Revelation

Sam pulls up to the Bunker. It’s dark now, and the sky is clear and full of twinkling stars. He gets Dean inside, but there’s still no sign of Cas. Not yet.

Dean shuffles off for a shower where he’ll just sit under the cascade of hot water, because somehow it soothes him, even if only for the moment.

Out in the study, Sam’s stomach growls, reminding him he still hasn’t eaten, so he goes into the kitchen. He doesn’t realize Cas is standing behind him in the doorway as he goes through cabinets, looking for food until he turns around to check the fridge. “Oh. Hey.”

Cas studies Sam’s face.

“Cas, what is it?”

The Angel turns and walks into the study, and sighs. “I went to God.”

Sam follows him, forgetting about the refrigerator. “Okay?”

Cas has a look on his face like he’s about to admit he’s done something wrong. “And I asked Him to find her.”

Sam gapes at him. He never got warm feelings between you and Cas, never knew what the deal was, but sensed the tension nonetheless. His heart skips. “What are you saying?”

Whatever it is is difficult for Cas to say. He struggles with the words until finally: “He brought her back.”

Sam’s knees go weak and he finds his way to the chair at the end of the table. Castiel is the one who saved you? Castiel, who didn’t like you when you were here? Castiel spent the last three weeks searching for a way to bring you back when he and Dean had both given up hope?

“But...” Castiel begins, and his eyes drop. “It wasn’t easy. And... she’s not the same person she was.”

“What do you mean?”

“He gave her back her humanity. But she was in there long enough to...” He sighs, scratches behind his ear, and starts again. “She doesn’t remember being Death, or the demons, or you... or Dean.”

Sam’s eyes dart around before landing on Cas again. The Angel’s words are like a block of ice to his chest. “But... she’s alive?”

Cas nods. “I don’t think now is the right time to tell Dean.”

“You want me to keep this from him?”

“Yes.”

“But, Cas-”

“He’s not ready.”

Sam leans on the table with his face in his hands.

“Promise me, Sam.”

“Cas, you know what you’re asking me to do? I’ve never seen him more in love with anyone. Ever. I mean, after everything he’s been through the last few years... he searched for her, Cas. For months. Do you remember how he was when we thought Amara killed her?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then how can you ask me to do this? How can you ask me to lie about this?”

“Lie about what?” Dean walks in, rubbing his hair dry with a blue towel, in a set of clean clothes.

Sam looks at him, trying to find the right words. Is Cas right? Is it the wrong time?

“We... found her,” Cas says, and Sam stiffens as he watches his brother.

What happened to not telling Dean right now?!

Dean freezes. He looks from Cas to Sam, and his eyes harden. “What do you mean, you ‘found her’?”

Sam glances at Castiel as he stands up. He clears his throat. “Uh... God... Chuck pulled her out.”

Dean’s towel drops to the floor. “Sammy,” he says, clenching his jaw, “this better not be a joke.”

“It’s no joke, Dean,” Castiel says. “She’s alive.”

The color drains from Dean’s face. He moves to the armchair, carefully lowering himself into it. Breathing shallow, he looks at the Angel. “Where is she?”

“Dean, there’s something you need to know-”

“Where is she, Cas?”

Sam steps in. “She’s not the same, Dean.”

Dean looks at him, his forehead wrinkling. “What?”

“She was in too long,” Castiel continues. “The part of her that was Death is... gone.”

Dean blinks and shakes his head. “I don’t – I don’t get it – What does this mean?”

“It means she doesn’t remember any of this,” Sam tells him. A sob slips out as he speaks again. “She doesn’t remember us.”

Dean looks between the two of them. “You’re telling me she’s alive, that we got her back... but she doesn’t even know who I am?”

Castiel lowers his gaze. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. After a few moments, he breathes, “But she’s alive?”

Castiel nods. “I wish we could have gotten to her sooner. I’m... sorry.”

Dean claps both hands over his mouth as if he’s about to throw up. “Take me to her,” he pleads.

Castiel’s eyes fall. “I can’t do that, Dean.”

“Wha... Why?”

“She’s fragile. She needs space. I won’t take you to her.”

“Dean,” Sam says, searching for the words.

He bends forward with his elbows on his knees for a few moments, his head in his hands. Then he sits back, bites his fist, and turns red as the vein on the side of his head pops out. “I’m fine.” He jumps up out of the chair and storms toward the corridor.

“Dean, wait,” Sam calls, and starts to follow.

“I said I’m fine,” he growls just before he disappears around the corner.

Sam swallows hard. “I think he just... he needs some time to process this.”

Castiel nods, his own face twisted in anguish.

Before Sam can say anything else, the Angel is gone. He pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the burning sensation, then looks around the bunker with his hands on his hips. He remembers you sitting at the table with them. He remembers making you a sandwich, and you asking for another. He remembers watching Netflix with you in his room here, and the way you tended to fall asleep on him. He remembers when his initials – and Dean’s – were carved into the back of your hand right in front of him at the hospital. He remembers the moment he recognized your face that night your professor died. He remembers leaping over the railing to grab your backpack before you fell down the flight of stairs at the library, and he remembers walking into the coffee shop where you used to work.

And for the first time in three weeks, Sam Winchester doesn’t try to be strong.