Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)

[freewill]

The time spent with Izaya hadn't led to much, but that might have also been due to the fact that Castiel wasn't functioning at full energy. If he'd been sharper, if he hadn't had his body holding him back every step of the way, maybe he would have worked harder to try and get some information out of the other patient.

As it was, Castiel had spent most of the day dealing with aches and pains on random parts of his body. None of it seemed to follow any pattern, and the rash on his hand was still there, making itself obvious to the rest of the patient body. He was, to be frank, exhausted -- and while part of him wished to fight against that because angels weren't supposed to get tired, the other part felt this urge to lie down.

He remembered how Dean had explained to him that he needed a certain amount of sleep each night. He also remembered how it had annoyed him at the time, how he had seen it as a waste. He would have apologized to Dean for his ignorance now, if he could have.

While the idea had been to spend the last shift in the Sun Room so he could at least lay down and rest, the nurses had another plan for him. He was told instead that there were some visitors who had come to see them, and before he knew it he'd been placed in some sort of waiting room. Castiel remembered looking into this room once before, though it had been night at the time. Now he knew what its purpose was.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before his nurse urged him to take a seat. Castiel found a chair and settled himself onto it, but he couldn't relax. He placed a hand against his injured shoulder, prodding at it for a moment. Who would possibly want to come visit him? There were a few options, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

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[damned_visitors]

Matthew's gaze lingered a bit on his brother's leg, but otherwise returned to Michael. He let Rick take over the conversation. He knew Rick had gotten closer to the detective in the institute and the truth was, to Matthew, Michael had been more an associate than a friend.

Even if he supposed they'd gone through something together. A part of him couldn't help feeling a little guilty about it, like it was his fault he'd dragged the guy into this. He knew it wasn't; he'd asked for his help with the case, that was all. Still. He could remember Michael being completely fine one moment, coming to visit him and getting him to snap out of it. Now the tables had flipped.

Matthew's expression turned questioning when Michael spoke up, half-concerned and half-surprised.

"You don't remember?"

Eric had told him Michael had been there.

[damned_visitors]

This wasn't going like he'd been hoping. Eric resisted the urge to shoot a look at his brother next to him. Considering what happened, could you blame the guy? Hell, he'd been on the same bus as Michael and he wished he couldn't remember. Eric cleared his throat, figuring he better just be matter of fact about the whole thing and not admit that he was still wigged out by the whole thing even almost a year down the line.

"The bus crash, remember? The bus flipped, I got my leg hurt in a bad way," Eric said. He tried to sound like it was no big deal. "It was during one of the trips to Doyleton way back when."

He searched Michael's face for any sign he remembered. Considering how messed up they'd both been during the crash, Eric figured he had a pretty good excuse for not remember every single detail of that day, and it wasn't like they'd had time to say goodbye for he'd been rushed out, back when they thought the leg could still be saved. He guessed seeing something like that could've probably set Michael's progress back. High time he changed the subject. They were here for the whole moral support cheerleading thing, only without the mini-skirts. Eric glanced over at his brother. Him and his fancy dress shirt.

"Anyway, we figured we'd drop by and see how you're doing. They treating you right?"

He figured they were, but he wanted to hear it from Michael's own mouth too.

[freewill]

A bus crash? Well, that was almost the truth, but Dean's mind had been tampered with enough to make him think that it had been some time ago and that it had occurred during the day. That wasn't much of a surprise. Castiel remembered how it had been for him when he'd been brainwashed, how he'd been convinced that all of those nighttime activities had been delusions.

"Of course," he said, needing to play a part even though he didn't think of himself as a good liar. In this case, it would probably be good enough, since he was telling them the things that they wanted to hear. "I don't know how I could have forgotten that."

He had to wonder, though: did that mean Dean had truly lost his leg during their attempt to steal the bus that night? Or had they cut it off for some other reason? Perhaps the way it had happened didn't matter as much as the fact that Dean was now walking on a prosthetic, and Castiel was at least partly responsible for that.

If Dean had known who he was at the moment, would he have blamed him?

"They're treating me fine," he said in response to the question, but it wasn't himself he wanted to talk about. After staring down at his hands for a few moments, he lifted his head to meet both of their gazes. "But how about the two of you? How have you been managing since being released?" He needed to know what they'd been doing, where they lived if possible. Any information he could glean might be enough to help him save them someday.

[damned_visitors]

Matthew's gaze squinted a bit at Michael, like he was trying to figure him out. He remembered being on the other side of the table and he remembered he hadn't bought it so easy as that. Not that he really blamed the man for going along with it.

He didn't push. Look, he figured...you know, even pretending to believe was better than nothing. Maybe it was a first step to actually letting go of all of this crazy supernatural crap they'd all been caught up in.

When the silence grew, Matthew shot a look at his brother, then glanced back at Michael. He didn't mean to feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't help it. Being back here, it was dredging up a lot of stuff he'd been determined to leave behind.

"We're, uh, we're good." He shifted his chair just a hint closer. "Nothing too exciting. I'm graduating in a few months."

[damned_visitors]

Eric nodded. "Good" was one way of putting it. They weren't exactly like best friends or nothin', but he definitely wanted to say things were better between the two of them. For one, Matt actually returned his calls now. Far as he was concerned that was a pretty big step up. He'd even been invited to the graduation, something he thought wouldn't ever happen. Apparently this joint really could work miracles.

"He's our up and coming lawyer." Eric sounded almost proud now, like he did give a crap what his kid brother did after all. Nearly dying (twice) and losing his leg had changed his perspective on a ton of stuff. "Me, I'm taking a break from my job. Thinking about going back to school."

Yeah, yeah, maybe he was pretty late on the whole going to college front, but with his leg like this, he probably couldn't count too long on the job at the garage and anyway, maybe he better try something new. Expand his horizons. Try not to fall asleep in class. He was about to say more when realization dawned on his face as Eric remembered something. He reached into his jacket pocket, fishing around and coming up with a small package. It had the sender's name on it in almost inhumanly neat print. Eric held it out to Michael.

"Here. Your family got in contact with us, told me to shoot this your way whenever we dropped by."

[freewill]

It was odd to realize that it was possible that this was what Sam and Dean would have been like if they hadn't been raised as hunters. One a successful lawyer, the other one struggling to find his place in a world he didn't think he fit into. Strange, how the hunting life had turned out to suit Dean better than anything else. Castiel wondered if the man realized that himself.

"It sounds like you're getting things in order, then." They almost sounded happy, which was strange. The whole situation still felt awkward -- he could recognize that sort of thing now -- but he thought that had more to do with him than with the two brothers. It was possible they felt guilty after everything that had happened.

He wondered if that guilt was completely false.

When a package was handed to him in combination with the word "family," Castiel immediately became suspicious, but he accepted the parcel nonetheless. Feeling put on the spot, he opened it up carefully and then paused when a badge of some sort fell out onto his lap, along with a photograph.

Right, Michael Collins was a detective, and this must have been his badge. Castiel knew it was as fake as the ones that the Winchesters made use of, but he was going to have to hold onto it despite that. The photo was much more troublesome, as it showed him standing between Anna and Gabriel, all of them in casual clothing. Anna was smiling while Gabriel was giving him "bunny ears." How could this place have produced such a thing?

It wasn't something that he could work through at the moment, and he knew that Dean and Sam (or their counterparts, rather) would be expecting some kind of reaction. He glanced up and nodded, though his expression was strained. "Thank you. I hope they're not too concerned over me."

It made him wonder where Gabriel was, if he'd also been brainwashed or if he'd found his way out of here through some loophole. It would have stung to be left behind if it was the latter option, but Castiel couldn't dwell on that.

[damned_visitors]

Rick's comment got an exasperated look from Matthew, the kind kids gave their parents who were being embarrassing, but were secretly pleased about it deep down, anyway.

It wasn't anything. It just, it meant something that his brother was on his side about it after everything. Going back after effectively being an in-patient for months. In the grand scheme of things, he knew it wasn't that long; plenty of people took longer to recover or never did at all. He was lucky to have gotten out with Rick. Somehow, he felt guilty Michael was still in here.

He watched Rick slide over the package, head tilted just a bit in curiosity. He'd known Rick had picked something up from the Collins, he just hadn't known what. Photo and the guy's badge, apparently. He'd only met them a few times, once for some informal legal advice on their sibling.

"They're family," Matthew said. "They just want you to get better and back home." He studied the detective for a moment. "How're you really doing? You can tell us, you know. We've both been there before."

[damned_visitors]

Things were definitely getting "in order", or however you wanted to call it. Eric had to say, he hadn't believed a place like this could do any good, and he hadn't exactly helped things along by digging in his heels either. He still felt bad about that. Hanging in there like he really was this Dean Winchester, dragging in Matt and Michael in along on his bullshit. Good going, Eric.

At least now things looked like they were looking up, aside from Michael still being stuck in here.

"Your sister seemed like she was holding it together pretty good. She was hoping to see you before she's back on duty though," Eric said, deciding he probably didn't want to tell him that it looked like Michael's brother had been chomping at the bit and ready to drive down himself. Somehow he didn't think that kinda tough love was what Michael here needed. Eric nodded at what Matt said. "Yeah man. If there's anything we can do, I'm down."

Short of, y'know, breaking him out. Eric couldn't in good conscience pull a stunt like that. "Dean" might've. But Eric had plenty of time to take in the fact that sometimes you had to just let this place do its thing and it'd probably set back Michael in a big way.

[freewill]

Back on duty. Castiel wondered what that meant, but his memories of when he'd been Michael were very vague, and so he couldn't quite remember what Anna's fake profession had been. Not that it mattered much. If Gabriel and Anna truly had been brainwashed and forced out into this world, then they weren't themselves at the moment and he shouldn't concern himself too much with them. Both of them were supposed to be dead, so he wouldn't be surprised if these were doppelgangers.

When Sam -- or Matthew, as he thought of himself -- spoke up and tried to get a more sincere answer out of him, Castiel glanced down at his hands. In reality, he didn't feel well at all. His whole body ached, especially his shoulder where that bird had clawed him. But could he really tell these two about any of that?

Then again, it was a way to vent his thoughts without being held accountable for it, since he likely wasn't going to see them again until next week, if at all.

"Do you really want to know what I'm going through?" he asked, glancing up to look both of them in the face. "Chances are you won't like it." They would see him as insane, and while they already thought that was the case, this would reinforce it -- even though he was only speaking the truth.

[damned_visitors]

Matthew couldn't tell what Michael meant exactly by going through whether he meant emotionally dealing with being in here or something, or...bringing up those monsters that they all used to believe in. An angel, right? It was hard to say what made Michael come up with that identity. The truth was, Matthew didn't know him all that well before landing in here—he was pretty out of it even back then when he was running after those crazy reports looking for Dean—and it wasn't like he ever got to know Michael for who he really was in here.

Maybe that wasn't fair. It wasn't like Michael was a different person altogether.

Matthew rearranged his hands where they were clasped together on the table.

"Yeah, of course, man. Anything that might help."

That was why they were visiting, right? He remembered, you know. Thinking he helped people being a supposed hunter. He knew it wasn't real anymore, but he figured it must've come from somewhere—that maybe somewhere along the way, he'd realized he'd been a little too buried in his work to think about anyone else.