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“Six, seven, eight, nine, and ten.” Castiel finished counting the rooms on Hallway B just as he did every morning at 8:00 AM. He looked at his wrist and counted three white lines, the only remaining evidence he had of the Incident. He continued walking down the white hallway and smiled at the fellow patients as he went. He counted the secretaries sitting at the desk to his right, he counted the janitors rolling their carts, Castiel counted everything. It was how he kept himself calm and focused on the world around him.
This process was the same every morning for the past six months since the Incident. Cas didn’t like to talk about that day or even think about it. Thinking about it gave him panic attacks, once he even lashed out and slapped his nurse accidentally during one of his attacks, earning him a week in confinement. He had memorized most if not all of the hospital, but there wasn’t a room in the building that he had memorized as meticulously as he had his own room.
Castiel resided in room 401 on Hallway C. the room had 43 tiles on the ceiling and 2 light fixtures, each with 4 bulbs inside of them. He had a circular table and a chair in front of a window that was locked shut at all times. His bed was larger than most because he was a long time resident, and he always insisted on having green sheets. He wasn’t sure why, but they had always just felt safest.
Cas hated how strict the rules in the hospital were. Just having a panic attack could land Castiel in solitary and he wasn’t allowed to leave his bed for three days afterward. He hated not being able to wander these halls. He had memorized every inch of the hospital and knew every person by name. He assumed he must have been a social person before the Incident, but he had no way of remembering. Most, if not all events before October 18th were a blur for Cas; he knew basic things, such as his name and his age.
Castiel was different. He knew it; Cas had always felt that he wasn’t like these people. He wasn’t crazy, he didn’t set things on fire like Anna in room 124. Cas didn’t hear Josh Groban telling him to kill himself like Benny in room 127. He wasn’t crazy. He didn’t belong here. He told himself this every night before going to sleep. This...this incarceration was all some accident. Any day, somebody from his past life will come and rescue him.
So far, nothing had happened.
No one had come.
Cas shook the thoughts from his head and continued his walk, stopping to talk to Nurse Mills just like he did every other morning at 8:10 AM.
On July 28th, Cas’ morning routine was disrupted. He heard an ambulance pull up, and a lot of voices along with loud, quick footsteps as somebody was wheeled into an examination room. There hadn’t been much activity recently, and Cas was curious, but he wasn’t allowed to leave floor 6 after 8:00. He decided to ask around.
“Uh, Nurse Mills?” Cas asked as she walked by him.
“Yes Castiel? Is there something wrong? Do you need something?” She asked, going into ‘nurse mode.'
“No, no I'm fine,” Cas’ mumbled. “I was just wondering, what happened? To whoever was in that ambulance? Do you know?” he asked, feeling a little embarrassed at appearing excited about somebody else’s current hell.
“I don’t know much, sorry Cas; I just know it’s some poor kid who was in a pretty nasty car wreck. They’re doing an exam on him in a few- Cas? Castiel? What's wrong? Hold on I'm getting the doctor just… stay there!” Nurse Mills rushed to get the doctor, leaving Cas after he had fallen to the ground and curled up into a ball, shaking and tugging on his hair.
Once Cas had been sedated and brought back to his room, he woke up to see his therapist, Jared, sitting in the chair across from his bed. Castiel tried to lift his hand to greet Jared, only to find that he had been cuffed to the bed. Cas thumped his head into the pillow and huffed loudly. He hated being confined; it threw off his routine and made him jumpy. Once he had calmed down, he turned to Jared, waiting for him to say something to keep Cas from breaking down in tears.
“So, Mr. Novak. You had a bit of an episode earlier today. Do you remember any of it? Can you tell me what happened?” Jared gave that ‘therapist smile’ and brushed his long hair away from his face a bit.
“Nothing. Nothing occurred. I’m fine. I just… freaked out a little. Nurse Mills told me how somebody was injured yesterday in a, well you know, and something in me just clicked because of my mother. It's not a big deal; I'm fine. Please just take these off.” Cas gestured to his bound wrists with his chin and looked at Jared pleadingly.
Jared shook his head gently, and Cas threw his head back into the pillow. He kept his eyes closed for a few seconds before speaking again,
“What do you want Jared?" he muttered weakly, "I get it. I’m broken, I'm a mistake, I shouldn’t even be alive right now and worse even, I can barely remember most of the past 28 years of my life. But I do remember her. I remember crying about not wanting to stay at a friend’s house. I remember her kissing me on the forehead before she dropped me off, I remember talking to her on the phone a few minutes later, begging her to come back. I remember hearing my mother’s last words over the phone and knowing it was my fault because she turned around to come get me. I remember that a semi lost control on that same road. That road that she wouldn’t have been driving on if it weren’t for me. Are you happy now Doc’? I remember killing my mother. I remember.” Cas hadn’t realized he was crying until he finished and turned his head away, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. He heard Jared's pen scribble a few notes but he didn’t notice Jared had left until he heard the lock on the door click.
A week passed, and Cas followed his routine just like every other day, visiting every patient and spending time talking to them if they were able, reading to them, sometimes even singing to them. Every day at 12:00 he left the Ward and visited patients in the general injury sector. He liked visiting people in comas because he knew that somewhere they could hear him. Sometimes a person’s vitals would even change while he was just sitting there talking to them about his day and other arbitrary things. He avoided one room though. One patient in the hospital that he had never visited and he never intended to visit, whoever the boy was that lay comatose in room 67. Cas knew he wouldn’t be able to look at him without breaking down like before. He asked around and found out more about this boy, as he didn’t have the mental stability to see for himself.
His name was Dean Winchester. He was born on January 24th, 1990. He had a brother named Sam who visited every day and a best friend named Jo who visited every Tuesday, and Thursday. Cas knew more about this man than he knew about himself some days, and he knew he would never get any better, that this burning itch in the back of his mind would never go away if he didn’t find it in himself to visit Dean at least once.
A couple days later Castiel decided to finally do it. He walked slowly down the stairs and through the blindingly white corridor, stopping to stand in front of the door marked ‘67’ for what seemed like an eternity. He reached out his hand and twisted the knob slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as he cracked the door open. Once the door was fully ajar Cas opened his eyes slowly and walked over to sit next to Dean’s bed.
Dean had light brown hair; it was a bit messy from being hospitalized, but it fell in all directions and sort of stuck up like Castiel’s. He was a bit taller than Cas, maybe a few inches judging by how his feet almost hung over the edge of the bed. He had constellations of freckles across his nose and stubble that was at least older than 2 weeks old. Cas sat by his bed and studied him silently for a long time. Eventually, he took a deep breath and tried to pretend Dean was just another patient; because he was, wasn’t he?
Cas reached under the cover to hold Dean’s hand gently, just as he did with every other coma patient. The second Cas’ fingers touched Dean’s palm a pain in his head split through him like lighting. He gasped and clutched his forehead, but the pain went away as quickly as it had come. Cas looked down at Dean a few seconds later and immediately felt the pain again. Cas felt tears begin to form in his eyes and panicked, not just because of the splitting headache but because the last time he’d felt this was when he saw a picture of his mom for the first time after the Incident.
This, he had come to realize, is how he feels when he remembers someone he loved in his past. Cas stared at Dean in horror, a million questions racing through his mind as he ran out of the room and up the stairs, back to his bed, tears streaming down his face. Castiel had come to realize his headaches increased severity based on how important that person was in his life or how much he loved them. The headaches he had when he saw a picture of his father for example, were minuscule and barely even there. The headaches he’d felt after seeing his mother’s photo were splitting but they paled in comparison to what he’d just felt. Who was Dean and how is it that Cas had, at some point, loved him this much? More than life, more than existence itself, apparently. Cas cried himself to sleep with these thoughts fresh in his mind.
Two days later, Cas finally went back to Dean’s room. Ready to accept what the universe had in store for him. He decided to sing his favorite song to Dean, “Hey Jude” by the Beatles. This also happened to be his mother’s favorite song; she would sing him to sleep every night when he was younger. Or at least, that’s what Cas liked to think used to happen; it was all rather fuzzy now. When he started to sing he noticed Dean’s heart rate got a bit faster and his mouth twitched ever so slightly. Cas kept singing and smiled a bit, realizing he must have sung this to or with Dean at some point before.
A few more days passed and Castiel's anxieties about who he was and who he might’ve been before the Incident and who he was with Dean faded. Instead, he found himself fantasizing about the time they might’ve spent together and occasionally getting sad because he’d probably never remember, but Castiel was positive this- whatever it may be- was real; he was sure that it was strong, something that couldn't be broken. He was willing to give anything for a shred of knowledge, a single memory, a birthday, a Christmas, anything. Cas would sacrifice anything to know something solid, tangible, to have something he could hold on to for once.
"That’s what love is all about. Sacrifice. And I’d sacrifice anything for you.I don't- I don't remember much, but I know. I just know I would.” Cas said to Dean every day before he left, kissing his knuckles as he did so. A few more days passed and Cas forgot his routine and replaced everything with Dean. He spent hours sitting by his bedside, reading his favorite books to him, singing to him and just talking to him. He loved seeing Dean's heart rate change sporadically based on whatever Cas was doing.
On his way back to his room Cas passed Nurse Mills,
“Oh Cas, you look so happy! What’s been going on with you lately?” she asked. Cas had always been cheerful but he had apparently never seemed genuinely happy.
“I’ve just been visiting Dean, room 67; I think I knew him in the past.” Cas said simply, not letting on that he had barely left Dean’s room all week.
“Room 67? Oh honey.” Nurse Mills frowned a little. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Cas’ face fell and he stuttered, “Wh-what do you mean? The doctor said he’s doing really well. He- he should wake up! He will! H- he- he'll wake up any day now!”
Nurse Mills reached for Cas’ shoulder but Cas jerked away, his eyes growing wide, he held back tears. “That may be so sweetheart, but he suffered really severe head trauma, and most of his bones shattered in that crash. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” She said.
“No! no you’re wrong!” Cas shouted, he could feel his chest tightening and tried to calm himself down so he wouldn’t have to spend another three days chained up. if he wasn’t so preoccupied by the million thoughts spearing themselves through his mind, he’d be embarrassed at how childish he sounded.
"Please Castiel, I am doing this for your sake, don’t get any ideas. Try not to get too close to this boy,” Cas vehemently shook his head, his wild black hair flying around his face.
“You’re making a mistake Castiel," Nurse Mills said.
Cas was already bolting up the stairs as he yelled over his shoulder to her, "I am a mistake!" and flung himself onto the bed, taking deep breaths until his breathing was regulated. He kept his fists clenched underneath the pillow and tried not to think about how stupid he sounded, focusing only on his breathing and the muscles in his hands, otherwise it was possible he may try and bruise himself again, just like the last time he was in a similar state.
“It’s not true. He will wake up. I know him. I- I love him.” Cas assured himself.
And he was right, a week later Dean did wake up. Cas was sitting next to him, holding his hand and pressing soft kisses to his temple when his eyes opened ever so slightly.
“Dean? Dean! Dean you’re awake! Oh my god you’re awake! I can’t believe it!” Cas jumped up and felt his smile nearly split his face in two. Those eyes, he knew those eyes! Dean had bright green eyes, Cas could see it in his mind, he remembered. He remembered seeing those eyes light up whenever Dean smiled and he remembered seeing the pure light of the sun radiating off of Dean whenever he laughed. Cas remembered.
Dean cleared his throat and looked around a bit and his eyes settled on Cas. He seemed confused, “Who- who are you?” He asked. Cas faltered, "I-I'm Cas, Castiel. Don't you remember me?” Cas asked weakly.
“Cas?”
There are many others who call him by his first name, but none of them say it with such gravity. No one else could speak the one syllable as though it were a coveted prayer, the low timbre making his spine tingle. No one else has ever said his name like-
"Cas?" Dean repeated, a sudden realization dawning on him as his eyes lit up and he smiled brighter than the sun.
"Cas."