The first night was the hardest by far. Cas spent most of it curled up on the bed, hugging Hoagie Jr tightly and wrapped in Dean's jacket, whimpering every time the fake Castiel yelled in his ear.
Meg stayed with him as much as she could, reassuring and comforting him. She made him get up and go to the canteen, but he didn't eat much. He cringed whenever anyone came near him, but he took his first round of medicine with his meal.
He didn't sleep much either. The fake Castiel wouldn't let him, not until it was almost dawn and it allowed him to nap for a few hours.
It slowly disappeared over the next couple of days, until all that remained was its voice, screaming out of nowhere every so often. Nightmares still plagued him, forcing him awake every few hours.
On the third day, Cas had a session with Penny, and he was relieved to see her familiar face, but as soon as he walked into the room she was waiting in, he tasted metal on his tongue and sighed.
'Would you get a nurse for me?' he asked, lying down on the floor, tucking Dean's jacket under his own head. The seizure delayed his session until the next day, but by then, the voice was no more than the occasional whisper.
'Good afternoon, Cas,' Penny smiled as he sat down. 'How are you feeling today?'
'Much better, thank you.'
'That's great to hear.' Penny tapped her pen on her clipboard. 'Before we get started, I'd just like to offer you my sincerest apologies. Your situation was a precarious one, and I misjudged my response to it.'
Cas blinked, surprised. 'I was upset at the time, but I can understand the decision you made.'
'Even so, it was the wrong one. Our sessions are supposed to be about openness and honesty, and that should include me too, as much as I can. I hope that I still have your trust going forward.'
'Of course,' Cas said. 'We can't all make the right choices all the time, but you were acting in my best interest, and I appreciate that.'
Penny smiled again, and looked at her notes. 'All right then, I can see here that you're making great improvements, so I just wanted to check in with you. Are you still experiencing hallucinations?'
Cas nodded. 'I'm not seeing it anymore, though. I can only hear its voice.'
Penny made a quick scribble on her notepad. 'You said you were seeing a version of yourself before, is it the same voice?'
'Yes.'
'Does it frighten you?'
'It did before,' Cas told her. 'I was very afraid. But I'm not scared of it now.'
'That's excellent, Cas. Are you having any issues with your medication? Anything you're concerned about?'
Cas shook his head. 'It makes me a little twitchy, but they told me that's normal.'
Penny wrote some more notes. 'Okay then, Cas, big question here. How do you feel about going home?'
Cas shifted in his seat. 'I don't think I'm ready yet,' he said hesitantly. 'I am doing better, but it's only been a few days. And Meg says they're bringing in a memory specialist for a session tomorrow. I want to see if that helps.'
'That sounds good to me,' Penny smiled. 'I do want to ask you about something. It says on your notes that you haven't made any phone calls, can I ask why?'
Cas shrugged. 'I want to get better first. I'm sure Dean understands.'
'I'm really pleased with your progress,' Penny told him. 'You should be proud of yourself.'
'Thank you.'
'Have you thought about group therapies at all?'
'I haven't wanted to try it. I don't want to upset anyone by not remembering what they've said.'
'It might help to hear that you're not the only one experiencing these things. I think there's a session after dinner tonight.'
Cas smiled. 'Okay, I'll go if you think it's worth it.'
Cas didn't say much during the group session, but listened intently as the others talked. There were a few other patients experiencing psychosis, and one or two with severe obsessive compulsive issues.
'How was that for you, Cas?' the therapist asked once the session was over.
'I don't know if it helped much,' Cas said truthfully, 'but it was good to hear what everyone had to say.'
'I think you might find it more valuable if you joined in next time.'
'Maybe.'
He did go to the next couple of sessions, but never said a word. During the day he either stayed quietly in his room or wandered listlessly around the activity room.
Meg found him in there one morning, gently rocking back and forth in a chair.
'Are you very creative?' she asked, sitting down next to him.
'I don't know.'
'Do you want to be?'
Cas stopped rocking and stared at her.
'You're a smart man, Cas, you need something to occupy your brain, otherwise you're gonna lose it in here.'
'I thought I was in here because I already did lose it.'
'See, that's what I'm talking about,' Meg smiled. 'You're sharp. Keep it that way.' She opened the plastic set of drawers, revealing all the art supplies they had. 'Just give it a try,' she said at his doubtful expression.
He stared at the tubes of paint and Meg left him to it. There were lots of colours, but a particularly bright blue stood out to him, so he pulled out a large piece of paper and began to paint, stopping for lunch, but continuing well into the afternoon.
Just as it was taking shape, he heard his name being called from the doorway and turned, his brush still poised in his hand.
'Dean!' he exclaimed, putting down his brush.
Dean grinned and came over to sit next to him. 'Surprise.'
Cas smiled, then froze, the voice whispering angrily in his ear. It had been gone all morning, but sounded angrier than ever now that Dean was here.
'I like your hair,' Dean said, reaching out to brush it out of Cas's face, but Cas flinched away, the whispering filling his ears.
Cas shuffled away slightly, trying to ignore Dean's hurt expression.
'What is it?'
'Nothing,' Cas said hurriedly.
'Talk to me.'
Cas bit his lip. 'He - it - doesn't want me to go near you,' he mumbled.
'Why?' Dean frowned.
'He says you're his,' Cas said, not meeting Dean's eyes, and fidgeting uncomfortably.
'Oh.' Dean was lost for words for a moment.
'I'm sorry,' Cas said miserably, rubbing his head.
'No, it's okay. Here...' Dean moved away slightly, and the voice quietened down. 'Better?'
Cas nodded, but bounced his leg under the table, then reached out for Dean's hand, despite the voice commanding him not to.
Dean squeezed it back, his warmth reassuring, and looked at Cas's painting. 'Is this what you've been seeing?' he asked, not letting go of Cas's hand.
Cas glanced back down at the painting and shivered, it's glowing blue eyes glaring up at him with icy fury. 'Yes.'
'Wow. No wonder you were scared.'
Cas finally let go of Dean's hand. 'Dean, remember when you went away, and you didn't want me to see you until you were better?'
Dean's eyes widened. 'Oh, man, I'm sorry. I get it, I'll go.' He stood up to leave.
'I'm glad you came to see me, Dean,' Cas said. 'I'll see you again soon.'
'Yeah, real soon,' Dean grinned.
Meg lead him out of the room, and Cas rested his head in his arms.
His heart ached, and he longed to go with Dean, but the voice still whispered in his ear. 'You're going to stop soon,' he said firmly, going back to his painting. 'You're going to go away, and I will go home.' He projected all of his thoughts onto the painting, adding another angry brush stroke whenever he heard the voice in his ear.
Meg made him stop for dinner, and to take his medication, but sat with him until he was finished, late that night.
He admired his work, imagining that he'd trapped the voice in the painting, and smiled as the room remained silent but for Meg shifting around in her seat beside him. He put the brush down, exhaustion catching up with him, leadening his limbs, and dragging his head down.
'Come on, time for bed,' Meg said kindly, putting the brushes away for him. 'I'll put this in your drawer.'
Cas lay down in his bed and fell asleep almost immediately, Hoagie Jr in his arms. For the first time since he'd arrived, he went nightmare free.
'Come on, sleepyhead, breakfast is ready,' Meg called from the doorway the next morning.
'What?' Cas said, groggily sitting up. 'It's morning?'
'It's morning,' Meg confirmed.
'But - but I - no nightmares?'
'Not a one,' Meg smiled.
Cas got dressed and went for breakfast, barely even registering when Meg handed him his meds, disoriented as he was by having a full night's sleep.
'Cas, take your meds,' Meg prompted.
'Sorry,' Cas muttered, downing them with a mouthful of water, and thinking about his painting, hidden away in one of the drawers.
He addressed the group for the first time that day, during their session.
'Does art therapy help any of you?' he asked quietly.
Four of the others spoke at once, gushing about their art therapy.
'Is it something you'd like to try, Cas?' their session leader asked.
'I think so.'
'I'll see what I can do.'
It was a couple of days before an art therapist became available for one on one sessions with Cas. The voice was all but gone by then, but still creeping up on Cas every so often, and getting louder when Cas pulled out the painting to show to the therapist.
'This is a very chaotic painting,' the therapist said, examining it closely. It was covered in splotches of dark paint, and angular swirls of the bright blue colour, but the eyes still stood out, burning into Cas. 'I can see it makes you uncomfortable. Can I ask why it looks like you?'
'I'm not sure exactly,' Cas said. 'In the past, my hallucinations have been linked to loss, but I'm not sure what this is.'
The therapist nodded thoughtfully. 'I would like you to paint another one like this, and this time really try to concentrate on its face, and think about why it appears to you like this.'
Cas nodded, turned the original painting over, and started again on a fresh sheet of paper.
'Why do you start with the eyes?' the therapist asked.
'They stand out the most,' Cas said. 'They say that the eyes are windows to the soul, and his is so angry it starts to leak out.'
The therapist watched him paint for a while before speaking again. 'When did this all start?' he asked.
'Uh - I suppose it started when... Dean - my husband - and I had a - a disagreement. He got upset because I said I didn't want to remember who I was before the accident.'
'Are you in any way conflicted about this decision?'
Cas paused for a moment, then continued his painting with some long, slow strokes. 'I suppose I am a little.'
'Why's that?'
'I was sick before, and I don't want to get stuck with those feelings again, but if I stop trying to remember, then I won't remember Dean either...'
The therapist let him paint a while longer.
'I suppose it's quite selfish of me,' Cas said slowly, adding more blue to his painting, like an aura around the figure. 'Putting my own comfort before Dean...'
'You can't compromise your mental health for anyone, Cas.'
'I know, but still...' He pressed the brush to the paper a little harder than intended, bending the bristles.
'Did you ever consider that not remembering could be what's best for Dean too?'
Cas stopped and looked up at him. 'What makes you say that?'
'You said you were sick before too, I'm sure that can't have been easy for Dean to deal with. This way you both get a fresh start.'
'Perhaps you're right,' said Cas. 'Would I be allowed access to my files from the last time I was here?'
'You'd have to ask your regular therapist, but I don't see why not.'
Cas nodded.
They continued talking until Cas finished his painting.
'Now turn over the first one you made,' said the therapist. 'Can you see the difference?' he asked.
Cas examined them both closely, and noticed that the eyes of the new one were less intensely angry than the first. The brush strokes were smoother, though the odd, frustrated splotch stood out.
'It seems... calmer,' Cas said.
'Do you think you'd like to carry on with this kind of therapy?'
'I think so, yes.'
'Great. I'll see you soon, then.'
Cas had a check in with Penny before his next art session, and she made him a copy of his file to read.
'Take your time with it,' she warned, 'it's heavy in places.'
Cas nodded and decided to take it one page at a time, borrowing a highlighter from the activity room to circle important parts, and making sure Hoagie Jr was close at hand.
Weighed down by some of the things he read, Cas was late to his art session, and sat down with a sigh.
'What would you like to paint today, Cas?' the therapist asked.
'I don't know,' said Cas, resting his chin in his hand.
The therapist thought for a moment. 'Sometimes, all we need to do is put a brush to paper and see what happens.'
Cas nodded and did as the therapist said, lethargically dragging the brush around the page. He was using a plain brown colour at first, but soon it reminded him of something, and he began adding more shades of brown. It became a full head of thick hair, and Cas realised what he was painting when he added a little black to make a leather jacket, and stopped.
'I don't want to paint this,' he said, putting down the brush.
'Why not?'
Cas shook his head. 'It's Gabriel.'
'Gabriel?'
'My brother.'
'Why don't you want to paint him?'
Cas bit his lip. 'He died, but I don't remember it.'
'You only have memories of him alive?'
'Sort of. He doesn't feel gone to me.'
'Is that a bad thing?'
'It makes me feel like a terrible brother,' Cas admitted.
'Would he want you to feel that way?'
'I don't think so, but it doesn't help.'
The therapist thought for a moment. 'I don't think you're a bad brother. If you were, you wouldn't care if you remembered him.'
'I miss him.'
'Of course.'
Cas looked back down at his painting and felt tears prick at his eyes. 'This is so hard,' he croaked, wiping his eyes. 'I don't remember my family, or Dean... Gabriel's there, but he - he's hazy, and...'
'Why do you feel so guilty about your memory?' the therapist asked. 'Is it something you can control?'
'Well, no, but...'
'Are you worried about hurting other people's feelings?'
Cas nodded. 'It's not fair. Everyone works so hard to help me, and there's nothing I can do to make it better, I'm just stuck like this.'
'Cas, people help you because they want to, not because they're expecting anything of you.'
'I know you're right, but I just want to fix it.'
'But you are fixing it. That's what you're doing here, isn't it?'
Cas finally picked the brush back up and started painting again, adding more strands of hair. 'He had a lot of hair,' he mumbled.
'You need to try and let go of some of this guilt, Cas. It's eating you up, and it's not helping anyone.'
'I know, I know-' Cas cut himself off and took a deep breath.
'I think you should finish your painting.'
'All right.'
'Do what you did with your first painting,' the therapist suggested gently. 'Put all your guilt into it.'
Cas was slower working on this painting, his heart aching, but once it was finished, his chest loosened.
'Better?' the therapist asked when he put the brush down.
'Much,' Cas said, exhaling and relaxing his shoulders.
The painting had a melancholy feel to it, but Gabriel's smile shone out.
'I think he'd like it,' Cas murmured.
'You've done really well,' said the therapist. 'I'm impressed.'
'Thank you.' Cas stretched his arms. 'I think I'd like to rest now.'
'That's a good idea.'
In their next couple of sessions, the therapist asked Cas to paint something that made him happy, and he was half way through painting a picture of Hoagie, when he suddenly stiffened and fell to the floor.
He was confused and dizzy when he woke up.
'Just relax,' he heard Meg say.
'I - I need - '
'This?' Meg passed him Hoagie Jr.
Cas grabbed it and held it close to his chest. 'Where's Dean?' he groaned, rolling over.
'I can call him and see if he'd like to visit.'
Cas rolled over again. 'No, no, it's fine,' he mumbled as he realised what he had said.
He briefly fell asleep on the floor again, but felt better when he came around. After a sip of water, he decided to continue the painting without the therapist, and tried to ignore the large brown swipe through the middle of the picture. He had still been holding the brush when the seizure took him.
Before his next session, he began idly painting, just for something to do, and one morning found himself painting a landscape that he recognised. It was a beach with a large sand dune, the sun sparkling on the water.
'Where's that?' Meg asked, bringing him his medicine.
'It's a beach Dean took me to once,' he said, gently adding strands of dry grass to the base of the dune.
'And you remember it?'
'There's something about it... It's pretty.'
'Yeah.'
Not for the first time, Cas's thoughts turned to Dean. He braced himself for the angry whispering, but it didn't come. With a jolt, he realised he hadn't heard it in days.
'You all right?' Meg asked at his peculiar expression.
'I - when is my next art therapy session?'
'Tomorrow, why?'
'I want to try something.
Cas was anxious to get started the next day, brush in hand, poised over the paper.
'Ready to go already, Cas?' the therapist asked, slightly amused.
Cas nodded. 'I need to see something.'
'All right, what are we painting?'
'Dean.'
Cas concentrated hard, trying to get down as much detail as he could, but always waiting for the voice startle him. It never came, and he got more and more excited the further he got with Dean's face. He stopped just before he was finished.
'Why do you hesitate?' the therapist asked.
'I'm afraid - that the voice will be waiting for me if I finish it.'
'There's only one way to find out, Cas.'
Cas dithered with the brush a minute longer, but finally made himself finish the painting. He leaned back in his chair, hands on his head. 'It's gone,' he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.
The therapist grinned widely. 'You're seeing Penny later today, aren't you? I think you should talk to her about going home.'
Cas smiled too. 'I think you're right.'