Simple Man

FIVE MONTHS LATER

You glance down at your watch. I have to leave in five minutes. It’s your first day at your new job and you don’t want to be late.

Knock-knock.

Your mom pokes her head in and smiles. “Hey, sweetie. Are you ready?” Your parents decided you’d move back in with them for a while until you got back on your feet after you showed up in a hospital in Seattle, Washington. They’d thought you were dead, never expecting to see you alive again. Your mom acts like she’ll never let you go, and your dad is the buffer who keeps her from smothering you.

The official reports state you were brought into the ER unconscious on January 24th by a John Doe in a tan trench coat with dark hair and your heart rate was dangerously low. In the mad rush to stabilize you and save your life, the man disappeared before anyone could get his name. Or yours. You lay in a coma for several weeks with no identity until the day you finally woke up.

You nod and take a deep breath. “I think so.”

“You’re going to do great. This is the perfect job for you,” she assures you, stepping into your room, looking at you like you’re twelve years old again, getting ready to go on stage for your first piano recital.

Your room is the same. Being in it feels like you’ve stepped backward in time. The fluffy white down comforter is as soft as ever. The purple and blue crocheted blanket your grandmother made for you when you were born still sits on the end of your bed, surprisingly resilient after all these years. The photos of you and your friends are still wedged into the frame of the mirror above your dresser. Even the picture of you and Jonah that you added when you were home for Christmas your sophomore year is there. Everything is just as it was before you left for college... but you still have no idea what happened after that. The doctors told your parents it’s not uncommon to suffer from amnesia like this after suffering a severe trauma, and though you’re aware that it happens to people, it’s been surreal for you. It’s like you’ve got a thick fog stuck inside your head, and every time you try to venture through it to remember the last few years of your life, it disorients you and turns you away. It’s like your mind doesn’t want you to remember. “Yeah,” you say, smiling back at her.

“Good luck, hon. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get home,” she says, giving you a quick squeeze.

You watch her leave your room, then glance back at the mirror one last time. You smooth down the front of your shirt, satisfied you look like a respectable bookstore manager. ‘Take as much time as you need,’ your parents had said. ‘There’s no rush. You’ll always have a place here.’

It’s been three and a half months since you woke up in that hospital room up in Seattle, disoriented and scared. Once you were able to talk, you gave the doctor your parents’ names. Within twenty-four hours, Mom and Dad were by your side. They’d taken the first flight out of Colorado to get to you as fast as they could, and you’d never been happier to see them. You may be approaching 30, but you’ll never outgrow the sanctuary you find in your mom and dad.

But the clock is ticking - enough dawdling. You’ve got to get to work on time. You glance over at the photo and smile sadly at Jonah. No one will tell you what happened to him; you know only that he’s gone. And that it hurts.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The bell above the door jingles as you pull it open. “Hey, Ryan!” you call out, oblivious to the dark haired man standing on the other side of the street, watching as you enter the bookstore.

“Hey, [Y/N]! Thought you were off today?” Ryan, one of your employees, says as he unpacks a box of magazines.

“Sal needed the night off,” you tell him, and unwrap your scarf from around your neck as the door swings shut behind you. “Is that the December rack?”

“Yepper,” he nods, holding up a holiday issue of a home decorating magazine. “All the fun ones came in.” He rolls his eyes.

You laugh as you unbutton your coat. “Oh, come on. No grinching allowed in my store.”

“It’s not even Halloween!” he objects, holding up two more magazines adorned with tinsel and wreaths and candy canes. “Can we just hide these until November? No one will know.”

“We have a contract,” you remind him. “You want to pay the fine for breaking it?”

His eyes widen. “What fine?”

You smirk. “That’s what I thought. They’re hitting the shelves tomorrow whether you like it or not.”

He groans but goes back to work anyway. He doesn’t really mean it, he just likes to goof off. You head back to the office in the back of the store and hang up your coat and scarf, then check your email at your desk. There’s one from your professor, responding to your inquiry about your thesis project. You’re finishing your degree online, and you only have a handful of classes to go. Mom and Dad thought it best to stay close to home for now. Your disappearance affected them more than you realized at first because they worked so hard at staying strong in front of you. You can’t blame them, though; grieving over the death of your only child for years and then suddenly one day getting a phone call from a hospital over a thousand miles away claiming to have you, alive and well, in their care has been nothing short of miraculous. Mom says it’s a roller coaster she doesn’t want to ride ever again.

You hear the bell jingle through your open office door. Ryan greets the customer as you scroll through your inbox, looking for emails from your boss or publishers or the marketing team. You’re in the middle of typing a response to Sal when Ryan leans around the door frame and knocks on the wall.

“Hey, someone’s here to see you,” he says when you look up.

“Me?”

“He asked for you by name.”

“Who is it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Some guy. He seems a little... lost.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What?”

“Just come out here,” he says, and disappears.

You finish typing your email and hit SEND because you know if you don’t do it now, you’ll forget later. The chair squeaks as you roll it back to stand up. You pull the door behind you as you leave the office, running your fingers along the textured wallpaper on your way up front. By the time you reach the sales floor, a handful of customers are browsing the shelves. You don’t recognize any of them. “Hey,” you whisper when you get to Ryan’s side. “Which one is he?”

He stands up and looks around. “Well, I guess he couldn’t wait. You missed him.”

“He’s gone?”

“Apparently. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important Christmas work to do.”

You elbow his side, eliciting a chuckle from him. “That’s my boy.”

Curiosity gets the better of you and you move toward the front windows, glancing around the streets outside. Besides the cars parked at the meters and the people walking up and down the sidewalks, you don’t see anyone you recognize.

“You looking for him?” Ryan asks, suddenly standing next to you with a stack of Rocky Mountain Life under his arm.

You shrug. “What was he wearing?”

“Trench coat and a shirt and tie. His shoes were all scuffed up,” he says, and your heart skips a beat.

′A John Doe in a trench coat’. It couldn’t possibly be the same guy, could it? If it is, maybe he has the answers you’ve been looking for, whoever he is. You sigh. What are the chances? Like he’d just miraculously find you way out here in Colorado.

“Do you think it's him?” Ryan asks, scanning the streets from right beside you.

“I don’t think so. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I guess anything is possible,” you say, and Ryan just nods.

“Imagine all the crap you’re probably getting away with because you don’t remember. Playing that amnesia card like a pro,” he teases.

He does this all the time, so you’re used to it by now. He means well. The boy doesn’t have a mean hair on his head. Well, you tease him, too; he’s not really a boy, but he is younger than you, so you hold it over his head all the time. It’s fun to jest with him, it makes your shifts go by so much faster. The sun is beginning to set now, casting a golden glow over the street and the cars parked in front of the store. Those walking due West shield their eyes from the glare as the sun is at just the right angle to blind them. But of all the people you see, none are wearing a trench coat. Disappointed, you turn and head to the front desk to print off the weekly sales reports, thinking about treating your employee to coffee because you really want a hot spiced apple cider from the cafe next door.

LEBANON, KANSAS

Sam and Dean are relaxing after a full day of cleaning and organizing the bunker (Sam’s idea) and detailing Baby (Dean’s idea). They’re at the big table, sharing a couple of pizzas - one meat lovers’ & one veggie lovers’.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Baby shine like that for a long time,” Sam says, then takes a big bite of his slice.

Dean huffs as he swallows a swig of his beer. “Yeah, she was due. But now she’s squeaky clean, and we’re gonna keep it that way.”

“Ha,” Sam guffaws with a mouth full of pizza.

Dean smirks as he sinks his teeth into a big chunk of sausage. He looks up just in time to see Sam’s eyes pop and whips around to face whatever startled Sam. “What are you doing here?” he says as he swallows his food, grimacing at the Angel.

Cas looks at him empathetically. “I know you’re not pleased with me because of what I’ve done,” he begins.

Dean grunts and takes another bite, turning his attention back to his plate.

Cas stands at the end of the table, not saying anything. There’s been a rift between them ever since he broke the news that God pulled you from the Empty... but wouldn’t tell him where you were.

Sam sees the turmoil on his face. “What’s up, Cas?” he asks, setting his crust on his plate and wiping his hands on a paper towel, and expecting to hear about a new case.

Cas looks down at his hands for a moment, contemplating. Then he looks up, straightens his back, and says, “She’s in Colorado.”

Neither Sam nor Dean moves a muscle. Castiel worries that he’s made the wrong decision, that he shouldn’t have said a word. Maybe they were getting over you and he just set them back...

Sam is the first to break the long silence. “How - How is she?”

“She’s well,” Cas answers, hopeful that this is a good sign. “She runs a bookstore in Bellvue.”

Dean’s clenching his jaw, fighting his emotions.

Sam clears his throat and nods, not sure what else to ask or say.

“She’s back in college, though as I understand, she takes her classes on the computer at home,” Cas adds. “She’s staying with her parents.”

“Why now?” Dean’s voice is flat as he turns to the Angel.

Castiel sighs. “I just... I just want you to be happy, Dean.” The Angel feels a strange sensation of heat in his cheeks. “I’ve made so many mistakes... I need to know that I can still get something right.”

Sam glances at his brother.

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” Cas continues. “I want to make it right.”

Dean scoffs.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks. “How?”

“God believes there is a chance that [Y/N] may remember the love she had for Dean, even if she doesn’t remember who he is.” He watches as Dean’s eyes drop.

Sam squints. “Wait... Explain that again?”

“The memories she lost in the Empty are gone forever. But... love is more than a memory; it lives in the heart,” he says.

A smile slowly spreads across Sam’s lips. They never expected something like this after what happened to you. They thought you were lost to them, forever, and even when Cas and God brought you back, they weren’t allowed to know where you were. You needed space, Cas had said. You were fragile. That was all he’d said.

His expression softens as he looks at his brother. “Dean...”

Dean looks up at him. “What?”

Sam can’t stop his smile. ”Go.”

Dean studies his face, then looks down at his plate. After a few moments, he pushes the plate away, looks up at Cas and says, “You wouldn’t come here and say some shit like that just to piss me off, right?”

Cas shakes his head, holding Dean’s steady gaze.

“Just go, go see her,” Sam says, his eyes dancing.

“It’s not that simple, Sam,” Dean grunts.

Sam leans closer. “Yes, it is, Dean.”

Dean blinks and looks away, his jaw falling slightly slack. He can’t comprehend the wave of emotions that have rushed to the surface just now, and he’s not so good at dealing with them anyhow.

“Don’t be afraid to be happy,” Sam tells him. “If you don’t go, if you don’t give it a chance, you’re an idiot. You owe it to yourself. Hell, you owe it to her.”

Dean thinks about Sam’s words for a minute, then suddenly jumps up, knocking his chair back, and heads to his room without a word. Sam exchanges a glance with Cas as his smile grows. He wraps his hand over his mouth trying to contain it, but he can’t. “Thank you, Cas,” he whispers.

Cas shrugs. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Imagining the reunion between you and his heartbroken brother, Sam runs his hands over his hair. He hasn’t felt this light in a long, long time. “How long have you known where she is?”

“I’ve been watching over her since He brought her back,” he answers. “I knew it’s what you both would have wanted.”

Sam brushes the wetness from his eyes with his paper towel before any real tears can materialize. Knowing you’ve been under Castiel’s watchful eye makes him feel better. “I know you and [Y/N] didn’t really get along... so... thank you.”

Cas looks around the room. “In the end, it is not our differences that matter. I may still have a lot to learn about humans, but... ‘Greater love has none than this: that he lay down his life for his friends,’” he says, reciting a Bible verse. “I realized I had it all wrong when.. when she sacrificed herself to save Dean.”

“She saved him,” Sam whispers more to himself than to Castiel. He pinches the bridge of his nose. She saved us both.

“Do you want to come?”

More than anything, Sam thinks, pressing his lips. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Dean has to do this on his own.” Of all the pain and torture the boys have suffered, at least this time there’s a chance for redemption. “Maybe just... Just call me. Let me know... how it goes.”

Castiel agrees, but with a slight frown.

“What’s the address?” Dean asks, walking into the study a few minutes later with his duffle in one hand as he slides his arm through the sleeve of his canvas jacket.

“I’ll take you to her,” Cas says, relieved to see the happy change in Dean’s demeanor.

Dean looks over at Sam as he stands up to wish him well. “Sam... I...”

Sam shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says. “Dean. It’s you. She loved you, not me. At least, not like that. You have to go.”

Dean chokes back tears. “Are you sure, man? ’Cause I won’t go if-”

“Dean!” Sam says, almost laughing. “Dammit, will you just go?”

Dean finally breaks into a smile as he embraces his little brother, slapping the back of his shoulder. His little brother, always looking out for him... “Cas,” he says as he wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Let’s go.”

Once they’re gone, Sam slumps back into his chair at the table and stares at the half-eaten pizza on his plate. He knows Dean will get his happy ending, and that alone is enough.

BELLVUE, COLORADO

They’re standing outside the bookstore, now. Dean can’t believe his eyes. There you are, standing at the counter just through the window, just as beautiful as he remembered.

Cas glances at him. “Are you worried, Dean?”

He bites his lower lip and looks up at the darkening sky. “How’s this supposed to work, Cas? What am I supposed to say? She doesn’t know who I am.” He zips his jacket against the brisk evening breeze.

Cas faces him. “Say hello.”

Dean almost laughs. “Just say hello,” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck.

Castiel’s eyes are unwavering as he looks at Dean, and he says nothing. What was the point of convincing God to pull her out of the Empty if not to return her to the man who loves her more than life itself? He doesn’t have to tell Dean what to do. Dean already knows.

Dean looks through the window one more time and takes a deep breath.

Inside the store

Ryan just finished tearing down the boxes and stacking them for the baler. “I’ll be right back,” he says to you, hoisting the stack of cardboard over his head. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do... at least not til I get back.”

You chuckle. Ryan always puts you in a good mood; he’s such a goofball. You gather the books left at the register into your arms and head onto the floor to return them to their shelves. You’re returning a newly-released cookbook when you hear the jingle of the bell. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the attractive man who just walked in standing just inside the door. It closes behind him, and he looks around as if he’s trying to find someone. You fit the last book back into its place and one of your favorite songs starts playing over the audio system.

You sing along quietly, barely above a whisper, as you walk back to the front desk, smiling and nodding a welcome to the stranger. ”Mama told me, when I was young, Sit beside me, my only son...” You pick up your cider, still warm, take a long sip, then you go on humming.

He looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost. You try to avoid staring back, no matter how much you want to. You swear he looks like he wants to cry - happy cry, but cry all the same. For a few moments, he just stands there, speechless, watching you straighten a box of fountain pens as you sing along with the music. “...and don’t forget son, there is someone up above," you sing quietly, trying to look busy. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him glance upward with a smile and shake his head. You blush under the feel of his eyes on you as you fiddle with a display of miniature books, wondering when Ryan will finish loading the baler and get his butt back inside. But then the man starts walking toward you, and you meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he says, his Adam’s Apple taking a dive, looking at you like he’s known you his whole life. The smile lines at the corners of his eyes put you at ease, but the way he’s looking at you pierces your resolve. Your heart flutters.

“Hi,” you say back. You feel like maybe you know him from somewhere, or maybe you’ve seen him before. You think you’d remember a face like that, though. Of course, there is that gaping chasm in your memories... The butterflies in your belly seem to like him. A lot.

He stops just on the other side of the counter and clears his throat, unblinking. “I, uh...I’m Dean,” he says, studying your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off you for a second. Then he takes a deep breath and smiles. “Would you like to go for a cup of coffee... with me?”

In your blushing, you glance over his shoulder and spot a dark-haired man in a tan trenchcoat on the sidewalk outside with his phone to his ear, looking right at you with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.