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Cas
“Cas?! Thank god, you’re awake. Look, the doctors said you wouldn’t remember anything… but I figured, well, since you’re an angel, ya know?”
Cas blinked and looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He had an IV connected to his arm, and a heart rate monitor taped to his finger. There was a slight stinging on his chest, but besides that he felt fine. Then he froze. What had the man said? Angel?
“Yeah, of course,” he muttered, looking into those earnest green eyes.
Looking back on it, he would have no idea why he said it. Why he lied. Why he pretended to know what was going on when he knew a total of three things about himself. That his name was Castiel (seriously, what kind of a name was that?), that he was in Longmont, Colorado, and that he was in love with a man named Dean Winchester.
He had no idea where Longmont was in relation to anything else, and he had no idea where to find this Dean Winchester. But his mind clung to those facts desperately, trying to block out the swirling confusion that threatened to overwhelm him.
“So, your grace blocked whatever spell that was?” Cas nodded and busied himself counting the freckles on the man’s face. He had a lot of them.
“You scared us, man. You were out for four days. They said you were in a coma, and you probably wouldn’t wake up. But Sam and I figured that your grace would heal you faster.”
There was that word again, grace. Everytime he heard it something inside him seemed to glow, to buzz with a fiery heat.
“I’m sure you need your rest. I’ll go find Sam. He was finishing up the hunt.” The man looked him up and down one more time then walked from the room.
A hunt. Okay, so he’d been hurt in a hunting accident. Though that didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like a hunter. And what was that about a spell anyway? And had the guy seriously called him an angel?
Angel must be a nickname. Or maybe it was his last name. He wasn’t sure if he had one.
A nurse walked in and smiled warmly at him.
“Mr. Dougherty said you remember. That’s really good news, Simon. We should be able to get you out of here in just a few days.”
“My name is Castiel,” he said automatically, squinting at her.
She nodded with a smile and glanced pointedly at the IV drip connected to his arm. Great. So she thought he was delusional.
Which really, might be better for him. He had no idea why he’d pretended to remember--what had she said?--Mr. Dougherty. But now that he had, it seemed he would need to play the part.
“I need to find Dean Winchester,” Cas said as the nurse turned to leave the room.
“I’m sorry, but I only know the two men that brought you in.”
“Did I have a phone?” She shook her head and glanced quickly at her clipboard, clearly anxious to get back to her rounds.
“What happened? I only remember leaving the house and then it all goes black.” He wasn’t sure if he even had a house. But it seemed like a plausible story, and he needed at least a few answers.
“You were in a hunting accident. They said you hit your head, but we can’t find any bruises. To tell you the truth, Simon, you have us puzzled. The cuts on your chest… well, it’s not important now. You’re doing okay, and that’s what’s important.” She smiled again, tight and close-lipped, and then hurried from the room.
Cas ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He needed to find Dean. Dean would help him. He shifted in the bed and lifted the collar of the loose hospital gown. He nearly cried out when his eyes found his chest.
Pure white light was shining through the deep, blood red cuts. They were meticulous, almost like they were forming some symbol. And they were disappearing. Where the light touched, the skin knit back together and left light pink scar tissue.
Cas watched mutely, then dropped the hospital gown and leaned back in his bed. His tired eyes found the IV and he shook his head slowly. He wasn’t thinking right, and he didn’t know what he had seen.
He needed to find Dean.
Cas ripped the IV roughly from his arm and pulled the heart rate monitor from his finger. Then he stumbled to his feet, surprised when he didn’t feel woozy. In his experience (as far as he knew it to be), coma patients generally were very disoriented when they woke up. And he’d only been awake for an hour and thirty-six minutes. Cas frowned at the number--it was oddly specific--but shrugged it off and walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room.
He found a trenchcoat and a wrinkled suit and started dressing under his gown.
Then he slid the thin fabric over his head and looked at his chest. The barest outline of a scar remained, and he closed his eyes, determined to ignore it. It must have been an old scar anyway. An old scar he was turning into something more than it needed to be.
His fingers struggled on the buttons of his shirt, and he guessed he didn’t get dressed in a suit often. After he’d shrugged the trenchcoat over his shoulders, he turned to the window. His reflection was faintly visible, and he looked right. He felt like himself again, whoever that was.
With detached interest, he noted that his hair was black and his eyes were blue. Not what he would have guessed, but that didn’t matter. He smoothed his hair carefully, trying to stop it from sticking up at odd angles, but it didn’t work so he gave up. Something in his pocket hit against his hip and he pulled out an old flip phone.
He quickly flipped it open and opened the contacts. There were only six. Sam, Bobby, Rowena, 666 (that had to be a joke), Jack and Dean. His breath quickened as he clicked on the name, finger hovering over the call button.
But he didn’t click it. When he’d woken up, he told himself he knew three things about his life. That had been a lie. He remembered four. His name was Castiel, he was in Longmont, Colorado, he loved Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester did not love him back.
So he didn’t call, but he figured a text wouldn’t hurt. His fingers felt unpracticed on the keys, but he managed to type, Where should I meet you?
He frowned at the message. It didn’t make sense, really. Not if Dean had no idea where he was. Then he clicked send anyway.
For a minute, he stood staring at the dirty window with his reflection faintly visible on the dirty glass. Then he walked from the room, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaving the hospital. He pulled his phone from his pocket again and clicked on the notification.
We’ll pick you up at the hospital. Sam killed the witch, so we’re leaving town.
Witch. Alright. That was normal.
Dean
“He remembers, Sam.” His brother stood and shrugged, gathering the last of their things from the room.
“Really? Because that witch seemed pretty sure he didn’t. She cast a spell designed for angels, Dean.” Dean frowned and threw the room key on the table, leading the way to the car.
“That’s weird. I thought she didn’t know what Cas was. And it’s the same spell she cast on all the other vics, right? They were all human.”
“Right, they were. But she got wind we were in town and used a different one that would work on him. She told me herself, right before I killed her.” Dean rolled his eyes and got in the car.
“So you believe her? You were about to kill her, Sammy. She was just trying to freak you out.”
Sam snorted but stayed silent.
They got to the hospital a few minutes later, and Cas was standing outside, back in his trenchcoat and suit. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little. The angel looked so lost. The nurses had probably given him a bitch of a time.
When the car pulled up to the curb, the angel stood there, just looking at the street. Dean sighed and rolled down his window.
“Hey, Cas. We kinda need to roll, what’s the hold up?”
“Dougherty?” His voice was a little higher than normal, more like Jimmy Novak’s had been. Dean frowned but raised his eyebrows.
“Dude, that’s the name on the insurance. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. I have to wait for-- I can’t go with you.” His stomach was starting to sink and he took a deep breath.
“See, Dean? I told you.” He was tempted to tell Sam to shut up, but Cas spoke first.
“Dean? Wait, Dean Winchester?”
“Yeah, that’s me. You really don’t remember anything, huh?” Cas was staring at him like he was back from the dead. Well, back from the dead again.
“If you remember me, or at least my name, get in the car. We’re here to help, okay? I promise.” The angel gulped, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Then he nodded and got in the backseat.
Dean drove away from the hospital with the pedal almost flat against the floor, hands gripping the wheel. Cas didn’t remember anything. Didn’t even know who he was.
“Call her.”
“Calm down, Dean. I’m working on it.” Sam dialed slowly and raised the phone to his ear, holding up a finger for silence.
“Hey, Rowena… yeah, I know we’re sorry about that… listen, we need your help.” Dean glanced at him, ignoring the road.
“Put her on speaker.” Sam rolled his eyes but lowered the phone.
“Rowena, you have to help us fix Cas.”
“Dean, always with the pleasantries. I wish I could say it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Cut the crap, Rowena.” Her sigh blew through the speakers, and her accent managed to seep into it.
“Fine. What seems to be the trouble with the angel?” Cas perked up in the back seat and leaned forward.
“A witch. Some sort of memory spell.”
“That worked on an angel?” She sounded mildly impressed. If she’d been in the car, Dean might have strangled her.
“I’ll come to you, boys. I know of two spells that could do this, and the cure is very different for the both. Although, I must admit I hope it’s the second of the two.” Dean pulled the phone from Sam’s hand and held it to his mouth.
“Why? What’s the second?”
“Now now, Dean. We mustn’t spoil the surprise. Now where are you?” Dean opened his mouth to spit something back at her but Sam grabbed the phone.
“Mead, Colorado.”
“I’ll be there in two hours. Bye, boys.” Sam hung up before Dean could take the phone again and Dean rolled his eyes, slamming a palm into the wheel.
“I’m… an angel?” Cas’ voice had started to drop in register, and he was sounding more like himself.
“Yeah. One of God’s finest. Well, not really. But you’re one of the not-dick angels, so that’s good.” When Cas didn’t answer he looked in the rearview mirror. The angel was staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face.
They pulled into the nearest motel and waited in tense silence for Rowena to get there. Dean didn’t really see a point in trying to explain to Cas who he was. He meant too much. To him, to the world.
Everytime he looked at the angel, he found him staring. He would look away as soon as he saw Dean’s eyes on him, but by the fourth time Dean stopped trying to convince himself he was imagining things.
He couldn’t place the emotion on Cas’ face, but it was far different than how he looked at Sam. And it hadn’t been Sam’s name he knew.
Dean was almost glad when Rowena knocked on the door.
“Hello, boys.” The minute the words left her mouth, he decided he wasn’t glad. She was a pain in the ass.
When Dean didn’t reply, she sighed and walked over to Cas.
“I drop everything for you bloody Winchesters and when I get here, I’m greeted with cold silence. Are you sure Cassie wants his memories back?” Sam stood up and took her bag, setting it on the bed.
“Thanks for coming, Rowena.” She sighed again, more dramatically if that was possible, and put a hand on Cas’ head.
Her laughter rang through the room and she took her hand back, folding over.
“What?” Dean growled.
“It’s a very interesting spell, one I’ve only used once myself. It’s designed for fallen angels. Well, angel’s who’ve fallen.” Dean squinted at her and instinctively reached a hand to the gun in his waistband, so she hurried to go on.
“Fallen in love, that is. It leaves the angel with the memory of the name of the one they’ve fallen for, and a few other details. The best part,” she laughed again and then went on, wiping her eyes, “Is that it can only be undone by a kiss from that person.”
“A fucking true love’s kiss. Are you fucking kidding me?” She raised her eyebrows but laughed again.
“Well, this shouldn’t be too hard for you, boys. I would be on my way, but I’m afraid I’ll have to stay for this.”
“Whatever, we’ll just find the girl and get her here,” Dean said, the blood in his veins running cold. Cas was in love with someone. That didn’t bother him at all.
He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he tried desperately to calm down. Rowena was laughing again.
“Oh, you poor, sweet thing.” She turned to Cas, who was watching the whole exchange with wide eyes.
“It’s okay, Castiel. You can say who it is. He won’t be mad I promise.” She said it softly, especially for a witch, but Cas still stared back at her with wide eyes before dropping his gaze. Dean looked over at Sam, his heart pounding. His brother seemed to be hiding a smile, and not very successfully.
Then he looked back to Cas. The angel’s eyes were fixed on the floor and his ears were tinted pink. Dean could see his shoulders rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths, like he was trying to calm down.
“It won’t matter,” the angel finally said.
“Cas, he feels the same,” Sam said, crossing the room to stand next to Rowena.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean glanced between the two of them, trying to read their faces. Besides laughter, he found nothing.
“I know he doesn’t. I can’t remember why I know. Or anything else about who I am. I know that though.” Sam nodded slowly and looked at Rowena, who was staring at Cas with an incredulous smirk.
“Okay, this has been fun, but I really need to get going. I left a very… interesting party for this. Cas, say the name. You want to remember who you are, don’t you?” He nodded and looked up, finally meeting Dean’s eyes.
“I’m in love with Dean Winchester.” Dean froze. At least his face wasn’t bright red anymore. It was now white as a sheet. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and looked at Sam and Rowena. They weren’t laughing anymore.
Then he walked to Cas and cupped his face gently, pulling him up so they were chest to chest.
He looked scared, but Dean didn’t blame him. He had no idea who he was, just one name and the knowledge that he wasn’t loved back. At least Dean could do something about it. He ran a thumb over the angel’s cheek down to his lip, grazing it softly.
Then he gently threaded his hand into the angel’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips met gently, barely touching, and then he pulled back.
The angel’s eyes glowed white, and then widened.
“Dean?”
“Hey, Cas.”
“You didn’t have to--” Dean pulled his hand from his hair and set it gently on the angel’s waist, pressing their bodies together. Sam cleared his throat and Dean raised his middle finger, smiling as he pressed his forehead into Cas’. Sam sighed (Dean could almost hear the eye roll) and quickly left the room, followed closely by Rowena.
“I love you too, Cas.” The angel smiled softly and leaned in for another kiss.