Chapter 1

Two Years Later.

In some ways, Castiel regretted turning on that television almost as much as he was glad that he did.

He'd just come back in from his last class of the day, ready to relax and let the tension of the day just drift right out of him. Then get some take-out. Dragging himself off the couch in the next two hours? No way. He groaned when his phone chirped at him, signalling a new message. As he arched up to fish it out of his back pocket, he knew he'd have to change that hearty beep to something out of an 80's Gothic horror movie.

You have 1 new message.

Castiel opened it.

Balthazar;

Hello, Cassie. What are you doing tonight? xoxo.

Sighing, Castiel dropped his phone, grabbing the nearest cushion to hide it underneath. If he said nothing, Balthazar would be at the front door, dragging him out whether he was dressed or not to go clubbing. If he said he was doing something, Balthazar would inquire what that was, then he'd still be here to drag him out. Castiel had learned the hard way not to say anything at all.

The phone chirped again. Grabbing the remote control, he turned on the television to block out the sound. If he didn't need that phone, he'd throw it across the room.

The 5 o'clock news came on.

" … the car was struck at around 4.00pm this afternoon by a speeding motorist that was attempting to beat the afternoon rush on the highway in Lawrence, Kansas. Both the driver of that car and the passenger of the other were killed. The driver of the muscle car has been pulled from the wreckage. He is in a critical condition and being air-lifted to hospital. I'm Traci Green, reporting from—"

Castiel muted the television. He couldn't explain the numbness that washed through him, especially at the words 'muscle car'. Grabbing a cushion from the other side of the lounge, he crushed it against his chest, bringing his feet up so he curled around it. After a few minutes, he unmuted the television.

Watching the news without really processing what he was seeing, Castiel couldn't stop thinking about that car accident. Something was wrong; he could feel it. He grew restless with the urge to get up and do something.

"Breaking news," said the newscaster, breaking through Castiel's reverie. "We have information about the highway crash. The deceased driver of the Toyota that had attempted and failed to beat the rush is Michael Blake. The name of the driver of the Chevy Impala is Dean Winchester, and the deceased passenger is his twin brother Jensen Winchester."

A picture of all three of them flashed across the screen. Horror choked Castiel. Jensen was dead, Dean in a critical condition—and why was he, Castiel, still sitting here? As the reporter continued to talk about the crash, her voice fading to nothing more than background noise in Castiel's mind, he ran to his bedroom, grabbing all of the bags that he owned.

Like a man possessed, he packed in record time. Castiel knew in his heart that he couldn't just stay there. The Winchesters had been like a second family to him; they had always been there for him when he needed them. It would be a horrible way to repay them if he stayed here and just called them.

Knowing that Jensen was dead—Castiel couldn't stomach it. He used to help Castiel plan pranks to get back at Sam and Dean when they got a little bit mischievous. Jensen had been the smarter twin—not to say that Dean was dumb, but Dean's smarts had never been in the range of academics like Jensen's—and would've gone to and succeeded at college, and anything else he'd have done in his life.

And that had been stolen from him.

Burning hot rage at the driver of the other car boiled in the pit of Castiel's stomach. That man had stolen the life of his friend. Killed him, and destroyed his parents and his brothers. Castiel couldn't imagine how Dean would react when he woke up, if he wasn't already awake.

What was it like to lose a twin? Castiel didn't even want to think about it.

Just as Castiel brought his bags into the living room, someone knocked on the door. He groaned; he needed to buy a ticket for the next flight to Kansas; he didn't have time for this.

"Yes?" he asked, rather waspishly, yanking open the front door.

Balthazar gave him an odd look, put off by his less-than-welcoming attitude. "Cassy, what crawled up your ass and died? Why didn't you answer my text?"

"I'm sorry Balthazar, but I'm really not in the mood right now. Two of my friends were in a car accident, one of them if dead, and I can't stay here," said Castiel, leaving the door open as he walked back to the living room, knowing that Balthazar would follow him. "I've got to get to Lawrence as quickly as possible."

Balthazar leaned against the doorway of the living room. For once, his trademark smirk was gone, replaced by a serious, pinched expression.

"Can't you ring them up?" he asked.

"What kind of friend would I be if I did that?" Castiel asked. "One of the brothers, the one that's still alive, used to be my boyfriend before we broke up so I could come here without being attached. I can't just do that to him. I need to be there, by his side. You understand that, don't you?"

"Not really," replied Balthazar honestly. "But if this is something you feel that you need to do, well then I'm not going to stop you. Does that mean you're dropping out of college?"

"College isn't as important as family and friends, Balth," said Castiel, double-checking his bags in case he forgot something. "I have to go where I'm needed. I'm not needed at college."

Balthazar went to protest a little more, but Castiel's point struck home and he closed his mouth. He nodded his head, almost in defeat.

"Well, if you've got to go, then you've got to go," he said, sighing. "Can't say that I'm too pleased about that, but really, this isn't about me. Do you need money to help you get there?"

"As much as I hate taking your money, I need it. I'll have enough to get me back into Kansas, but not enough to get me to Lawrence."

"Will seven hundred do?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll pay you back, I swear."

Balthazar waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Cassy. You just worry about your friend, yeah? Besides, you've done a lot for me. This is just … returning the favour." He took his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out an obscene amount of cash and handed it over. One of these days Balthazar was going to get his wallet stolen; Castiel had always warned him about that. Balthazar always shook his head and told him there was more where that came from.

"Go on," said Balthazar. "Try not to miss me."

"I'll try my very hardest," said Castiel. "I'll keep in touch."

When Balthazar left, Castiel got on the computer and bought the first plane ticket to Kansas. Luckily, the plane would touch down just an hour outside of Lawrence. He hoped that Dean would be alright when he got there. Hoped that he would still be alive. Castiel's mind flashed back to the scene of the accident, the car; it had looked pretty brutal.

In all of his rushing around, Castiel forgot to call and tell the Winchesters that he was coming back to Lawrence. With his worry for Dean, that just didn't seem as important.

: :

: :

He reached Lawrence without a problem.

Castiel booked into a motel, dropped off his stuff, and rushed out again. Being so close to the Winchesters now, he felt unsettled, unable to calm himself down. He flagged down a taxi by nearly running out in front of it with his hand up. The taxi driver swore loudly at him, calling him an idiot, but drove him to his destination.

Once inside, he argued a little with the woman at the front desk. She was reluctant to give him Dean's location in the hospital because he wasn't a blood-relative, and he was about ready to deck her. She played the 'rule book' as she called it, a little bit too close to her heart. Only when her colleague came up to ask what was wrong was he admitted through. The colleague apologised and said that the woman was new, but Castiel didn't care any more; he got what he wanted.

He took the elevator up to the second floor, wishing that he'd taken the stairs when the elevator ascended so slowly a thousand years could have passed before it got to the top. When the doors opened enough for someone of his size to get through, Castiel ran out, almost knocking into a middle-aged man who had been standing in front of the doors waiting for the elevator.

"Sorry!" he called out over his shoulder in response to the sharp, "Hey!" of protest.

Two corridors later, he found the Winchesters sitting in the waiting room.

Mary had her head buried into John's shoulder. She appeared to have cried herself out from grief. John was in shock, staring ahead like he could no longer process anything. Sam sat curled up in a chair two feet away from them, his chest hitching with every other breath.

And for all of his rushing, Castiel didn't know how to announce his presence to them.

Seeing the Winchesters, a once happy family full of laughter, this broken tore his heart apart. He took a few, nervous steps forward. The sound of them had Sam's head snapping up. Sam's eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks red. Yet for all of his grief, he was still aware of what was going on around him. Spotting Castiel, Sam attempted to smile but it crumpled into a look of utter misery. He ran across the room and threw himself into Castiel's arms and cried.

Castiel cupped the back of Sam's head, closing his eyes, listening to the muffled sobs. Tears of his own leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

"How is Dean?" he managed to ask, minutes later when Sam had composed himself.

"We haven't been allowed to see him," Sam said. "He's still … still in a critical condition, they said."

Sam's expression fell again and he buried his face into his hands, throwing himself into the nearest chair. Unable to think of what to do with himself, Castiel remained standing, at a complete loss. He wanted to mend this broken family, but he couldn't; nothing could bring back the dead. They could only hope that Dean's will to live was stronger than death, so that his parents and Sam wouldn't have to bury him as well.

The idea of putting Jensen into a box and lowering it into the ground gutted Castiel, but the idea of Dean following him … there were no words to describe the horror.

"Castiel." Without him noticing it, Mary had stood up and walked over to him. She looked terrible; her blond hair was matted, her cheeks red and sticky from tears, and she looked as if she hadn't slept for a week. Castiel had no idea what it was like to lose a child, and he never wanted to. She folded Castiel into a soft, warm hug. He could feel her tears seeping through his shirt. "It's good to see you again."

"Mary," said Castiel, "I'm so sorry."

She didn't respond, and he hadn't expected her to. Mary released him after a few more moments and reclaimed her seat beside John, resting her weight against him. John glanced at Castiel, giving him a small nod of his head, which Castiel returned in kind.

Castiel took a seat next to Sam, preparing himself for what would become a long wait.

To Be Continued. . .