always the fool with the slowest heart

gilded lily, cults

chapter ten

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CATHERINE RUNS her hands through her hair as she paces in the hallway outside Jack's room. Dean and Sam stand next to each other against the wall. Dean watches her, though she's too in her own head to notice.

"We should just take him to a hospital," she mumbles. "I knew it wasn't just a cold. I knew it. This is–"

"Hey, don't do that," Dean says. "Don't start blaming yourself. We don't know anything yet."

She just shakes her head in response.

The door opens and Castiel emerges, a grim look on his face.

"Is he okay?" Dean asks.

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "I– I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Can you figure it out?"

"Okay, we're taking him to a hospital," Catherine says, brushing past Castiel.

"Cath, wait–"

She whirls around to face him. "I'm not asking."

His gaze softens at her glassy eyes. "Okay. Let's go."

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THE BRIGHT overhead lights of the hospital give her an instant headache as they walk in, Jack leaning heavily against Catherine. The waiting room is nearly full of people in various stages of sickness, which contributes to their struggle to get Jack admitted.

Dean argues relentlessly with the receptionist as Catherine tries to suppress the growing annoyance and anger in her gut.

"You're gonna be okay, kid. We're gonna get you help," she says to only him, though he's barely conscious.

He loses his grip on Catherine as consciousness finally slips from him. It all happens in a blur, with Catherine attempting to catch him, then shouting for help, and the doctors collecting him. She attempts to go after him, they all do, but a nurse pushes them out of the room and slides the glass door shut. They watch helplessly as the doctors swarm around him, attaching wires and cutting off his clothes.

Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion. Her stomach's in her feet. The sight of this, the sight of him...Catherine can't watch. As she turns away and starts down the hallway, she ignores Dean calling her name. She bursts into the bathroom and closes herself in a stall.

She covers her mouth with a hand to stifle the rising nausea, bracing her other hand against the stall. Tears slip down her face when she closes her eyes.

This feels...different. God knows she's lost people, she's lost enough that she's not sure she can be defined by anything else. Yet, somehow, she survived it all.

But this...she's not sure she'll survive this. Every wire, every test, every doctor, a chisel hacking away at the last remaining pieces of her icy soul. If there's anything left of it, anyway.

She inhales a deep shuddering breath, now pressing both hands to the walls to keep herself up. She breathes again and again, deep and slow until her tears stop. She picks herself up, piecing herself back together with duct tape and safety pins. Willing herself to hold together, to hold on for Jack's sake.

When she leaves the bathroom, Dean leans against the wall, waiting for her. "You all right?"

She ignores the question, slumping against the wall next to him with a sigh. "I hate hospitals."

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HOURS. IT'S hours before they get any sort of update. Hours of anxiously pacing around, helpless to do anything but wait.

Dean can't help but watch Catherine. He couldn't help following her when she ran off, and now he can't help but stare. She's the only one who sits in the waiting area, the rest of them standing or walking around aimlessly. She's unnaturally still, a vacant look in her eyes. He hasn't missed the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes.

A small, aching piece of him screams. Screams at him to hold her, to touch her, to shield her from all this. All this pain, this grief inside her. The small aching sliver of him wishes to take it all and hide it from her; would suffer endlessly if it meant she wouldn't have to. The sliver rages at the fact that she's ever known pain at all.

She's on her feet the second the doctor comes out. He tries to listen, to pay attention to what the doctor tells them. None of it seems to process, with his head reeling like this and god, he just wants to hold her.

"You said the tests came back negative," Sam says.

"Yes, those tests. We have to run more tests."

"More tests?" Catherine asks hoarsely.

"Yes, until we can figure out what's happening to him."

Dean peeks over her shoulder into the room behind her, at Jack in the hospital bed. He looks so small, with all the wires and machines surrounding him. The ache in his chest is unfamiliar, something new. An ache he's never felt before.

He missed whatever was said before Catherine croaks, "He's dying."

It's not a question. The doctor solemnly nods.

"What can we— is there anything we can do?" She stumbles over her words in a way Dean's never heard before. His chest tightens at the utter exhaustion radiating from her, and he resists the urge to touch her shoulder.

"There's not much more we can do, not until we know more. Run more tests."

After that the doctor allows them to see him, crowding into the small room. Catherine stands across the room, next to Cas. They whisper to each other, low enough that Dean can't hear.

He tries not to look at him. He tries not to accept the truth. He tries not to realize that this is all very real, and it's all happening very quickly. They're losing the kid, and this time they may not have a way out of it.

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AS IT turns out, the hospital was a ginormous waste of time. They can't do anything to help him. So, if science can't, maybe magic can.

Catherine only met Rowena once, that day they all came here. The witch held the door open for them. Maybe she'd be willing to help them out again. And, truthfully, she's not above begging.

Sam's the one who called her, spinning some tale about Dean being deathly sick. Rowena almost left upon learning the truth, but once she met Jack, she agreed to help.

So, again they wait, gathered in the hallway.

Catherine sits on the floor, too exhausted to stand. She focuses on breathing, slow and deep. As if it's the only thing keeping her from shattering to pieces.

Then Rowena emerges, face unreadable, and she's on her feet in an instant.

"It's as I suspected," Rowena says. "A Nephilim, for all it's power, is an unnatural presence. Part human, part angel." She uses her hands to gesture as she speaks. "It doesn't quite fit. It's delicate. The grace holds it in balance. When Jack's grace was taken from him, his being fell into chaos. The cells are...as if they're gobbling each other up."

"If it's grace he needs, he can have mine," Castiel says.

Rowena shakes her head. "No, dear, that won't do. Jack is part archangel, he needs a much stronger force. He needs it quick."

"How quick?" Dean asks, at Catherine's side. She hadn't noticed him moving closer to her.

Rowena sighs solemnly. "I— I'm not sure exactly, but he's entering a critical phase. He'll look just fine, but then his body will give way and...it'll be the end of him."

They leave Jack to rest, relocating to the library. Sam and Castiel already have books strewn about, Rowena argues with someone over the phone, and Dean's disappeared.

Breathe. Just breathe. Over and over, she repeats it in her head. Just breathe.

She thumbs through the pages of whatever book's in front of her, not processing a single word.

Her head keeps screaming, do something. Help him. Find something, anything. Yet she feels...helpless. Anything short of selling her damn soul wouldn't help him.

She once believed she'd never give up. That's she'd never stop fighting. Hope has always been a tricky thing for her. She wants to believe there's something she can do. What kind of friend— what kind of mother would she be if she gave up?

But in a relentlessly devastating, hopeless truth, she's simply not sure how much more she can take.

She doesn't hear Dean walk in until he speaks, greeting them all. "Hey."

Her head shoots up, and the rest of them turn. Jack stands behind him, backpack slung over his shoulders.

"We're heading out," Dean says.

Her brows furrow, and Sam beats her to asking, "Where?"

Dean gives a casual side shrug. "Taking Baby on a joyride, thought it'd be nice."

Catherine shoots to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over. "I'm coming with you."

She crosses the room as Sam asks, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Dean shrugs again. "I think it's a great idea. No better time than now."

Jack grins at her as she greets him, stepping down into the map room. Dean follows as they head into the hall, towards the garage.

They don't get far before Dean stops them. "Hey, kid?" They stop, turning towards him. Dean holds out the keys to the Impala. "We'll meet you at the car. Why don't you get it started?"

His grin widens as he takes the keys and starts back down the hall. Catherine holds in an eyeroll as Dean turns to her. "You should stay here. You need to rest."

"This is a bad time to be concerned about my wellbeing."

"I'm serious. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine."

Dean sighs, glancing towards the hall Jack disappeared down.

"Dean, I am fine. You can't expect me to be anything other than fine right now. Not until we get this shit figured out. Not— not until he's okay."

He faces her again, his hard gaze dissolving into something softer. "I just..." He trails off, leaving the rest unspoken. Another time. Any time but now.

She gives a small nod, and an even smaller grin that doesn't meet her eyes. "I know."

He nods down the hall, and together they go after Jack.

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THEIR FIRST stop is greasy junk food and milkshakes. Jack picks a small joint nearly two hours out of town. Catherine falls into that mask of calm and collected, held together. The one she'd mastered back— back in the other world. Not home, not anymore.

Maybe it was, once. A long, long time ago, before blood stained her memories and death carved it's way into her soul. But that place stopped being her home long before her friends started jumping worlds.

A familiar ache settles into her chest as Dean and Jack keep talking, cracking jokes and seeming so perfectly normal. The ache of missing her family, of knowing how well they'd fit in here. Knowing that Charlie would be a drop of sunshine in this horrific storm, and that Cristina and Jack would be the best of friends.

She fights the sting of tears as her milkshake falls to its last legs.

"Hey, kid," Dean starts, crumpling his burger wrapper. "Wanna drive?"

Catherine raises her eyebrows, surprised at the offer. Jack hesitates, gaze jumping between her and Dean. "Uh...I don't know how."

Dean grins. "Come on, we'll teach you."

She slips off the hood of the car and climbs into the backseat. Dean almost looks out of place in the passenger seat. At least, when he's not bleeding out.

Jack looks nervous getting into the driver's seat, but Catherine shoots him a reassuring nod and smile. Dean holds out the keys. "Step one, turn on the car."

Jack cautiously takes the keys and shoves them into the ignition, then turns them. The car roars to life. Dean rattles off the next steps, shifting gears and which pedal is which. His instructions are flawless, and Jack follows them beautifully. Soon enough they're going at a steady pace down the road.

Catherine leans over the seat. "You're doing great, kid. Any ideas of where you wanna go?"

He smiles wide. "A few."

She returns the grin. "Take us anywhere."

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THEY END up at a lake. It's beautiful, as far as views in Kansas go. Stunning trees, shiny rocks, and a small dock. Jack says nothing, going straight for the dock. They wait until he sits at the edge before sharing a look and following. Catherine sits on his left side, Dean stays standing a few feet behind.

"How'd you learn about this place?" Catherine asks.

Jack shrugs, staring out into the water. "I heard about it and I just...wanted to come here. I'm never gonna see the ocean, so..."

Her chest tightens at his words. "It's beautiful."

"I've never been swimming," he says lowly.

"We'll go next weekend," Catherine says, desperately willing her voice not to shake.

He doesn't protest at the false hope. "I always wanted to see the mountains."

"It's settled, then," says Dean's approaching voice as he sits on Jack's other side with a groan. The dock is just big enough for the three of them to sit side by side. He claps Jack on the shoulder. "Next weekend, Colorado trip. No monsters, hotel with a pool. The mountains are gorgeous this time of year."

Jack nods, head dropping slightly. Then he looks at Dean. "Thank you."

Dean's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Jack sighs and turns his gaze back towards the water. "Can we stay 'till the sun sets?"

Catherine nods, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Of course. Anything you want."

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DEAN HASN'T seen a sunset so beautiful in a long time. It's been a long time since he's even bothered to watch one.

Everything unspoken hangs there between them. The weekend plans they've made despite Jack's looming fate, which he's almost certain the kid won't be around long enough to see them through.

Maybe he'll go anyway. By himself, or with Cath. Maybe they'll go for him.

The sky bleeds into brilliant shades of red and orange and yellow. Something like a painting. If this is the last sunset Jack ever sees, Dean might be okay with it. Maybe the sky decided to give him a send off.

He blinks away the stinging in his eyes when his phone rings, and he gets to his feet and walks up the dock. It's Sam, explaining that Cas might have something. He mumbles his reply before hanging up.

He returns to his spot of standing behind them, watching. It breaks his heart to interrupt, to steal this moment from them. Still, he clears his throat.

Catherine straightens, twisting her head to look at him.

He gestures to his phone. "Sam and Cas think they have something."

Her eyes widen. Jack's figure hunches slightly. Catherine faces him again, placing a soothing hand on his back. "We'll go when you're ready."

He nods. "Just...just a few more minutes."

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THREE HOURS later, they're gathered in the bunker infirmary. Dean stands at Catherine's side. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, trying not to tremble.

She regrets not listening when Castiel explained the plan to everyone.

Whatever box Sam holds, a gentle light emits from it. He looks as hesitant as Catherine feels. "So, we're not certain this is gonna work?" He asks.

"No, we're not certain, but..." Castiel trails off, not voicing the rest. But we have to try.

Rowena holds a scroll of parchment spread between her hands. She, too, seems nervous. Catherine struggles to breathe as Rowena asks, "Are you ready, Jack?"

His eyes meet Catherine's. She returns a reassuring grin, though she's not sure how reassuring it manages to be. Then he nods. "Yes."

Sam takes the glowing vial from the box and hands it to Jack. He carefully pulls off the cap, and Rowena begins reciting the spell as the contents of the vial flows. Jack inhales deeply. For a few moments, nothing happens.

Then the lights start to flicker, and Jack's head drops, hunching over his body. She doesn't breathe as her hands drop to her sides. She doesn't think as she presses close to Dean, taking his hand and holding tight.

A few more seconds, and the flickering stops. Jack lifts his head, straightening, and when he opens his eyes, the familiar glow from his powers lights them up. He stands, eyebrows furrowing, as if he's examining something. His fingers flutter against each other, as if they're evaluating the air.

"How do you feel?" Castiel asks.

"I think..." Jack grins. "An improvement, I think."

She sighs in relief, breathing properly for the first time in minutes. She drops Dean's hand, moving forward. She stops after a step when Jack's face changes. From relief to confusion, then quickly pain. "Jack?"

His breathing picks up and Catherine's slows. "I– I don't–" He can barely get the words out before he stumbles, dropping to a knee. Catherine's at his side in an instant as he collapses. Only her arms, and soon Dean's, stop him from hitting the floor.

"Did you say the words right?" Dean shouts over his shoulder to the witch.

"I did!"

"Say them again!" Sam demands.

They carefully lift him to the bed. His entire body trembles as they lay him down, breathing shaky and skin clammy. Both Rowena and Castiel immediately start examining him. Dean pulls her away from the bed, giving them room.

She doesn't notice how quick she's breathing until Dean touches her shoulders from behind, "Breathe, Cath," he says into her ear. She places a hand on her own chest, like some sort of anchor. She inhales deeper, holding, then exhales slower. Then she repeats it until her breath stops shaking, and her head stops spinning. Dean keeps his hands on her shoulders, pulling her close. The touch comforts her, keeps her steady.

Castiel leaves the bedside, joining them across the room. Jack's fallen asleep now. Rowena still hovers her hands, finding whatever she can.

It's not long before she drops her hands, sighing in disappointment. Her face grows solemn as she approaches them. Dean squeezes her shoulders gently. Rowena avoids her gaze.

"What can we do?" Sam questions.

Rowena sighs again, this time meeting Catherine's stare. She doesn't remove her hand from her chest. "Stay with him. Make him comfortable." Her face contorts into sympathy, and something like regret. "He won't make it through the night."

Dean's hands tighten on her shoulders. She presses her hand harder into her chest, as if it'll do something to lighten the weight inside her. Rowena takes her free hand, eyes glassy. The light makes them look lined with gold. "I am sorry, my dear. I'm sorry I can't do more."

Catherine squeezes her hand in response, unable to bring herself to speak.

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SHE WALKS Rowena out as the rest of them move Jack to his room. They don't speak, not until they're out in the crisp night air. Rowena turns to her, with that sympathetic look once more. "Like I said, I'm sorry I couldn't do more. Your boy...he's a good lad. And he's very lucky to have you."

Catherine fights tears as Rowena takes her hand again. "You need anything, you call me, got it?" Her smooth accent feels like a warm blanket draping over her in the chilly air. Rowena rubs a thumb along the back of her hand. "I haven't known you long, dearie, but from one mother to another. Losing a son...it's the worst thing. Only with time will that hole start to close."

"Thank you," she says, voice cracking. Rowena squeezes her hand before letting go, and walks away.

She goes back to Jack's room. They've changed his clothes, and an oxygen mask rests on his face. She's not sure where they got it from.

She pulls up a chair and sits at his bedside. Sam sits opposite her.

Dean stands stiffly. He hasn't said a word since Rowena finished. A part of her wishes to touch him. To have his arms wrapped around her until this pain leaves her body.

It's only hours before Jack wakes up. He blinks, eyes bleary. They land on Catherine first, then Sam. He quickly catches their faces and pulls the mask down. "Please don't be sad," he says hoarsely. He blinks at the ceiling. "Maybe this is how it's supposed to be."

Dean voices it before she can. "Don't give me that 'meant to be' crap. This isn't part of some goddamn plan. This is–" He cuts himself off. She can see him shaking his head, running his hand down his face, despite her back turned. She should tell him to go easy, but she can't, because he's right. This isn't how things are supposed to go.

Jack starts coughing again, bringing the oxygen mask back up. Dean stalks out, and Castiel goes after him. Jack pants, once again pulling the mask down. He tilts his head to face Sam. "Can you tell him...tell him it's okay?"

Sam gives him a small, devastated smile. "Tell him yourself. He'll be back in a minute."

Jack only grins, like he knows something they don't. "What happens next? For someone like me?"

Sam's eyes fill with tears. "I don't know."

"You're human now, Jack," Catherine says quietly. "I think Heaven will be happy to have you."

He smiles wider at that, now turning to Catherine. "Do you think I'll see my mom?"

She's spent too long fighting her tears. This time she's not sure she can. She takes Jack's hand. "If you do..." She takes a quick breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "Will you say hello to her for me?"

Jack nods, weakly squeezing her hand. She wraps her other hand around it. He uses his free hand to slip the oxygen mask over his hand, letting it fall to the floor. Then he pulls the blanket higher over his chest, clutching it tightly. She can't help but think how childlike the action is.

A few seconds. Just a few, then he goes still. His hand goes limp in hers, and his fist loosens over the blanket.

She has the vague sensation of tears, and Dean reentering the room. Then Sam says the two words that sends her heart cleaving in two.

"He's gone." 

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author's note !!

so....hey guys.....

in case u didn't see my  announcement i'd like to  once again apologize for  basically disappearing, shit  happened, i spiraled, just how it goes yk but i'm better now!!

anyways for anyone who saw the first version of this story, we're officially at the point where i stopped the last time so i feel like that's an accomplishment  in itself. (if any of u actually  did read the first version and  are still here...simply marry me)

as always, leave votes and comments if you're enjoying <3

thanks for reading!

-skye