Chapter Text
Cas was numb.
He'd still been in the shower, ignoring Rhys's efforts to coax him out, when Bao had called about Dean. He hadn't been able to hear her side of the conversation, but just the look on Rhys's face was enough to tell him something was seriously wrong. He grabbed the phone from her, demanding to know what had happened, but dropped it sometime between Bao saying that Dean had been shot and her wholly unsatisfactory explanation as to how it happened. Rhys had listened to the rest, and afterwards, had done her best to make him understand the details. The bullet, she said, had hit just beneath the Kevlar, taking a piece of bandage with it, and that meant Dean's surgery carried an extra risk: if some of the bandage was left behind, the wound could end up fatally infected, and that was before you factored in the chance of organ damage.
Cas had been sick again after that; and again, and again, until he was beyond empty. Then, wet and shivering, he'd gotten up – and brushed his teeth, because Agent Rhys had insisted – and gone to wait for Dean. He'd arrived just in time to see his lover wheeled into surgery, and after that, there was a blank space in his memories. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a hard plastic chair, a thick towel wrapped around his shoulders as Agent Rhys handed him a cup of hot chocolate, yelling over her shoulder for someone to 'fucking fix it, then!', though what exactly needed fixing, Cas didn't know and doubtless never would.
He didn't drink the hot chocolate. It went cold in his hands, and when Agent Cross, with maddening arrogance, arrived to try and congratulate him on Dean's service to his country, Cas threw the lot in his face. Cross shouted at him for that, but when Cas didn't respond, he went away again, and as Rhys sopped up the mess with a borrowed cloth, she murmured, 'The guy's a jackass.'
That had been hours ago. His clothes were still damp, and even with the towel, he felt frozen in place; his thoughts were sluggish, looping endlessly back on themselves, and when a doctor finally approached and said his name, it took Cas a good three seconds to realise that meant him. He blinked up at the surgeon, taking in her tentative smile, and for the first time since Bao had called, he let himself hope.
'We got it all,' the surgeon said. 'It wasn't clean or quick, and he'll take a while to heal, but the internal damage was minimal – no organs nicked, which means he's out of immediate danger. We'll monitor him in intensive care for at least the next twenty-four hours, just to be safe, but barring complications, he should be fine.'
Cas shook with relief. 'Can I see him?'
She frowned. 'Are you family? Because intensive care is –'
'Just get him access,' said Agent Rhys, in the sort of voice that suggested she could either end a war, or start one. ' Now .'
The surgeon hesitated. 'Sure,' she finally said, and left.
Into the silence, Cas said, 'Thank you.'
'Don't mention it,' said Rhys. 'When my girlfriend had her appendix out last year, the staff were unbearable about letting me visit. I wasn't on her insurance.'
'Oh,' said Cas. And with that, a sudden thought occurred to him. 'Anna! Oh god, Anna, is she OK, too? I didn't ask, I should have asked, but I didn't –'
'She's fine,' Rhys said, gently. 'Apparently, Crowley just let her go. Bao's interviewing her now.'
'Oh,' he said again. 'Good.'
And then he burst into tears.
Awkwardly, Rhys patted his shoulder – though not, crucially, his back – and after a minute, Cas managed to get himself under control.
'Can you get Anna in to see him, too?' he asked, wiping his eyes. 'To see us, I mean.'
'I'll do my best,' said Rhys. 'Come on. Let's go.' She helped him up, clicking her tongue at how cold he was. 'I'll ask someone to check the lost and found for some dry clothes. You can't sit like this forever, not in a hospital; you'll catch swine flu or something, and then I'll be out on my ear.'
Cas managed a feeble laugh. 'I promise not to catch swine flu.'
'Oh, sure, you say that now .'
They rounded a corner – Cas didn't know where he was going, and had to trust that Rhys did – and kept walking. Nothing felt real: he couldn't believe Dean was alive and safe, but the idea that he might really be dead, or in danger of dying, was equally incomprehensible. Until Cas saw the truth for himself, his lover was effectively stuck in some quantum state between life and death, a literal Schrodinger's cat. Against all reason, he found the comparison comforting. Love is a wave and a particle, he thought. Like light. You can either know where it's going or what it means now, but not both at once. You couldn't contain it, otherwise.
Or maybe that was just so much feverish bullshit; his teeth were chattering, and he had an unpleasant premonition that he'd made himself sick (though probably not with swine flu). But then they entered intensive care, and every other thought went out of his head, because there was Dean, his Dean, alive. Cas barely registered the drip in his arm, the winedark bruising around his throat, the oxygen mask; what mattered was the rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his heart.
Cas sat down beside him, and held his hand, and everything else in the world fell away.
'Come back to me,' he whispered. 'You made it this far. Please, love. Just a little bit further.'
*
Anna was having a very strange day.
After Crowley had left, she'd steadied her nerves and poked her head out into the hotel corridor, wanting to check that she really was guarded – and, of course, she was. The men on her door were called Marco and Vin, and out of some bizarre combination of awkwardness, panic and a deeply ingrained sense of hospitality – you didn't just leave people standing in hallways – she'd ended up inviting them in to watch TV with her, on the specious justification that, if they were going to be there anyway, they might as well be comfortable; and besides, she preferred having them where she could see them. Which is how she'd come to end up watching Grease – and not just watching, but singing along to the musical numbers – with a pair of career criminals, one of whom had a Chinese dragon tattooed on his face, and the other of whom had casually confessed to once having strangled a man with a shoelace. They'd even cracked open the minibar, and once the movie was over, Marco had taught her to cut cards. As abduction experiences went, it had been oddly pleasant.
And then, out of nowhere, Crowley had called and asked Marco to let her go. No explanations, no word on Dean or Ruby – nothing. She'd simply been escorted out of the building, which turned out to be in a part of Monument she didn't recognise, and set free like an undersized trout in a catch-and-release stream. Sheepishly, Vin had returned her mobile, and that had been that: the two men had gone back inside, presumably to do whatever it was that criminals did when they weren't guarding kidnapped baristas, and Anna had been left, blinking and dumbstruck, in the early evening light. After a minute of aimless walking, she'd finally thought to turn on her phone – though of course, she didn't call a cab, because life-or-death emergencies aside, she couldn't afford one. Instead, she rang Dean, biting her lip as the call went through – and then a woman had answered. Her name was Special Agent Bao, and Anna was to stay right where she was; an FBI detail would come and collect her shortly. Anna tried to ask about Dean, but beyond confirming that he was alive, Special Agent Bao had refused to give any details.
Twenty minutes later, she was picked up off the street by taciturn pair of FBI agents who, she felt sure, most certainly wouldn't have left their post to watch Grease with her, though they both looked more than capable of committing murder by shoelace. They drove her, not to the FBI field office, but to a police station, where she was given a bottle of water and left in an interview room. This was confusing to say the least, but just as impatience threatened to get the better of her, Special Agent Bao appeared and asked her what had happened.
And Anna had answered, narrating the day's events as sensibly as she knew how, which wasn't very; but then, the day itself was absurd, so how was that her fault? Bao listened quietly, then asked a different set of questions: how and when had she first met Dean? What about Crowley? What, if anything, had she known about Ruby Blue? Though Anna didn't remember who'd given her the bottle of water, she was grateful to them; her throat was aching after half an hour, and even with something to drink, she could feel her voice start to weaken.
By the time she was done, she'd told Bao everything she wanted to know, and as such felt entitled to a few answers of her own – such as, for instance, where was Dean? And what the hell had happened, anyway?
Bao hesitated, sat back, and sighed. 'Here's what we think we know,' she said. 'At some point yesterday, Ruby Blue made contact with Special Agent Lassiter, offering him the chance to publicly discredit Dean in exchange for arresting her competitors; provided, of course, he let her go. The problem was, the Bureau had already suspended Lassiter – he couldn't hold up his end of the bargain. Even so, he still asked his immediate superior for the necessary resources to act on what he referred to as a 'confidential tip' about Dean's involvement in a criminal conspiracy, and while no such resources were granted, neither did his superior report his request. If he had done, things might have gone very differently today.'
Bao paused. There were dark circles under her eyes, and as angry as Anna was at the FBI over Lassiter, it was hard to extend that rage to Bao, who looked in every respect like a woman struggling to make the best of an incredibly bad situation.
'What did happen, then?' Anna prompted.
'Revenge, we think.' Bao rubbed her face. 'Lassiter knew he was going to lose his job, and if Dean had charged him with sexual assault, he'd likely have gone to prison. He couldn't back out of the deal with Ruby, and so he seemingly decided his best and only option was a strong offence. I don't think he was acting alone, either. I have no proof of this as yet –' and here her eyes flashed, which Anna took to mean but I know what the fuck I'm talking about , '– but I suspect he went to one of Ruby's competitors, most likely Teddy Brimmond, and enlisted his help to take Ruby down. Certainly, he didn't kill three good agents, then seal myself and Agent Cross in the surveillance van on a whim, unassisted, and with no premeditation. He had help, and given who ended up dead today, coupled with the fact that Crowley let you go, I can't think who else might have offered it. Regardless –' she made a cutting gesture, '– the practical upshot was, we were betrayed, and badly. Dean called for backup right on schedule, but they – we – were either dead or disabled, and by the time we were able to get to him, it was too late. Besides our agents, we found four bodies: Ruby Blue, Meg, an unknown man we suspect was hired muscle, and Lassiter himself.'
Anna's pulse was racing. 'And Dean?'
'Shot in the lower abdomen, and rather badly choked. He's in surgery now.' She grimaced. 'Lassiter was dead beside him, shot through the back of the head. Again, I suspect – but cannot prove – that Crowley was responsible. By which I mean,' she added, responding to Anna's shock, 'that Lassiter shot and choked Dean, and then was killed by Crowley.'
Anna exhaled sharply. 'Oh. That makes more sense, I guess.'
Bao raised an eyebrow. 'Inasmuch as any of this does, you mean?'
'You said it.' She drank the last of her water, watching as Bao laced her fingers together. 'Why are you even telling me this? I mean, don't think I'm not grateful, but I was more or less expecting you to cut me out of the loop.'
Bao's lips quirked. 'Two reasons,' she said. 'One, because someone will have to update Castiel on the situation, and as he was rather explicit about what I could expect from him if Dean was hurt, I think he's better off hearing it from someone he trusts – though I will, of course, have to face him eventually. And two –' she smiled, '– because you strike me as being a singularly practical and level-headed person, which is not a compliment I'd currently pay to either of your friends.'
Anna laughed despite herself. 'I'm flattered, really. But it's not exactly a high bar, is it?'
'Point taken.' Bao toyed with her pen a moment, as though she were debating with herself. Then, in a quieter, more hesitant tone than she'd used before, she added, 'Once they knew you'd been taken, Castiel wanted to involve the police in your rescue, but Dean suggested – forcefully, I might add – that young black women were seldom a high priority for local law enforcement, and that you deserved better from both of them. Castiel agreed.' She met Anna's gaze. 'They might not be practical, but they're not stupid; not about the important stuff, at least. And I thought... I thought you might like to know.'
Anna's mouth hung open a little. 'Are you, ah... I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but – are you suggesting I ought to give them both cookies for being aware of systematic racism? Because, if so –'
'I am suggesting,' Bao said, 'that in my experience, systematic racism tends to be most evident in what people say about you behind your back, regardless of how they treat you in person. Information is valuable, Ms Milton. I merely thought to share it.'
'Oh,' said Anna, blushing slightly. 'Well then. Thanks, I guess.'
'Don't mention it.' Bao stood, and just like that, the moment ended. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have vast oceans of paperwork to navigate, and you, I suspect, have a hospital visit to pay. Or would you rather return home first?'
Anna shook her head. 'Hospital, thanks.' She could only imagine how Cas was taking news of Dean's injuries, and the thought of him sitting a solo vigil over his boyfriend was downright depressing.
'I'll have someone drive you over, then.' Bao held out a hand. 'It's been a pleasure, Ms Milton.'
They shook hands. 'I guess it has,' says Anna. 'But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not do it again.'
Bao's laugh was throaty and genuine. 'Me neither.'
*
He was wrapped in white silence, but like all silences, it had a peculiar sound that was all its own, the aural equivalent of sunlight flashing over closed eyes, intangibly felt and bodily sensed. This silence was like chewing a ball of aluminium foil, a metal-tang-fizz that both disturbed and satisfied. He was small within it, his body reduced to pinpoint limbs and aching space, and all around – above, below, between his ribs – was endless, restless white. It was unsettling, not peaceful at all, as though he were trapped within an alien heart that beat out of synch with his own. Emerging from nowhere, silver-black spots disfigured the white, like blossoming mould on bathroom tiles; he waxed and waned around his bones, and suddenly he was falling backwards, tumbling into awareness of a body that hurt, and breathed, and bled, but which was too heavy to move.
Dean fluttered his eyelids, unable to open them fully. His fingers and toes twitched, which was dimly reassuring, but he was muzzy, and weak, and in the moment, it was easier just to lie back and listen.
'Cas, it's been hours. Your lips are blue. Please, it'll take five minutes – go have a hot shower, put some dry things on, and then come back. I promise, Dean's not going anywhere.'
'He didn't leave me. I'm not leaving him.'
'If he were awake, he'd tell you to change.'
'If he were awake, there wouldn't be a problem.'
'Cas –'
'Anna, please. You don't understand. It's a quantum thing.'
'A what?'
'He's superpositioned. It's the uncertainty principle, all right? If I'm not here, if I can't see him, then he's dead and alive, not stable, not –'
'You're delirious.'
'I'm fine. Stop hovering and listen, would you? He's Schrodinger's cat.' A violent sneeze. 'Not a real cat, though. He doesn't have nine lives. It's why I have to watch – hey!'
'You're burning up. I swear to god, Cas, if you don't go and get changed right now, I'll have one of the nurses sedate you.'
'The nurses don't answer to you.'
'They will if I bribe them with pizza.'
'Liar. You have no pizza.'
Dean felt a pang of worry. Cas was sick, upset about something. He had to let him know it was OK, had to tell him to calm down, take care of himself. He blinked, surprised by how foggy his vision was, and realised there was something stuck to his face. Irritated, he tried to lift a hand and swipe it away.
'Dean?' Cas's voice, tense and urgent. 'Anna, he moved, I saw him move!'
'Are you sure – oh!'
The world was an underwater blur, all silver-white and grey, but Dean could still see Cas: his blue eyes unmistakeable, like stolen stars, or sapphires. He focussed on them, gulping against the pain in his body, and lifted a hand to his lover's cheek.
'Hey, Cas,' he croaked. The words were barely audible – his throat hurt like he'd swallowed a billiard ball – and there was a stupid plastic mask on his face. Grunting with the effort, he reached up with his other hand and ripped it away, then lay back, absurdly satisfied by such a small accomplishment.
'Hey, Dean.' Tenderly, Cas stroked his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle one by one. His eyes were red-rimmed, his dark hair messy; he was wearing a towel around his shoulders, and his hands, usually so warm, were cool to the touch. Dimly, Dean remembered what he'd overheard, and forced himself to speak.
'You're cold, Cas. Be warm. Promise?'
Cas made a funny noise, like someone had pinched him. 'I promise,' he whispered.
'Told you so,' said Anna. She was standing behind him, and when Dean flicked his gaze to her, he realised she was crying, smiling as she wiped her eyes. 'You big dork, Dean,' she said, and to his utter surprise, she bent down and dropped a kiss on his forehead. 'You had us worried.'
Remembering Crowley, Dean grabbed her hand. 'You OK?'
Anna laughed. 'Am I OK? You're the one in hospital, doofus.'
And with that, it all came flooding back to him: the Lucifer, Bao, his fight with Lassiter. He gasped, and nearby, a machine started beeping. Still gripping Anna's hand, he looked at Cas and asked, 'Fellowship?'
Cas smiled shakily. 'Done. It's over. Brother Tiberius is dead.'
'Good.' Suddenly dizzy, he let go of Anna and shut his eyes. 'Cas?'
'Yeah?'
'Love you.'
Warm lips brushed his own. 'I love you, too.'
Safe and smiling, Dean drifted back to sleep.