What Happens After

Chapter 1

Dean: "I take it that's not Raphael anymore."

Castiel: "Just an empty vessel."

Dean: "So, is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps my bones?"

Castiel: "No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you."

-'Free to be You and Me,' S5, E3

Dean sat rigidly in the plush leather chair, one of many positioned around the bunker's library, trying to force his body language to communicate strength instead of weakness. He felt cornered, desperately uncomfortable with the scrutiny of his best friend and brother. He'd been feeling like this all too often lately, and it was getting old fast.

"So, what's the verdict?" He prompted.

Cas had just completed the angelic equivalent of a CAT scan on him. It was pervasive and uncomfortable and normally Dean would never had allowed himself to be subjected to it - but this time he was outnumbered and fiercely outmatched. He supposed, reluctantly, that with all that had transpired in the last few months, he understood their concerns. Hell, he was concerned. It was just a matter of admission.

Dean subscribed to the theory that if you do not acknowledge a weakness, then you will not succumb to it. Sheer willpower often made this self-fulfilling. But willpower is only sufficient to the extent that it is greater than its adversary. Some adversaries, Dean had learned at great cost, cannot be overcome.

With a long sigh, Cas slowly withdrew his left hand from Dean's chest. He was even slower to withdraw the right hand, which still gripped Dean's shoulder and gave the joint a sympathetic squeeze. He looked back at Sam – ever the hoverer, the picture of an anxious giant - who stood with hunched shoulders and arms crossed just feet away. Dean noticed the two lines between his brother's tense, furrowed eyebrows – 'worry lines,' Dean referred to them internally – stood prominent. All that intensity was about him.

Dean felt the need to square his shoulders and sit up straighter.

He rolled his eyes. "Look can we just cut the drama and get on with it?"

Sam gave Cas a nod, and Dean frowned in irritation. He had somehow lost the caretaker role and had become the cared-for. This was ridiculous. This was wrong. He was fine –

"I'm sorry Dean," Cas began slowly in his gravelly voice. Dean noticed for the first time how sad his friend's eyes were, his face shadowed and careworn.

"Everything you have been experiencing – the headaches, the flashbacks and panic attacks, the muscle spasms and sudden loss of motor control, the moments of confusion and memory loss – all of it. All of it is a direct consequence of Michael's possession. Dean, you were possessed by the most powerful archangel in all of heaven. Truthfully, I do not know how you are still alive. The fact that you are still able to talk, much less walk, is nothing short of a miracle. But your body and soul were…damaged. Profoundly. And you have scars that no doctor or angel will be able to heal."

Cas paused, his eyes misty with remorse. "I…cannot heal you, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean didn't respond, just stared vaguely at a spot on the floor. Of all the negative things he had been expecting to hear, he had not expected such a dire diagnosis.

Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Dean. "Well at least we understand now what's been causing the symptoms. Is it something that could maybe get better with time?" He asked delicately.

Cas shook his head. "I don't know of anyone – other than you, Sam – who has survived possession by an archangel with this degree of consciousness and mobility. I suppose it is possible, but highly unlikely." He paused, reluctant to continue but unable to sugarcoat the truth. "In fact, it is more likely that the symptoms will gradually worsen over time."

He turned back to Dean, sensing the man's internal turmoil, knowing what this meant and how deeply it stung. "I am so very sorry. I wish I had better news."

"Stop apologizing, Cas," Dean said gruffly.

He stood up from the chair with poorly disguised wince and walked forward, briefly patting the angel on the shoulder as he brushed by.

Before walking out of the room, he sent a meaningful glare Sam's way.

"This changes nothing," he said.

But they all knew that this changed everything.

TBC

Author's Note: Wow, I can't believe I'm doing this. I work full-time and have a 1 year old so I don't have half the time I once did. But this scene came to me so clearly I had to write it down. I hope to continue it. This is my first fanfic in FIVE YEARS, people.

I do not own or claim to own any of the characters, quotes, or plotlines of Supernatural.