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Art by the amazing and talented sketchydean
Five minutes left.
Dean had been checking the clock every few minutes since he’d started his shift that morning. It had been one of the longest shifts of his life. He shouldn’t be back at work yet, he needed to be at home with Cas. It was too soon for Cas to be left on his own, and even the compromise of calling him at lunch time hadn’t been enough to relieve the worry.
It had been a simple car accident. One minute Cas was driving home and the next his car was wrapped around a fire hydrant. Nobody knew how it had happened, because even Castiel couldn’t remember. He’d walked away without a scratch, and Dean had proclaimed it was a miracle until the headaches started.
Then came the memory loss.
He’d woken up in the middle of the night to find Castiel whimpering in a corner, clutching one of their wedding photos, the one that had been framed on Castiel’s night stand. When he’d tried to approach his husband, Castiel had freaked out, demanding to know who Dean was and how he’d faked this wedding picture.
It had taken a few confused questions, half a bottle of whisky on Dean’s part and tea on Castiel’s, and a distressing phone call to Cas’ brother Gabriel, before they both established that Castiel had lost four years of his memory. It had been one of the hardest things they’d ever had to deal with, and had put a huge strain on their relationship. More than once, Dean had offered to let Cas go and divorce him if that was what he wanted.
Thankfully, Castiel had recovered most of his memories before it came to that. The pills were helping, keeping him in control, but sometimes there were slips. He could lose a couple of hours here and there, or be driving them to Gabriel’s and forget where he was going, having to pull over so Dean could take over.
Last night, Castiel had insisted that Dean go back to work, that they couldn’t keep living off their savings. Dean had agreed, but he wasn’t happy and he couldn’t stop worrying. What if Cas had left the bath running? Or left the oven on and gone out? He had the potential to seriously injure himself without supervision. Dean trusted his husband implicitly, but not so much when his short-term memory was impaired.
When his shift was over, Dean didn’t even take the time to change out of his greasy overalls. He could clean Baby’s seats easily enough; Cas wasn’t so replaceable. He hurried home as quickly as he could, relieved when he saw Castiel’s royal blue Chevelle still parked on the drive. It looked like he was still home and there was no sign of a fire or a flood so maybe Dean had been worrying for nothing.
“Cas?” Dean kicked off his boots as he walked in the door, padding through to the living room, and then the kitchen. There was no sign of his husband anywhere. Frowning, he checked upstairs, finding all the rooms were empty. There was no note on the refrigerator to say he’d gone anywhere, no texts or missed calls, nothing.
Dread filling a pit in his stomach, Dean checked the hallway for Castiel’s trenchcoat, feeling sick when it wasn’t there. So he had gone out, he just hadn’t taken the car. Panicking, he wrenched open the door, running out into the street without evening putting his boots back on. Naturally, there was no sign of Cas anywhere, up and down the entire road.
His hands shaking, Dean’s breath came in short bursts as he dialled Castiel’s cell, listening to it ring out. Fuck.
Heading back in, Dean pulled his boots on swiftly and swept up the car keys again. Where would Cas go? He wasn’t back at work; he couldn’t be visiting family because Gabriel was out of town. He hadn’t mentioned needing to go anywhere. The only good thing about this was that Castiel was on foot. He couldn’t have been intending to go too far.
Screeching out of the drive, Dean made the impulsive decision to turn right. It was towards the centre of town, there were more reasons for Castiel to go this way. He kept his eyes peeled as he sped past countless pedestrians, looking for a shock of dark hair and a tan trenchcoat. The more time passed, the more panicked Dean got, wondering if he should start calling around the hospitals or even the police.
When his phone eventually rang, the shrill tone making his heart stop for a brief moment, Dean scrambled for it. He didn’t care that he was driving, it had to be Cas and he could be in trouble.
“Cas?” He spoke urgently.
Terrified sobs greeted him, making his blood run cold. “Dean? Dean, I… I don’t know where I am.” Castiel wept, sounding every bit as distraught as Dean felt when he’d realised Cas was gone. “I don’t recognise anything.”
Dean pulled over, veering dangerously as he swerved to the side of the road and cut the engine. “Cas, baby, calm down,” he soothed, but his own voice was shaking and tears were brimming from fear. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
“I… I can’t remember,” Castiel sniffled, heart-wrenching sobs breaking up his words. “I remember watching TV and then suddenly I was outside and I think I got lost.”
Dean took a few deep breaths to steady himself, fist clenched and pressed to his forehead. At least Cas was okay, he wasn’t hurt, he’d just gotten himself all turned around with his memory loss.
“Okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, feeling more in control now he knew Cas was safe. “Tell me what you see around you. Any street signs? If you can’t see any, what about stores?”
Castiel’s sobs quietened a little as he saw the sense in Dean’s words. There was nothing but the sound of sniffling for a few minute as Castiel took a look around.
“There’s a laundrette,” he rasped. “A… bridal shop. A restaurant called… oh.” Castiel seemed to stop crying instantly, the barest hint of hope in his voice. “Dean… I recognise this street. I’m at Angelo’s.”
Dean’s shoulders slumped with relief. That was only a couple of blocks away from where he was now. Angelo’s was the restaurant where he’d proposed to Castiel over two years ago, it made sense that his husband would recognise it.
“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
He couldn’t bring himself to hang up on Castiel even though he was only a few seconds away. Instead, he just restarted the engine and reassured him that it was going to be alright and he was close. When he turned onto the street, he saw Cas sitting on a bench and pulled up next to him. Within seconds, he had his arms around his husband, burying his face in his hair and squeezing him tightly.
“I was so worried, Cas, I got home and you were gone.”
Castiel whimpered, clutching tightly to his husband. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I just realised that I missed our anniversary with my accident and I wanted us to celebrate, so I figured I’d pick up some food from Angelo’s and be home before you got in from work. I wasn’t supposed to be gone for more than half an hour, I just forgot where I was going and I didn’t recognise any of these streets. I hate this, I’m so sick of being a burden.”
Dean held him a little tighter. “Fuck the anniversary, Cas. I got you and that’s all I need. You’re not a burden, you never could be. I know it’s frustrating, but this won’t last forever. You just gotta stay safe in the meantime, okay? Leave me notes, and keep your ringer on so if I need you, you can answer. Just so I don’t worry about you.”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered again, his fingers gently stroking the back of Dean’s oil-stained jumpsuit. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dean told him quietly, taking his other hand and threading their fingers together. They had a long way to go before Cas recovered fully, but all that mattered right now was that he was safe, and with Dean, right where he belonged.