Dean followed him, unwilling to let Castiel leave his sight and needing to ask him a couple questions. They went into a well-appointed kitchen and Castiel filled a tea kettle and set it down on the stove. He took cups and saucers from a cupboard and placed them on a tray.

"You look very tired," he said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's been rough recently."

"I can imagine," he said. "I have seen many people come through my door with heavy burdens, needing my help. I think you're among the worst. You must care about your brother very much."

"I do," Dean said. "He's all I have left from before."

"Before?"

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He quickly changed the subject. "How long have you been doing the healing thing?"

"Only a matter of months," Castiel said. "I do not know what I did before that."

Dean could have told him easily enough, but he wanted to know the story so he asked, "You don't remember?"

"No. I have amnesia. My first memory is waking at the edge of a river, naked and afraid. Daphne found me, she was hiking, and she brought me here to take care of me. When I realized I could help, having healed a burn she got while cooking, I began to experiment. I have not yet found anything I can't do. Daphne supports my work, and a month ago we were married."

Castiel was married! That was a head trip in itself.

"She seems like a good woman," he said.

"She is a very good woman," Castiel agreed. "I don't know what I would do without her."

"I get that," Dean said.

"You feel the same way about your brother."

"I do. Sam is a good man, too, and he doesn't deserve what's happened to him lately. I need to help him."

Castiel removed the kettle from the heat though it wasn't ready. "You don't need tea, do you?" he said. "You need us to leave now."

"I really do," Dean said.

"Then I will help Daphne and then we can leave. We can get to Sam and I can try to help him."

Dean nodded. That was exactly what he needed.

So… They're on their way. I wrote Emmanuel once before in my first full-length fic — Clean Slate — and it was fun to revisit his character.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx