Swifter Than Reason - Chapter 2
Go to the Introduction for synopsis and warnings.
Chapter 2 - Interlude (Sam, Gabriel and Balthazar)
Friday 04 June 2010
The phone was ringing as he entered the office, and Sam's heart rate spiked, as it had every time the phone had rung since the previous Friday. "Winchester," he announced, curtly, hoping that this time it was the call he had been hoping for.
"Is that Agent Samuel Winchester?"
"Yes."
"This is Maria Gomez at the Armed Forces Welfare Organization, Mr Winchester. I'm happy to tell you that your brother, Staff Sergeant Dean Winchester, has been located."
Sam felt all the weight of the world slide away from him. "Oh, thank God," he said, slumping down in his seat. "Is he all right? Is he injured?"
"His condition is described as seriously ill. He has significant injuries and was very dehydrated, but he's under medical care now. I can't tell you his exact location, but he is in an Army hospital."
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabe hurrying into the office.
"Can you elaborate on his condition?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have any further information at this time. We'll probably get an update in the morning."
"What about Anna and Castiel Milton? They were missing too."
"I'm sorry, I can't give out information on any other personnel."
"But my partner Gabe is their cousin."
"I'm sorry, Mr Winchester, but our rules are very strict. I am only authorized to give you information on your brother."
Gabe took the phone from him. "Hello, Ms ... Gomez, right. This is Gabriel Alighieri. Marsha Patterson phoned me Tuesday night to tell me that my cousins Castiel and Anna Milton were missing in the same area as Dean Winchester. Do you have any update on them? ... Fine, ring me back if you must, but I can assure you I'm who I say I am."
He slammed the phone down and turned back to Sam. "Stupid fucking Army and its stupid fucking rules!"
"Hey, don't stress. She'll ring you back in a moment."
Gabe's desk phone started to ring at that moment and Sam tried to give his partner his most encouraging smile as Gabe leaned over and grabbed the handset. "Agent Alighieri, Ms Gomez, as promised. I trust that now you'll give me the information I wanted?"
Whatever Ms Gomez said next, it made Gabe turn pale, and he leaned back against the desk. "I'm sitting down. What is it?"
Sam scrambled up so that he could get his ear next to the handset, which Gabe obligingly held away from his ear. He strained to hear the next words.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Major Hanael Milton was badly injured in action on Tuesday June first and died of her wounds the following day. Major Castiel Milton is uninjured but is suffering from a severe bereavement reaction and has been admitted to hospital. His condition is described as stable."
"Where are they now?" asked Gabe.
"Major Castiel Milton is in an Army hospital. Major Hanael Milton's body has been retrieved and will be returned to the United States in due course."
Sam said, "This is Sam Winchester, Ms Gomez. Can you tell us if Castiel and Dean are in the same hospital?"
"Officially I can't tell you that and I can't be absolutely sure, but all three signals originated from the same unit, so my assumption is that they are."
"Can we fly over there?" asked Gabe.
"Not to the area of operations, no. In cases like this it's usual for patients to be evacuated to the combined forces hospital in Germany and we would fly you there. I may have more information on that later today, but more likely tomorrow."
"You have our home number, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, and I have both your cell phone numbers as well. I or one of my colleagues will definitely call you as soon as we have any more news."
"Thank you."
Gabe replaced the handset -- firmly, but not quite as hard as he had slammed Sam's phone -- and looked up at his guide. Sam put his arms around his sentinel and held him close. It felt so unfair that his brother lived while Gabe's cousin was dead, but there was nothing he could do to change that. All he could do was to support his partner and help him to grieve.
Gabe, however, was focusing on practical matters for the moment. "I guess we'd better talk to the boss and tell him we'll need some personal time," he said with a sigh.
Sam grimaced. They were in the middle of a complex investigation involving a Mexican drug cartel and its supply lines to four states, and their task force supervisor was an irascible man who didn't take kindly to anything that disturbed his plans. "Coffee run first?"
"Coffee, donuts and chocolate brownies."
"Good plan."
~~~~~~
Sunday 06 June
At dawn two days later Sam and Gabe arrived in West Germany. They were met by an AFWO liaison officer and escorted first to their hotel and then to the large military hospital known as the Lazarett, where Dean and Castiel had been flown the day before. There they were split up, Gabe heading to the psychiatric ward and Sam to the burns unit.
Dr Banks, Dean's physician, was a gruff man in his fifties. He gave Sam a quick summary of the injuries diagnosed on admission -- which made Sam feel ill just hearing about them second-hand -- and went into more detail about the treatment so far and what was planned for the next few weeks.
"I think we've managed to avoid renal failure," concluded Dr Banks, "but otherwise our main concern is the large burn on his back. The infection is responding to the antibiotics, though, so unless something deteriorates in the meantime I think that we'll be able to apply the skin graft on Tuesday. After that, I'll ask one of the orthopedic surgeons to look at his fingers -- I suspect that some of them will need corrective surgery, but obviously they were a relatively low priority when he came in."
"What about the psychological trauma?" asked Sam.
"Well, we haven't been able to assess that yet -- every time we try to wean him off sedation he becomes very agitated. We were warned by his forward unit not to try manual restraints because of his ordeal, so that limits our options. Now that you're here, I'll reduce the dose again and we'll see how he goes this afternoon and evening. If he isn't too agitated, I'll get a psych consult arranged as soon as possible."
"Thanks."
Before he was allowed into Dean's room, Sam was briefed on infection control procedures and was made to don protective clothing which covered him from head to toe, leaving only his eyes exposed. He could feel himself starting to sweat already, but he resisted the urge to pull off the mask and gloves: he wasn't going to gamble with his brother's health after so nearly losing him.
Although he'd been warned, Sam's first sight of Dean was still a shock, and he was glad that his brother was unconscious and couldn't see Sam's dismay at seeing him so helpless. The majority of Dean's wounds weren't visible -- for which Sam was very grateful -- but his back and one side of his face were covered in wet gauze and both hands were bulky with splints. He had an IV line in each arm, a nasogastric tube taped to his cheek, and a catheter drainage tube snaking out from under the sheet that covered his legs. He was face-down, of course, and from the pinched look and slight twitching that Sam could see, he looked like he was in pain.
The nurse who had escorted Sam in noted that too, and adjusted one of the drips.
"It's morphine and midazolam," she explained. "We've had him sedated because he keeps trying to get out of bed."
"Yeah, the doctor explained that He said he'd be adjusting the dose, though, now that I'm here -- I can probably calm him down if he gets agitated."
"OK, I'll go and check what's on the chart."
Left alone, Sam dragged over the single plastic chair and sat down beside the bed. It was very warm in the isolation room and Sam could feel himself start to sweat.
At least Dean seemed more comfortable, settling down as the drug took effect. The bed was obviously designed for people who had to lie on their stomachs, as it had a padded hole for Dean's face, and a mirror on the floor through which Sam could see him and, eventually, interact with him. For now, though, Sam just sat and watched his brother breathe.
The smaller IV bag was replaced with another, by the same nurse as before, who explained that it contained the same amount of morphine but less midazolam. "He should start to come round in an hour or two. The midazolam may make him appear a little drunk, but he should be able to recognize you. If he gets agitated please press the buzzer immediately." She indicated the red call button pinned to the sheets at Dean's left hand.
"Thanks, I'll do that."
He sat there for a quarter of an hour, just watching Dean breathe, but was roused out of his reverie by a knock at the door. Gabriel's face was peering through the inset window. With a last look at Dean -- who was still sleeping relatively peacefully -- he pushed the chair back and went to see his partner. He pulled the mask off with some relief as he hit the cooler air outside the isolation room.
"What's up? How's Cas?"
"Still unresponsive. I had to get out of there, it was starting to get creepy."
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, sugar. How's Dean?"
Sam shrugged. "Still unconscious. They've reduced his sedation so he should wake up sometime today, but I almost don't want him to."
"Bad?"
"Yeah. I mean, he's all bandaged up so I can't see much, but he looks so ... so helpless." That was what was upsetting him -- Dean was never helpless, he was always doing something, taking action, fighting whatever had to be fought. Seeing him so still, so passive, made Sam feel as if the whole universe was out of kilter.
"It'll be OK, Sam. Dean's strong, he'll make it."
Sam nodded, and then asked, "When does SGINA get here?"
Gabe rolled his eyes. "Can you believe they hadn't notified the Institute?"
"What? But it's mandatory!"
"I know. But it seems that they forgot to do it at the first hospital, because Cas was OK at first and then agitated. I actually rang SGINA myself, and they only just got the notification of Anna's death, because of course it's the weekend, and they were trying to find Cas and couldn't get hold of anyone who knew where he was ... God, what a mess."
"Typical clusterfuck, then."
"Yeah. But they'll send someone over as soon as they can -- probably tomorrow, might be Tuesday."
"Good."
They stood there in the corridor for a couple more minutes, Gabriel leaning against Sam, until he straightened up and said. "Well, I'd better get back up to Cas."
"Yeah, I expect Dean will be waking up soon, and I'd like to be there."
"If there's no change with Cas, I'll come down around lunchtime."
"OK."
They exchanged a brief kiss and Gabriel left.
Sam put on a new set of protective gear and returned to Dean's room. As the doctor and nurse had predicted, Dean was starting to move a little in the bed. Nothing much else happened for another hour, though, then Dean started to become much more agitated, moaning and moving his eyes back and forth under his eyelids.
Sam watched him with increasing anxiety, until he couldn't tolerate it any longer and gently shook Dean's shoulder.
Dean gave a half-terrified yelp and opened his eyes. He tried to raise himself off the bed, but immediately gasped at the pain from his broken hands.
Sam leaned forward, and their eyes met through the mirror. "Dean, it's OK, you're safe."
"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper. "Is it really you?"
"Yes. Man, you had me so worried."
"Sorry."
"You want some water?"
"Yeah, that would be good."
Sam held a beaker with a straw under his mouth. Dean took a large sip, grimacing as he swallowed over the tube.
"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"
Dean hesitated for a moment and took another sip of water. "Not quite pain, just a lot of discomfort. They must have me on the good stuff."
"They do."
"Where am I again?"
"Lazerett, in Germany."
"Oh, yeah." He frowned. "I kind of remember getting here, but it all seems unreal." His glance fell on his own reflection, and he asked, "Did I lose the eye?"
"No, the eye is fine -- no damage at all. It's just covered because of the burn on your temple."
"Thank God."
"What else?"
"I thought they'd told you this already?"
Dean frowned. "If they did, I don't remember."
"Well, they said you’d been heavily sedated."
"Feels like I've been out cold for a month."
"Just a few days."
"So what did the doctors tell you?"
"That you're lucky to be alive."
"Yeah, figured that." The words were blunt and the tone flat.
Too late, Sam realized that his statement could have been misinterpreted. "I meant because of the infection. You were really, really sick, Dean. They've got you on every antibiotic known to man at the moment."
"Huh." Dean didn't seem too worried about that, but then he'd always been cavalier about his own health.
"Apart from that, though ... you have multiple fractures in the hands -- they're splinted for the moment but they may go in and operate later if they don't heal straight. The cracked ribs are healing. The rectal tears were sutured. They were worried about your kidneys but they seem to be improving now they've got you rehydrated. Your back was the worst -- that's why you're in isolation. The doctor said you had extensive partial thickness burns and that was where the infection got in so they had to take most of the skin off to get it down to a clean base. That was before you were transferred out."
"Yeah, I kinda remember that."
"Do you remember fighting them?" he asked. "The doctor said you kept trying to get out of bed -- they were afraid you were going to hurt yourself more."
"Kinda. They strapped me down. That was bad. Made me think of ..." He started to breathe fast, and the look on his face was not one that Sam ever wanted to see again. There were bruises around each wrist, yellow at the edges, and Sam could imagine how hard Dean had struggled against his captors.
He patted Dean reassuringly on the shoulder, above the dressing. "Hey, it's OK. You're safe now."
Dean nodded. "Yeah ... yeah, I know."
Sam kept his had moving in slow, soothing circles until Dean calmed and his breathing returned to normal. He offered more water, but Dean shook his heading, asking, "How's Cas? Major Milton, I mean. The sentinel who got me out. Do you know how he is?"
"He isn't well. Gabe is with him -- did you know they were cousins?"
"No. Are they really? He said he didn't have any family."
"Yeah, his parents are assholes and so are his brothers and sisters, but Gabe talks to him occasionally. He's pretty cut up about Anna."
"Can I see him?"
"Gabe?"
"Ca-- Major Milton."
"Not right now. He's ... he's not doing so well."
That got Dean's attention. "What happened? I thought he was getting better. God, he was practically carrying me when we got picked up."
"Yeah, he went catatonic in the hospital. Bond shock."
Dean looked devastated. "Again? I thought ..."
"Hey, it was only to be expected. His guide died suddenly, he was bound to be severely affected."
"Yeah, but ... How long?"
"Since Anna died, idiot."
"No, how long is it since we got back to the base?"
"Three days."
"Three days ... Shit, has he been in shock all that time?"
"Of course he has."
"Can I see him? I could help him."
"No, it's OK. They're flying in someone from the Institute to evaluate him. I know it's late, but apparently they got their wires crossed and no one notified the Institute until we got here."
"Sam, seriously -- I have to see him."
"Maybe in a few days, once your skin has healed. You're in isolation, remember."
"Fuck, you don't understand. I need to see him. I can help him, I know I can. I brought him out of bond shock in Croatoa -- four or five times, at least. He was getting better."
"What? But they said it was a delayed reaction -- he managed to hold it off until getting you back to the hospital, then collapsed."
"Delayed, my ass," Dean snorted. "He zoned out the moment his sister died. I don't know how long he'd been zoned when I woke up, but it took me over an hour to get him out."
"But ..." That made no sense. Bereavement shock in a sentinel was notorious for being the deepest and most difficult to recover from, and the faster the onset, the longer it took to recover. Everyone knew that. That's why SGINA insisted on being notified as soon as a sentinel or guide was killed, so that they could send someone over with the necessary equipment. If Cas had zoned out the moment his guide had died, then he should have remained there, motionless and insensate, until basic physical needs overrode his grief, which could easily have been a day or two later. Sam had read of cases where sentinels had actually died without coming out of bereavement shock.
To Dean, he said, "That's fast for an acute grief reaction."
"Felt like forever to me. The others weren't as bad."
"He zoned again?"
"Yeah, a few times, but by the time we got picked up he was pretty normal. I don't think he zoned at all the last day ... well, he can't have, because I was in no condition to bring him out by then. I figured he'd be OK once we got back to base."
"You brought him out of bond shock and he was acting normally within three days," Sam repeated. He was still trying to make sense of what Dean had said.
"Yeah. That's what I was supposed to do, wasn't it? I can't say I was thinking all that clearly, but I thought I was doing the right thing."
"You were definitely doing the right thing." There was a germ of an idea in his head -- an idea that might explain the odd history and the discrepancy between the story they'd been told by the doctors and the one given by Dean. Sam looked thoughtful, then asked, "How are you feeling?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "You really have to ask me that?"
"No, I mean, how do you feel inside? Calm, happy, angry, frustrated?"
"I don't know. Kind of frustrated, I guess. Sort of ... twitchy."
"Twitchy?"
"Yeah. Like ... like there's something I need to do and I can't do it. Like there's something under my skin, sort of shimmering or humming or something. I don't know if it's a side-effect from one of the drugs but it feels really unpleasant. Not hurting, just ... unpleasant."
"Interesting."
"What's interesting?"
Sam stood up. "I have to go talk to Gabe for a minute. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go away."
"Yeah, that's real funny, man," Dean managed to reply, but Sam was already on his way out.
Sam shed the protective gear and stuffed it in the large bin outside Dean's room. He viewed the large sweaty patches on his shirt with distaste, but there wasn't anything he could do about that at the moment. He had to find Gabe -- he had to get Gabe's view of what Dean had just told him. If Dean was right, then the situation wasn't nearly as hopeless as the psychiatrist was trying to make out.
He took the lift up three levels and followed the meandering corridor to the psych ward. He showed his ID at the door, explaining that his partner was sitting with a patient. The receptionist phoned someone inside and Gabe appeared a couple of minutes later.
"What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you. Not here."
"Is Dean all right?"
"Yeah, he's fine. Or he will be, anyway. But ... it's complicated."
Gabe sighed. "Well, it's not like Cas is going to wake up in the next hour. Let's see if we can find some shitty coffee."
"It might be good coffee."
"It’s a hospital. It'll be shitty coffee."
They found the coffee shop in the main foyer and took their drinks out to the small green area outside. As Gabe had predicted, the coffee was awful, but at least it was hot.
"So, Samwise, spill."
Sam rolled his eyes: he hated that nickname. "Dean woke up while I was there. Once I'd managed to reassure him that he didn't lose an eye, he was completely focused on Cas, wanted to know how he was, wanted to see him. You know the doctors said Cas managed to delay his grief reaction?"
"Yeah. I still don't know how he did that."
"He didn't. Dean told me that Cas went into bond shock as soon as Anna died, and it took him about an hour to bring him out."
"What?"
"Yeah. Immediate textbook reaction. But -- get this -- Dean brought him out of that zone, and several more over the next couple of days, and each time it got easier. He says that by the time they were picked up, Cas was fine, not zoning or spiking at all."
"Well, that makes more sense than the 'delayed bond shock' shit they told us yesterday -- although if anyone could manage to put off bond shock by sheer willpower it would be Cas."
"Yeah, and it makes sense that my brother brought him out, given our relationship. But what's even more telling is that Dean is twitchy."
Gabe looked skeptical. "That could be the drugs he's on."
"He's on a morphine and midazolam drip. I don't think his muscles could actually twitch even if he wanted them to. And twitchy is how I feel when I'm not with you."
"It's very non-specific."
"I know, it's circumstantial. But it's a lot of circumstantial."
"You really think they've started to bond?"
"Yes." There was no doubt in Sam's mind whatsoever. He couldn't really explain it to Gabe, not in words, but it was the first time Sam had ever known Dean to be so focused on anyone else.
"Guide instinct?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. But the easiest way to check it is to put them together and see what happens."
"True." Gabe finished his coffee, grimaced, and crushed the cup before lobbing it into a nearby bin. "OK, let's go and talk to the doctors."
~~~
They talked to the doctors. Unsurprisingly, neither the psychiatrist nor the physician was inclined to believe them.
~~~~~
Monday 07 June 2010 (morning)
The army driver who was supposed to meet the Institute's representative was sadly easy to distract. Sam "accidentally" tripped over his own feet and brought down several of the waiting drivers with their placards. In the confusion, it was easy for Gabriel to produce his own sign saying "Sentinel & Guide Institute" and walk up to meet the disembarking passengers. By the time Sam had apologized profusely and brushed down all the disgruntled drivers, Gabriel had escorted the representative all the way to the baggage carousel.
Sam hurried to join them. He caught a glimpse of the man's aura and was momentarily puzzled. It was the oddest he had ever seen -- blue-green, mostly, which was fairly good, but very pale, with streaks of something darker. Dark but not evil, he felt.
"This is my guide, Agent Sam Winchester," Gabe said, as he approached. "Sam, this is Balthazar Blake, from SGINA Headquarters in Washington."
"Call me Balthazar." The rep extended his hand.
Sam noted the English accent and shook hands carefully. He had another flash of the man's aura, and got the impression of a deeply buried grief. Well, that would explain the pallor and the dark streaks he'd seen in the aura. Physically, Balthazar was unremarkable -- late forties, tall, thin, blond and pale -- but he had an air of competence about him that was reassuring.
"Thank you for getting here so fast," said Sam. "We really need your help."
Balthazar gave them a wintry smile. "I'll do the best I can. Now why don't you explain to me what is going on and why you don't want me to be driven to the hospital in the army car that was arranged for me."
Sam and Gabe exchanged glances. The man was definitely sharp -- well, even if wasn't a sentinel or a guide himself, he probably knew a great deal about non-verbal communication.
Gabe spoke first. "Well, apart from not actually notifying SGINA when they were supposed to, the doctors at the hospital have absolutely no idea what's going on with my cousin and Sam's brother. They refuse to accept our advice and they won't do anything to help Cas."
"I understand that Major Milton is in bond shock, which is not unexpected given his recent bereavement."
"That's just it," Sam interrupted. "He is in bond shock but we don't think it's because of Anna. Or at least, not just Anna."
Balthazar looked confused. "If it isn't the loss of his guide, then what is it?
Sam looked at Gabe, who nodded at him to continue. "I think Dean -- my brother -- is Cas's guide now. We're both of us pretty sure that they bonded during the trip out of Croatoa, but the doctors insist that either it isn't possible or it's just a traumatic transference problem and hence temporary."
Balthazar pursed his lips. "Well, it would be very unusual for a second bond to form during the bereavement process, but it's not unknown. What evidence do you have for this hypothesis?"
Gabe explained, "Well, we were told initially that Cas had had a delayed reaction -- that he kept himself going after Anna's death until he'd managed to get them back to base, and only went into shock after Dean was in medical care."
"Was that not correct?"
"Not exactly," said Sam. "Dean was brought out of sedation yesterday and told me that Cas actually zoned pretty deep after his sister died. Dean brought him out of that, and several more over the next few days, and Cas was getting better while they were on the run -- much better -- and he became increasingly focused on Dean's condition."
"Everyone agrees that Cas was alert and coherent when they were picked up," added Gabe. "And he insisted that they treat Dean's injuries before his own. That was why they initially thought that Dean was his guide. It was only later, when they had checked Cas's record and separated them that Cas started having problems. When they wouldn't let him back into see Dean he just zoned and couldn't be roused."
"Hence the 'delayed shock' theory," said Sam.
"Hmm," Balthazar mused. "Well, delayed shock has been described -- in the general population as well as in sentinels -- but then, so has emergency bonding. Your explanation would make sense, actually."
"Really?"
"Yes, it would be unusual for a sentinel to have such a severe reaction three days after the loss of a guide ... but a double loss in a short period of time could explain it. Do you have any more substantive evidence to support this hypothesis?"
"Dean is twitchy," said Sam. "He wants to see Cas and he's got that awful frustrated twitchy-under-the-skin feeling I get whenever I'm separated from Gabe too long. They had him restrained and under heavy sedation at first because he kept trying to get out of bed -- I'm sure it was because he had to find Cas."
Gabe nodded, adding, "And Cas has been under sedation since they got to the base because that's standard treatment for a bereaved sentinel. I was told they had to use high doses because the first few hours he was agitated and kept trying to get up. Now ... now he's catatonic."
"Have you tried to get them into the same room?'
"We've tried," Sam said with a sigh. "We've argued till we're blue in the face. But Cas is in the psych ward and Dean is isolation in the burns unit, and they won't move either of them. First they say it's a risk for Dean, because of infection, then they say it's a risk for Cas -- it will only delay the inevitable. Better to let him die in so-called peace."
Gabriel cleared his throat. "I stole a towel after they washed Dean this morning and took it up to Cas's room. He definitely turned his head towards it and his hand twitched. His heart rate increased a little, too."
Balthazar nodded. "Good test. And repeatable, I hope."
"I thought so. Unfortunately Dean's wounds mean he isn't wearing anything and a sheet is a bit big to carry so I haven't been able to get anything else up to Cas."
Sam leaned forward. "So how can we convince the doctors here that Cas and Dean have to be together to heal? Like, today."
"I'll talk to both teams," Balthazar said. "If I agree with you -- and that's not a given -- I'll try and organize a move. If I can't get them to see reason, I'll invoke Institute rights and get them both transferred to the nearest clinic."
"That would probably be easy for Cas -- there isn't much they can do for him here -- but Dean is still having treatment for his injuries. He isn't even a registered guide."
"He'll be in our database. Even if he isn't, I think there is sufficient prima facie evidence to have him treated as a guide." He smiled at them both. "Don't worry. I think this is manageable."
"Thank goodness," said Gabe with a sigh of relief.
"Thank you. Really," Sam added as he put an arm around Gabe.
"This is what I'm here for. Don't worry, I'll do my absolute best to sort it out -- by the end of the day, with a little luck. And I can see an army chap approaching, so I suggest the both of you disappear and let me take the official transport. I'm sure I'll be able to find you at the hospital once I've met the director."
"We'll be there."
~~~~~
Several hours later, Balthazar wasn't quite so sure he was going to be able to fulfil his promise. He had spoken with Major Milton's psychiatrist, Dr Langhorn, and with Staff Sergeant Winchester's physician, Dr Banks. He had also managed to view the field medical reports generated by the unit which had picked them up, and the initial triage assessments done at the forward base medical center. They confirmed what Agents Winchester and Alighieri had told him earlier: that the sentinel had appeared to be functioning normally, though exhausted, at the time of retrieval. No one had questioned his concern for his "guide" until their respective medical records had been pulled up. And since everyone had expected Major Milton to collapse spectacularly, no one had taken the time to investigate why it had taken him so long.
"So," he said, facing the two physicians, trying hard to keep his voice neutral and his expression bland, "let me review this information to make sure that I have the details correct. Major Milton loses his guide while in the company of Staff Sergeant Winchester, who has a high guide potential and whose brother is guide for Agent Alighieri ... who just happens to be Major Milton's cousin. You are aware of the genetic component in sentinel-guide attraction, aren't you? Good. So, according to Staff Sergeant Winchester's account, Major Milton undergoes a textbook reaction to such a traumatic loss, being severely affected in the first twenty-four hours but then gradually improving, and is able to care for Staff Sergeant Winchester, whose physical condition is steadily deteriorating. The soldiers who find them assume that they are a bonded team and keep them close, with the result that Major Milton remains alert and coherent. It's only on arrival at the forward base that they are separated, whereupon Milton zones badly and eventually slips into catatonia and Winchester becomes agitated to the point where he requires sedation. They improve during the flight from Croatoa to here -- when they are in close proximity -- and deteriorate again when they are put in entirely different areas of the hospital. Now, is any of that ringing bells with you?"
"You've been talking to those agents." That was Dr Langhorn, Cas' psychiatrist.
"Yes, I have been talking to those agents, who just happen to be a very competent sentinel and guide team. It's a shame you haven't been listening to them."
"They aren't qualified to make medical decisions. And I think it's highly unlikely that any sentinel could bond properly under such circumstances."
"There are aspects of the sentinel-guide relationship that go far beyond pure medical considerations. There's a reason we insist on the Institute being informed of any death or injury to our people -- our knowledge and experience can help you to help them."
"I'm not convinced that putting them together will help in the long run. Relationships formed under such traumatic conditions aren't stable."
"That's our problem, not yours. And statistics from the Institute show that the risk of early bond deterioration is only slightly higher for those formed in traumatic circumstances. In fact, you'd be surprised how many of our adult sentinels find their guides during times of stress. Nature demands and nature supplies."
Dr Banks -- a gruff man in his fifties -- leaned forward. "I don't want Winchester exposed to infection. He was damned close to septicemia when he arrived at the base and we've only just got his skin cleaned up enough for spraying tomorrow. Once that goes on he'll have to remain in isolation for a further three days at least."
"So disinfect Milton and then put him in the same isolation room. He can stay there until Winchester is ready to leave."
"We can't do that."
"You do it with parents of small children."
"That's different."
"How? The slight increase in physical risk is balanced by the huge emotional and psychological benefit of having someone within touching distance. The same principle applies here."
Dr Banks glared at him.
Dr Langhorn coughed gently and said, "I'm not sure that either of them is in good enough condition to give informed consent to this."
"Really?" Balthazar managed not to roll his eyes, but only by exerting every ounce of self-control. "How fortunate, then, that we have their next of kin here with us."
The looks he got in response should have been lethal. Balthazar just smiled and steepled his fingers.
~~~~~
Twenty minutes after that he was formally interviewing Sentinel Agent Alighieri and Guide Agent Winchester.
He sighed and looked up from his notes at the two earnest young men. "You were right, it is a very difficult situation. The doctors have posited that neither Major Milton nor Staff Sergeant Winchester is capable of giving informed consent to this move."
"Cas might not be, but he's not the one at most risk," answered Gabriel, promptly.
Sam added, "I'm pretty sure Dean is alert enough to answer for himself. And if he isn't, I'm his next of kin and I can give consent for him."
"And now that Anna is dead I'm Cas's emergency contact and medical proxy. As you know, he's estranged from his immediate family."
"Yes, you are, according to the Institute's records," said Balthazar. "If the hospital won't accept that you're his medical proxy, I think I can get him made a ward of the Institute until such time as he can answer for himself. That has certainly been done before."
"Good."
"And I believe that I can reassure Dr Langhorn, at least. I've been checking the statistics from various Guilds and Institutes around the world, and the circumstances of the meeting don’t have much effect on the longevity of the bond."
Gabe chuckled. "Well, that's reassuring. We met when a bomb went off."
"Well, it was a few minutes before the bomb went off, actually," Sam corrected him.
"And then you got yourself kidnapped. It was a very traumatic week."
"But you found me, and we survived."
"Ah, yes, I remember reading about that case," said Balthazar. He looked at Gabe, and Sam could see the careful scrutiny; the reassessment that took into account more than Gabe's "sassy gay friend" façade.
Balthazar turned back to Sam. "Your brother tested very highly in his teens, I understand. Was he never interested in the possibility becoming a guide?"
"I know he had a high potential, but he didn't like the idea of being shackled for life, especially at such a young age, so he avoided the social functions whenever he could."
"He wasn't keen on Sam bonding either," Gabriel added.
"Yeah, and I was nearly twenty-one when I met Gabe. It took a while to convince him it was the real thing for us."
"Is it still a problem with him? Is he going to resist being a bonded guide? Because in all fairness to Major Milton, I don't want to end up merely prolonging his suffering."
Sam frowned and took his time in formulating a reply -- it was a very difficult question to answer. "I can't be one hundred per cent sure. I know he was very reluctant in his teens but from my perspective now, I think he was objecting to the monogamous nature of the bond rather than the bond itself. Dean was ... well, he was the most popular guy in school, you know? Good-looking, good at sports, great car ... he didn't even have to lift a finger to get a date. Why would a guy like that want to limit himself?" Sam noticed Balthazar frowning. "Yeah, I know, I've made him sound like an asshole, but he wasn't really. He was just really keen on getting the most out of life. And besides, that was a long time ago. He's matured since then. I know he was ready to settle down and get married a couple of years ago but that didn't work out."
"How so?"
"Lisa didn't like him being in the army and deploying so much. She gave him an ultimatum -- her or the Army -- and since he'd just signed on for another four years, he chose the Army. She kicked him out."
"He was very upset," Gabriel added. "Not just because he missed Lisa but also because he'd become very fond of her son and looked on him as his own."
"That is unfortunate," commented Balthazar.
"They still keep in touch, I think," said Sam. "I know Dean and Ben talk fairly regularly, by phone or on the net. Sometimes by video. I'm not sure if he talks with Lisa at all."
"I think that if Dean does have a problem with being a guide it won't be about commitment as such, it will be about commitment being forced on him," ventured Gabriel.
"So you're saying we have to allow him to make the choice."
"Or convince him that it's his choice."
"I think that can be done. Before we go any further, though, I must also ask you to consider that even with the encouraging statistics, there is a chance that either Staff Sergeant Winchester is not Major Milton's guide, or alternatively, that the bond between them is indeed only temporary."
'No, it can't be that." Gabriel shook his head vehemently.
"I know it's not pleasant, but it has to be faced. Major Milton may not come out of his zone, or he may improve in spite of Staff Sergeant Winchester's presence and deny that they have a bond."
"What do we do then?" asked Sam.
"You let the Institute do its job. We have an intensive rehabilitation program for bereaved sentinels, one that has a reasonable degree of success. Some sentinels achieve new partnerships, while others learn to work on their own ... with or without enhanced senses. What we will not do is allow Major Milton to 'die peacefully' when he has so many years in front of him."
Gabriel shivered and instinctively leaned closer to Sam, who reached over and grabbed his hand. The thought of existing without each other was too frightening to contemplate in any detail, and they sought comfort in the reassurance of touch.
"I know that from your point of view, such a course would seem cruel. But I can tell you that it is possible for a sentinel to lose a guide -- or even two -- and still continue to function quite adequately as a human being, if not as a sentinel."
Sam saw the shadows in Balthazar's eyes as he spoke, and knew that he was in the presence of such a man. To be a twice-bereaved sentinel ... it seemed unimaginable, but if he said it was possible, then it was. But Sam had to wonder if Balthazar really considered his continued solitary existence as living. His aura would seem to suggest that on the emotional level he was barely surviving.
"But in the meantime, getting Dean and Cas in the same room is the best option," he said, hoping he was right.
"Yes it is. For the short term, anyway," replied Balthazar.
"So how soon before we can force the doctors to bring them together?"
"Let me talk to Staff Sergeant Winchester first, then I'll make a couple of calls. I'll let you know as soon as I can."
Sam sighed, but resigned himself to the wait.
Chapter 3
Chapter 2 - Interlude (Sam, Gabriel and Balthazar)
Friday 04 June 2010
The phone was ringing as he entered the office, and Sam's heart rate spiked, as it had every time the phone had rung since the previous Friday. "Winchester," he announced, curtly, hoping that this time it was the call he had been hoping for.
"Is that Agent Samuel Winchester?"
"Yes."
"This is Maria Gomez at the Armed Forces Welfare Organization, Mr Winchester. I'm happy to tell you that your brother, Staff Sergeant Dean Winchester, has been located."
Sam felt all the weight of the world slide away from him. "Oh, thank God," he said, slumping down in his seat. "Is he all right? Is he injured?"
"His condition is described as seriously ill. He has significant injuries and was very dehydrated, but he's under medical care now. I can't tell you his exact location, but he is in an Army hospital."
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabe hurrying into the office.
"Can you elaborate on his condition?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have any further information at this time. We'll probably get an update in the morning."
"What about Anna and Castiel Milton? They were missing too."
"I'm sorry, I can't give out information on any other personnel."
"But my partner Gabe is their cousin."
"I'm sorry, Mr Winchester, but our rules are very strict. I am only authorized to give you information on your brother."
Gabe took the phone from him. "Hello, Ms ... Gomez, right. This is Gabriel Alighieri. Marsha Patterson phoned me Tuesday night to tell me that my cousins Castiel and Anna Milton were missing in the same area as Dean Winchester. Do you have any update on them? ... Fine, ring me back if you must, but I can assure you I'm who I say I am."
He slammed the phone down and turned back to Sam. "Stupid fucking Army and its stupid fucking rules!"
"Hey, don't stress. She'll ring you back in a moment."
Gabe's desk phone started to ring at that moment and Sam tried to give his partner his most encouraging smile as Gabe leaned over and grabbed the handset. "Agent Alighieri, Ms Gomez, as promised. I trust that now you'll give me the information I wanted?"
Whatever Ms Gomez said next, it made Gabe turn pale, and he leaned back against the desk. "I'm sitting down. What is it?"
Sam scrambled up so that he could get his ear next to the handset, which Gabe obligingly held away from his ear. He strained to hear the next words.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Major Hanael Milton was badly injured in action on Tuesday June first and died of her wounds the following day. Major Castiel Milton is uninjured but is suffering from a severe bereavement reaction and has been admitted to hospital. His condition is described as stable."
"Where are they now?" asked Gabe.
"Major Castiel Milton is in an Army hospital. Major Hanael Milton's body has been retrieved and will be returned to the United States in due course."
Sam said, "This is Sam Winchester, Ms Gomez. Can you tell us if Castiel and Dean are in the same hospital?"
"Officially I can't tell you that and I can't be absolutely sure, but all three signals originated from the same unit, so my assumption is that they are."
"Can we fly over there?" asked Gabe.
"Not to the area of operations, no. In cases like this it's usual for patients to be evacuated to the combined forces hospital in Germany and we would fly you there. I may have more information on that later today, but more likely tomorrow."
"You have our home number, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, and I have both your cell phone numbers as well. I or one of my colleagues will definitely call you as soon as we have any more news."
"Thank you."
Gabe replaced the handset -- firmly, but not quite as hard as he had slammed Sam's phone -- and looked up at his guide. Sam put his arms around his sentinel and held him close. It felt so unfair that his brother lived while Gabe's cousin was dead, but there was nothing he could do to change that. All he could do was to support his partner and help him to grieve.
Gabe, however, was focusing on practical matters for the moment. "I guess we'd better talk to the boss and tell him we'll need some personal time," he said with a sigh.
Sam grimaced. They were in the middle of a complex investigation involving a Mexican drug cartel and its supply lines to four states, and their task force supervisor was an irascible man who didn't take kindly to anything that disturbed his plans. "Coffee run first?"
"Coffee, donuts and chocolate brownies."
"Good plan."
~~~~~~
Sunday 06 June
At dawn two days later Sam and Gabe arrived in West Germany. They were met by an AFWO liaison officer and escorted first to their hotel and then to the large military hospital known as the Lazarett, where Dean and Castiel had been flown the day before. There they were split up, Gabe heading to the psychiatric ward and Sam to the burns unit.
Dr Banks, Dean's physician, was a gruff man in his fifties. He gave Sam a quick summary of the injuries diagnosed on admission -- which made Sam feel ill just hearing about them second-hand -- and went into more detail about the treatment so far and what was planned for the next few weeks.
"I think we've managed to avoid renal failure," concluded Dr Banks, "but otherwise our main concern is the large burn on his back. The infection is responding to the antibiotics, though, so unless something deteriorates in the meantime I think that we'll be able to apply the skin graft on Tuesday. After that, I'll ask one of the orthopedic surgeons to look at his fingers -- I suspect that some of them will need corrective surgery, but obviously they were a relatively low priority when he came in."
"What about the psychological trauma?" asked Sam.
"Well, we haven't been able to assess that yet -- every time we try to wean him off sedation he becomes very agitated. We were warned by his forward unit not to try manual restraints because of his ordeal, so that limits our options. Now that you're here, I'll reduce the dose again and we'll see how he goes this afternoon and evening. If he isn't too agitated, I'll get a psych consult arranged as soon as possible."
"Thanks."
Before he was allowed into Dean's room, Sam was briefed on infection control procedures and was made to don protective clothing which covered him from head to toe, leaving only his eyes exposed. He could feel himself starting to sweat already, but he resisted the urge to pull off the mask and gloves: he wasn't going to gamble with his brother's health after so nearly losing him.
Although he'd been warned, Sam's first sight of Dean was still a shock, and he was glad that his brother was unconscious and couldn't see Sam's dismay at seeing him so helpless. The majority of Dean's wounds weren't visible -- for which Sam was very grateful -- but his back and one side of his face were covered in wet gauze and both hands were bulky with splints. He had an IV line in each arm, a nasogastric tube taped to his cheek, and a catheter drainage tube snaking out from under the sheet that covered his legs. He was face-down, of course, and from the pinched look and slight twitching that Sam could see, he looked like he was in pain.
The nurse who had escorted Sam in noted that too, and adjusted one of the drips.
"It's morphine and midazolam," she explained. "We've had him sedated because he keeps trying to get out of bed."
"Yeah, the doctor explained that He said he'd be adjusting the dose, though, now that I'm here -- I can probably calm him down if he gets agitated."
"OK, I'll go and check what's on the chart."
Left alone, Sam dragged over the single plastic chair and sat down beside the bed. It was very warm in the isolation room and Sam could feel himself start to sweat.
At least Dean seemed more comfortable, settling down as the drug took effect. The bed was obviously designed for people who had to lie on their stomachs, as it had a padded hole for Dean's face, and a mirror on the floor through which Sam could see him and, eventually, interact with him. For now, though, Sam just sat and watched his brother breathe.
The smaller IV bag was replaced with another, by the same nurse as before, who explained that it contained the same amount of morphine but less midazolam. "He should start to come round in an hour or two. The midazolam may make him appear a little drunk, but he should be able to recognize you. If he gets agitated please press the buzzer immediately." She indicated the red call button pinned to the sheets at Dean's left hand.
"Thanks, I'll do that."
He sat there for a quarter of an hour, just watching Dean breathe, but was roused out of his reverie by a knock at the door. Gabriel's face was peering through the inset window. With a last look at Dean -- who was still sleeping relatively peacefully -- he pushed the chair back and went to see his partner. He pulled the mask off with some relief as he hit the cooler air outside the isolation room.
"What's up? How's Cas?"
"Still unresponsive. I had to get out of there, it was starting to get creepy."
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, sugar. How's Dean?"
Sam shrugged. "Still unconscious. They've reduced his sedation so he should wake up sometime today, but I almost don't want him to."
"Bad?"
"Yeah. I mean, he's all bandaged up so I can't see much, but he looks so ... so helpless." That was what was upsetting him -- Dean was never helpless, he was always doing something, taking action, fighting whatever had to be fought. Seeing him so still, so passive, made Sam feel as if the whole universe was out of kilter.
"It'll be OK, Sam. Dean's strong, he'll make it."
Sam nodded, and then asked, "When does SGINA get here?"
Gabe rolled his eyes. "Can you believe they hadn't notified the Institute?"
"What? But it's mandatory!"
"I know. But it seems that they forgot to do it at the first hospital, because Cas was OK at first and then agitated. I actually rang SGINA myself, and they only just got the notification of Anna's death, because of course it's the weekend, and they were trying to find Cas and couldn't get hold of anyone who knew where he was ... God, what a mess."
"Typical clusterfuck, then."
"Yeah. But they'll send someone over as soon as they can -- probably tomorrow, might be Tuesday."
"Good."
They stood there in the corridor for a couple more minutes, Gabriel leaning against Sam, until he straightened up and said. "Well, I'd better get back up to Cas."
"Yeah, I expect Dean will be waking up soon, and I'd like to be there."
"If there's no change with Cas, I'll come down around lunchtime."
"OK."
They exchanged a brief kiss and Gabriel left.
Sam put on a new set of protective gear and returned to Dean's room. As the doctor and nurse had predicted, Dean was starting to move a little in the bed. Nothing much else happened for another hour, though, then Dean started to become much more agitated, moaning and moving his eyes back and forth under his eyelids.
Sam watched him with increasing anxiety, until he couldn't tolerate it any longer and gently shook Dean's shoulder.
Dean gave a half-terrified yelp and opened his eyes. He tried to raise himself off the bed, but immediately gasped at the pain from his broken hands.
Sam leaned forward, and their eyes met through the mirror. "Dean, it's OK, you're safe."
"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper. "Is it really you?"
"Yes. Man, you had me so worried."
"Sorry."
"You want some water?"
"Yeah, that would be good."
Sam held a beaker with a straw under his mouth. Dean took a large sip, grimacing as he swallowed over the tube.
"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"
Dean hesitated for a moment and took another sip of water. "Not quite pain, just a lot of discomfort. They must have me on the good stuff."
"They do."
"Where am I again?"
"Lazerett, in Germany."
"Oh, yeah." He frowned. "I kind of remember getting here, but it all seems unreal." His glance fell on his own reflection, and he asked, "Did I lose the eye?"
"No, the eye is fine -- no damage at all. It's just covered because of the burn on your temple."
"Thank God."
"What else?"
"I thought they'd told you this already?"
Dean frowned. "If they did, I don't remember."
"Well, they said you’d been heavily sedated."
"Feels like I've been out cold for a month."
"Just a few days."
"So what did the doctors tell you?"
"That you're lucky to be alive."
"Yeah, figured that." The words were blunt and the tone flat.
Too late, Sam realized that his statement could have been misinterpreted. "I meant because of the infection. You were really, really sick, Dean. They've got you on every antibiotic known to man at the moment."
"Huh." Dean didn't seem too worried about that, but then he'd always been cavalier about his own health.
"Apart from that, though ... you have multiple fractures in the hands -- they're splinted for the moment but they may go in and operate later if they don't heal straight. The cracked ribs are healing. The rectal tears were sutured. They were worried about your kidneys but they seem to be improving now they've got you rehydrated. Your back was the worst -- that's why you're in isolation. The doctor said you had extensive partial thickness burns and that was where the infection got in so they had to take most of the skin off to get it down to a clean base. That was before you were transferred out."
"Yeah, I kinda remember that."
"Do you remember fighting them?" he asked. "The doctor said you kept trying to get out of bed -- they were afraid you were going to hurt yourself more."
"Kinda. They strapped me down. That was bad. Made me think of ..." He started to breathe fast, and the look on his face was not one that Sam ever wanted to see again. There were bruises around each wrist, yellow at the edges, and Sam could imagine how hard Dean had struggled against his captors.
He patted Dean reassuringly on the shoulder, above the dressing. "Hey, it's OK. You're safe now."
Dean nodded. "Yeah ... yeah, I know."
Sam kept his had moving in slow, soothing circles until Dean calmed and his breathing returned to normal. He offered more water, but Dean shook his heading, asking, "How's Cas? Major Milton, I mean. The sentinel who got me out. Do you know how he is?"
"He isn't well. Gabe is with him -- did you know they were cousins?"
"No. Are they really? He said he didn't have any family."
"Yeah, his parents are assholes and so are his brothers and sisters, but Gabe talks to him occasionally. He's pretty cut up about Anna."
"Can I see him?"
"Gabe?"
"Ca-- Major Milton."
"Not right now. He's ... he's not doing so well."
That got Dean's attention. "What happened? I thought he was getting better. God, he was practically carrying me when we got picked up."
"Yeah, he went catatonic in the hospital. Bond shock."
Dean looked devastated. "Again? I thought ..."
"Hey, it was only to be expected. His guide died suddenly, he was bound to be severely affected."
"Yeah, but ... How long?"
"Since Anna died, idiot."
"No, how long is it since we got back to the base?"
"Three days."
"Three days ... Shit, has he been in shock all that time?"
"Of course he has."
"Can I see him? I could help him."
"No, it's OK. They're flying in someone from the Institute to evaluate him. I know it's late, but apparently they got their wires crossed and no one notified the Institute until we got here."
"Sam, seriously -- I have to see him."
"Maybe in a few days, once your skin has healed. You're in isolation, remember."
"Fuck, you don't understand. I need to see him. I can help him, I know I can. I brought him out of bond shock in Croatoa -- four or five times, at least. He was getting better."
"What? But they said it was a delayed reaction -- he managed to hold it off until getting you back to the hospital, then collapsed."
"Delayed, my ass," Dean snorted. "He zoned out the moment his sister died. I don't know how long he'd been zoned when I woke up, but it took me over an hour to get him out."
"But ..." That made no sense. Bereavement shock in a sentinel was notorious for being the deepest and most difficult to recover from, and the faster the onset, the longer it took to recover. Everyone knew that. That's why SGINA insisted on being notified as soon as a sentinel or guide was killed, so that they could send someone over with the necessary equipment. If Cas had zoned out the moment his guide had died, then he should have remained there, motionless and insensate, until basic physical needs overrode his grief, which could easily have been a day or two later. Sam had read of cases where sentinels had actually died without coming out of bereavement shock.
To Dean, he said, "That's fast for an acute grief reaction."
"Felt like forever to me. The others weren't as bad."
"He zoned again?"
"Yeah, a few times, but by the time we got picked up he was pretty normal. I don't think he zoned at all the last day ... well, he can't have, because I was in no condition to bring him out by then. I figured he'd be OK once we got back to base."
"You brought him out of bond shock and he was acting normally within three days," Sam repeated. He was still trying to make sense of what Dean had said.
"Yeah. That's what I was supposed to do, wasn't it? I can't say I was thinking all that clearly, but I thought I was doing the right thing."
"You were definitely doing the right thing." There was a germ of an idea in his head -- an idea that might explain the odd history and the discrepancy between the story they'd been told by the doctors and the one given by Dean. Sam looked thoughtful, then asked, "How are you feeling?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "You really have to ask me that?"
"No, I mean, how do you feel inside? Calm, happy, angry, frustrated?"
"I don't know. Kind of frustrated, I guess. Sort of ... twitchy."
"Twitchy?"
"Yeah. Like ... like there's something I need to do and I can't do it. Like there's something under my skin, sort of shimmering or humming or something. I don't know if it's a side-effect from one of the drugs but it feels really unpleasant. Not hurting, just ... unpleasant."
"Interesting."
"What's interesting?"
Sam stood up. "I have to go talk to Gabe for a minute. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go away."
"Yeah, that's real funny, man," Dean managed to reply, but Sam was already on his way out.
Sam shed the protective gear and stuffed it in the large bin outside Dean's room. He viewed the large sweaty patches on his shirt with distaste, but there wasn't anything he could do about that at the moment. He had to find Gabe -- he had to get Gabe's view of what Dean had just told him. If Dean was right, then the situation wasn't nearly as hopeless as the psychiatrist was trying to make out.
He took the lift up three levels and followed the meandering corridor to the psych ward. He showed his ID at the door, explaining that his partner was sitting with a patient. The receptionist phoned someone inside and Gabe appeared a couple of minutes later.
"What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you. Not here."
"Is Dean all right?"
"Yeah, he's fine. Or he will be, anyway. But ... it's complicated."
Gabe sighed. "Well, it's not like Cas is going to wake up in the next hour. Let's see if we can find some shitty coffee."
"It might be good coffee."
"It’s a hospital. It'll be shitty coffee."
They found the coffee shop in the main foyer and took their drinks out to the small green area outside. As Gabe had predicted, the coffee was awful, but at least it was hot.
"So, Samwise, spill."
Sam rolled his eyes: he hated that nickname. "Dean woke up while I was there. Once I'd managed to reassure him that he didn't lose an eye, he was completely focused on Cas, wanted to know how he was, wanted to see him. You know the doctors said Cas managed to delay his grief reaction?"
"Yeah. I still don't know how he did that."
"He didn't. Dean told me that Cas went into bond shock as soon as Anna died, and it took him about an hour to bring him out."
"What?"
"Yeah. Immediate textbook reaction. But -- get this -- Dean brought him out of that zone, and several more over the next couple of days, and each time it got easier. He says that by the time they were picked up, Cas was fine, not zoning or spiking at all."
"Well, that makes more sense than the 'delayed bond shock' shit they told us yesterday -- although if anyone could manage to put off bond shock by sheer willpower it would be Cas."
"Yeah, and it makes sense that my brother brought him out, given our relationship. But what's even more telling is that Dean is twitchy."
Gabe looked skeptical. "That could be the drugs he's on."
"He's on a morphine and midazolam drip. I don't think his muscles could actually twitch even if he wanted them to. And twitchy is how I feel when I'm not with you."
"It's very non-specific."
"I know, it's circumstantial. But it's a lot of circumstantial."
"You really think they've started to bond?"
"Yes." There was no doubt in Sam's mind whatsoever. He couldn't really explain it to Gabe, not in words, but it was the first time Sam had ever known Dean to be so focused on anyone else.
"Guide instinct?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. But the easiest way to check it is to put them together and see what happens."
"True." Gabe finished his coffee, grimaced, and crushed the cup before lobbing it into a nearby bin. "OK, let's go and talk to the doctors."
~~~
They talked to the doctors. Unsurprisingly, neither the psychiatrist nor the physician was inclined to believe them.
~~~~~
Monday 07 June 2010 (morning)
The army driver who was supposed to meet the Institute's representative was sadly easy to distract. Sam "accidentally" tripped over his own feet and brought down several of the waiting drivers with their placards. In the confusion, it was easy for Gabriel to produce his own sign saying "Sentinel & Guide Institute" and walk up to meet the disembarking passengers. By the time Sam had apologized profusely and brushed down all the disgruntled drivers, Gabriel had escorted the representative all the way to the baggage carousel.
Sam hurried to join them. He caught a glimpse of the man's aura and was momentarily puzzled. It was the oddest he had ever seen -- blue-green, mostly, which was fairly good, but very pale, with streaks of something darker. Dark but not evil, he felt.
"This is my guide, Agent Sam Winchester," Gabe said, as he approached. "Sam, this is Balthazar Blake, from SGINA Headquarters in Washington."
"Call me Balthazar." The rep extended his hand.
Sam noted the English accent and shook hands carefully. He had another flash of the man's aura, and got the impression of a deeply buried grief. Well, that would explain the pallor and the dark streaks he'd seen in the aura. Physically, Balthazar was unremarkable -- late forties, tall, thin, blond and pale -- but he had an air of competence about him that was reassuring.
"Thank you for getting here so fast," said Sam. "We really need your help."
Balthazar gave them a wintry smile. "I'll do the best I can. Now why don't you explain to me what is going on and why you don't want me to be driven to the hospital in the army car that was arranged for me."
Sam and Gabe exchanged glances. The man was definitely sharp -- well, even if wasn't a sentinel or a guide himself, he probably knew a great deal about non-verbal communication.
Gabe spoke first. "Well, apart from not actually notifying SGINA when they were supposed to, the doctors at the hospital have absolutely no idea what's going on with my cousin and Sam's brother. They refuse to accept our advice and they won't do anything to help Cas."
"I understand that Major Milton is in bond shock, which is not unexpected given his recent bereavement."
"That's just it," Sam interrupted. "He is in bond shock but we don't think it's because of Anna. Or at least, not just Anna."
Balthazar looked confused. "If it isn't the loss of his guide, then what is it?
Sam looked at Gabe, who nodded at him to continue. "I think Dean -- my brother -- is Cas's guide now. We're both of us pretty sure that they bonded during the trip out of Croatoa, but the doctors insist that either it isn't possible or it's just a traumatic transference problem and hence temporary."
Balthazar pursed his lips. "Well, it would be very unusual for a second bond to form during the bereavement process, but it's not unknown. What evidence do you have for this hypothesis?"
Gabe explained, "Well, we were told initially that Cas had had a delayed reaction -- that he kept himself going after Anna's death until he'd managed to get them back to base, and only went into shock after Dean was in medical care."
"Was that not correct?"
"Not exactly," said Sam. "Dean was brought out of sedation yesterday and told me that Cas actually zoned pretty deep after his sister died. Dean brought him out of that, and several more over the next few days, and Cas was getting better while they were on the run -- much better -- and he became increasingly focused on Dean's condition."
"Everyone agrees that Cas was alert and coherent when they were picked up," added Gabe. "And he insisted that they treat Dean's injuries before his own. That was why they initially thought that Dean was his guide. It was only later, when they had checked Cas's record and separated them that Cas started having problems. When they wouldn't let him back into see Dean he just zoned and couldn't be roused."
"Hence the 'delayed shock' theory," said Sam.
"Hmm," Balthazar mused. "Well, delayed shock has been described -- in the general population as well as in sentinels -- but then, so has emergency bonding. Your explanation would make sense, actually."
"Really?"
"Yes, it would be unusual for a sentinel to have such a severe reaction three days after the loss of a guide ... but a double loss in a short period of time could explain it. Do you have any more substantive evidence to support this hypothesis?"
"Dean is twitchy," said Sam. "He wants to see Cas and he's got that awful frustrated twitchy-under-the-skin feeling I get whenever I'm separated from Gabe too long. They had him restrained and under heavy sedation at first because he kept trying to get out of bed -- I'm sure it was because he had to find Cas."
Gabe nodded, adding, "And Cas has been under sedation since they got to the base because that's standard treatment for a bereaved sentinel. I was told they had to use high doses because the first few hours he was agitated and kept trying to get up. Now ... now he's catatonic."
"Have you tried to get them into the same room?'
"We've tried," Sam said with a sigh. "We've argued till we're blue in the face. But Cas is in the psych ward and Dean is isolation in the burns unit, and they won't move either of them. First they say it's a risk for Dean, because of infection, then they say it's a risk for Cas -- it will only delay the inevitable. Better to let him die in so-called peace."
Gabriel cleared his throat. "I stole a towel after they washed Dean this morning and took it up to Cas's room. He definitely turned his head towards it and his hand twitched. His heart rate increased a little, too."
Balthazar nodded. "Good test. And repeatable, I hope."
"I thought so. Unfortunately Dean's wounds mean he isn't wearing anything and a sheet is a bit big to carry so I haven't been able to get anything else up to Cas."
Sam leaned forward. "So how can we convince the doctors here that Cas and Dean have to be together to heal? Like, today."
"I'll talk to both teams," Balthazar said. "If I agree with you -- and that's not a given -- I'll try and organize a move. If I can't get them to see reason, I'll invoke Institute rights and get them both transferred to the nearest clinic."
"That would probably be easy for Cas -- there isn't much they can do for him here -- but Dean is still having treatment for his injuries. He isn't even a registered guide."
"He'll be in our database. Even if he isn't, I think there is sufficient prima facie evidence to have him treated as a guide." He smiled at them both. "Don't worry. I think this is manageable."
"Thank goodness," said Gabe with a sigh of relief.
"Thank you. Really," Sam added as he put an arm around Gabe.
"This is what I'm here for. Don't worry, I'll do my absolute best to sort it out -- by the end of the day, with a little luck. And I can see an army chap approaching, so I suggest the both of you disappear and let me take the official transport. I'm sure I'll be able to find you at the hospital once I've met the director."
"We'll be there."
~~~~~
Several hours later, Balthazar wasn't quite so sure he was going to be able to fulfil his promise. He had spoken with Major Milton's psychiatrist, Dr Langhorn, and with Staff Sergeant Winchester's physician, Dr Banks. He had also managed to view the field medical reports generated by the unit which had picked them up, and the initial triage assessments done at the forward base medical center. They confirmed what Agents Winchester and Alighieri had told him earlier: that the sentinel had appeared to be functioning normally, though exhausted, at the time of retrieval. No one had questioned his concern for his "guide" until their respective medical records had been pulled up. And since everyone had expected Major Milton to collapse spectacularly, no one had taken the time to investigate why it had taken him so long.
"So," he said, facing the two physicians, trying hard to keep his voice neutral and his expression bland, "let me review this information to make sure that I have the details correct. Major Milton loses his guide while in the company of Staff Sergeant Winchester, who has a high guide potential and whose brother is guide for Agent Alighieri ... who just happens to be Major Milton's cousin. You are aware of the genetic component in sentinel-guide attraction, aren't you? Good. So, according to Staff Sergeant Winchester's account, Major Milton undergoes a textbook reaction to such a traumatic loss, being severely affected in the first twenty-four hours but then gradually improving, and is able to care for Staff Sergeant Winchester, whose physical condition is steadily deteriorating. The soldiers who find them assume that they are a bonded team and keep them close, with the result that Major Milton remains alert and coherent. It's only on arrival at the forward base that they are separated, whereupon Milton zones badly and eventually slips into catatonia and Winchester becomes agitated to the point where he requires sedation. They improve during the flight from Croatoa to here -- when they are in close proximity -- and deteriorate again when they are put in entirely different areas of the hospital. Now, is any of that ringing bells with you?"
"You've been talking to those agents." That was Dr Langhorn, Cas' psychiatrist.
"Yes, I have been talking to those agents, who just happen to be a very competent sentinel and guide team. It's a shame you haven't been listening to them."
"They aren't qualified to make medical decisions. And I think it's highly unlikely that any sentinel could bond properly under such circumstances."
"There are aspects of the sentinel-guide relationship that go far beyond pure medical considerations. There's a reason we insist on the Institute being informed of any death or injury to our people -- our knowledge and experience can help you to help them."
"I'm not convinced that putting them together will help in the long run. Relationships formed under such traumatic conditions aren't stable."
"That's our problem, not yours. And statistics from the Institute show that the risk of early bond deterioration is only slightly higher for those formed in traumatic circumstances. In fact, you'd be surprised how many of our adult sentinels find their guides during times of stress. Nature demands and nature supplies."
Dr Banks -- a gruff man in his fifties -- leaned forward. "I don't want Winchester exposed to infection. He was damned close to septicemia when he arrived at the base and we've only just got his skin cleaned up enough for spraying tomorrow. Once that goes on he'll have to remain in isolation for a further three days at least."
"So disinfect Milton and then put him in the same isolation room. He can stay there until Winchester is ready to leave."
"We can't do that."
"You do it with parents of small children."
"That's different."
"How? The slight increase in physical risk is balanced by the huge emotional and psychological benefit of having someone within touching distance. The same principle applies here."
Dr Banks glared at him.
Dr Langhorn coughed gently and said, "I'm not sure that either of them is in good enough condition to give informed consent to this."
"Really?" Balthazar managed not to roll his eyes, but only by exerting every ounce of self-control. "How fortunate, then, that we have their next of kin here with us."
The looks he got in response should have been lethal. Balthazar just smiled and steepled his fingers.
~~~~~
Twenty minutes after that he was formally interviewing Sentinel Agent Alighieri and Guide Agent Winchester.
He sighed and looked up from his notes at the two earnest young men. "You were right, it is a very difficult situation. The doctors have posited that neither Major Milton nor Staff Sergeant Winchester is capable of giving informed consent to this move."
"Cas might not be, but he's not the one at most risk," answered Gabriel, promptly.
Sam added, "I'm pretty sure Dean is alert enough to answer for himself. And if he isn't, I'm his next of kin and I can give consent for him."
"And now that Anna is dead I'm Cas's emergency contact and medical proxy. As you know, he's estranged from his immediate family."
"Yes, you are, according to the Institute's records," said Balthazar. "If the hospital won't accept that you're his medical proxy, I think I can get him made a ward of the Institute until such time as he can answer for himself. That has certainly been done before."
"Good."
"And I believe that I can reassure Dr Langhorn, at least. I've been checking the statistics from various Guilds and Institutes around the world, and the circumstances of the meeting don’t have much effect on the longevity of the bond."
Gabe chuckled. "Well, that's reassuring. We met when a bomb went off."
"Well, it was a few minutes before the bomb went off, actually," Sam corrected him.
"And then you got yourself kidnapped. It was a very traumatic week."
"But you found me, and we survived."
"Ah, yes, I remember reading about that case," said Balthazar. He looked at Gabe, and Sam could see the careful scrutiny; the reassessment that took into account more than Gabe's "sassy gay friend" façade.
Balthazar turned back to Sam. "Your brother tested very highly in his teens, I understand. Was he never interested in the possibility becoming a guide?"
"I know he had a high potential, but he didn't like the idea of being shackled for life, especially at such a young age, so he avoided the social functions whenever he could."
"He wasn't keen on Sam bonding either," Gabriel added.
"Yeah, and I was nearly twenty-one when I met Gabe. It took a while to convince him it was the real thing for us."
"Is it still a problem with him? Is he going to resist being a bonded guide? Because in all fairness to Major Milton, I don't want to end up merely prolonging his suffering."
Sam frowned and took his time in formulating a reply -- it was a very difficult question to answer. "I can't be one hundred per cent sure. I know he was very reluctant in his teens but from my perspective now, I think he was objecting to the monogamous nature of the bond rather than the bond itself. Dean was ... well, he was the most popular guy in school, you know? Good-looking, good at sports, great car ... he didn't even have to lift a finger to get a date. Why would a guy like that want to limit himself?" Sam noticed Balthazar frowning. "Yeah, I know, I've made him sound like an asshole, but he wasn't really. He was just really keen on getting the most out of life. And besides, that was a long time ago. He's matured since then. I know he was ready to settle down and get married a couple of years ago but that didn't work out."
"How so?"
"Lisa didn't like him being in the army and deploying so much. She gave him an ultimatum -- her or the Army -- and since he'd just signed on for another four years, he chose the Army. She kicked him out."
"He was very upset," Gabriel added. "Not just because he missed Lisa but also because he'd become very fond of her son and looked on him as his own."
"That is unfortunate," commented Balthazar.
"They still keep in touch, I think," said Sam. "I know Dean and Ben talk fairly regularly, by phone or on the net. Sometimes by video. I'm not sure if he talks with Lisa at all."
"I think that if Dean does have a problem with being a guide it won't be about commitment as such, it will be about commitment being forced on him," ventured Gabriel.
"So you're saying we have to allow him to make the choice."
"Or convince him that it's his choice."
"I think that can be done. Before we go any further, though, I must also ask you to consider that even with the encouraging statistics, there is a chance that either Staff Sergeant Winchester is not Major Milton's guide, or alternatively, that the bond between them is indeed only temporary."
'No, it can't be that." Gabriel shook his head vehemently.
"I know it's not pleasant, but it has to be faced. Major Milton may not come out of his zone, or he may improve in spite of Staff Sergeant Winchester's presence and deny that they have a bond."
"What do we do then?" asked Sam.
"You let the Institute do its job. We have an intensive rehabilitation program for bereaved sentinels, one that has a reasonable degree of success. Some sentinels achieve new partnerships, while others learn to work on their own ... with or without enhanced senses. What we will not do is allow Major Milton to 'die peacefully' when he has so many years in front of him."
Gabriel shivered and instinctively leaned closer to Sam, who reached over and grabbed his hand. The thought of existing without each other was too frightening to contemplate in any detail, and they sought comfort in the reassurance of touch.
"I know that from your point of view, such a course would seem cruel. But I can tell you that it is possible for a sentinel to lose a guide -- or even two -- and still continue to function quite adequately as a human being, if not as a sentinel."
Sam saw the shadows in Balthazar's eyes as he spoke, and knew that he was in the presence of such a man. To be a twice-bereaved sentinel ... it seemed unimaginable, but if he said it was possible, then it was. But Sam had to wonder if Balthazar really considered his continued solitary existence as living. His aura would seem to suggest that on the emotional level he was barely surviving.
"But in the meantime, getting Dean and Cas in the same room is the best option," he said, hoping he was right.
"Yes it is. For the short term, anyway," replied Balthazar.
"So how soon before we can force the doctors to bring them together?"
"Let me talk to Staff Sergeant Winchester first, then I'll make a couple of calls. I'll let you know as soon as I can."
Sam sighed, but resigned himself to the wait.
Chapter 3