29. Lost Sight of Who You Are

Chapter Track: Fantasy – MS MR

Lost Sight of Who You Are

Dean’s nightmares roar back into their life at full force. They avalanche from once or twice in a week to every night without question. Some nights are worse than others, but Castiel always wakes up when Dean does, the smell of fear and distress in his omega too potent to ignore even in sleep. Sometimes Dean just sweats and shakes and Castiel rubs his back and grips him tight.

Other times, Dean wakes up shouting, leaps from sleep believing that he’s trapped in Alastair’s compound. Castiel doesn’t want to know what parts of the compound Dean dreams of, but he wonders anyway. Does he think of the never-ending heat forced upon him? Or maybe he thinks of the torture rooms on the floor beneath where the omegas slept, the rooms that Dean called playrooms.

Or maybe Dean dreams of that medieval piece of equipment that upset him so much that he vomited on himself and cried when he saw it again.

Castiel urges Dean to agree to therapy, but Dean always says the same thing: I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

In part, Castiel blames John’s influence over Dean, and the backwards lessons that he taught his sons. Getting help is equivalent to weakness in Dean’s mind. Weakness is an omega trait, or so is generally accepted among the majority. Dean doesn’t want to slip into a stereotype.

He hopes to heaven that they can put that creature Alastair behind bars where he belongs.

Because if Alastair isn’t jailed, Castiel will kill him. He will make Alastair hurt just as much as Dean hurt, and he will smile as he does it.

Castiel tries not to dwell on that too much. It makes him smell aggressive, makes Kevin more timid and Dean irritable.

On one particular afternoon, Castiel sets aside a slice of time to himself in the study and realizes that he should call Gabriel, since his brother did say that he wanted to be in Colorado and at their side when the trial began.

Gabriel picks up on the third ring.

“Ahoy-hoy, what’s up in casa de Castiel?” he answers.

Castiel tries to suppress a roll of his eyes and fails. He replies, “Alastair’s court date is set. The third of March.”

“Well, shit,” Gabriel says, “Is everything okay your way?”

“It…could be better,” admits Castiel, “Dean is feeling poorly. He’s having nightmares every night again, and he hasn’t suffered like that in months. It’s almost like when I first brought him here. And he’s anxious overall. He tries not to be, I think. He also doesn’t like discussing it.”

“Can you blame the dude?” Gabriel says, “I mean, the crap I saw on the news. That’s heavy, Cassie. And I was just looking at it on my TV. When do you want me on your turf?”

Cas paces the perimeter of the study and pauses alongside one of his bookshelves. He absently strokes the spine of a fantasy pulp and says, “I think we should allow for some time between your arrival and the trial, just so that Dean and Kevin and Mary can get used to your scent.”

“Who in the flippity flying fuck is Kevin?”

“Kevin is the omega that helped Dean break out of the compound,” Castiel replies, “He doesn’t have any family, so we took him under our wing. He’s often skittish around new people.”

“No freaking kidding,” Gabriel says, “So, what, I should cruise in a week ahead of the big shebang?”

“A week sounds good, yes,” Castiel agrees.

“Cool,” Gabriel says, “So now that you’ve won the Grammy for Most Depressing Phone Call, how about you tell me how my niece is doing?”

Castiel snorts and again fails to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he responds in turn, “She can already hold her head up by herself, for the most part. Dean is proud. He’s anxious to start her on solid foods, even though I’ve told him that we need to wait until she’s at least four months. Although I am pleased –”

“Hang on,” Gabriel interrupts. There’s some noise from the other end, raised voices, even though Castiel can tell that Gabriel has his palm over the receiver. Only a few seconds later, Gabriel puts the phone back against his ear and says, “I’ve gotta run, Castiel. I’ll ring you up when I know when I’ll be gracing you with my fine presence.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, “Goodbye.”

“Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do,” Gabriel says back, and there’s an annoyed voice behind him that gets cut off when his line goes dead.

Castiel lets out a soft sigh and tucks his cellphone into the pocket of his jeans. He pads back behind his desk and to the wide window behind it, pressing his forehead against the glass. Outside, it’s snowing for the second day in a row. The flakes are soft and dry, gentle as they fall, but the news report says that it will turn to flurries and heavy snowfall come nighttime.

Dean is excited to dress Mary up in her winter gear and take her out to play in it, although Castiel thinks that’s more because Dean wants to play in the snow and not because their three month old daughter does.

With Gabriel committed to supporting them, an overwhelming sense of doom hangs over Castiel’s head. Gabriel has never been enthusiastic about supporting anybody through anything – unless you count himself. Maybe his brother has changed fundamentally, but perhaps his behavior is the barometer reading for the biggest shitstorm that Castiel has ever faced in his lifetime.

Considering their mother, they are well acquainted with shitstorms.

The study door swings open and Castiel turns to see Dean poking his head into the room. He gives Castiel a lazy grin and says, “Hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“You weren’t.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, “Me n’ Kevin are gonna watch the original Flash Gordon serial. You in? I am making cocoa.” Dean says the word ‘cocoa’ with an air of snobbishness, and the voice makes Castiel chuckle.

“I’d love to,” he replies.

Castiel and Dean tread downstairs together, where Dean treks into the kitchen to put together the promised cups of hot chocolate. He does whine at Cas, just a little, when Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s middle and sticks his nose directly against the skin of Dean’s neck, soaking in the scent of sweat and something more acidic – pup spit-up? Yes, that’s what that is. But under the aromas of their day-to-day lives, Castiel drinks in mate and Dean, and calm takes over where stress clenched him before.

When they wander back to the couch with three mugs of hot chocolate, Kevin passes Mary to Castiel. Cas cuddles her to him and leans against Dean. Despite Ash in his blue uniform only meters away from them, when Flash Gordon starts and cocoa settles in his stomach, he feels like the world might sort itself out.

X

A fist to the face jerks Castiel from sleep and into their dark bedroom. On his side of the bed, Dean thrashes and cries out. He clutches at the sheets and whimpers, the smell of fear so strong that it overpowers anything else and leaves Castiel feeling sick to his stomach. He leans over to his bedside table and flicks on the lamp there, rubbing his face with one hand while he rests the other on Dean.

At the touch, Dean lets out a scream, and Castiel can’t take it anymore. He wraps his hands around Dean’s shoulders and shakes. He calls, “Dean! Dean, wake up.”

Dean gasps out of his nightmare. From the wild look in his eyes, Castiel knows that this is a bad one. It takes Dean several seconds to process that he isn’t being tortured in Alastair’s compound but instead is in his own home, in his own bed, with his mate above him and his pup just down the hall.

“Cas,” he says hoarsely, and buries his face into Castiel’s bare chest. He burrows into him and clutches to Cas with vice-like hands, shaking and sweating.

Castiel lowers them both back onto the bed and gathers Dean against him. There, he rubs his back in slow circles and murmurs lowly, “Shh, Dean. You aren’t there anymore. You’re at home. You’re with me and you’re with our pup. You’re safe here.”

Dean shudders and Cas feels dampness against his skin. A lump forms in his throat when he realizes that Dean is crying, and moreover that Dean is trying to do it quietly and unobtrusively. Castiel shifts one hand to cup Dean’s cheek and draws him back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Don’t,” Dean says, and he tries to hide again with his face pressed to Castiel’s collarbone.

Cas holds Dean’s face steady and brushes the tears back with the pads of his thumbs. He touches his lips to his forehead and nuzzles against his sleep-mussed hair.

They lie there like that for some time, Dean with his nails digging into the skin of Castiel’s back and Castiel stroking his palms down the curve of Dean’s spine while he kisses the top of his head and urges Dean to lean in and scent him so that his body will start to realize that he’s far from that awful place and that he’s home tucked in his mate’s arms.

Eventually, Dean’s muscles stop feeling like steel under Castiel’s touch, and Dean stops pressing his fingers so deeply into Cas’ back. He pulls away a little, but only enough so that they lie against each other without Dean suctioned like a barnacle to Castiel’s chest.

Cas kisses Dean’s cheek and noses over his jaw before he suggests, “Perhaps we should go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” Dean says. His voice is cutting but underneath it is that old fear. Dean would love to sleep, but only if he got the kind of rest that he craves, free from demons and the shadows that held him captive for seven years of his life.

Castiel wants to urge Dean to try to sleep anyway, but it isn’t fair to ask that of him when he relives such vivid, evil memories and Castiel can sleep without a peep from his own subconscious. He runs his fingers back through Dean’s hair and hums, “You need a haircut.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dean mutters back.

“Would you like it if I brought you some food?” Castiel tries. He wants to do anything that he can to bring Dean out of this while he knows that truly he can do nothing. The helplessness that comes with that knowledge makes him angry, but he has to reign it in, if only for Dean’s sake.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, and adds belatedly, “Please.”

So Castiel slips out from under the covers, pecking a kiss to Dean’s lips before he shrugs his robe over his shoulders and stuffs his feet into slippers and shuffles out to the kitchen. He flips the light on and startles when he sees Ash at the kitchen table with his feet up, eyes wide open.

“’Nother bad dream?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Castiel replies. He opens the door to the refrigerator and picks through the Tupperware containers of leftovers stacked on top of one another before he settles on the tomato basil soup he made to accompany pork chops two nights before.

“He said anything about goin’ to the doctor like you told him to?” Ash asks.

“No,” Castiel shakes his head. He pops the soup into the microwave, sets the timer, and reaches for the kettle to fill it. Some herbal tea might help both of them settle, though Dean will probably protest at drinking it (“I’m not knocked up anymore, Cas. I can drink stuff besides your leaf water crap and juice.”). He exhales and leans back against the counter before he continues, “and it never feels right to bring it up after he’s just had another nightmare.”

“Tough situation,” Ash murmurs. The way that he pronounces the word 'situation’ sounds more like ‘sitchy-ation.’

“Mm,” Castiel agrees, and the conversation dies there. Ash stretches and pops his neck, the sound echoing over the simmering kettle and the buzzing microwave.

Castiel stops the microwave before it can sound the alarm that it’s finished. Mary is a light sleeper, and he knows that that would wake her up in an instant. He pulls out the soup and stirs it with a spoon before preparing two mugs of tea – loose leaf, not bagged. He thinks this kind called Lavender Dreams that he purchased in town may help Dean relax.

He also pulls the kettle from its hot burner before it can whistle and fills each mug with water, allowing it to steep for an awkward pair of minutes before he pulls out the tea baskets and dumps them into his sink. He’ll rinse them out tomorrow – or later today, rather.

Cas returns to the bedroom with the soup first, bringing two spoons so that he and Dean can share. He kisses Dean and lowers the Tupperware container into his hands before he says, “I’ll be right back,” and retrieves the mugs of tea. Ash tells him that he can turn the kitchen lights off again, so Castiel does. He closes the door.

“What the hell is this?” Dean asks, when Castiel passes him his mug. Dean sniffs at the steam curling over the rim and says, “It smells like an old lady’s perfume.”

“It’s tea,” Castiel says primly, “At least try it. It might help.”

“Blech.”

“I know.”

“Fucking leaf water crap.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

Castiel places his own mug on his bedside table before shucking his robe and slippers and crawling back underneath the covers, gravitating toward Dean’s body heat. Dean offers him the clean spoon and Castiel dunks it into the soup. He tries not to slurp but ends up with tomato basil all down his chin.

Dean laughs at him. Even though it’s at his expense, Cas is relieved to hear the sound.

Dean mops up Castiel’s face with the heel of his hand and smears the mess onto his pajama pants. From there, they eat and drink in silence. They hover close to each other, and when the Tupperware of soup is drained, Dean leans against Cas’ shoulder.

“You haven’t tried the tea.”

“It smells like my grandma.”

“You have a grandmother?” Cas lifts a brow.

“No, but if I did, she’d smell like that shit,” Dean grumbles. He takes up the mug anyway and takes an experimental sip. Dean wrinkles his nose at the taste and says, “How can you drink that crap?”

“I like it,” Castiel reasons.

Dean scoots over a fraction of an inch to scent and kiss at Cas’ neck, over the mating bite. He smiles at the little show of omega claim and turns his head to meet Dean’s lips when he starts to duck in again. Dean melts into the kiss and reaches over to clutch at the short hairs at the base of Cas’ skull, tangling his fingers there.

“Dean…” Castiel finally says, “I think, ah.”

“That I should see a therapist,” Dean flatly finishes, “Yeah, I know.”

Castiel raises his brows.

“You, um,” Dean swallows and brings his knees up to his chest, circling them with his arms. When he sits like this he looks so much more like a child, afraid and curling up to protect himself. He avoids looking at Castiel at first, instead staring straight ahead at the double doors into their bedroom. Then he sighs, glances over and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll…try, or whatever,” Dean says.

Relief and happiness and a slew of other emotions jolt to Castiel’s marrow. He scoops Dean into his arms and kisses over his unshaven jaw and forehead and nose and back down to his lips, tomato basil breath be damned. He says, “I’m so happy. We’ll start looking as soon as we can.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says and bats affectionately at Cas’ shoulder, “If I’d known it was gonna make you this happy, I would a’ said yes forever ago.”

Cas ignores the tone in Dean’s voice and nuzzles his nose into the meat of Dean’s shoulder, where he kisses. Dean strokes his fingers through Cas’ hair and says, “All right, all right. I get it. You’re happy.”

“I am,” Cas replies, and leans in to kiss Dean again before he emphasizes, “I am.”

X

“That fucking sucked,” Dean gripes. Castiel can tell from his posture that he wishes he could sink further down into the driver’s seat, and would slump into himself if he was not the one at the wheel. He scowls and complains, “She was so perky, Cas. And she assigned me homework! She told me to draw a chart of my feelings. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sure that Dr. Rosen meant well,” Castiel soothes, reaching over to knead some of the tension from Dean’s shoulder.

Dean casts Castiel a panicked look and says, “I don’t have to go back, do I?”

“No,” Castiel says.

“Awesome. Cool. So, we tried therapists and it didn’t work,” Dean says.

“That is not at all what I meant, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says back, “Sometimes it takes time to find a therapist. It’s not always an instant process. We may go through a few more before we find somebody that’s a match for you.”

“Or,” Dean says, bitter anger rolling from his skin, “I’m just fucking broken. Maybe we should just give up, because it’s a goddamn waste of –”

A shrill ring sounds from Castiel’s pocket. He dips in to check who it is and announces, “It’s your brother. Should I answer or let it go to voicemail so that we can talk about how you’re absolutely wrong about yourself and how your self-worth issues are an indicator that yes, we should keep looking for a therapist?”

“Just answer it,” Dean mutters.

Castiel makes sure to cast a pointed we are going to discuss this later look at Dean before he holds his cellphone to his ear and says, “Sam, we’re just about to go out of cellphone range, so talk fast.”

“Oh yeah, Dean went to his thing today,” Sam says, “You’ll have to have him call me when you guys get back, ‘cause this news really can’t wait.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve got you hearing,” Sam says, “for your license! The board agreed to see us to discuss whether or not they’ll give their recommendation to the full Board on whether or not your license will be restored.”

Castiel blinks, heart palpitating in his chest. He licks his lips and asks, “What – what do I have to do? What do I have to know?”

“Well, usually, crap like this happens when a doctor’s done something alcohol or drug related, sometimes fraud. In that case, you’d have to show remorse and maybe present some character witnesses that knew you before and after your license being revoked. But your case is different, probably the most unique that I’ve ever seen. I mean, this isn’t what I typically specialize in, but I’ve been doing a lot of reading to get us ready for this,” Sam takes a breath, “In your case, it’s basically all politics. The report of the incident with the enraged alpha and his shotgun reads like you started the attack, but all the witnesses that I’ve called maintain that you held him off and tried to get him to calm down.”

“They…blamed me?” Castiel says, stunned. He knew that the circumstances of his license being taken away were not sterling and crystal clear, but this – this is a surprise.

“I guessed you didn’t know that,” Sam says, “because if you had, you’d probably have fought tooth and nail, right? Right. So like I said, this was politics. Obviously there was somebody in your workplace that didn’t like you, didn’t like the advocacy work that you did for omegas –”

“I thought that was why they revoked my license,” Castiel says, “because I harbored mated omegas illegally at my apartment and helped them get to safe places elsewhere.”

“There’s that, yeah. But that would probably get you a slap on the wrist and a fine these days,” Sam replies, “It’s twenty fourteen, man. A lot of laws are still backwards but they’re not that backwards.”

“So I was – was a scapegoat?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says, “This whole thing is bullshit of the highest degree.”

His voice starts to fizzle out as the Impala rolls further out of town, so Castiel says, “Talk fast, Sam. You’re going in and out.”

“Okay, okay. The hearing is in a week and half. You’ll have me there, and I have a couple people from your hospital that are going to serve as witnesses to the alpha incident,” Sam says, “I can give you more details when you guys get back home. This is it, man.”

“I have to go,” Castiel says, “We’ll call you.”

“Right. Talk to you later.”

Castiel hangs up to see Dean staring curiously over at him. He asks, “What was that all about?”

Castiel gnaws on his lower lip, trying to keep his excitement at bay so that he doesn’t get his hopes up. It doesn’t work as well as he’d like, and his voice is light with emotion when he replies, “Your brother has secured a hearing to get my license restored.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. The happiness that Cas smells from him is genuine and thick, and it’s all happiness on Castiel’s behalf. Dean reaches over to clap Castiel on the shoulder and says, “Fuck yeah. You get ‘em, little alpha.”

X

Castiel adjusts his tie in the alpha restroom. He was so nervous getting dressed this morning that he put it on backwards and Dean had to grab him by the shoulder and redo it for him before he allowed them out of the house. Even now his hands shake, despite Dean soothing him all the way to Salida, where his hearing will take place. He runs his hands under the bathroom tap and splashes water onto his face, before finally turning to dry his hands.

Outside the restroom, Dean waits with Sam. Both of them are in suits, though Dean isn’t supposed to be in the room while the hearing takes place. Mary is dressed up in the dress that Castiel sewed her from the robot fabric that he purchased at Fancy Tiger Crafts, and has a tiny green bow clipped in the tuft of light hair on top of her head.

When she smells Castiel, she makes a grab for him, and Sam and Dean turn their attention toward him.

Castiel gathers Mary into his arms and says, “You think I can do this, don’t you, pup?”

“She knows you can, dude,” Dean says, “Look at that face.”

Mary’s face is indeed encouraging, bright-eyed and chubby-cheeked, her scent sweet and the perfect comfort. Castiel can’t help the crooked smile that he gives to her before he cradles her up against him and kisses her face. She in reply articulates a loud, “Oooh-wahh.”

Dean presses a chaste kiss to Castiel’s cheek and says, “I think that means ‘alpha daddy can do it’ in puppy.”

“I hope so,” Castiel says back. He’s a bundle of nerves, fidgeting and worrying, grinding his teeth. He knows that the entire building must be able to smell it, but surely he’s not the only one brought before a panel reeking of anxiety. He knows the scent and tension throws off his family, but it's hard to keep himself under control. Castiel hates when he cannot keep himself under control.

“Don’t worry, man,” Sam says, “We’ve got this covered. I’ve got everything we need on this crap.”

“I know,” Castiel says, “It’s not you that I doubt, Sam. It’s me. What if I say something wrong?”

“I don’t think there’s much that you can have a ‘wrong’ answer to,” Sam replies, “They’re gonna ask questions, sure. But we’ve been over this, and you have it covered.”

“They’ll ask me about the alpha with the shotgun,” Castiel says, perhaps to no one but himself, “and about the omegas that I brought back to my apartment. And why I want my medical license back? Right?”

“Right,” Sam nods.

When they call Castiel in, he hands Mary back to Dean with a final kiss to her chubby cheek and a quick touch of the lips to his omega. He and Sam slip into the hearing room, where a panel of several professionals sit at a huge, half-moon mahogany desk at the forefront of the room. Before them is a smaller, matching table with two rolling chairs – one for himself and one for Sam.

They take their seats. This position makes the panel far more intimidating than they were standing at the doors. They tower above him, serious-faced. He wonders how much they’ve been briefed on the circumstances surrounding the revocation of his licensure.

The Medical Board begins with introductions, and asks if any member of the board has a conflict of interest in Castiel’s case, and at their silence the hearing proceeds. Sam stands to make an opening statement. Prior to this moment, he expected Sam to be curt and professional, but as he speaks his words are impassioned, detailing the good that Castiel did in Denver and the good that could continue to be done if they recommended the restoration of his license.

They cross-examine Castiel, questioning him on the final incident. As he answers, his hands shake but his voice remains remarkably steady. Sam sends him a reassuring look.

Then Sam displays evidence, records that he believes are fudged into placing false blame onto Castiel. To illustrate his point, Sam’s witnesses from the hospital are brought in. Castiel recognizes two as nurses and one as a patient.

“Can you describe the events that occurred on June fifth, 2012?” they ask the first witness, a young beta nurse named Andy.

Andy answers, “It was like any other day. I was working under Dr. Novak in the ER. We had a couple of asthma attacks and a pup that swallowed some cleaner, but nothing serious. We’d just gotten in an alpha lady that was mugged for her wallet. Her injuries weren’t too serious, just needed some stitches and to watch for a concussion. I was filling in Dr. Novak when the alpha busted in through the ER doors. It was chaos, and everyone was panicking. He had a gun and nobody knew what to do. He went straight for Dr. Novak, but he didn’t back down. It was something about this alpha’s omega, about Dr. Novak ‘helping her escape’ or something.”

Andy goes on to describe Castiel talking the alpha down from his fury and another nurse contacting the police. Instead of arresting only the alpha with the shotgun, Castiel was arrested and taken to the station as well.

The questions keep coming, on and on at each witness. When the witnesses are dismissed, the board turns on Castiel to question him again.

“Mr. Novak,” one says, a sharp-eyed beta woman, “What will you do if you medical licensure is restored? Why pursue this now? It has been nearly three years since the loss of your license.”

Castiel licks his lips and tries not to bite at them. Sam rests a hand on his shoulder. He says, “After my arrest and the subsequent loss of my license, I fell into a depression. I moved from Denver to build a house in an area of the mountains outside of Buena Vista, and I intended to remain there alone and live from my savings as long as I could. I didn’t know that the hospital blamed me for the incident, at least as far as it went.”

He pauses to take a breath, and continues, “Several months ago, I was driving home from a run into town for food, when I came across an omega. He was pregnant and in heat, and was stumbling naked along the side of the road. I urged him to come to my home and I discovered there that he was malnourished, traumatized, and had an illegal hormone implant in his ankle. As you may have seen on the news, that omega is one of nearly forty omegas found at Alastair Locke’s compound, all of whom were in serious need of medical attention. Since I met Dean, I realized how much my work as a surgeon meant to me.”

Castiel glances at Sam, seeing some of Dean in his face and feeling a little courage at the thought. He says, “If my medical license was restored, I would like to open a private practice to cater to all genders, but to focus on omega advocacy. It would be the first of its kind in this area of the mountains.”

The members of the panel seem to communicate something silently where they sit above Castiel and Sam. Then, they call for a fifteen minute recess.

Castiel sighs as he and Sam stand to take a couple minutes outside of the room with Dean. They find him slumped in a chair just outside the room with his big hands holding Mary up and wiggling her in the air. She swats at him and makes soft noises, but as soon as both pup and mate smell Cas and Sam, they turn their heads.

“Well?” Dean says, eyes frantic and searching.

“We’re on a fifteen minute recess,” says Sam, “I think they’re taking some time to discuss this. But overall this is one of the quickest hearings I’ve ever heard of. That was what? A few hours?”

“Like three,” Dean says, “I think me n’ Mary know the entire layout of this joint now. Did you know there’s a fancy ‘nursing area’ in the omega bathroom? It has like, couches. And a rug. And a vase of flowers. But all the couches face each other so you have to look at every other omega with a hungry pup and it’s so fucking awkward.”

Castiel laughs. He pulls Dean into a half-hug and kisses him, only to have Mary reach up and grab his mouth. It’s Dean’s turn to laugh at that, and his eyes light up at the sight of Mary curling her tiny fingers over Cas’ lower lip.

“We should grab some water and break for the bathroom before we go back in,” Sam says.

Castiel sighs and says, “Right.”

Dean helps disentangle their daughter’s hand from Castiel’s mouth and says, “Have fun taking a piss!”

To which Castiel lifts his middle finger.

After relieving and refreshing themselves, they return to sit before the panel again.

“Dr. Novak,” the sharp-eyed beta says, “After reviewing the circumstances of the revocation of your license, we are both saddened and apologetic that your politics and the politics of others in your workplace brought on the expulsion of a notable and worthy surgeon. We intend to recommend to the full Board that your license be restored without restrictions or stipulations. This hearing is concluded.”

“I told you!” Sam says, and they stand to wrap their arms around one another.

Castiel bolts out of his chair and throws open the doors, flying to Dean and Mary, where they wait outside the hearing room on a bench, Dean making faces at the pup. He pants when he exclaims, “They’re recommending that my license be restored!”

Dean leaps to his feet and says, “Fuck yeah. How could they say no to the best doctor in the world? I’m so damn proud, Cas. C’mere and kiss me, jackass.”

Castiel laughs and kisses his omega as instructed. Even though his license has yet to be approved by the full Colorado Medical Board, excitement and exhilaration fills his veins. All the good that he could do with a practice in town has him laughing, even though nothing funny has been said. He has his mate and his pup in his arms, and more than that, he may have his career again. He wants to laugh or cry or scream or fucking yodel, but for now - he'll just kiss Dean.