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Whatever Cas had been dreaming about got very loud, very quickly. Peace turned to chaos and dream-Cas had the semi-coherent thought of ‘hm, this might not actually be a dream’. This was quickly confirmed when Cas’s eyes shot open and he fully registered the blaring of the building’s fire alarm.
Groaning, he grabbed for his phone, poking at the screen to check the time. 1:37am. Diabolical. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he snatched up his robe, not wanting to stand outside for however long in just his boxers and slid the phone in his pocket.
As he approached his door, he could hear the pounding of footsteps in the hall and down the stairs. People weren’t usually in that much of a hurry to get outside when the fire alarm accidentally got triggered. Especially in the early hours of the morning.
The moment he opened his door to the wide-eyed, frantic faces of his fellow residents, he quickly realised...this wasn’t an accident. There really was a fire. He glanced back into his room, knowing he shouldn’t go back for anything but desperately wanting to salvage some belongings, just in case. But common sense won out and the only thing he made a grab for were his door keys in the bowl to his right which he slipped in alongside his phone.
He joined the throngs of people down the three flights of steps, already wishing he’d at least gone back for shoes. Even more so when he finally made it outside of the building and dirt and gravel and stubbed out cigarette butts scraped underfoot.
Moving to stand with the gathering crowd, he turned back to the building, heart clenching as he saw the inferno above. It looked to be just a couple of floors above his own; maybe just contained to the one apartment but with the way it was raging, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
It was only minutes until he heard the sirens. Paramedics and fire engines pulled up and got straight to work. The ambulance crews were checking the condition of the people outside whilst one of the fire teams set up the crane lift and another headed straight into the building.
Rather than wring his hands uselessly, hoping for the best, he began to mill around, checking in on people he recognised and any who looked particularly spooked. No one seemed to know who’s apartment was at the centre of the inferno, but the ones who had been on the same floor had a particularly ashen look on their faces. It made Cas’s heart constrict with despair.
Eventually, the crew outside managed to get the blaze under control just as one of the firefighters emerged from the front door. He was a big, burly man and clutched in his arms was a child, a boy no older than 5, Cas would have guessed. The firefighter made his way straight to the paramedics to attend to him; he appeared to be unconscious. At least, Cas hoped he was. He didn’t want to press in too close to make sure he was breathing. Well, he did but knew he would just be in the way.
Movement at the building entrance caught his eye. The other firefighter, the one who had gone in with the larger man, had re-emerged, a vacant look on his face. Instead of making his way towards either of the fire trucks, he detoured towards the alley beside the building, legs unsteadily dragging under him.
Cas looked around for one of his crewmates but all of them seemed otherwise occupied so he decided to follow the man himself, to make sure he was OK.
He was pulling off his helmet, letting it fall from loose fingers onto the ground before fumbling for the fastenings on his jacket, failing over and over to get his fingers to cooperate.
“Get off, get it off,” he muttered to himself, desperation thick in his tone.
A panic attack. Cas had had enough of them himself to recognise one. His instinct was to help but it was always such a risk approaching someone you didn’t know in the middle of an attack; he was just as likely to make the situation worse.
But as the man’s shaking grew worse, his desperation thicker, Cas couldn’t just stand by and watch. Making his approach as obvious as possible, he stood in front of the man and helped him undo the jacket enough for him to shrug out of it as if the very fabric had been burning his skin. Cas wasn’t even sure the man had fully registered his presence yet.
Bracing a palm on the wall, the man turned and bent over, heaving. Cas winced in sympathy, feeling absolutely miserable for this poor man. Whatever he’d seen in that apartment had clearly rocked him, severely. Cas sent another glance back to the trucks but it was still a hive of activity. Someone would surely track him down eventually. But in the meantime, he felt obligated to stay as a steady presence. Whether he was noticed or not.
Once the man finished throwing up, he slid down the wall, knees up to his chin as he worked to get his breathing under control. Cas retied the belt on his robe and joined him on the floor, a respectable distance between them.
He was muttering to himself again, eyes clenched tightly closed, thumbs pressed into the corners of his eyes. Punishingly so.
“They should have got out. He got out but it should have been all of them. Should have been there. If I got Sammy, I could have got her too. I got Sammy, though. Sammy’s fine. I...I need to-“ He started running his hands over his pants, looking for pockets. “I need to talk to Sam,” he said, voice getting louder, the frantic edge creeping back in again.
Then he finally turned to look at Cas, startlingly green eyes wide with distress. “Sam, I- I need- Please, do you-.”
Cas nodded, not breaking eye contact as he pulled his own phone out of his pocket and passed it to the man, hoping he knew the number by heart.
With shaking fingers, and a couple of botched attempts, he finally managed to get the number he wanted and Cas could dimly hear the dial tone on the other end.
“Hello?” came a tinny voice.
Instead of answering, the man just closed his eyes, pressing the phone tighter to his ear as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Who is this? Dean? What number is this? Hello?”
And then the man – Dean? – let out a wrecked sob as he clutched the phone in a white-knuckled grip, punching the ground with his other hand.
Cas could hear the increasingly panicked voice on the other line and took the risk of prising the phone out of the man’s death grip to try and talk with him directly. The phone was let go with more ease than he expected as the now free hand moved to rub furiously at his brow.
“Hello?”
“Who’s this? What’s going on?” came the voice of the other man.
“My name is Castiel. This is my phone. I lent it to this man because he wanted to call a Sam. I assume that’s you?”
“Yeah. You don’t know him?”
“No, we’ve never met. There was...” Cas hesitated, unsure if the man was listening and if he was, if mentioning the fire might worsen his condition. He continued in slightly more hushed tones, just in case. “There was a fire in my building. I think he must have seen something truly awful in there because he has been having a panic attack since he made it back out. I’ve just been sitting with him.”
“Shit,” the man said. “Well, thanks, first of all.”
“Of course. His name is Dean?”
“Yeah, he’s my big brother. We...When I was a baby, there was a fire. He got me out of the house but our mom, she didn’t make it.”
Cas’s heart broke as he turned to look back at Dean. He was still shaking but the tears seemed to be slowing and he was rubbing a deep circle into one palm with the thumb of his other hand, as if trying to ground himself. It looked like it was helping.
“Always blamed himself, even though he was a four year old kid,” Sam continued.
“And that’s why he became a firefighter?” Cas asked, eyes still on Dean who this time glanced back at him, more awareness in his gaze than there had been up to that point. Cas offered him a small, encouraging smile and whilst Dean didn’t return it, he did let out a slow breath, seeming to relax just a little further.
“Yeah. I suggested therapy but...” From his tone, it sounded like it had been more than a suggestion and that it had been a topic that had been brought up numerous times but that wasn’t any of his business. “In fairness to him, he’s been doing it for 12 years and there’s never been an incident. That I’ve known of, anyway.”
Cas couldn’t imagine what kind of person you would have to be to be able to take such a traumatic event in your life and turn it into such a heroic calling. The training must have been harrowing.
“Whatever happened in your building...Probably hit a little too close to home, this time.”
He got out but it should have been all of them. That’s what Dean had muttered, what had triggered his sudden need to hear Sam’s voice. Cas closed his eyes, heart sinking at the realisation. The young boy the man had walked out with. It had just been him. No other family members. They must have still been inside.
“I think you are right,” Cas said.
“How’s he doing now?”
“Better, I think. I’ll pass you back over,” and with that, Cas handed the phone back to a much more composed Dean, who gave him a nod of gratitude.
“Hey, Sammy.”
They talked for a little bit and Cas did his best not to listen. With one hand occupied with the phone, Cas noticed that Dean kept irritably flexing his other hand. Without giving it much thought, Cas took hold of it and pressed his thumb into the palm as he’d seen Dean do earlier, kneading the muscle there. The conversation stumbled and he paused, realising how presumptuous and invasive the gesture was. But glancing up at Dean he found no trace of annoyance or indignance, just surprise. He continued his conversation without reclaiming his hand so Cas continued with the soothing motion.
He zoned out, finding the movement almost therapeutic and only snapped out of it when his phone was being nudged into his shoulder. Dean offered him a shaky smile as he said, “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Cas said, taking back his phone and returning both of his hands to his lap.
Dean tilted his head back against the wall, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Guess it was bound to happen some time, right?” he asked. It sounded rhetorical but Cas felt compelled to answer anyway.
“I think it’s astounding you have made it as long as you have without incident. It must be a very taxing job for any firefighter, let alone one with your background.”
“Yeah, well. I’m good at compartmentalising. Honestly, I don’t really think about it much when I’m on the job. Most of the time.” He shivered, the chill of the night air finally registering now that his body wasn’t trying to ignite from the inside.
“Would you like me to grab a blanket?” Cas asked. “Fire trucks have those, right?”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we do. But I’m good. Thanks.”
As he pulled his jacket back on, Cas chewed on his lip, weighing up what he wanted to say and how poorly it could be received. It really wasn’t his place but...
“Will you talk to someone? About this?”
Dean raised an eyebrow at him as he slid his arm into one of the sleeves. “You mean a shrink?”
“Yes,” he said, bluntly. “Or even just a co-worker who could look out for you? Should it happen again.”
Dean looked uncomfortable but didn’t shut him down outright so Cas had to take it as a win. “I mean, chances of it happening again are pretty slim. I don’t think-“
“There ya are,” came a new voice. It was the boy’s rescuer, standing in the mouth of the alley, concerned frown on his face. “Everything OK here? Couldn’t find you.”
Dean pushed himself up to his feet and Cas followed, only now feeling stupidly exposed in just his robe and boxers. As if picking up on Cas’s discomfort, Dean’s mouth quirked up in an amused smile and the relief Cas felt at the sight of it firmly squashed the remaining embarrassment.
“Yeah, everything’s good, Benny. Thanks to my friend here. Castiel, right?” he asked, turning back to him.
“Cas, please,” he said offering a hand which Dean shook before placing his other one over it, just briefly., squeezing tight.
Benny looked between them, the confusion even more present on his face. Dean rolled his eyes as he picked up his helmet and slapped it on his head. “I’ll uh. I’ll fill you in back at the station. Alright?” And Cas knew that question wasn’t just aimed at Benny. He gave a grateful smile in return and Dean gave him a small salute as he turned and headed back to the trucks to join his crew.
A week later, Cas was at work when he received a text from an unknown number.
Hey. Got ur number from Sam, hope that’s ok. It’s Dean. The firefighter guy you helped through a meltdown last week. Thursday. U no, in case it happened more than once. Anywya. I owe u. I know that would’ve sucked way harder if u hadn’t been there so I wanted to buy u a coffee or something. As a thanks for helping me out. Up for it?
Cas stared at the message, flummoxed. He’d thought about Dean non-stop since that night – wondering if he did talk to someone, how he’d been sleeping, what other jobs he’d attended since – but never dreamed he’d actually see him again. He quickly added him into his contacts and replied:
You owe me nothing. But I wouldn’t turn down a coffee :) :)
Within minutes, a response came through.
Awesome. I’ll think of somewhere and send u the address and a time.
Cas smiled to himself but before he even had time to turn the screen off, another text came through.
But I can say for sure that any place I pick will be a ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ type place. Just in case that was ur normal get up ;)
Cas groaned in embarrassment as he slammed his head down on his desk.
He really should have grabbed some shoes.