Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

day 12 ac (after chuck).

16 days since castiel’s death.

dean.

I love you, too.

Four words.

Four, monosyllable, simple words.

And it took Dean too long to say them.

Now, there are probably other things to think about at the moment. Like that they did it. They brought everyone back, and Chuck is gone, and Sam is okay, and Eileen is okay, and Jack is okay, and everyone who disappeared is okay, and-

But he fucking can’t.

Cas.

Cas.

Cas said they had a deal with the Empty. Cas said goodbye. Cas said they loved him. And Dean didn’t process the words in time, didn’t open his mouth quick enough, didn’t hold on like he should’ve. It was too late. Cas was gone. Cas is gone. And it’s not fair. Dean’s fully aware that he sounds like a child when he says that to himself, but it’s really not. Cas said that the one thing that would make him happy was something he could never have, and Dean never got to tell him how wrong he was. He never got to tell Cas he wanted him, too. He never got to tell him. He never got to say it. He just said, “Don’t do this, Cas.” Because he didn’t want Cas to leave him. He didn’t know what to say, how to think. But it doesn’t matter. He fucked up.

He let Cas die thinking he didn’t feel the same.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for that. He was afraid to tell Cas for years, afraid they would reject him, that they wouldn’t want him, that he was too broken. And he was too afraid of what it would bring, somehow. But he should’ve said it. He should’ve spit it out. And he’ll never get the chance.

He remembers the pounding on the door like it’s happening right now. He remembers each and every one of Cas’ words like he’s hearing them again. He remembers the way his heart kept beating faster, how he didn’t know how to speak. He remembers Cas’ hand on his shoulder, and he remembers being pushed away. He remembers the cold of the floor under him. He feels it under his hand. He remembers black, empty, swallowing Cas, then Billie. He remembers the feeling of breaking over and over again, even though he thought he wouldn’t be able to break any further. He remembers all of it.

He remembers.

He hasn’t washed the jacket he was wearing. The bloody handprint is still there, and as gross or disgusting as that is, he doesn’t dare put water near it. It’s all he has left of Cas. It’s all he has left of the one he loves.

Dean closes his eyes as he pours the last of the whiskey bottle into his glass. The liquid burns in his mouth and down his throat. It hurts. And that’s good.

sam.

Sam remembers finding his big brother after the disappearances. He remembers him curled up against the wall, crying. He remembers the handprint on his arm. Dean hadn’t looked up when Sam said his name. He hadn’t looked up when Jack had said his name. He hadn’t looked up for a minute or so, before he met Sam’s eyes with his own red, teary ones. Sam’s stomach twisted and jerked, and his heart stopped. He knew what it meant. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Where’s Cas?” he had asked quietly, trying to pour hope into the words, to hold onto the possibility that Cas was alright. If no one else was, Cas had to be. Dean had just watched him, shaking his head only just.

“He’s gone, Sam,” he had said, and Sam’s chest felt heavier than moments earlier. Dean didn’t try to stand, as Sam would’ve expected him to. He didn’t try to move on with the mission. He didn’t ask what had happened. He simply sat there, his glassy eyes shifting to look at the floor. Neither of them spoke. The silence was interrupted soon, however, as Jack stepped forward.

“No,” they had said.

“Jack…” Sam began, though his voice faltered.

“No!” Jack had insisted. The air seemed to go stale, and the life seemed to slowly be seeping out of everyone as silence once again settled around them, almost suffocating Sam where he stood.

“He saved me,” Dean added quietly after minutes of the three of them just standing there. “He…”

The sentence remained unfinished. Jack had then stormed out, and Sam considered going after them, but couldn’t find it within himself to move.

He had never gotten to say goodbye.

Sam shifts slightly on the cold sheets of the mattress beneath him, only kept warm with the body heat from him and Eileen pressed tightly together. Eileen’s asleep, and the last thing he wants to do is wake her up. She’s already helped him through a couple nights like this. Just her being there makes Sam feel better, but he still can’t get the nagging, itchy thought of Cas away. He never got to say goodbye to one of his closest friends. And he doesn’t even know what happened.

He’s not mad at Dean; he understands why his brother won’t talk about it, to some extent. He lost Eileen for a while, and it was horrible. He didn’t want to talk about it either. But he hates that he doesn’t know details. All Dean says any time Sam asks is that Cas died to save him from Billie. He doesn’t explain why there’s no body. He doesn’t explain how Cas did that. He doesn’t say if Cas said anything to him or if it just happened. Mostly, he just drinks and spends time in his room. He asked about going on a hunt once, and after Sam told him they should take a break after everything that had happened with Chuck, he rarely speaks to him at all. 

Sam’s worried.

Of course he is. He tries to tell Dean to take it easy on the drinks. He tries to distract him. But none of it works. Dean always looks at him, like he’s looking at a stranger or the map of a foreign country, and then he says, “I’ll be fine, Sammy. Tell Eileen I said hi.” Even though Eileen practically lives with them now.

Sam’s worried about Jack, too. Maybe not as much as he is about Dean, but he worries about them constantly. They like to be alone most of the time, and sometimes Sam hears them crying in their room. They rarely smile anymore when Sam sees them. They just stare blankly. Sam does his best to cheer them up, suggesting board games and card games and video games at any time he can. Jack says yes sometimes, and no sometimes. Either way, they’re still taking it hard. Cas was like a father to them, after all. To lose them must hurt. It hurts Sam, too.

He never wants to lose anyone else again.

His arms hold Eileen a little more tightly against his chest as he closes his eyes, hoping sleep will find him and allow him to escape from thoughts of loss, if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

day 18 ac.

22 days since castiel’s death.

dean.

Blood splatters paint the wall as Dean forces his knife through the neck of the last vampire in the old barn. Cherry red liquid drips from the blade, to the handle, to his hands, to the floor. Bodies lie on the ground, their heads separate from them. Dean’s heart pounds against his ribcage, threatening to throw itself out of his chest and crumble on the ground. He can feel each beat in his head. He leaves the barn, heads back to the car, tosses the knife into the trunk, gets in the driver’s side. He grips the steering wheel with crimson-stained hands.

He’s alone.

He left early, not wanting to involve Sam in this. His little brother wants to take a break, after all. He wants to spend as much time as he can with Eileen, with Jack, calming down. And Dean won’t take that from him. But it’s a different story when it comes to himself. He needs to be doing something. He needs to kill monsters. He needs to shoot, to busy himself with research and hunting because if he doesn’t, he has to think about it. Not to say he doesn’t think about it already. He thinks about Cas' death every day. But at least when he’s hunting, he can take his mind away from the loss. Or at least numb the memory for a moment. Just a moment.

But the hunt is done now. Dean’s in the car, which he hasn’t started. He’s just staring at the red on his hands, thinking of the red on the jacket hiding in a box under his bed. The handprint. Cas’ handprint. And the pounding of his heart in his ears is like Billie’s knocking on the door. And the inside of the car is cold like the ground after Cas pushed him away. And they’re gone. Cas is gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone-

Dean closes his eyes.

And he sees nothing.

Nothing like the Empty that came and took Cas away.

Nothing like the hole in his heart that will never be filled again.

jack.

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Jack. Their head feels too full. Their gut feels too wrong. They try counting sheep sometimes. Dean said once that it could help. But it doesn’t often do anything. Jack stays awake, for the most part. And when they do sleep, it isn’t restful. They dream of their mother. They dream of Mary. They dream of Cas. When they wake, they think of how they killed all three of them.

They killed their mother by being born.

They killed Mary because they couldn’t control themself.

They killed Cas because they died, and Cas wanted to bring them back.

Murderer.

Jack sits up in bed as they wake from another restless state of sleep. They look around. They sigh quietly as they lie back down. Their eyes hurt. They wish they could sleep with better dreams or think of better things. They manage to sometimes. They feel better when Sam suggests they watch a movie or play a game with him and Eileen. They can forget for a while. Though they don’t always feel up to it. Some days are yes days and some days are no days. On yes days, they spend time with Sam. They try to smile. On no days, they don’t feel like trying.

They hear the bunker door open. They slowly get out of bed and leave their room. Dean is in the library. He looks up at them, and the two of them stare for a long while, before Dean sets down his hunting bag and heads to the kitchen. Jack doesn’t follow. They just head back to their room.

Today is a no day.

They can already tell.

dean.

When Dean gets back to the bunker and sees Jack, the flood of emotions that he’d only just been able to contain before coming back breaks through the dam in his mind and seeps into every corner of his being. He stares. And then he just leaves. Because he needs a goddamn drink if he’s going to feel like this.

He grabs a couple beers, pops them open, and he sips away, slowly. He stares at the seat next to where he sits at the table. The place where Cas would be sitting occasionally as they talked about everything and nothing. Cas.

“I love you.”

Dean’s throat goes taut. His chest aches. He’s lost Cas before but never like this. And every time he thinks of it, he thinks of how he should’ve reacted differently. He should’ve just said it.

I love you, too.

He throws the unfinished bottle at the wall. He waits to see if anyone hears. No one comes.

Chapter Text

castiel.

Castiel feels the pain of being torn, being pulled in every direction.

Dying at Lucifer’s hand.

He feels the physical pain for an infinitesimal moment.

But the pain he feels much later on is worse.

It lasts longer.

And it’s of the emotional, mental kind.

The pain of realizing the consequences of their actions.

The pain of knowing it’s their fault Claire is without a father.

Castiel regrets putting the man in danger.

He regrets allowing Jimmy Novak to die.

Chapter Text

day 27 ac.

31 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

There’s the sound of air getting caught on its way to lungs and then being exhaled forcefully from the other side of Dean’s bedroom door as Sam raises his fist to knock. He pauses, glancing at Eileen. Her eyebrows go up questioningly. Sam shakes his head slightly and listens for the noise again. It comes, this time with a small whimper that almost sounds like a wounded animal.

Sam lowers his hand.

He looks at Eileen again, pressing his lips tightly together. “I think he needs to be alone right now,” he mouths, signing it out, as well. He wants to talk to his brother, but he knows that now probably isn’t a good time. Dean rarely cries like that. Sometimes tears slip, but he never sobs this hard. Sam’ll come back later.

Eileen nods once, glancing at the door. ‘You sure?’ she signs. Sam hesitates, before nodding back.

‘Sure.’

He turns to head back to his, or more accurately, his and Eileen’s room. He catches the faint sound of words in the midst of half-taken breaths and soft cries. He freezes.

“...okay? I don’ know why I keep trying this,” Dean’s voice says quietly, and the solidity of the door almost keeps the noise from reaching Sam’s ears. Eileen’s eyebrows scrunch together, and she gently puts a hand on his arm.

‘One moment,’ he signs, then he tries to focus on what Dean is saying. He reminds himself he shouldn’t intrude, but he can’t help it. He should allow Dean to have this moment in private, but dammit, he’s worried and curious. Is someone else in there? No one has answered what Dean said. Sam listens as Dean’s voice continues, shaking like an earthquake.

“You probably can’t hear me. It’s uh...it’s been a while, an’ I keep...I keep praying to you, but you don’…” Dean pauses. He sounds drunk, and he probably is. “You never come. Cas, you said you would come. So where the hell’re you?” His voice gets a little louder, and what he says next makes Sam’s stomach churn. “You said you always come when I call, so...get your stupid face...over here, and just-” The sentence turns to a sob, and Sam looks at Eileen. Her confusion turns to concern, and he grabs her hand in his own as he listens for more. There’s silence, and Sam wonders if Dean is done and if he should leave. Then, “I was gonna say it back. I was gonna- but you just- Cas…”

Sam swallows and looks down for a moment, before squeezing Eileen’s hand and starting towards the bedroom. Once they’re both a ways away from Dean’s room, Eileen stops walking, and Sam stops, too. She drops his hand and gives him a look that makes him want to spill every secret he’s ever had. He nods slightly. “He’s drunk,” he mouths. “And he’s praying. Probably to Cas. I don’t want to bother him.”

Eileen nods and looks down, her lips parting slightly. Sam sighs and follows her gaze to the ground. He doesn’t know what to do. Dean will end up drinking himself to death or something if this keeps going on like it is. He wants to help him, but he doesn’t know how. Dean doesn’t let him do it.

He sighs, looking back at Eileen as she looks at him. They stare for a moment, before Eileen speaks softly. “He’ll be okay,” he says, signing it as well. Sam nods, trying to force a smile.

“I know…” he whispers. “He always is.”

dean.

Dean wakes up sometime that night. He doesn’t know where he is for a moment. His head’s spinning. And it’s dark. He realizes after a moment that he’s lying on his stomach on the floor. His bedroom floor. There’s shiny glass bottles all around him, and seeing them somehow makes him realize he feels sick. He feels worse than he usually does after passing out drunk. He wonders if he should call for Sam or Ca-

But Cas is gone.

Dean feels himself shaking, and he can’t tell if he just started or has been for a while. The image of crying blue eyes stick in his mind. He’d never seen Cas cry before. And he was crying because of him. He told Dean he was loved, and he cried, and not only because he was sad, but because he was happy, and he loved Dean, he loved him, Cas loved Dean, and he died because he loved him, and fuck. It fucking hurts. He wants to cry again, but he doesn’t have the tears. Everything hurts. He doesn’t know if that’s just in his head or if it’s physical. Cas isn’t coming back, he realizes. They won’t come when he calls.

He tries to get up, but fails completely. So he just lies there, staring at one of the bottles a few feet away from his face. He pretends the small white shimmer is Cas’ eyes. He stares, waiting for his stomach to stop spinning and turning. Waiting for his body to stop aching. Waiting for Cas to come back. Waiting.

Nothing changes.

Except for the pain.

The pain gets worse.

day 28 ac.

32 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

Sam makes breakfast that morning. He and Eileen switch it up every other day, and it’s his turn. Jack’s awake and sitting at the table, their expression almost blank like it often is these days. Eileen wanders into the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and one of Sam’s flannels. Sam smiles just slightly as he sees her, kissing her quickly as he heads towards the kitchen door. “Gonna get Dean,” he says softly, making sure that Eileen can see him. She nods and smiles.

There’s no response when Sam knocks on the door, and he shakes his head and sighs softly. “Dean?” he says, before knocking again. There’s no answer again, and Sam’s brow furrows. “Dude, c’mon. I made lots of bacon.” No answer, not even a groan or ‘go away’ or sound of movement. Sam hesitates, before reaching for the door handle. He opens the door, and Dean’s not in the bed. Sam’s eyes scan the room, finally landing on Dean lying on the ground, surrounded by too many bottles. Way, way too many bottles. Dean’s barely moving. He's shaking slightly, but that's all.

Sam’s chest constricts.

Chapter Text

day 29 ac.

33 days since castiel’s death.

jack.

“Sunuvabitch, ow…” mumbles Dean’s voice quietly. Jack looks up from the floor. They see Dean staring at them.

“Sam,” they say, pushing Sam’s arm lightly. Sam wakes up. He wakes up Eileen. Then, he looks at Jack. He looks at Dean. Everything is quiet, except for the beeping from the machine that lets everyone know Dean’s alive. Sam stands. Jack looks at him, then stands as well. They don’t say anything. They don’t know what to say.

“Jesus, Dean. Are...are you okay?” Sam asks. Eileen watches him and then looks at Dean for his response. Dean doesn’t react for a few seconds. Soon, his face changes.

“I’m fine, just a headache,” he says. Jack doesn’t believe him.

“You’re not fine…” Sam says quietly. Dean looks away.

“Then why’d you fucking ask?”

Jack doesn't like how Dean’s voice sounds. They look at Sam, then back at Dean. Eileen speaks up.

“Because he’s worried,” she says. “We all are.”

Dean shakes his head. “Didn’t ask for that. Just had too much to drink, that’s all. I’m fine now.”

“Dean, you nearly died,” Sam says sharply. Jack looks at the floor again. Today is one of the worst no days since the day they lost Cas.

“Not the first time,” Dean says quietly. “Sam, I’m fine. Don’t know why you brought me to the damn hospital.”

“Because you were dying! They had to watch you, make sure you weren’t shutting down for a while, ‘cause you had too much alcohol in your system, and you-” Sam stops. Jack hears him inhale slowly. “Dean, you were passed out shaking when I found you. I tried to wake you up, and you wouldn’t, and I thought...I thought I was gonna lose you, too.”

Jack swallows. They look at Sam. They look at Dean. They feel strange. Sam means Cas when he says ‘lose you, too’. Jack doesn’t want to think about it. They don’t want to think of losing Cas. They don’t want to think of almost losing Dean. All they want is to fix things. But they don’t know how. They can’t.

“Yeah?” Dean says. It sounds like a loud whisper. And it’s shaky. “Doesn’t matter, I’m alive. Let’s get outta here.”

Jack shakes their head slightly. Then, they turn to leave the room. They don’t like this. They have to fix it. They have to.

dean.

Sam doesn’t say another word as he heads off to find Jack. He comes back with them a moment later, and all of them head back to the bunker without checking out from the hospital. The drive back is hell. Dean’s head hurts so bad that he almost asks Sam to drive instead. His stomach aches, and his hands shake, but he needs to prove he’s fine, so he just drives. They get there fine, and Dean moves to head to his room. He doesn’t want to finish the conversation he knows Sam wants to finish. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to tell his brother about why he drank that much. Well. Sam already knows. He just doesn’t know the details. Doesn’t know what Cas said. Doesn’t know about the deal. Honestly, Dean’s surprised Jack hasn’t told him yet. Assuming Jack knew. They probably did.

Sam’s hand is on Dean’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Dean freezes, sighs, turns around. He sees Sam and Eileen looking at him. “We’re not talking about it,” he says hoarsely, spotting Jack glancing at him as they head to their own room. He then looks right back at Sam, meeting his eyes, trying to prove he’s fine. Sure, he’s an alcoholic who doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions and just lost the love of his life without being able to tell him that’s how he felt, but he’s fine. Ignoring the unignorable fact that he just almost died from alcohol poisoning, that is. And that he almost hoped he would. Scratch that. Hell’s not much better. And Hell’s definitely where he’s going if he dies.

Sam hugs him.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He tenses up, and he doesn’t hug back. He just stands there for the full fifteen or twenty seconds in which Sam’s arms are around him. He swallows hard, because he wants to cry, but he refuses to. Sam pulls back and looks at Eileen, signing something that probably has to do with her leaving them alone. She nods slightly, gently brushing her hand over Sam's shoulder, before heading off to somewhere else. “I’m sorry…” Sam mumbles. Dean tries to take a deep breath. It catches.

“Don’t be,” he says. His voice shakes, and he realizes his hands shake, too. He turns around immediately, heading to the kitchen and opening the fridge. He reaches for a beer, and then he’s yanked back. He looks behind him to see Sam again.

“Dean, don’t. It’s not a good idea for you to drink right now.”

Dean scoffs ever so slightly, looking down. “I’m fine,” he says, and he doesn’t even try to mean it this time. Sam looks at him, puppy dog eyes ready to burn holes in Dean’s mind and pry out all the information he hasn’t told him.

“Please…” Sam says. Dean swallows. His body hurts too much to argue.

“They’re gone,” he says, and he feels like he’s choking. He sits down. Sam sits across from him. “They’re not coming back.”

Sam nods slightly. Dean looks down, and he tries to keep his hands from shaking as much as they are. He hides them under the table. “I’m really sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “Why?” he mumbles. “You lost him, too.”

“It’s not the same,” Sam says gently. Dean snaps his head up and looks at his brother.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses. Sam looks down.

“Nothing. I’m just sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. For a moment he thinks he might spill. That he might tell Sam everything, because he knows. He knows what it feels like to lose someone like that. He lost Eileen twice. She’s back now, but he lost her. And now, Dean’s starting to wonder if he knows. If he really knows. If he knows how Dean feels about Cas. If he knows that Cas felt the same.

He feels sick.

His stomach hurts worse, and his head throbs. He shakes harder, and he clenches his jaw tightly. He can’t talk about this. He can’t speak. How is he supposed to say all these things? He can’t.

He stands up and heads back to his room, ignoring the sound of Sam’s voice calling after him.

sam.

Sam tries to get Dean to stop, but his brother won’t listen to him. He never does anymore, and it’s annoying and worrying all at the same time. Dean doesn’t seem to care about anything anymore. It’s utterly and completely terrifying, and Sam is out of ideas of what to do.

He wanders back to his room, each step feeling heavier than the last. He hugs Eileen without a word or sign when he gets there. She hugs him back tightly, and they stay there for a moment. Sam relaxes slightly, physically, but his mind is racing. He needs to help his brother. He makes a silent promise that he will, no matter what happens. Dean took care of him for so long, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do the same for him now.

Chapter Text

day 35 ac.

39 days since castiel’s death.

dean.

It hits Dean like a piano falling onto some random dude from a window in a movie sometime early that morning. It’s still dark. He’s lying in bed, eyes stuck on a small crack in the ceiling. His head hurts, and his hands shake slightly. Sam’s been keeping an eye on drinks, only keeping a certain amount in the fridge and doing God- nope, not God. Doing fuck knows what with the rest. And Dean can’t really blame him, but it pisses him off. He’s too tired to argue about it, though. If the withdrawal gets bad enough, he’ll go to a bar. He hasn’t been to one yet. Not since he apparently got alcohol poisoning or whatever and nearly died, anyways. He doesn’t have the will, most days. And even if he did, it’s not bad enough that he needs to. It’s absolutely awful, but that’s fine. The pain and shaking and discomfort and ache is good.

Dean wants it.

That’s gross. He knows it is. It’s gross and wrong and deranged as hell, but he can’t stop himself from playing some sick little game with himself. How close can he get his physical pain to matching his emotional pain. It’s disgusting, really. But he’s disgusting, so what’s the big deal. Well, not in Cas’ eyes, but Cas is wrong. Was wrong. Whatever. It keeps him from going completely numb, anyway, and that’s supposed to be good, right? Yeah. It’s fine. Dean doesn’t think too much into it, or else he knows he’ll go crazy.

Dean closes his eyes and sighs. He grabs handfuls of fistfuls of the blanket draped over his body, then lets go. Then grabs. Then lets go. Then grabs. Then lets go. Then grabs…

“Come along now, Dean. It's time. The empty...it's waiting.”

Dean opens his eyes  and sits up so fast he nearly falls off the bed. He doesn’t even take the time to steady himself before he’s heading out the bedroom door. He stumbles on his way out, but he catches his balance with one hand against the wall. He half-walks, half-sprints to the library. Billie’s gone, but maybe there’s some way for Dean to get there. To the Empty.

Maybe he can get in there, and maybe he can get Cas out.

sam.

Sam wakes up to gentle touches over his cheek bones, nose, and lips, and his eyes open slowly. Eileen’s chocolate eyes stare back at him, beautiful and shining. It takes him a moment—because after the time they’ve spent together, he’s still not used to waking up beside her—but he smiles gently at her, slowly lifting his hand to place on top of hers. She smiles back, and Sam loves it. Loves her.

The two of them lie there for a moment without saying anything, before slowly and lazily getting out of bed. Sam kisses her delicately, cupping her face like he did the first time they kissed. Every day, he reminds himself that this is real. It’s difficult to believe at times, but that kiss reminds him. Eileen reminds him, and he’ll be alright as long as he has Eileen. That, and as long as Dean and Jack are okay. His family is real, and that’s all he needs. He won’t lose any of the rest of them.

Eileen pulls back just slow enough that Sam chases after her lips momentarily, wanting to live in the moment a little longer. “I’m going to make breakfast,” she says, signing it also. Sam nods, pulling his hands back from her face and running them down her shoulders and arms.

“I’ll be right there,” he mouths, and Eileen looks up from his lips to his eyes and nods. She pecks his lips once more and squeezes his hands gently, before pulling away again, slowly, and heading out of the room. Sam watches her go, smiling, and he takes a deep breath once she’s gone. He stands there for a moment, focusing on his breathing. Despite how good Sam feels about how things are going in every other aspect of his life, besides losing Cas and Dean almost losing himself because of it, thinking of those things that are going wrong makes his insides turn and his hair stand on end.

jack.

Jack wakes up and ignores what they dreamed. Instead, they get up and leave their room. They don’t want to think about those things. They want to spend time with Sam and Eileen and forget what happened. They go to the kitchen, but stop on their way. Dean is in the library. Eileen is, too. Jack sees them talking. They listen.

“...just a hunt, I need to hunt. Sorry if you have some sort of issue with that,” Dean says. He is surrounded by books. Jack wants to know why. But Dean sees them and closes his mouth. Eileen turns to look at them. They breathe in slowly.

“Hello,” they say. Dean looks away. Eileen smiles slightly. It seems fake.

“Hey, Jack,” she says. She looks at Dean, then starts walking towards them. There is quietness for a moment.

“I just...I wanted to say that I’d like to help you make breakfast,” they say quietly. Eileen hesitates. Then she nods. Jack follows her out, pretending they didn’t hear what Dean said. They act like they’re not curious about it.

Sam comes to the kitchen a few minutes later. Jack smiles as best as they can when he smiles at them. They eat a while after. Everything is almost normal. Jack forgets for a bit what Dean said. They forget that Dean almost died a few days ago, that Sam and Eileen try to hide how upset they are about it, and that Cas is gone.

For a second, it slips their mind that it’s all their fault, too.

dean.

Dean knows he was harsh on Eileen. She was just worried, which makes sense. Kind of. He really doesn't think anyone should be worrying half as much as they are. It’s like they need some sort of evidence that he’s fine. Like he’s supposed to sing Sinatra or something and dance. Sure, he’s not fine, but that’s not important. He wishes they would stop worrying.

He lied about the books.

He said he was looking into lore for a hunt, that it was nothing. Eileen said he should take a break, just like Sam usually does, blah blah blah, yaddah yaddah yaddah, and now Dean feels like a shitty human being. He is one. But he can’t be bothered with caring much about that. He’s gonna find Cas and bring him back. If it’s the last thing he does, he’ll bring him back. He’ll tell Sam and the other two eventually. But for now? No fucking way.

Dean feels like his body shakes harder as he stares at the open book on Norse Mythology. He needs a drink.

Chapter Text

castiel.

Castiel’s brother.

The Judas.

“You always have little old me.”

“Yes. I’ll always have you.”

He kills him without a thought.

A traitor, yes.

Deserving of death, no.

The sensation of driving the blade through him lives forever in Castiel’s mind.

They regret many things they did at that time, but perhaps this most of all.

They regret killing Balthazar.

Chapter Text

day 40 ac.

44 days since castiel’s death.

jack.

Eileen and Sam are going on a date.

It’s another no day. Jack doesn’t tell them. They don’t want to worry the two of them and ruin their fun. They just say goodbye with a small smile. And then they wander to their room. Sam’s laptop is on their bed. Sam lets them use it to watch things or play games. He hardly uses it anymore since he’s taking a break from hunting. It’s basically Jack’s now.

They start it and pull up Netflix. The bunker door opens noisily as they do. They look at the door to their room. Maybe Sam forgot something? Maybe Dean is leaving? When they go to see the reason for the opened door, they see Dean. But he’s not going out. He’s coming back. When did he leave? Where did he go? Sam had said Dean was still here.

Jack says nothing as they watch him descend the stairs. He stops at the bottom and slowly looks at them. He lets the bag slung over his shoulder drop to the floor. Half his face is powdered with dirt. The other half is sprayed with tiny blood drops. Jack suddenly feel uneasy.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Dean says, scratchily. They swallow.

“About what?” they ask quietly. Dean takes a step closer.

“Cas’ deal. Y’know. The one that got him-” He stops. There’s a few seconds of quiet.  “You knew.”

Jack slowly looks up at him. “Yes,” Jack says. They know he’ll hate them now. He didn’t completely forgive them for Mary. And now Cas is gone, too. And it’s their fault. The deal was because of them. And they didn’t tell anyone. They were doing what Cas told them to, but still.

Dean nods once. His eyes look away. Jack expects him to say something. He doesn’t. He just walks past them to the kitchen. There’s beer in the kitchen. That’s probably why he goes. Jack doesn’t move. Their head keeps telling them, ‘murderer’. Murderer.

They only move when they hear Dean’s footsteps coming back.

“Hey kid, you ever been to a bar before?”

dean.

The drive feels short. Like a dream or like he’s high or something else that makes it fly by. Maybe it’s another weird withdrawal symptom. Even though that doesn’t make much sense, since he’s been stopping by the bar in town every night since he started his search for anything on the Empty in lore. Dean drives to the bar, gets a few drinks, drives home, does research, and then drinks whatever alcohol is in the fridge.

Sam doesn’t know about the bar thing. That’s good, honestly. Because Dean drives himself back to the bunker after. Yeah, dangerous and whatever, but it’s not the first time he’s driven drunk. And his tolerance is pretty high, so he can drink a decent amount without his eyes spinning and his balance being way off. He’s never really that drunk until he’s gotten home and drunk whatever’s there, too. He doesn’t drive then. Even if he did, it’s a small town. He doubts he’ll ever get in an accident around Lebanon. Sam would probably murder him if he knew, though. So Dean won’t tell him.

He parks the car, looking over at Jack in the passenger seat. They glance at him, looking like they’re scared he’ll kill them at any moment or something. He sighs. “I’m not gonna shoot you or anything, you can relax,” he says with a roll of his eyes as he pushes open the Impala door. “I just figured you could use a drink.” He steps out and heads for the bar. He glances back as the passenger door opens and Jack slowly gets out. They follow him into the bar, and the familiar sound of shitty country and people talking fills Dean’s ears. He silently wishes Cas were here, though if Cas were still alive, Dean would take him to a nicer place than this.

He moves to the counter, sitting on one of the chairs. Jack sits next to him, looking around, then meeting his eyes. “I don’t understand,” they say. Dean motions for the bartender, orders two beers. Then he looks at Jack.

“What d’you mean?” he mumbles, taking a drink of his beer when it comes. Jack stares at theirs.

“Why did you bring me here?” They look down. Dean’s jaw clenches. Why. Now that’s a good fucking question. Maybe he just needs something to do. He gets on some hunts, he just finished on today, but he doesn't go on too many. And he can't research all the time. He just misses Sam and wishes that he would come hunting with him sometimes. It would be easier to talk to him about his plan to bring Cas back if they finish a hunt together and are just relaxing a bit afterwards. But maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it’s because he’s trying to spend time with Jack. Because that might keep him from getting angry at them because of all this. He’s so close to just pinning the blame for everything on Jack. But he knows that it’s not their fault. So he needs to stop himself from doing that. And Cas would want him to take care of Jack, probably-

Dean stops his thoughts there. He’s thinking like Cas is gone. He’s thinking about what Cas would want. Like he’s not coming back. And it’s scary as hell. Because he doesn’t mean to think like that. He doesn’t believe Cas is gone for good. He doesn’t. It just happened, and he doesn’t know why. He shouldn’t think like that. He hasn’t found much lore on the Empty yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Cas isn’t gone forever. They’ll be back, they’ll be able to take care of Jack, too. Cas’ll come back. They have to.

“‘Cause you could use a drink,” he says, and he manages to keep his voice from shaking, even a little. “Just remember that hangovers suck ass, though,” he adds. “Save drinking for special moments or for when you really need it, ‘stead of a normal kinda thing. Trust me, it’s not worth it. You’ll thank me later.”

sam.

“Jack?” Sam calls as he and Eileen enter the bunker at some time around nine thirty that night. There’s no answer, which isn’t strange in itself. But when he sees Jack’s bedroom door open with no one inside, he starts to worry. He goes to Dean’s room, and there’s no one there, either. The bunker suddenly feels empty, and the feeling’s uncomfortably close to the one he felt when everyone around the world disappeared. Close, but without the dread and anxiety and terror that he felt then. And on a much smaller scale, as well.

“He’s not here, either?” Eileen says, and Sam jumps just slightly as he turns to look at her. He shakes his head.

“I’ll call him,” he mouths, signing it as well, before reaching for his phone. Eileen takes his hand, and he smiles just slightly for a moment as the phone rings. He silently wills Dean to pick up, because goddammit, if he won’t, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He remembers calling Dean after the disappearances. He has deja vu for a moment, but he ignores the feeling. He shouldn’t think about that. It’s in the past, and they’re all back now.

Each ring seems to be hours apart, and it feels like an eternity and a half before Dean finally picks up. “Sammy?” his voice comes through the speaker. 

“Dean?” Sam says, sighing softly. “Okay,” he mouths to Eileen. “Where are you, where’s Jack?”

Dean makes a small noise, like a laugh and an ‘um’ all at once, before he speaks again. “Jack’s here with me. Me and them just went on a little road trip, y’know? Fresh air.”

“Jack’s with him,” Sam mouths, squeezing Eileen’s hand. She smiles slightly and nods.

“Good,” she says quietly. Sam swallows thickly as he waits for more from Dean. He gets nothing, so he shakes his head and closes his eyes.

“Where are you?”

There’s an eerie, staticy silence from the other end. Sam thinks he hears people talking faintly, but he can’t be sure. “On our way back to you. Right?”

Sam almost answers, when Jack’s voice comes out of the speaker. “Yeah, we’re...we are in the Impala,” they say, their words followed by a laugh that quickly fades away, and then Dean is speaking again.

“Yeah, uh, we’re heading back, gotta go. Shouldn’t call and drive, right? Okay, seeya.” The line goes dead just as Sam opens his eyes and his mouth to speak. He quickly closes his mouth again and exhales sharply through his nose as he pockets his phone. He looks at Eileen, shaking his head.

“They’re coming back soon…” he mouths, taking her other hand in his. She looks down at their hands, then looks at him, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“They’re okay?” she asks, and Sam nods after a moment.

“I think so.”

Dean and Jack walk into the bunker ten or so minutes later, though ‘stumble’ is probably more accurate. Eileen has gone off to take a shower, and Sam’s alone, sitting on the map table. Jack has their arm around Dean’s shoulder as they come in, and Sam notices that Dean is holding them up. It takes him just a moment longer to realize they’re drunk. They both are, probably, but Jack especially looks like they can barely walk. They’re laughing slightly as they come down the stairs, before mumbling something to Dean, who responds with a quiet ‘absolutely’. He’s smiling, but Sam’s heart sinks, and he doesn’t know how to feel.

“Dean…” he says, unsure of what to say. His heart feels like a deflated hot air balloon, falling quickly towards the earth. He almost wants to be mad, but he also just wants to ask if Dean’s okay, if Jack is okay, and make sure they both have everything they need.

Dean’s smile fades slowly, vanishing like a ghost. He moves towards Jack’s room without a word, and he comes back alone a moment later, his face fallen and deflated. “We just-”

“Don’t,” Sam interrupts, not really realizing he’s done it until seconds later. “You drove here?” he asks, incredulous and concerned. Dean blinks a few times, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Yeah. Not the first time, we’re fine, I-”

“Dean, stop,” Sam interrupts again. “Stop acting like you don’t matter, like you can just throw your life away! Stop it. Just stop.”

Dean’s brow furrows, lines in between his eyebrows forming as he stares at him. “I’m not-”

“What if you’d gotten in an accident? What if you’d gotten yourself killed?”

“I didn’t,” Dean counters. “I’m fine. Jack’s fine.”

“I’m not talking about Jack, I’m talking about you.” Sam pours as much crystal sharpness into the words as he can. “I care about Jack, but I care about you, too, believe it or not.”

Dean looks like he’s just been shot, and he looks down without speaking for a long while. When he does speak again, it’s not what Sam wants to hear. “You don’t get it.” He then turns and heads towards his room, leaving Sam alone again. He just stands there, forgetting what time is until Eileen comes in with damp hair and hugs his arm. He looks at her smile, and he tries to reciprocate. He can’t, and he ends up almost crying, instead.

Chapter Text

day 43 ac.

47 days since castiel’s death.

dean.

It’s a stretch.

Dean knows it’s a stretch. He’s going off vague lore and Bible verses and a few google searches on mediums. He doesn’t even know if the medium he’s looking for is still alive. And if she is, the chances that she actually ended up in the United States, just a five hour drive away are real slim. It’s mostly guesswork and assumptions. He assumes the biblical Sheol is the same as the Empty, and he assumes that the story of Saul contacting a medium to bring Samuel back for a while in the Bible is real, and he assumes the medium is still alive, and that she has a way to contact people in the Empty, and that he’s found her. His only clue that this is the right person is the assumption that she’s a witch and that the slogan ‘Making bringing back Samuel seem easy’ isn’t just a slogan. That it’s some sort of reference. It’s all conjecture, but it could be something. It has to be something.

He’s already found a cover. Possible wraith in a town half an hour away. He’ll take care of that quickly and then he’ll stop over by the medium, hope he’s right, and fingers-crossed, come back with Cas. Or at least, he’ll have talked to them. He needs to come back with something.

His bag’s already packed, sitting on his bed as he pulls on a jacket and shoes. It’s early. Sun-isn’t-up, people-still-coming-home-from-bars, ass-crack-of-dawn early. He doesn’t want to wake anyone up. Especially his brother. Sam’s been worrying even more since the whole bar thing. And Dean’s tired of it. He’s tired of all of it. He’s tired of people worrying about him, and he’s tired of not having Cas, and he’s tired of not being able to tell anyone what happened without breaking down, and it’s all killing him. He just needs to bring Cas back, to fix his mistake, to tell Cas he feels the same. He deserved to know he was loved before he died.

Deserves.

Dean curses himself for thinking like Cas is really gone again as he swings his bag over his shoulder and quietly makes his way through the bunker. He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears Sam’s voice. “Going somewhere?” he asks. Dean freezes. He slowly turns his head to look at his little brother.

“Hunt,” he says after a moment. “South Dakota. Looks like a wraith. In a little town called Rowena, believe it or not.”

Sam nods once, slowly. Dean swallows and looks down. He’s just waiting for the inevitable ‘be careful’ or ‘take care of yourself’ that always comes with pretty much anything he does these days. The words he ignores. “I’m coming with you,” Sam says, and Dean looks at him. Of course Sam would choose the worst time to decide he wants to go on a hunt with Dean.

“Nah, I got this one,” Dean moves his hand like he’s pushing the idea away. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple days.”

Sam nods. “Okay, we shouldn’t be gone more than a couple days.”

Dean practically glares at his brother. He tries to take a deep breath. He needs to do this alone. Sam’ll figure out what he’s really doing if he comes with. And he’ll try to stop him. Dean can’t let that happen. He needs this. “Sam, I got this,” he insists.

“I said I’m coming.” It sounds final, and Dean starts back up the stairs.

“I said no.” Dean feels Sam’s hand on his arm, and he curses his brother’s long-ass legs for letting him climb the stairs so quickly. Dean stares at him. Maybe if he stares hard enough, Sam’ll back down. Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t-

“I don’t care. I’ll be ready in just a minute, so stay.” He lets go of Dean’s arm. Dean watches him go back to his room, and he wants to leave now. But he can’t move. He really misses hunting with Sam. He misses doing things with Sam in general, but he hasn’t exactly been in the mood to do anything other than hunting and drinking and researching for a while. Besides, he shouldn’t leave him. If something goes wrong and Dean doesn’t come back, Sam would never know what happened. And he’d be leaving him alone without spending time with him beforehand.

Sam’s back before Dean can decide what to do. Eileen walks in behind him, followed by Jack. Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “What, are we having a friggin’ goodbye party? Should I make a cake?” he mumbles, pouring as much sarcasm into the words as he can. Sam pulls a bitch face, before looking at Jack and Eileen.

“Eileen sorta insisted that if I’m going, she’s going,” he says. Dean’s jaw clenches. “And we’re not leaving Jack here alone.”

Dean knows he’s just doing this to be the little big shit that he is. He’s worried, so now he won’t let Dean be alone. It’s fucking annoying. But Dean honestly can’t be bothered to argue right now. So he just lets it happen. He’ll figure out how to get to the medium without anyone noticing later.

jack.

The car ride feels weird. It’s not comfortable. Dean and Sam stay quiet. Eileen suggests music, but Dean ignores her. Sam talks after that. And Dean decides to put music on then. Jack doesn’t say anything the entire ride. They just pretend that everything is fine. They pretend they’re going to meet Cas when they stop driving.

When they all get to the hotel, they get two rooms. One with two beds and one with one. They leave their things. Dean gives the basic run down of the case. And then he is in the driver’s seat again. They’re all in the car. And they’re headed to Rowena, South Dakota. No one talks for this drive until they park in the town. Jack gets out of the car first. They look around and the sparsely placed houses with long driveways. It’s a small town.

“...don’t understand why you’re acting like I’ll throw myself off a cliff if someone doesn’t go with me,” Dean whispers harshly from behind them. Jack turns to see him get out of the Impala. Sam and Eileen get out seconds later.

“That’s not it,” Sam says. “I just think it’s better if we’re with someone. All of us.” He signs to Eileen. She nods and rolls her eyes slightly.

“And we’re safer that way. Strength in numbers,” she adds. Dean looks at her, then Sam. He sighs loudly.

“Fine,” he says after a moment. He looks at Sam. “You’re with me. We can talk to law enforcement. Eileen and the kid can ask around about the victims.” He looks at Jack. They can’t be sure, but they think his face looks a little less angry when he does. “You okay with that?”

They nod after a moment. “Okay,” they say. Dean nods back.

“Okay. Let’s just get this over with.”

Jack thinks that’s strange. Dean’s the one who wanted to go on the hunt in the first place. Why would he want to get it over with quickly? Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the way Sam’s acting? Jack wants to tell Dean that Sam’s just worried. That they are, too. They want to say a lot of things. They want to tell Dean that they’re sorry. They tried before. The night Dean took them to the bar, they said sorry. Dean had looked at them like he was trying to swallow something. Then he smiled a bit. “It’s not your fault,” he said. Jack wondered if he meant it. They still wonder that. They don’t think he has, even if he hides it.

“We’ll meet up again back here,” Sam says. Jack blinks a few times. Then they nod. They pretend Dean meant the words for a while.

Chapter Text

day 44 ac.

48 days since castiel’s death.

jack.

Dean was right about it being a wraith. They found her in a barn. Eileen was the one who killed her. They all went back to the motel after that. Jack couldn’t distract themself from Cas’ absence during the drive. They wish they could fix this. They wish they had their powers so they could bring Cas back. They wish they could do that and earn Dean’s forgiveness.

It’s dark outside the window in the motel room. They lie with their back to the other bed where Dean is. They pretend they’re asleep. Dean had suggested staying another night. He said they should all rest up before the drive back. Jack thinks that’s weird. But they won’t say anything about it. Dean does strange things sometimes. They won’t question it until it seems dangerous.

The bed behind them creaks. They don’t look behind them. They know Dean is getting up. Dean’s footsteps move away from the bed. They’re soft. And then they’re hard. His boots are on. Then there’s a zipper opening. Then closing. Dean must’ve grabbed something from his bag. Still, Jack doesn’t look. He probably just needs a drive or something. They don’t want to bother him. They want him to be okay. So they only look when they hear the door open, then close. And Dean is gone. They consider telling Sam, but they don’t want to wake him. Dean will be okay. Jack’s sure of it. He’s always okay.

The Impala starts outside, then drives off.

dean.

Cas’ handprint is stiff and coarse on the sleeve of the jacket Dean was wearing on the day. Thinking about it makes his throat ache. He tries not to as he drives to Tea, South Dakota. To meet the medium. The Great Christina. At least, that’s what she’s calling herself now. Or maybe that’s just who she is. Maybe her slogan is just to appeal to Bible thumpers who know the story and who’ve lost someone. Dean pushes the thought away. This has to be her. She has to be able to give him Cas.

He gets there just as a woman walks out of the small building, and he quickly parks and practically hurls himself out of the car, grabbing the bloodstained jacket as he does. “Hey!” he calls out as the woman heads to her car. “Hey, lady! Christina!” She stops, and when she turns to look at him, the first thing he notices are her eyes. He stops in his tracks. They’re probably contacts, because they look fake. He’s never seen eyes that blue. They seem to glow in the pale light from the street lamp. Even Cas’ eyes weren’t that blue. Not usually, anyway.

Cas.

Dean swallows. “I need your help…” he says, and he hates how desperate he sounds. His voice is shaking, and his heart feels like it’s pumping cement. All he can think about is that he needs this to work.

“I’d love to help you, honey, but I’m closed,” Christina says, smiling like she’s known Dean for years. He doesn’t like it. “Come back tomorrow first thing, I think I’ll be able to help you then.”

Dean shakes his head, swallowing a lump in his throat. “No, I need your help now,” he insists, his voice shaking again. He hopes it’s not too noticeable. “Please. I’ll pay.”

Christina’s smile fades slightly, but stays on her face. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back home. Come back tomorrow.”

Dean looks down, his eyebrows knitting together, before he looks up again. “You’re a witch,” he says, and before Christina can speak again, he takes a step closer. “The Witch of Endor.”

Christina blinks slowly, and from her expression, Dean thinks he’s got the wrong person. Then, her smile fades, and she looks around. Her eyes land on Dean again after a few seconds. She squints. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere…” she says. Dean straightens his back slightly. “Dean Winchester. Here to kill me? ‘Cause that won’t go too well for you.”

Dean takes a few moments to feel relieved that he’s found the right person, before he takes a deep breath and focuses on why he’s here. “I’m here to pay you. I need your help.”

Christina whistles. “And here I thought that was just a cover up for your...murderous intent.” She pauses, her blue contact lenses looking like they’re staring into Dean’s soul. “But you’re not lying, huh. I can tell.” She purses her lips slightly. “How much are we talking?”

Dean swallows. “As much as you need.”

Christina raises an eyebrow, and Dean squeezes the jacket in his fists. “What do you want me to do?”

Dean’s jaw clenches momentarily, before he looks down. “I need you to bring someone back.”

“Sure, from Heaven or Hell?”

Dean pauses. “The Empty,” he admits quietly. Christina snorts a laugh. Dean keeps his gaze on his shoes.

“You’re shitting me right now,” she says. Dean finally looks up. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how else to say it. He needs Cas back. He needs him. Christina purses her lips again. She looks like she’s studying him. Dean holds her eyes. “Honey, I can bring people back from Heaven and Hell. And even then, it’s only for a couple minutes. The Empty is a different story. Magic works different there.”

“So it’s possible?”

“Theoretically, but-”

“How much d’you want?” Dean interrupts. He’s desperate. He needs Cas back. He needs to see them, even for just a moment. He needs that. He needs-

“Ten thousand and I’ll try.”

“Done.”

Christina nods once, looking Dean up and down. “I need something that belongs to the-”

“Here.” Dean holds out the jacket, showing off the bloody handprint that brings back the memories. The hurt, the pounding, the words, the cold. It starts playing over and over again in his head. Cas’ words feel like punches, even though they’re supposed to be good. Dean just wants to tell him. He wants to go back and tell him. He wants to hold onto Cas instead of let him go. Let him be taken.

“Let’s head inside,” Christina says. Dean follows her in.

sam.

Sam knocks carefully on the door to Jack and Dean’s room, hoping for Dean to answer. He can’t sleep, or rather, he can’t get back to sleep. He woke up about fifteen minutes ago from a dream where he was eating dinner with everyone—everyone being Dean, Eileen, Cas, and Jack—and they had all disappeared. They had all turned to dust before his eyes and then been nothing. He’d woken up glad to find Eileen by his side and remembering that Jack and Dean are fine, but realizing that Cas isn't. Cas was gone. Cas is gone. And Sam never got to say goodbye.

Jack opens the door to the room, and Sam’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Hey, Jack…” he says, and they smile just slightly for a moment, like they weren’t expecting Sam to be here. Sam takes a deep breath. “Is...Dean here?” he asks. Jack shakes their head, and Sam’s stomach flips. “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know…” Jack says, and something in their voice tells Sam that they saw Dean leave. “I think he went for a drive…”

Sam moves past Jack into the room, looking at the two beds. No one’s there, just vacant space and chilly air. Sam looks at Jack, and his stomach flips again, not because he blames Jack for anything, but because his brother’s gone, and he doesn’t know where.

dean.

“He’s not here…” Dean whispers once it’s all over. There had been flashing lights, and voices, and screaming, and cold, and hot, and dark, but no Cas. Not even for a second. He didn’t appear, and he didn’t say anything, and nothing. Christina shakes her head.

“I warned you,” she says, and Dean wants to punch her in the face so he doesn’t have to look at those stupid blue contacts. All he can think of when he sees them is Cas. Cas, the one he lost. Cas, the one he’ll never see again. “Sheol is difficult to reach. It’s not like reaching Heaven or Hell, it’s-”

“Shut it,” he interrupts, and his head spins. “If you can’t even let me see them, then you don’t get paid.”

“That wasn’t the deal-”

“I don’t care!”

Christina blinks slowly. Dean stands up and grabs the handprint jacket. He can’t be here anymore. He needs to go. He feels sick, and his heart’s pounding, and he wants to throw up. He thought he’d found a way to get Cas. Or at least talk to him. Try to figure something out to get him back. Tell him how he felt. And that was his only shot. That was it. That was all he had, and now he can’t do shit. There’s no plan B. There’s nothing. Cas is gone. They’re gone for good. And there’s nothing Dean can do.

He falls to his knees once he’s outside. He feels like he can’t breathe. Everything feels like it’s closing in on him. But he forces himself to his feet a moment later and moves to the car. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know. He can’t do this. He can’t live like this. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

“Cas…” he breathes, his voice choked and shaking and everything that he hates. “Cas, please…please come back, please, you need to come back…” He closes his eyes, and he falls on his knees again just as he reaches the car. His entire body’s shaking. He’s losing it. “I don’t know what else to do, please...Cas, please, I need you!” He’s screaming at the sky, and he knows Cas can’t hear him, but he needs him to. He needs it. He needs something. “You hear me?! I can’t do this without you, please, I need you! I need you.”

He sits there and screams and cries until he doesn’t have tears left and until his voice is hoarse. Christina doesn’t come out, at least not that he notices. He’s alone. He’s alone, and Cas is gone. He should get back to the motel to make sure Sam and Jack and Eileen are okay, but Cas is gone. He should move on and pick up his broken pieces and fix himself and move on with his life, but-

Cas is gone.

He hugs the jacket close to his chest and just sits there until dawn.

Chapter Text

day 47 ac.

51 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

Dean hadn’t said a thing when he’d gotten back to the motel, and he didn’t smell like alcohol. Sam was trying to track Dean’s phone, but it was off. He had been worried and Eileen had gone to look around the hotel, and Jack was just sitting in the chair, their lower lip quivering slightly as they stared at the ground. And then the familiar sound of the Impala’s engine came through the glass of the window, and Sam rushed to the motel lobby just as Dean walked in. Sam had talked to him once he found Eileen and headed back to the room. He asked him a barrage of questions, a Dean hadn’t responded to a single one of them.

“Let’s just go,” he had said simply, pulling the car keys from his pocket and handing them to Sam. Sam had looked at him incredulously. He shook his head, and he yelled at him for leaving without telling him, and he apologized for yelling, and he expressed his worry. Eileen expressed her worry, and Jack finally looked up from the floor. But Dean didn’t react, even a little. His face was like a rock, stuck looking tired and devastated. And Sam had gone quiet, because he knew something had happened. Something awful, because Dean never looked like that. Dean looked terrible before, but that was worse. That was new. So Sam had taken the keys, only then finding it strange that Dean would want him to drive, and they had left without another word from anyone.

“We needa talk,” Sam says as he stops to stand in the doorway to Dean’s room, ignoring the incessant twists his stomach is giving. He’s given Dean a few days to process whatever it is that happened. But now he needs to know, or else he may lose his mind. Dean’s sitting in the corner, and he doesn’t look up. Sam thinks he’s not going to react again and wonders if he should just leave him alone. He doesn’t want to, because Dean’s obviously not okay in any way. But if Dean won’t talk, Sam can’t help him.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean says, to Sam’s surprise. He moves into the room, avoiding the scattered beer bottles that make his stomach turn further, and he slowly, hesitantly sits on the floor a few feet away from his brother. Dean doesn’t look up, and Sam stays quiet for a while.

“Are you o-”

“Don’t,” Dean interrupts, shifting slightly. “If you wanna talk, fine, but don’t pretend it’s ‘cause you wanna know if I’m okay. You’re worrying, so you know I’m not. Get to the point.”

Sam looks down, nodding slightly and taking a moment to think of what he’s going to say. “Where’d you go? When we were in South Dakota.”

Dean scoffs slightly, and Sam expects him to avoid the question. But he answers it without much hesitation. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” he mumbles. “I went to see the Witch of Endor. Did some digging through lore and shit and I thought she could-” He cuts himself off, and his jaw clenches visibly like he’s trying to bite something back. Sam takes a moment to try and figure out what Dean means, and then he sighs softly.

“You thought she could bring Cas back.”

Dean nods slightly and audibly swallows. “I was right about everything else. I found her, I...but she couldn’t. Said the Empty was different, and I-” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. It didn’t work. He’s gone.”

Sam leans forward and places a hand on Dean’s arm. Dean jumps slightly and finally looks up at him, green eyes glazed over with tears. Sam’s heart skips a beat. He rarely sees his brother like this, and every time he does, it feels a little less strange and a little more painful. Seeing Dean like this is almost worse than losing Cas in the first place.

“They had a deal. With the Empty,” Dean says, and his voice trembles. “When Jack was dying. They traded themself for Jack. But the Empty said it wouldn’t come until Cas was happy…” His body starts shaking slightly as well. “Sammy, they said they loved me…” he whispers quietly, and Sam thinks he’s misheard, so he doesn’t say anything. Dean closes his eyes. His voice is shaky and airy, like all the oxygen is being drawn out of the room by a huge vacuum. “I can’t do this…” he says, panicked and breathless. “I-I need them, Sammy, I need- I need-”

Sam squeezes his arm slightly, trying to ground him and help him calm down. “Dean-”

“I wanted to say it back,” Dean interrupts, eyes opening and staring at the ground. “But I-I...I couldn’t, and then it was too late…” He shakes his head so hard that, for a moment, Sam's afraid he’ll snap his own neck somehow. “I loved him, Sam.” Dean looks him directly in the eye, and Sam is taken aback. “I loved him.”

Sam can’t find words for a solid minute, and when he does, he can’t make them make sense. He’d always assumed that Dean and Cas loved each other in some way other than platonic, but he figured he’d die before either of them admitted it. Especially Dean. Dean always hides behind sarcasm and humour; he builds up walls upon walls around his feelings. The only thing that comes through most of the time is anger, so to hear him admit this is both relieving and heartbreaking. Because if Dean is willing to admit this, then something is really wrong. Which Sam knew it was, but this just feels like a confirmation of some sort that makes his stomach clench and cave in on itself. “Dean, it’s gonna be okay…” he breathes after way too long, looking at his big brother again. Dean shakes his head.

“‘S not, Sammy…” he whispers. Sam nods.

“It will be.”

Dean looks at him, then closes his eyes, slumping forward slightly. Sam squeezes his arm again, trying to reassure him, to be here for him. Dean doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. Sam pieces the rest of the story together by himself.

dean.

Sleep decides to be a bitch and avoid Dean completely. Not that he minds. All he ever dreams about anymore is losing Cas. Especially after his attempt to bring him back. The one that failed miserably.

His body twists under the covers. No position feels comfortable. His thoughts are all losing Cas and telling Sam. He really did it. He told him. And he regrets it and feels like a huge weight is lifted off of him at the same time. He wishes he could’ve kept it together when he told him. He wishes he hadn’t shown a glimpse of how broken he is. But then again, that doesn’t matter. Nothing seems to matter anymore. He just misses Cas. And he can’t have him back. It hurts like hell.

Dean closes his eyes for the twenty eighth time since he first tried to sleep, and again, rest won’t come. He keeps his eyes closed, though. He keeps his eyes closed, and for some stupid reason, he decides to imagine Cas is there next to him.

Like it makes any difference.

Chapter Text

castiel.

Blind rage.

It’s a new sensation.

One Castiel didn’t know they could feel.

Hands swinging, mind clouding, they can’t think.

He’s just so furious.

But he never should have done it.

No matter the reason.

Dean didn’t deserve that, despite his plans to give up.

And Castiel regrets.

He regrets hitting Dean in the alleyway.

Chapter Text

day 51 ac.

55 days since castiel’s death.

dean.

It’s happening again. There’s pounding and ‘you changed me, Dean’ and shattering and cold. There’s Empty, wrapping around Cas, holding them more tightly than Dean ever did, than Dean ever had the chance to, and taking them away forever. He’s trying to stand up, to move at all. He’s trying to grab Cas and pull them away. But he’s stone. He can’t move, he can’t breathe. And he’s cracking, breaking, crumbling, and Cas is dead, dead, dead-

Dean wakes up.

He sits straight up in bed. He thinks he opens his eyes, but he can’t tell. The room is too dark. Way too dark. He feels cold and like he’s going to throw up, and he swallows it down. His hand runs over his face, wiping away cold sweat. For a moment, he thinks it’s blood. Cas’ blood. Cas’ handprint. Cas’ hand against his. His chest gets tight, and his throat aches, and he shakes and shakes and then shakes some more. He finally finds it within himself to reach for his phone, hitting the power button and waiting for light. When it finally comes, his hand isn’t red. Cas’ hand isn't on his. He’s relieved. And then he breaks down.

His ribcage is caving in. He can’t breathe. His heart is getting squeezed into nothing. Like when Billie attacked them and tried to crush it. Like when Cas was taken and Dean broke again.  His stomach keeps flipping, over and over again. And he swallows, and swallows, and swallows, but he can’t keep it down. His feet carry him stumbling towards the bathroom, and he barely makes it in time. Whatever alcohol and food is still in his stomach leaves. It comes bit by bit instead of all at once, prolonging this torture and leaving his throat stinging and raw by the time he’s just gagging with nothing left to come up. When he finally manages to stop heaving, he sits back on the cold bathroom tiles. Cold like the floor when Cas pushed him away.

“Dean…?”

Icy dread fills Dean’s entire body at the sound of Jack’s voice, and he looks at the doorway. He hadn’t had time to close the damn door. And now they’re standing there, staring at him, eyes wide, fear painted all over their face. Dean shakes his head.

“I-I’ll go get Sam,” they say, turning. Dean’s stomach drops, which almost has him gagging again.

“Fuck...Jack, wait-” he gasps, trying to find air. Jack freezes, and Dean takes a moment to catch his breath and stand. “Don’t,” he says after a while. “Don’t tell Sam. I’m fine.”

Jack shakes their head, and they look so scared. Dean doesn’t want them to be scared. And he doesn’t want them to tell Sam. Their voice shakes when they speak again. “You’re not fine, you-”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts, forcing a small smile. “See? Fine.”

Jack shakes their head again, but says nothing. Dean looks at them for a moment, before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and going to the sink. He lets the water run over his hands for a moment, before looking at Jack. They’re still here.

“Look, kid, I...I know how this looks. But I’m okay.” All lies. But he doesn’t want them to tell Sam, because he’s already broken down in front of his brother about this once. That’s supposed to be the end of it. He’s supposed to move on and be okay now. He knows he never will. Someday, he’ll disappear, somewhere he knows Sam won’t find him with a bullet in his head. Or maybe he’ll let some monster kill him so it looks like an accident. Yeah, that’s better. It’d be easier for Sam to move on from. And with Eileen and Jack, Dean’s sure that he would. But for now, he needs to be fine. He knows he’s getting worse, but he’s going to hold on as long as he can. For his little brother.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says. Dean blinks a few times, forcing himself out of his thoughts.

“You what…?” Dean asks. His head’s still spinning.

“It’s my fault Cas is gone,” they go on. “He made the deal for me, and I should’ve told you and Sam, but I...didn’t.”

Dean takes a moment to process the words, then shakes his head. “Jack, you…” He doesn’t know what to say, how to reassure them. Deep down, maybe he does blame them, a little, but he knows he shouldn’t be mad. For once, he can’t be mad. For Cas’ sake. For Cas. “We beat Chuck,” he says slowly. “You gave up what was left of your powers and because of that, we beat him. And even if you hadn’t-” He pauses, swallows, and looks down. “They were your dad, okay? I’m not...I’m not the only one who lost them. Just...I guess I’m sorry, too.”

Neither of them say anything. Jack doesn’t know how Dean blames himself, so it probably doesn’t make much sense why he’s apologizing. Sam told them what happened, but he likely left out the sappy parts. Like that Dean feels the same as Cas or that he knows it’s his fault for letting him go.

He looks up at Jack, realizing that his chest is less tight. He can breathe right again. His heart is in pieces, but it’s still there. He forces another smile in their direction. It fades shortly after. And he leaves the bathroom to head back to his room. He decides to look into the lore again tomorrow. He knows he won't find anything, but he suddenly really hates himself for giving up already. Something about seeing Jack reminds him that this can't be over. So just for the hell of it, he'll try to find something else.

jack.

The thought of finding Dean in the bathroom at three in the morning hurts to think about. Jack can’t sleep when they get back to their room. They curl up under the covers and close their eyes. They try to rest. When it’s finally late enough in the morning to get up, they get out of bed and get dressed. Sam is in the kitchen. Him and Eileen are making breakfast. Eileen smiles when she sees them. “Hey, Jack,” she says. Sam looks back at them as he piles eggs onto a plate. He smiles gently. Jack tries to smile back. They raise their hand slightly.

“Hello,” they say quietly. Sam sets the plate on the table and starts preparing another one.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he asks. Jack takes a deep breath. They try not to think of Dean being sick. They try to believe him when he says he’s fine. It doesn’t work. They can’t think about anything else. Dean isn’t okay. But Dean won’t like it if they tell Sam. Dean will be mad. They don’t want Dean to be mad. They don’t want Sam to be mad either. He’ll be mad if Jack doesn’t tell him. They need to choose. They try to decide which is worse. They try to decide who they hurt more and who will be more hurt if they tell. They don’t know what to say. They try to think. Thinking gets harder with each second.

“I slept...okay,” they finally say with a shrug.

Chapter Text

day 60 ac.

64 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

Finding Dean asleep and near beer bottles makes Sam’s insides go tight ever since he found him about a month ago and had to take him to the hospital. He knows—at least, he hopes—that Dean won’t drink that much again. He tries to regulate the alcohol in the bunker as much as he can, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s terrified it’ll happen again and that he won’t be able to do anything this time, in any case. That fear, and just concern for Dean in general, has Sam walking over to him in the library before breakfast to shake him awake.

“Dean?” he says genty, shaking his shoulder just slightly and watching him closely. Dean stirs, before sitting up in his chair so quickly that he nearly falls out of it. 

“Cas…?” he mumbles, the sleep and slowness in his voice evident in just one word. Sam presses his lips into a thin line as Dean’s eyes fall on him. Then he’s quiet, unmoving, his expression slowly shifting to the one that makes Sam feel like he’s a stranger. “What?” Dean says after a moment, and Sam sighs.

“Just making sure you’re okay…” he says, which makes Dean snort a laugh.

“You mean makin’ sure I’m not dead?”

Sam doesn’t say anything to that, ignoring the twist his stomach gives and instead just looking down at the book Dean had been resting his head on. “Whatcha reading?”

Dean glances down at the book and closes it, but not before Sam catches the words ‘angel of death’. “Nothing.” Dean clears his throat, standing up awkwardly. “Just uh...got bored.”

Sam nods and takes a step back, looking down as Dean grabs the book and heads towards his room. The tightness in Sam’s gut stays there, despite knowing Dean’s fine. It’s a feeling he hates, because it reminds him of almost losing Dean. Not just the most recent time, but other times, too. And it reminds him of losing Eileen and Charlie and everyone else. It reminds him of loss. And he never wants that again. “D’you want breakfast?” he blurts out, turning to where Dean is walking away and taking a few steps after him. Dean doesn’t glance back.

“Nope, I’ll eat later.”

Sam is left alone in the library, and he doesn’t move for a long while, before heading to the kitchen with the tightness in his stomach still present.

jack.

Jack gets a little more nervous every time they see Sam since they lied to him. They’re afraid Sam knows the truth. But Sam never says anything about it. He just keeps trying to distract them sometimes. Exactly like he has been since the first day after defeating Chuck. Jack appreciates it. But they can’t forget the lie, and they wonder what will happen if or when Sam finds out.

Sam walks into the kitchen. Jack looks up from the table as he mouths something to Eileen. She nods slightly. She kisses him and hugs him. Jack wonders what Sam told her. They want to help, too. But they know that Sam won’t tell them. Maybe because they're young or something. Whatever it is, they wish they could help. They wish they could help everyone. There has to be some way to do that.

They stand up from the table and leave the kitchen. They don’t stop when Sam says their name. They just go to the library. There are already books out on the table, and they pick up the biggest one they can see. And then they go to their room and start reading.

dean.

Dean has something.

He slowly came up with it last night, and he had a realization about it this morning. Now, as he sits with the book he’s taken back to his room in bed, he tries to fill in any holes as best as he can.

As far as he can tell based on days of research and burying himself in lore, reapers are angels. They’re like a subspecies, kind of like how all dolphins are whales but not all whales are dolphins, but also not. It’s complicated, but reapers are the damn dolphins. They’re angels, which means they have grace. Grace can be taken from angels. Angels without grace are basically human, so if things work the way they should, which they probably won’t but there’s a chance, then a human who consumes grace would become an angel. At least for a while. If a human consumes a reaper’s grace, that’d make them a reaper. Theoretically. The first reaper to die after Death dies becomes the new Death. And Death can go to the Empty. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.

Dean closes the book. It’s another stupid plan with stupid hypotheticals and stupid assumptions and stupid everything. But there’s the smallest chance it could work, so he doesn’t care right now. Deja vu keeps slapping him in the face over and over, but he doesn’t care about that, either. All he cares about is that it’s a plan. It’s another stretch, maybe even more so than the first one, and it’s definitely more dangerous. Anything could go wrong. But Dean’s taken a lot of risks before, and most of them have paid off. It’s worth trying. Anything’s worth trying right now, no matter how stupid. For Cas.

Dean pushes the book away, staring at it like it might come alive. Like that one book in Harry Potter that has teeth and fur and shit. He feels like it’s gnawing away at his stomach. If this goes wrong, he might never see Sam or Jack again. He’ll never see Jody or Claire or Eileen or Donna or Charlie. At least, not alive. He doesn't exactly want to leave them behind. But if he doesn’t try, he’ll never see Cas again. He still might not, if things go wrong, but he needs to try. He's already probably going to die before old age if Cas stays gone without at least knowing he's loved, too. Dean doesn’t know how to live knowing that there was a way that he never tried. So he’ll do it. He feels like a fucking conspiracy theorist for coming up with this and thinking it’ll work, but he’s going to do it.

He has to.

He has to catch a reaper. He has to swipe their grace. He has to put that stuff inside of him. And then he has to die.

Jesus, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

Chapter Text

castiel.

Good intentions.

Always good intentions.

And always failing.

Castiel had only wanted to make things better.

And he trusted God’s scribe.

But it’s a trick.

Their grace is stolen.

The angels fall.

And Castiel wishes they had thought it through more.

They regret playing a part in the fall of the angels.

Chapter Text

day 63 ac.

67 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

The very last thing Sam expects to see when he walks into the kitchen is Dean in front of the stove in an apron. He thinks he must be dreaming, because while Dean seemed to be getting better, he wasn’t nearly this happy.

“Mornin’, Sammy,” Dean says, and his voice is cheerful to the point of sounding fake, like indoor lights pretending to be sunshine. Sam just stands in the doorway for a while, waiting for Dean’s composure to fade. When it doesn’t, he clears his throat, brow furrowing as he takes a few steps into the kitchen.

“Morning…?” he says, almost questioningly, as he watches Dean nod and turn back around to scramble the eggs in one of the pans further. He doesn’t know what else to say, simply confused about the situation. Something could easily be wrong, and Sam wants to know what it is, even if he can’t outright ask about it at the moment.

“Eileen up yet?” Dean asks with a fake joy that makes Sam uneasy.

“She’s, uh...she’s coming,” he answers as he tries to ignore the qualms inside of him. Dean smiles. Sam breathes in. The air tastes strange and counterfeit.

“Awesome, I’ll get Jack,” Dean says after a moment, giving him a hug and a gentle ruffle to his hair, before leaving the kitchen. Sam just stands there, stunned for a long while. The last time Dean hugged him like that, he was planning to trap himself in the Ma’lak box. Sam’s concerned, and he tries to think of what he should do to make sure Dean doesn’t do anything stupid. He snaps out of it when his brother comes back with both Jack and Eileen. The two of them look at each other, then at Dean, and finally at Sam, as if he knows the reason Dean is acting like this so suddenly. So it’s probably not a dream, if Eileen and Jack are confused, too.

“Dean, what’re you doing?” Sam finally manages to ask, the question needing to be forced out of his throat for it to sound normal. He doesn’t want to ruin the illusion of happiness, but it’s just that. An illusion. Dean hasn’t moved on as easily as Sam has, and Sam knows that.

“Cookin’ breakfast,” Dean says, confusion that feels just as fake as the smile creeping onto his face. “Obviously.”

Sam shakes his head just slightly, and Dean is plating food and setting it at the table before he can get another word in.

“Eat up.” He smiles again, and Sam freezes up once more. It keeps catching him off guard, all those smiles. He knows it sounds awful, but he wishes they’d stop. He wants real smiles there, real happiness in his brother. Come to think of it, though, Sam isn’t sure he knows what that looks like in Dean anymore. It’s been a while since he seemed truly happy, so it might even be damn near unrecognizable when it comes.

Sam doesn’t say anything throughout the entirety of their meal, instead just watching as Dean and Eileen talk. Dean butchers most of the sign language, and Eileen laughs softly each time. Sam loves that laugh, and he hates the laughter that comes from Dean. It’s fake, just like the rest of it. Dean is fake right now.

Sam focuses on Eileen’s laugh only.

Jack and Dean stay behind to do the dishes in the kitchen after eating, and Sam wanders with Eileen to the library. Eileen speaks before Sam can open his mouth.

“He seems...better,” she says, signing it as well. Sam nods slightly, before shaking his head, his brow furrowing once again.

“Something’s not right,” he mouths hesitantly, the uncertainty in his stomach making it turn. “He wasn’t like this yesterday.”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Eileen questions, glancing behind her in the direction of the kitchen. “Or I can talk to him. Maybe he needs to talk to someone else.”

Sam presses his lips into a thin line. “I’ve tried talking to him. I don’t think he’ll open up.”

Eileen nods. “Sometimes trauma is weird...sometimes it’s easier to tell someone you don’t know as well as your family about personal things.” She smiles slightly, and Sam just sighs and looks down.

“Maybe…” he murmurs. “Maybe.” He cups her cheek gently, unable to hide the smile that finds its way onto his own face. Genuine, because of her. She hugs him tightly, and everything leaves his mind for now.

jack.

“I don’t hate you, y’know that?”

Jack looks at Dean when he says that. They stare at him. Their hands stop halfway through drying a plate. Dean speaks again after a moment.

“For killin’ my...my mom,” he adds. Jack looks down as Dean continues. “I know I was mad. Still am, sometimes, but it’s...I don’t hate you. And what I said before, about you not being family ‘nd shit? That wasn’t...it wasn’t true.”

They glance at Dean. His eyes are on the water running over a pan and his hands. The liquid steams. Dean doesn’t flinch at or look pained by the heat. “Thank you…” they say after a moment. Dean nods once.

“Yeah, well…” He looks at them. “You are family, Jack,” he says quietly. “I’m...I guess I’m sorry that I didn’t say it earlier. I wish I had. Wish I’d done a lot more with you.”

Jack’s confusion gets bigger. “Dean…” they say slowly. “Why...does this sound like you’re saying goodbye...?”

Dean flinches. He stares at Jack like there’s something wrong with them. Then, he looks down. “It’s just an apology,” he says after a moment. He glances up at Jack again. And he shuts off the water and leaves the kitchen. They are alone.

dean.

Dean’s not crying like a teenager after a breakup at midnight because Jack’s words were way too similar to his own before Cas died.

Nope.

Not that at all.

And he’s definitely not summoning a reaper while he’s sobbing. That would be stupid, honestly. All of that would be really fucking stupid. But Dean’s never really seen himself as smart, so really, it’s not a surprise.

He’s down in the dungeon. Everything’s ready to go, and all he has to do is say a few words. Words that feel like they're burying themselves in his throat and doing anything not to come out. The crying that gets worse any time it starts to calm down doesn’t help. Neither does the trying to keep said crying quiet so he doesn’t wake up Sam or Jack. Dean’s words away from doing something that really is just like a final hail Mary, something that could work, but that also might kill him. If it doesn’t, it might kill him in a different way. This situation is stupid in more ways than one.

He takes a deep breath, finally finding it within himself to mutter the words and perform the spell. It’s supposed to bring the reaper, according to the lore, and Dean’s set up a reaper trap. It should hold the reaper he summons long enough for him to do what he needs to do.

“Can I help you?” comes a voice that cuts through Dean’s thoughts like a sword. Dean looks up to see someone standing dead-centre in the trap. He swallows, and the person raises an eyebrow.

“You a reaper?” Dean asks, his hand moving to hover over the knife sheath attached to his hip. The person rolls their eyes slightly.

“No, I’m a simple human who was summoned randomly by your little spell.”

The sarcasm in that sentence is all Dean needs. Usually, he would think this through better. He might try to reason with the reaper and ask them to do this for him. Or he would try something else. But he’s desperate. He knows this is irresponsible, because he could be leaving his baby brother, he could be leaving him forever, but he has Eileen. Dean needs Cas. Even if he can’t bring them back, he at least needs them to know he loves them, too. Cas deserves better than to die unloved.

His knife barely grazes over the reaper’s throat. A thin red line appears, and Dean’s heart drops fifty stories. No grace. It was all for nothing. It won’t work. He’ll never see Cas again, and he-

Pale blue mist seeps out, and Dean just stares for a few seconds. He then leans forward slightly and breathes in through his mouth, closing his eyes. He wills the grace into his body. He doesn’t really know what he's doing, but he needs to try. This has to work. It has to work.

His entire digestive system suddenly feels like it catches fire. Dean cries out without meaning to, and somewhere between the pain, he hopes Sam hasn’t heard him. The sting and burn lasts seconds, but it feels like years. Forty years. It feels like Hell. When it stops, Dean straightens slightly, trying to catch his breath and steady himself. His head spins slightly. Everything’s blurred, but he can see the reaper staring at him with shocked eyes. Dean finds it within himself to punch them hard enough in the head that they pass out. His vision slowly comes into focus after that, and he takes a moment to make sure he’s not going to explode or anything if he moves. He feels weird, like the feeling that comes right before the drop on a roller coaster, but other than that, he thinks he’s fine.

Okay, so he’s not dead yet.

He still needs to make sure he’s a reaper now.

He moves over to the unconscious reaper. Well. Unconscious person, now, probably. Assuming this whole grace transference shit worked. Dean reaches out two fingers, hesitantly, and he focuses. He runs them slowly over the person’s throat, over the red line, and he closes his eyes. He feels like the roller coaster drops a little. He jumps slightly at that and pulls back, but the line is gone.

Son of a bitch.

He’s a damn reaper.

Chapter Text

day 64 ac.

68 days since castiel’s death.

jack.

There’s suddenly something different about Dean. It’s not like yesterday. He’s not acting happy like that. He just seems different. He almost looks different. Jack can’t put a finger on why. They know that something must be wrong. More wrong than yesterday. Yesterday sounded like a goodbye. Maybe they’re just overthinking it. Or maybe they should tell Sam. They don’t want to make Dean angry by doing that. But they might need to. Sam needs to know. The choice they have to make Jack feel wrong.

Today is a no day.

Dean comes to breakfast, but he doesn’t say anything. He eats quickly. And then he leaves the kitchen. Sam looks around and follows him. Jack hears the two of them talking in the library. They listen and shrug when Eileen looks at them with confusion. The words Dean and Sam are saying are impossible to make out. But the brothers come back after a few minutes. Dean doesn’t look up as Sam speaks.

“Dean and I are going on a hunt,” he says. Dean looks at him.

“No, no, no, Dean is going on a hunt,” he replies. “I’m doing this alone, Sam.”

Sam looks at him. “No you’re not. Going in alone is stupid.”

“What, like no one’s ever been on a hunt alone before.”

“Dean, you know what I mean.”

“What, because you’re scared I’ll do something stupid? That it?”

“Yes! You’ve been acting like your life doesn’t matter, of course I’m scared!”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know making breakfast for everyone and trying to move on was something suicidal people did.”

“You’re not trying to move on, you’re trying to hide your shit and pretend you’re fine, just like you always do.”

It goes quiet. Sam looks apologetic. He didn’t mean to say that, probably. Jack swallows. They need to tell Sam about the maybe-goodbye. Because what Dean is saying is scaring them. They open their mouth to say it. Dean speaks first.

“You’re not coming with me,” he says. His voice is quiet. It’s also strong. Sam shakes his head.

“Then Eileen will,” he insists. Dean groans.

“I’m going in alone, Sam, for fuck’s sake!”

“You’re not,” Eileen cuts in. “I’m going with you.”

Dean looks at her. His eyes look darker. “I’ll be fine. I am fine. I don’t need no babysitter.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam seethes. “Why won’t you just let us-”

“I’ll go,” Jack interrupts. Sam and Dean look at them. Eileen follows their gaze after a moment. All of them are quiet. “I’ll go,” they repeat. Dean looks stunned. Then, he shakes his head.

“Do you people not know what alone means?” he says.

“Jack, I don’t want you on a hunt when not all of us are there,” Sam says at the same time. Jack looks down.

“I know I don’t have my powers, but I can handle myself,” they say. “Kind of.”

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head and looking away. “Kid, you of all people are not coming. No offense.”

Jack takes a step closer. “I’m going. If you won’t let anyone else go, I’ll go.”

Dean looks at them. They expect him to keep arguing. They think he’ll keep going and that this discussion will last forever. But Dean finally sighs and nods. “Fine. Hurry up ‘nd pack, ‘cause I’m leaving in five. With or without you.”

Sam throws Dean a look. It’s like confusion and annoyance at the same time. Jack doesn’t stay much longer. They just go to their room to quickly pack a bag. They don’t have time to tell Sam about the maybe-goodbye before they go.

dean.

The feeling of almost falling is still ever present in Dean’s stomach as he and Jack settle into the motel room. He wonders if the difference he feels is something Jack can see as well. They don’t have their powers, but maybe they can tell. Maybe that’s why they wanted to come along. Whatever. They haven’t brought it up if they have noticed, and Dean doesn’t want them to. He just doesn’t want Sam to know. Not until tonight. Tonight is big. Tonight is when Dean has to stab himself and hope that he doesn’t die forever. That all this works out. He realizes that he doesn’t know if there already is another Death. There easily could be, if another reaper died before him. But he assumes that if that were the case, the new Death would come and see him or be pissed off that he stole one of their reapers’ grace.

Fucking hell.

That’s still hard to get used to. The fact that he has grace inside of him. That he’s not human right now. The pre-roller coaster drop reminds him of that, but it’s still really weird to think about. He’s a reaper. A reaper. A reaper who’s not reaping, which is bound to draw someone’s attention eventually. That’s another reason it has to be tonight.

Dean wastes time on his laptop until dark, pretending he’s researching as he goes through bottles of beer. He stares at articles from nearby and random pages of lore, acting like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. Truth is, there’s nothing going on that he knows of. There’s no hunt, and despite Jack’s constant questioning of if they can help, Dean just brushes them off. They’re not supposed to be doing anything other than making sure he doesn’t do anything dumb, anyways.

Ha.

When it’s finally dark and late, after Jack’s asleep, Dean pulls on his boots and jacket. He messes up the bed so it looks like he’s actually been in there for a while, and he leaves the room. He doesn’t take the car. Baby’s motor is too loud, and he can’t risk Jack waking up. Plus, it’ll seem more realistic if he walks a mile to the old farm that’s right outside of town. Like he was dragged from bed by something. In case he doesn’t come back, he needs it to look like he was killed by a monster or a demon or whatever. Sam might go insane if it’s obvious that Dean offed himself. Jack might figure it out after Dean’s words from yesterday, but he just hopes they never tell Sam that.

He walks into the middle of the field. The air is cold in there. Cold like the floor when Cas pushed him. Cold, cold, cold, cold. It’s empty, too. Empty. Empty.

Dean wonders if he should write something to Sam. He wants to. He wants to tell his little brother not to worry, that he’ll be okay. He wants to tell him that he’s grown up, that he doesn’t need Dean to watch over him anymore. But that would make it seem too planned. He doesn’t want that. It needs to look like an accident if he dies permanently. So he doesn’t pull out the scrap paper or the pencil in his jacket pocket. He just takes his angel blade in hand, takes a deep breath, and sends one last prayer to Cas. “I’m coming for you...” he breathes out to him. “It might not work, but I...I’m coming for you.”

His grip tightens on the handle, and he forces the silvery metal deep into his gut.

The roller coaster drops.

jack.

Jack had heard Dean moving around the room. They hadn’t fallen asleep. When the room door opened, they had followed after a few moments. They followed Dean through and out of the motel. The car didn’t leave the parking lot. They thought it was strange, but they continued following him through the dark. Their feet were hurting by the time Dean wandered into the field. They stayed near the edge, watching him. He didn’t move for a while. And then he had stabbed himself.

Jack has their phone in their hand and is running towards Dean’s collapsing body moments later. They nearly trip as they get closer and see the glowing. Dean’s face is glowing. Light is coming out of his eyes and mouth. Jack stops a few feet away. They’re so scared, and they freeze for a few seconds. They don’t move until the glowing stops and Dean collapses completely. They move closer and get on their knees next to Dean. Their hands struggle to find Sam’s contact. The phone rings. They watch Dean. Their mouth keeps breathing out ‘no’ over and over. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

Dean is dead.

And he wouldn’t be dead if Jack had told Sam earlier about the maybe-goodbye. The goodbye. Dean is dead. Jack let Dean die. Murderer.

Murderer.

Murderer.

Murderer.

Murderer.

Murderer.

Sam picks up the phone. Jack opens their mouth to speak. Dean breathes.

Chapter Text

day 65 ac.

69 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

The drive lasts almost until first light, and Sam’s insides feel like they’re being reorganized the entire time. One hand is holding onto Eileen’s, and the other is tight on the steering wheel. He keeps his mind focused on the road and not the words Jack had said. He listens for Eileen to tell him where to turn based on the GPS tracking their phone. The phone call manages to play faintly in the back of his mind, though, as he approaches the point representing Jack on the map.

“Come quick…”

“Jack?”

“Sam, please...Dean’s…”

“He’s what? Jack...? Jack, he’s what?”

“He died.”

“...No...what?”

“But...h-he’s back.”

“Jack, what the hell are you saying, what-”

“Please just hurry.”

“I’m coming.”

Sam pulls over to the side of the road, and he quickly shuts off the car and pushes the door open. He stumbles out of the car, barely remembering to let go of Eileen’s hand as he does so. He glances back at her, before practically running to where he can see the faint silhouette of two bodies on the ground in the dark. His legs carry him faster, his head turning ever so often to see if Eileen is following him. When he reaches the silhouettes, he pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight. He sees Jack and Dean squinting into the light, Dean’s hand held out to shield his eyes. Sam stares at him, gaze scanning over his brother to make sure he’s okay. He sees blood. He sees the angel blade in the dry grass, red covering most of it and mixing with the dirt. Sam chokes.

“Dean…?” he says breathlessly as he tries to connect the dots. “Dean, what…? Are you…?”

Dean’s jaw clenches visibly, and his eyes avoid Sam’s. “I had to, Sammy,” he says, glancing at the blade. “I had to.”

dean.

The pre-roller coaster drop is now a needle in Dean’s stomach. That’s the only sign that something’s different now. That he’s not just some reaper. He’s...well. It’s weird to think about. This whole situation is. He was human a little over a day ago, and then he was a reaper, and now?

He’s Death.

It’s terrifying, so Dean tries not to think about that fact. Instead, he thinks of how this means he can get Cas back. Probably. He hasn’t tried it yet for various reasons, but mainly because he wants to say a proper explanation goodbye to Sam and Jack and Eileen now that he has more confidence in this working. He wants to tell them things in case the Empty kills him for good. That, and because he’s so close now that he can’t mess up. If he messes up, he doesn't know what he’ll do. If he can’t get to the Empty for some reason, if he can’t manage to use Death’s powers, if something goes wrong, he can’t afford that. He needs to be careful. He needs this to work. He doesn’t exactly know how he’s supposed to make sure it does. He can’t really practice teleporting in and out of another realm or whatever. It’s not that simple. But he’s scared of fucking everything up, so he doesn’t do anything yet. He just sits in the back of the car Sam’s driving as they head back to the motel.

It’s not a long drive. It’s quiet.

When they get to the room, Sam signs something to Eileen. Then she nods. “Jack, can you go with her?” he says quietly. Jack looks up, glancing at Dean for the first time since they followed him out into the field. Dean looks away. He wants to apologize for Jack having to see that, but he can’t find the words until both them and Eileen are gone. Dean’s blood feels like it freezes in his veins, and he doesn’t look up as he watches the shadow of his brother get closer. He wonders if Sam’s going to hug him again. Like the last time something like this happened. Like when he drank himself half to death. But Sam just sighs loudly. Dean swallows the lump that’s already forming in his throat. Fuck, he’s going to have to explain things now. He’s going to have to explain it and Sam’s going to ask him to stop. And Dean’s gonna break down again.

“Sam, I-” he starts.

“Don’t,” Sam interrupts. “Just wait, okay? Please.”

Dean closes his mouth, nodding slightly. The needle in his stomach feels like it multiplies for a moment. Silence fills the room and feels deadly. Which is kind of hilarious. Him being Death and all. Jesus. Every time he thinks of that, it feels like a slap to the face.

“Are you okay?” Sam finally asks. He sounds tired. Dean assumes he means physically, and he nods slightly.

“I’m okay.”

More quiet floods the room. Dean doesn’t know if he’s thankful for it or not. It feels like a relief and like a curse. “You said you had to,” Sam continues after a while. “Had to...what? What happened?”

Dean swallows again. He wants to start crying and just pretend this never happened. He wants to get Cas back. He wants so many things and none of them can happen at the same time. “I summoned a reaper…” he breathes out. “I had...have a plan to get Cas back, so I summoned a reaper, and I took their grace, and I...it’s in me.”

He doesn’t have to look at Sam to know what he looks like right now. “What...” Sam says. “What the hell? You did all this without telling me?”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Well, yeah, ‘cause you would’ve stopped me.”

“Stopped you? Why would I have stopped you? You said you have a plan to bring Cas back, I would’ve helped you-”

“Because I had to kill myself, Sammy,” he cut through Sam’s words, finally looking up at his brother. Sam’s eyes widen.

“You- You had to what?” He shakes his head. “The blood...” He looks at the hole in Dean’s shirt, bordered with red. “And you were just not gonna tell me about that?! You could’ve died and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

“You would’ve stopped me!”

“Well no shit, Dean!”

Dean clamps his mouth shut. He can’t speak. His brother’s angry, really angry, and Dean doesn’t have anything to say to fix it.

“You know, you always do this kind of thing. You pretend you’re fine, but you never are. I try to help, but you won’t let me, so usually I just hope you’ll be okay, but I can’t do this anymore!” He steps closer. “You’re not expendable, Dean! You’re not...you’re not alone, either. You’re always here for me, but I’m here for you, too. I need you to see that.”

Dean swallows hard, and the first tears slip down his left cheek. Sam looks down and sighs.

“I just wanna help, okay?” he says quietly. Dean nods, looking down as well.

“I know.”

“Okay, then let me help.”

The needle gets sharper. And Dean doesn’t know what to do. He knows he should let Sam help him, but there’s not really anything left for him to do. The deed is done. “You can’t…” Dean breathes. “Sammy, I…” He doesn’t know how to say it. He wonders if Sam already knows. Or maybe his brother’s not thinking about that right now, so he hasn’t figured it out. He wants to tell him anyway. Something’s suddenly in his hand, and Dean jumps so bad that he drops it. He looks down and he sees it. A scythe. A fucking scythe. It just came, as if to explain to Sam what Dean wants to say. So he really is Death. There’s no doubt about it now. He looks back up at his brother, and he can practically see the gears turning in his head as he puts the pieces together.

“You’re Death,” he says quietly. “The reaper...the angel blade...you- Jesus Christ-”

Dean feels more tears stream down his cheeks. He regrets not telling Sam. Maybe they would’ve found another way, but he had just been so desperate. He needed Cas back. He still does. “I’m sorry...I told you, I had to…”

Sam shakes his head, and then he leaves the room. Dean’s alone for a moment. Eileen comes in a moment later, followed by Jack. They both look confused. Dean takes a deep breath, glancing at the scythe still on the ground. 

“I had to…” he breathes.

Chapter Text

day 66 ac.

70 days since castiel’s death.

sam.

Sam remembers the first time he realized his big brother wasn’t perfect or without faults and flaws. He always looked up to him, even after the incident, but he had been upset for days afterwards. It was ridiculous, of course; all Dean had done was catch a cold. But it felt like some sort of betrayal then, Sam being only six at the time. He felt concern for his brother as well, but betrayal was more prominent. He quickly grew out of that feeling, however, allowing the worry to become stronger, and he learned that things in life were never perfect. Nobody is completely devoid of problems or mistakes, so Sam moved past feeling that sense of betrayal unless it made sense to feel it. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to feel it now, but goddamn, does he feel betrayed at the moment. The concern is there, but the betrayal is growing.

It’s been almost twenty four hours since he and Dean talked and Dean revealed he was Death. The revelation feels completely surreal, to the point that Sam thinks he’s still dreaming. Or maybe it’s more of a hope than a thought. Either way, he wants to wake up soon and escape this. Maybe when he wakes up, Dean will be better. It’s not that Sam thinks he’ll magically recover, or that he doesn’t want to help his brother or anything like that. It’s more along the lines of that everything he does doesn’t seem to help. Dean keeps spiraling, and Sam’s going to end up even more hurt if he keeps trying to help when his brother won’t accept it or doesn’t respond. And maybe he’s just mad at Dean for going behind his back and doing something of this magnitude. Maybe that’s why he finds himself wondering if he should let someone else help Dean. But he quickly pushes the thought away, because if he can’t help him, then Dean most definitely won’t accept help from anyone else.

The fact that Dean is still in the bunker and not trying to throw himself into the Empty yet is a miracle, honestly. Sam would’ve expected, with how desperate he’s been, that he would already be there. But since they drove home the day before, Dean has just been sitting in the library on his laptop. He was sitting there yesterday, and he’s still sitting there this morning when Sam and Eileen drift out of their bedroom and towards the bunker door. Sam doesn’t want to talk to him, despite knowing that, when Dean does leave for the Empty to get Cas, he might never come back.

“Sammy…?” Dean’s voice rings through the library and bangs against Sam’s eardrums. Sam stops in place, halfway up the stairs. He really doesn’t have the patience for this; the betrayal rises in his chest. He just wants to go out with Eileen and get a nice breakfast. But it occurs to him that when Dean goes to the Empty, it might be the last time Sam ever sees him, so he stays put. He pushes away the betrayal momentarily, which feels like trying to use a mop to soak up the ocean. He looks at Dean, who’s standing behind the map table and looking at him.

“You should talk to him…” Eileen says quietly, and Sam glances at her and nods slightly. He takes her hand.

“I know…” he whispers softly, taking a deep breath. “Can you stay?”

Eileen nods back, and Sam looks at his brother again. He still holds her hand as he finds the words he wants to say.

“You shoulda told me,” he says, looking down at the railing, and at the stairs beneath his feet, and at anything that isn’t Dean.

“I know that, man, I know,” Dean says, and his voice shakes almost undetectably. “But I...you would’ve-”

“Stopped you, yeah,” Sam interrupts. “I would’ve stopped you, and I would’ve been right to.”

“Sam-”

“We would’ve found another way.”

Dean goes quiet, and Sam finally looks at him as he continues. The betrayal seems to sink into the background for the moment, mixed with the concern and worry that Sam’s felt for his brother since day one. He feels conflicted, between not wanting to talk with Dean and also wanting to convince him to try something different. This is already dangerous enough as it is.

“I would’ve helped you do that. I would’ve stopped you, but we would’ve figured something out. Something that wasn’t as risky.”

“We both would’ve,” Eileen adds on, and Sam looks at her. “And if nothing we found worked, we would’ve helped you move on. You just had to let us.”

Sam nods slightly, looking back at Dean to let him know that he agrees. Dean looks at them and shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I uh...I appreciate the sentiment,” he says quietly, then clears his throat. “I guess…” He meets Sam’s eyes for a moment, then looks down. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I am. But what’s done is done.”

Sam shakes his head, and he squeezes Eileen’s hand just a bit more tightly than he should as he glares at his brother. He doesn’t know if he feels more betrayed or troubled. He stares like it will help him figure it out; it doesn’t do a thing. “Dean, don’t,” he finally says, and his tone comes out colder than he means it to, and he takes a deep breath. “Please,” he adds, more quietly. Dean’s jaw clenches visibly for a moment, before he shakes his head and turns.

“Give me six hours,” he says as he reaches for the scythe that had manifested in his hand at the motel. “Then summon me back.”

“Don’t.”

Eileen squeezes Sam’s hand. “We can do that?” she asks as Sam looks at her.

“Yes, but the only way we know, we need a fulgurite, and those are super rare…” He turns to Dean. He doesn’t feel betrayal or worry; suddenly, he feels just a bit of panic. “Dean-”

“You probably won’t need to, alright?” Dean interrupts harshly as he holds the scythe. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll be back with Cas.” He looks up at Sam, who wants to run down the stairs, but feels frozen. Eileen, however, drops his hand and runs down towards his brother. “I’ll be back,” Dean promises, smiling just slightly at Sam, then disappearing before Eileen can reach him. Sam swears he breathes out a gentle ‘Cas’ just as he goes.

Chapter Text

castiel.

Castiel regrets many things.

Too many to count.

If he tried, he would count for eternity.

But that’s the point.

Eternity.

Regrets, forever.

And ever.

And ever.

And.

Ever.

Cas.

They forget they don’t need to breathe as they gasp for air.

It’s dark. So dark.

Castiel can’t see anything but himself. He tries to remember. How did he get here?

The Empty. The confession. His happiness. Dean.

And surely enough, just as he thinks the name, he hears his own. Not the name given to him by his older siblings, or by God. But the name given to him by the one he loves. The name that represents rebellion, and revolution, and free will. The name spoken by lips he long wondered what it would be like to kiss.

“Cas?”

They turn. They see him. Everything stops.

Chapter Text

dean.

Dean thinks he’s going to throw up when the bunker is replaced with dark and black. The needle in his stomach seems to stab harder. He swears under his breath, as he takes in his new surroundings, trying to focus his vision. He hears voices. Yelling. Screaming. It’s so fucking loud, and he’s overwhelmed. But he manages to focus on why he’s here, blinking quickly as he tries to concentrate. “Cas?” he calls out, trying to push the disorientation in his head away. Cas. He needs to find Cas. He turns and looks around, eyes blurring and clearing and blurring and clearing until he sees a tan trench coat in between the never ending empty.

It’s him.

Cas.

He can’t speak. He forgets how to. The voices fade into the background. Everything else blurs in his vision. He forgets where he is. He forgets what he’s supposed to do. He forgets his own name. It’s all just dark hair and glacier blue eyes. It’s all Cas. He realizes after a moment that Cas is staring back at him. Staring like he hasn’t seen him in years. Squinting like he’s looking into the sun. Dean’s breath stops halfway to his lungs. He’s stepping closer without really paying attention to it.

“Dean…” Cas says quietly, and Dean can’t figure out the tone. He stops himself inches away. He wants to pull them close. He wants to tell them so much, to just have a moment and be with them. But he manages to keep himself from trying. The Empty could already know he’s here. He can’t hug them now. Scythes aren’t exactly ideal for hugging, and they don’t have the time. So he grabs their arm.

“We gotta go,” he says, his voice shaking slightly as he tries to focus on getting out. Cas shakes his head, taking a step back.

“You’re not Dean...” he says lowly. “You can’t be. Death’s scythe came here with Billie. And Dean would never come here to get me, he would never-”

“Cas, it’s me,” Dean starts saying over him, insistent. He needs to get out. He needs Cas with him when he does get out. “We don’t have time for this, I’m getting you out of here.” 

“-come here. He wouldn’t. He can’t. He needs to move on, he would-”

“Listen to me,” Dean says, interrupting him again. “Cas, please, listen to me. I’m here. I’m here for you. I...I need you, man, I need you, okay?”

Cas laughs. Confusion slaps Dean in the face. “Dean doesn’t need...me,” they state like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s moving on now. He can move on and he...he can be happy. He’s going to do it without me. I know that, and I’ve made peace with it.” They close their eyes. “He doesn’t need me.”

Dean shakes his head. He tries to get himself to concentrate on getting out, but he can’t. The voices are overwhelming. His thoughts are overwhelming. He thinks of everything that’s happened since Cas died. He thinks of what Eileen said.

“And if nothing we found worked, we would’ve helped you move on. You just had to let us.”

Maybe he could’ve moved on. Maybe he could’ve just opened up and let people help him. He probably would’ve eventually. He probably would’ve found a way to live with it.

But he doesn’t want to.

“Cas, I love you.”

Just like that, the words are out. Words that he took so long to say. Words that kept him awake some nights. Words that he wishes he’d said earlier. The truth. Cas opens his eyes. He looks like he’s going to ask a million questions, and Dean has to say something before he does.

“What, d’you want me to say it in Spanish, too?” he smiles just slightly. “I love you.” He repeats it, not just for Cas, but for himself too. It feels so good to say out loud. But Cas shakes his head. Dean’s smile falters.

"Dean, I...I don’t know how you got here, but you need to leave.” Cas shoves him back, but Dean manages to grab his arm again and pull himself closer.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says, and he means it. His grip tightens on Cas’ arm. “You hear me? I’m not leaving you again.”

Cas blinks slowly. “Dean, no.”

“As if it wasn’t loud enough…” comes a voice. The needle in Dean’s stomach twists, and he turns to look around for the owner. He grips Cas’ arm and the scythe more tightly. The Empty speaks again. “I didn’t think you’d come.” It tilts its head as it sits in its throne when Dean spots it. He feels cold. He freezes. “Didn’t think anyone would try to get poor little Clarence out of here.”

Dean stares. He can’t get his muscles to cooperate for a few seconds. The reality of all this hits him again. He wasted too much time, he should’ve been trying to get out. He should’ve been focusing. He looks back at Cas, pulls him close, before closing his eyes and trying to focus on getting out. He tries to drown out the screaming. He tries to ignore the needle in his stomach that keeps twisting. He tries to get home. He needs to bring Cas home. This has to work, because he’s so close, he’s so close and he can’t fail now.

He feels like his chest is collapsing, and he gasps for air. “Fuck-” He opens his eyes, looking at them. He holds their gaze for a moment, and their lips are moving, but he can’t hear. He closes his eyes, tries to steady himself with the scythe, before turning around and pushing his hand forward in the Empty’s direction. It screams. He can breathe again. The voices and yelling seem to get louder, and Dean can’t concentrate on anything. All he can think of his running. So he grabs Cas’ hand and starts to run. He doesn’t know to where. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to buy themselves time by running.

He just runs.

Chapter Text

castiel.

There’s no time to think of Dean’s reciprocation of love as they run through the dark. The notion tries to bring itself to the front of Castiel’s mind, but he forces it back. He forces everything back: the lack of logic in running, the regrets he had been dreaming about only moments before. He focuses on moving forward and holding onto Dean’s hand, gripping it tightly. As tightly as he had held onto Dean when he had pulled him from Hell. If not tighter. He wonders momentarily if he’s hurting Dean, but neither of them say anything about it; they simply run. Their legs carry them faster and more forcefully to nowhere. There’s no escaping this way. And still, they run.

The feeling of being ripped away from Dean brings a sharp sting that begins at a singular point in Castiel’s hand and then blossoms and expands to the rest of their body. They try to hold on, fingers struggling helplessly to stay tangled with Dean’s, managing to stay connected for just a moment longer, before being brutally torn apart. “Dean!” is all he can think to say in the few fractions of a second that he has as he’s pulled away from him. He hears the faint sound of his name said simultaneously by Dean.

“Cas!”

They keep their eyes on him, though they want to close them because of the pain. They watch Dean disappear behind a wall of black as they fly back, separating the two of them in a cruel, infinitesimal moment of time.

They fall.

The ground, if it can be called the ground in this place, seems more solid than anything Castiel has ever felt before when he reaches it. Pain explodes anew through his body, and he finally closes his eyes. It takes him longer than he needs to get up. An overwhelming sense of confusion and dread and distress joins the pain in running through him. He’s only just woken up, one of the first things he had seen was Dean. And something about him was different. But there hadn’t been time for questions, and there still isn’t time for questions. There’s no time to wonder where Dean procured Death’s scythe. There’s no time to theorize as to how Dean got here. There’s no time to think of how he thought he was going to get the two of them out. Castiel needs to find him.

They stand, ignoring the urge to fall over again as they look over their surroundings. “Dean?” they call out, receiving no answer. The barriers of nothingness that have risen leave only one route to go, and Castiel takes it, despite the eerie realization that the Empty most likely wants them to go this way. The yelling of demons and angels that were nowhere to be seen, only heard, is still audible, but only just. “Dean?” they call again, following the walls, turning left, then right, then returning because of a dead end. Maybe they shouldn’t try to find him. Maybe he’ll leave without Castiel. But, surprisingly, they find that unlikely. So they search for their love in the darkness, calling his name, willing him to be alright.

dean.

The scythe drops from Dean’s hand when he hits the ground. All the air leaves his lungs for a second. His first thought is that he’s not holding onto Cas’ hand anymore. He tries to push away the panic that comes with that notion. He can’t lose him again. He won’t. But he can’t let that break him down right now. He just needs to find Cas again, and get them both out of there. His second thought is that he probably shouldn’t let the Empty get ahold of the scythe he’s just dropped. So he reaches for it and scrambles to his feet, looking around and trying to find what wrenched him and Cas apart. All he sees is black, walling him in on all sides but one. So he’s in a maze now. Probably on his way to wherever the Empty wants him to go. Alone. Even the screaming voices from before seem quieter now.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Cas?” he yells, starting to wander through the dark and down the narrow halls of the Empty’s maze. He doesn’t get an answer. The needle in his stomach twists and pushes deeper, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s about to be attacked or because the impending dread of losing Cas is still rising in his chest. “Cas!” he yells again, louder. His voice cracks without him meaning it to. He’s going to lose them again, and after everything, there’s nothing he can do. The thought makes Dean want to cry, but he won’t let himself. He needs to find Cas. He needs to find Cas. “Dammit, Cas, where are you?!”

“Dean!” comes the gravelly flow of Cas’ voice, and Dean turns. He sees them walking towards him, and he wants to drown in the wave of relief that washes over him.

“Cas-” he says breathlessly. They get closer, and Dean reaches out with his free hand to place it on their shoulder. He closes his eyes tight without another word and tries to focus on leaving again, because they need to now. He focuses on the bunker, on getting there, on being safe. Cas is still getting slowly closer, and Dean can’t focus, as hard as he tries. He opens his eyes. Cas’ face is inches away. Dean wants to kiss him, but there’s no time. “Cas, you-” He pushes Dean backwards until his back hits one of the solid black walls. The needle gives a painful stab. Something’s wrong. He's going to kiss him, but something’s wrong. “We need to go-”

Cas’ hand is on the scythe before Dean can say anything else, and they pull away from him with a hard yank. He almost lets go. Almost. Cas’ eyes look darker than they should when Dean meets them. They both stare for a moment. And Cas pulls hard at the scythe again. Dean grabs it with his other hand, too, and his brain takes two seconds before it clicks.

This isn’t Cas.

This is the Empty.

Dean’s back hits the ground, and he can barely focus on what the hell’s happening. He just holds the weapon as hard as he can, ignoring the thrashing, the jerking, the pulling and pushing, the repetitive “give me, give me, give me”. He won’t lose this. He’ll die if that happens, and he won’t be able to bring Cas, the real Cas, back. The metaphorical needle twists, and Dean screams as something sharp and very real jabs into his side at the same time. One hand loses its grip on the scythe, but he won’t let go, and he stares through blurred vision at the image of Cas hitting him and pulling at the thing in his hands and hitting him again. But it’s not Cas. He needs to get Cas.

He gathers whatever strength he can and pushes the hand that’s slipped forward. Fake-Cas falls back, and Dean struggles to his feet a moment later. And he runs again, as quickly as he can, ignoring the jarring pain in his side. “Cas…!” he gasps out, trying to clear his vision. “Fuck...Cas, where are you?!”

Something sharp hits right above his left shoulder blade, and Dean screams again as he hits the ground. He keeps his grip unyieldingly tight on his weapon as the Empty pulls and strikes him again and again. He’s going to die. No matter how tightly he holds on, he’s going to die. The Empty probably doesn’t the stupid scythe to kill him. And for the first time in a long time, Dean’s scared of dying. He’s thought about a normal life, but he’s never really wanted one until recently. And he’s so close. He’s so close to bringing Cas back. So close to bringing them and raising Jack with them. So close to waking up in the mornings next to them and kissing them goodnight. So close to teaching them and Jack to cook. So close to visiting Elieen and Sam on weekends, having family dinners with them, to meeting their kids, to talking about their very happy, very normal lives. So close.

He screams, and not because the Empty stabs him again, but because he’s forcing the scythe forwards as hard as he can without letting go. The handle hits it hard, and the blows and jerking stop for a moment. Dean doesn’t have time to think. He just lets go with one hand and pulls to the side with the other as fast and as forcefully as he can. He won’t let that get taken away from him. He won’t die. He won’t let Cas die. He’ll get them out.

Fake-Cas stops moving completely. The dark blue of its eyes comes into focus as Dean looks at it. The blade is sticking into the side of its neck, and Dean takes a moment to find more strength, before pulling the blade again and bringing it the rest of the way through. The Empty’s head doesn’t fall. It just slowly melts into thick dark liquid, some of which spills over Dean’s clothes, painting them black. The rest of it follows, along with the walls surrounding them. Dean can’t move. He can’t find his breath for a moment. When he does, he sits up slowly. He tries to ignore the violent shaking his body is doing as he does. He sees Cas a ways away. And through the pain in his shoulder and side, he feels the sensation of the needle in his stomach stop moving and twisting. That’s how he knows this is real.

Cas is real.

castiel.

As the walls lower and the distraught voices of dead angels and demons grow louder once more, Castiel’s search for Dean becomes increasingly frantic. Something must’ve happened for them to disappear, and whatever it is, it must involve Dean. Castiel moves quickly, silently praying to no one in particular that he is alive. In the back of their mind, they know that Dean stands no chance. With or without the scythe, the Empty would win. But they refuse to believe that Dean is dead. He can’t be dead, not like this. Dean cannot die in an attempt to save them. They aren’t worth his life. He should have just moved on without them, leaving them here. Despite the terrible nature of this place, knowing Dean died while trying to save them is worse than any regret.

“Cas…!” comes the strangled cry of Dean’s voice, and despite its quietness compared to the other voices, it cuts neatly through everything. Castiel turns, and he sees Dean on the ground. Their eyes meet as he runs towards him, not holding back, not thinking of any dangers that could be nearby, of how this could be a trap. He simply runs, and he throws himself to the ground in front of Dean and wraps him in his arms. Dean is quivering, and Castiel closes his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, because there’s nothing he can think of to say. The questions in his mind are gone. Relief steals away his words. The two of them stay there, wordlessly, unmoving, and Castiel doesn’t open their eyes when they feel the emptiness of the air changing.

They just hold onto Dean.

And Dean holds onto them.

Chapter Text

dean.

They don’t make it to the bunker.

The air suddenly feels more full as they leave the Empty. It smells different, full of nature and pollution and everything else that Dean doesn’t usually notice is there, but he notices it now. It’s awful. He loves it. There are drops of something falling on them, and he opens his eyes. They’re at the side of a road. It’s raining from a light grey sheet of sky. The occasional fold in the clouds paints the sheet a darker shade of grey in some parts. The grass beneath them is wet and scratchy. The air’s cold. Cold. Cold like the floor when...

Cas.

He pulls back from the embrace they’ve been sharing, just enough to see Cas’ face. He wants to see him, look at him now that they’re safe. He’s still shaking like an earthquake’s inside of him, and the pain in his side and shoulder feels almost unbearable, but he doesn’t think about it. All he thinks about is Cas. He watches Cas’ eyes open slowly and meet his own. His breath stops as he stares into the icy blue. He wants to kiss him. And he's desperate. He wants Cas. He wants to hold him, to be close to him, to never let him go. He wants. He needs. But when he finally kisses him, it’s gentle. Feather light. It’s damp and soft and warm. It’s theirs.

And there's no need for desperation anymore.

jack.

It’s been four hours since Dean left. Jack felt him leave somehow. Something about him had felt different since he became Death. Jack couldn’t say what. And they couldn’t say how they felt it. Only that they did. And that it had left suddenly. When they had left their room, Dean had been gone.

They shift in their seat. They’re trying to focus on reading and searching for a way to summon Death. They, Sam, and Eileen have been looking since Dean left. Just in case he doesn’t come back. So far they have nothing other than the binding spell that they can't do. Jack is scared. They can’t concentrate. It’s their fault, and now Dean will die like Cas. Because of them.

The bunker door opens noisily. Jack stands so fast that their chair falls back. They move into the next room and stop near the map table when they see. Dean and Cas are starting down the stairs. Jack thinks they’re dreaming. They stare. Their fear is replaced with awe and confusion. Cas and Dean make it to the bottom of the stairs as Jack steps forward. Dean sets the scythe in one hand against the railing. They all stop moving and stare. And then Jack moves forward and hugs the two of them. It’s wet. They don’t care. Their eyes close tightly when one of Cas’ arms hugs back. Dean’s arm comes a moment after.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

Cas’ hand runs soothingly up and down their back. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, Jack...none of it is.”

They trust the words. Cas wouldn’t lie to them. And they don’t know what else to do. So they believe it. It's a yes day.

sam.

Sam feels like a deer in headlights as he stares at a soaking wet Dean and Cas. He can’t do anything else, just watch them as they hug Jack, wanting to hug both of them himself. He can’t move until he feels Eileen’s hand on his arm, and it shatters the thin glass of shock that keeps him in place. He moves forward just as Jack pulls back and Dean and Cas let go of each other, and he moves past them to wrap his arms quickly and tightly around his brother. Dean winces slightly, but doesn’t move away. Sam then looks at Cas, a mix of feelings rising inside of him as he smiles slightly at them. They smile back, a tired but sincere-looking smile that Sam has missed. “Cas…” he breathes out softly, wondering if they’re going to disappear in a moment. If both them and Dean are going to disappear. They don’t, however, and he hugs Cas, too. They hug back for a moment, before the two of them take a small step back.

“Dean’s hurt,” Cas says gently, placing his hand in a way that looks so caring on Dean’s shoulder. “I healed him to the best of my ability, but he may need to get it looked at.”

Dean snorts a laugh, taking Cas’ hand in his and moving it off his shoulder. To Sam’s surprise, he doesn’t let it go after. “I’m fine, don’t listen to them...” he mumbles, and Sam blinks slowly, before smiling understandingly. He can’t help it, after everything. Dean was stupid and rash and a damn fool, but he’s happy, and Cas is back, and it all seems to okay. He doesn’t know what to say, so he pulls them all into a hug instead. Eileen steps closer, and Sam pulls her into the hug as well. Jack joins soon after.

It’s going to be okay.

castiel.

"Hello, Dean...” Castiel murmurs as he stands in the door frame to Dean’s room. Dean looks up from his seat on the bed where he’s been examining his injured side. He smiles in a way that seems to brighten the world, and Castiel’s own mouth moves of its own accord to smile back.

“Hey, Cas..” Dean says softly. He’s wearing different jeans now, Castiel notices, along with a dark grey shirt that is pulled up to expose part of his torso. Castiel has also changed, borrowing from Dean’s wardrobe, for the first time. Dean had said he hadn’t minded. They’ve only just finished changing; the last time they saw each other was a few minutes ago, after spending a moment explaining and talking to Sam, Eileen, and Jack. But the time away from Dean feels like years, and Castiel suspects that perhaps Dean feels the same.

“How are you feeling?” they ask, taking a step into the room. Dean blows a raspberry, and it resounds through the room and very nearly makes them laugh.

“That’s not what you came here to say, is it?” he says with a grin that could easily be the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen besides his soul. “‘Cause I killed the Empty with a fuckin’ scythe and got you back. I’m obviously doing amazing.” There’s no sarcasm in his words that Castiel can find, and he nods once as silence fills the room for a time. A comfortable silence. They watch each other through it, and he falls in love with Dean for the one-thousand-and-seventy-third time. Give or take. 

“So you…" Castiel begins slowly, averting his eyes.

"Am Death,” Dean finishes for him, and Castiel looks up at him when he stands. “Yeah, very sexy of me, I know."

Castiel shakes his head and smiles softly at Dean’s comment. "I was going to say love me too,” he says quietly, and he has the sudden thought that maybe that was just a way to make him be silent so he and Dean could get out. It’s an irrational thought, but it exists nonetheless. Many thoughts are irrational, and yet still exist. Some of them end up being true.

"...Oh.” Dean’s eyes shift elsewhere. The freckles that dot his cheeks and the bridge of his nose like sand on a beach grow clearer as his face reddens slightly. “Well. Yeah. Obviously."

Castiel nods once as that particular thought is disproven. They study the specks of sand upon his face, before they move deeper into the room. They remind themself to stop, before further reminding themself that they don’t need to. There’s no reason to hold back, for they love Dean. And Dean loves them, too. After twelve years, one hundred thousand hours of thinking about him, of wondering whether or not it would be okay to hold him, of wishing he would feel the same, but knowing he never could, he does.

It’s impossible.

It’s a miracle.

It’s real.

If nothing else had been until Chuck’s defeat, which Dean had spoken about as they had walked back to the bunker (he'd been too weak to teleport them there), this had been. This had not been part of the story God had written. Castiel’s love for Dean was spontaneous. It was unplanned. It was unintentional. And it’s beautiful, knowing that Dean’s love for him exists and is the same.

He kisses Dean in a fragile way that makes him come to life. A way that makes him ache for more. A way that promises whatever is next. A way that Dean reciprocates.

No one else is alive for that moment in time. There is only them, and the future.

Chapter Text

day 73 ac.

7 days since castiel’s return.

castiel.

Neither Castiel nor Dean need to sleep, though they both lie in bed together every night since their return from The Empty. They haven’t spoken much about it, or much about anything of importance. They make small talk, for the most part. Castiel wants to discuss their relationship more, but he doesn’t want to make Dean feel uncomfortable on the subject. It’s delicate, and Dean is far from being emotionally aware and healthy. Castiel simply waits for him to be ready. He knows he will be eventually.

Dean’s wounds are healing slowly; now that he’s Death, they are more complicated and difficult to heal completely, even more so with Castiel’s weakened abilities. They still try, however, gently placing their fingers against the sensitive injuries and willing them to heal as they kiss him softly. They do this once before they lie down for the night, and once when the day begins, when the sun comes over the horizon and paints the sky shades of red and yellow with gentle strokes, as if by a paintbrush. Then, they both go to watch the sunrises. It’s Dean’s idea; Castiel has always preferred sunsets. Something about them seems more intricate and beautiful in its design. The ending of a day, but not the ending of everything. The ending that allows the beginning of something new. That doesn’t take away from the beauty of the sunrise, however. Castiel lets Dean know that the sky looks wonderful every time, and Dean responds with a ‘yeah’ or an ‘I know’. He smiles. Castiel smiles, too. Those are the only words spoken.

On this particular morning, as they watch the sun rise from their places on the hood of the Impala with intertwined fingers, Dean speaks first. “Uh…Cas?” he says, his voice gentle and on the border of breaking. When Castiel looks at him, he’s not watching the sky. His jadeite eyes are studying the ground beneath their feet.

“Yes?” Castiel responds just as gently, bringing Dean’s hand to his lips and kissing the back of his palm lightly. Dean looks at him, smiling only just, before his gaze returns to the ground.

“How long...how long have you…” He doesn’t finish the question, but Castiel understands. Dean is ready to talk.

“I realized in several instances that I was in love with you,” they say, smiling at the thought of every moment that comes to mind. Of the moment in the beautiful room. Of the first time they heard Dean genuinely laugh. Of when they were human after the fall of the angels, and they felt things in a more human way. Of so many more fixed points when they realized and fell in love with Dean all over again. “I think I realize it every day.” They sigh softly, and they slowly gravitate towards Dean and lean their head on his shoulder. “But I think I loved you even before then,” they admit after a moment. “I think I loved you when I first pulled you from Hell, because...I saw you. I saw the damage, and the destruction, and the darkness of all you had done...but through it, I saw you. Without any walls. You were vulnerable.”

Dean shifts slightly, and his hand begins to shake in Castiel’s. He squeezes it gently, wanting to let him know that whatever he feels is alright as he continues.

“I remember leading a garrison into Hell, and we fought as we searched for your soul.” They look back up at the sky, the red and yellow slowly drifting into celestial blue. “We fought for days. It was a battle that seemed to have no end. We thought we would never find you, and then I saw you. And you were…” They pause, and their eyes fall to the ground along with Dean’s. “You were beautiful.”

Dean laughs slightly, and the noise is devoid of joy. It’s not a cold laugh, either, but rather full of disbelief. “C’mon, Cas…” he says with a shake of his head. “I get that you...maybe you think that now. Somehow, after everything. I guess just ‘cause you ‘nd me’ve known each other so long, but back then?” His voice trembles. Castiel’s heart breaks. “No way you thought that. Especially right after- That was right after everything in Hell. After all that I…”

Castiel tilts his head to look at him, the hand not holding Dean’s reaching up to gently cup his face. “Dean…” he murmurs as he drops his hand and pushes off the hood of the car. Dean’s fingers try to maintain their grip on Castiel’s hand for a moment longer, before eventually letting go. Castiel stands in front of him, observing him, his thumb brushing over Dean’s cheek in a calming motion. The look on Dean’s face is familiar; it is the face of a man hiding his pain for too long. Dean wears this face often, when he thinks no one is looking. And perhaps that’s what Castiel is: no one. Maybe that’s why Dean allows this face to show sometimes when he knows Castiel sees him. Maybe. But maybe that doesn’t matter, because Dean loves him, anyway. “You...are so much more than the wars you’ve been a part of.” He presses his forehead to Dean’s, closing his eyes. “You are more than your mistakes.”

Dean is silent. Castiel follows him into the silence. Neither of them say a word until Castiel opens their eyes and pulls away just slightly. Their gaze goes up to the sky, now completely blue with thin rivulets of white clouds. Dean pulls them close to his body suddenly, and they look back down at him. Shining green eyes meet their own. They are breathless. “I’m sorry,” Dean says, and he continues before Castiel can ask why. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop you. I wish I could’ve.”

“Dean, we’ve already-”

“Just let me talk, okay? You already said stuff, just let me talk.”

Castiel goes silent.

“You uh...you heard my prayer. Back in Purgatory. You know that I’m sorry, and you know I get so fuckin’...furious, and I can’t help it, but…” Dean pauses. “I didn’t ask you to stay because I couldn’t. I should’ve, but in that...that second, I couldn’t. Cas...I was angry and I was scared, and I was just thinking, ‘He’s gonna leave anyway. Everyone leaves. If he really loves me, he’ll forgive me for saying that. If he really cares, he’ll stay’. I-I couldn’t ask you to stay, I just needed you to. I needed you to want to stay.”

Castiel aches with each word from Dean’s mouth, and they are wordless for a moment. They wanted to just leave that in the past. But if it’s going to be addressed, then they are going to address it as well. “And I needed,” they begin slowly, averting their gaze from Dean’s once-again downcast eyes, “for you to say you wanted me.” He looks back at Dean. Their eyes meet again; once more, Castiel is breathless. He wonders if he’ll ever breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says quietly after a while. “I’m saying it now. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I...I love you.”

It’s the first time Dean’s said it since his admission in the Empty. They’ve both acted as if they say it every day, as if they’ve been together in this way for years, and Dean has admitted to loving Castiel in other ways, but he hasn’t said the words again until now. Castiel exhales slowly. He forgets how to speak every language he knows. He just stares until Dean kisses him. Dean hasn’t initiated a kiss since their first one. And this kiss is harder than any other they’ve ever shared, but Castiel fuses into it, and they move together with Dean as the new sunlight smiles on them from above. They know, in the back of their mind, that this is a beginning. The sun has set on the past. They’re working through the night of their despairs to the sunrise, to begin something new.

day 83 ac.

16 days since castiel’s return.

dean.

“Are you ready?”

Dean looks Cas in the eye as they speak. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to. Is he ready? Does he really want to do this? Is this a good idea to begin with? They’ve been talking about this a lot in the past few days. It’s kinda awesome and kinda terrifying how much talking they get done now that neither of them have to sleep. Awesome because it means hours of compliments and kisses and things that make them smile. Terrifying because it means there’s more time to fill up, which ends with lots of emotional shit and crying and goddammit, Dean has never really been this open with anyone. He’s not used to sharing what he thinks, unless it’s vitally important or it comes out in a storm of red hot anger. He’s not used to just talking. Which is why telling Cas about this scared him so much.

Telling Cas that he thinks they should get rid of their grace.

Well, Dean’s grace, assuming Death has grace. Cas’d said after Dean told him a couple days ago that he wanted to get rid of his, too. “I’m more human than angel at this point, anyway,” he had said, “I think I like being human more.” He’d smiled as Dean looked at him. Dean had told him that it didn’t matter if other angels thought he wasn’t angel enough or whatever. Cas had said it was fine. He said he didn’t want to live forever, anyway.

Dean hesitates. “You don’t have to do it…” he mumbles after a moment. He doesn’t want Cas to do it and regret it later. Doesn’t want Cas to give up a part of themself and then wish they hadn’t. But they nod.

“I want to,” they say, cupping Dean’s cheek with a touch that’s so gentle it could kill. “I promise. I’m just waiting for you, but take your time.”

Dean nods. His own hand finds its way to Cas’ against his face. Ever since Cas got back, they’ve been like magnets. Planets pulling each other in with their gravity. It’s ridiculous and cheesy and sappy and weird and something Dean never thought he’d have, but he’s here now. And so is Cas.

He closes his eyes. As cool as the things he can do as Death are, he can’t handle that. He had an experience with reaping, and he doesn’t want to do that ever again. He’s already done some things that probably have cosmic consequences with his abilities. But whatever. It’s not that big of a deal. He just sort of made sure Ellen and Jo got out of Hell and into Heaven with the help of Rowena and did his best to erase the worst memories from there. But really, how cosmic can the consequences be for that? Sure, he would’ve done more if he could. Like save Crowley from the Empty if he had died in the right universe or get Benny back if he were still in Purgatory. Maybe Dean cried just a little when he realized that neither were an option. But hey, a win is a win. Jo and Ellen are in Heaven, and so far, there’s nothing terrible happening because of it. Last time he was threatened with cosmic consequences, nothing happened that he couldn’t fix, so it’s fine. He’s done having people tell him what to do, anyways. He doesn’t listen to anyone, no entities, no fear, no dead dad’s words...none of it matters anymore. It’s hard, but he’s working on it. He’s free. So yeah, maybe he is ready. He definitely doesn’t want to be Death anymore. And it’s kinda romantic, in a way. Becoming human together with his angel boyfriend. He smiles.

“I’m ready.”

day 112 ac.

45 days since castiel’s return.

jack.

They all packed last night. It was weird. The bunker was the only home Jack had ever known. But this is good. This is moving on. They didn’t understand at first. But Cas had explained. They weren’t going to hunt anymore. They were leaving the bunker. Bobby, Charlie, and Stevie were going to stay here now. But Jack and their family were leaving. Dean had stopped them just before they left. He had led Jack, Cas, and Eileen to the table in the library. He pulled out a knife and pointed to where his initials were carved next to Sam’s and Mary’s. They carved in their names beside them. It feels like an ending. But it’s also a beginning for something new. Cas said that.

Jack has their eyes closed as they sit in the back of the Impala. Dean has been driving for almost four hours. They’re going to the Missouri countryside. They’ve bought two houses that are pretty close to each other. Dean says it’s nice there. Sam and Eileen are asleep next to Jack. Sam and Cas switched the shotgun spot half an hour ago. Dean insisted.

Jack can’t sleep. They pretend to. They’re about to ask when they’re stopping again. They’re hungry. But they hear Dean speak.

“So uh...how’re you?” he asks. Cas hums quietly. Jack opens their eyes just a little.

“Dean, what is it?” Cas asks in reply.

“What?”

“You’re stalling because there’s something you want to ask but don’t know how.”

“Me? Nah, not me…”

“Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I was just...wondering. Once we get to the house and settle in ‘nd shit. I was wondering if…”

“If?”

“If you wanna go out,” Dean says so fast that Jack almost doesn’t understand. Cas doesn’t say anything for a while. Jack opens their eyes just a little more and sees him kiss Dean’s cheek. The car swerves a little.

“I assume you mean on a date- watch the road, Dean- and not just stepping outside to watch the sunrise?”

“Wh- I can’t watch the damn road when you kiss me out of nowhere, Cas!”

Cas laughs. “Alright, alright!”

“And yes, a fuckin’ date, this ain’t a Shakespeare play...”

“You’re the cutest.”

“I’m not cute, I’m adorable.”

“Of course you are. And yes. I’d love to go out with you.” Cas leans over and leans their head on Dean’s shoulder. The car swerves a little again. “You’re lucky the road’s not busy.”

“Shut up.” Dean turns and kisses the top of his head. Jack smiles. It’s a yes day.

A beginning of something new.

day 351 ac.

284 days since castiel’s return.

sam.

Most things get tiring after a few weeks of having them every day, but waking up next to Eileen is something that Sam will never get tired of, as long as he lives. He loves waking up to her looking at him with her gorgeous Bambi eyes, and he loves when he wakes up first and gets to watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, and Sam falls in love with her every morning they’re together. Sometimes Sam stays at a hotel closer to the city, because he’s back in college now. He’s finishing his degree after all this time, and honestly, it feels great. It’s normal, and that’s what he is now. Him and Eileen are normal. They still help out at the bunker on some weekends, helping to train new hunters and make them as ready as possible. They make sure that the newest hunters know what they’re getting into, and if they don’t think they can handle that, then him and Eileen help them find a place and settle down. Same with hunters who’ve been at it for a while, who are ready to settle down. They help them do that—with some difficulty, because a lot of them are stubborn—and they check up on them every once in a while. It’s something Sam loves, and Eileen seems to like it, too. They’re both good at it, but Eileen especially is a natural leader. They’re able to have a normal life and still help hunters when they can.

A knock on the door makes Sam look away from his beyond-perfect girlfriend—soon to be fiance, if all works out well—and towards the doorway of their bedroom. He sits up slowly, trying not to disturb Eileen, but she always wakes up when he moves, so he doesn’t know why he tries. They smile at each other for a moment, only until there’s another knock on the door. He signs to her about it, before pulling on a shirt and sweatpants and heading out the door. He stops by Jack’s room in this house first. They’re still asleep. They switch between Dean and Cas’ house and this one when it comes to where they spend their time and sleep, and Sam couldn’t be more thankful for them. They make him want kids of his own someday.

Sam’s careful to look outside to see who it is as he reaches the door before opening it. Hunter instincts, probably. He doesn’t think that will ever leave him. It’s stuck in his brain forever. But maybe they’ll fade a little after a while. Maybe it’s better to have them just in case.

He smiles when he sees who’s there, and he opens the door.

dean.

“Why does it smell like burning in here?” Dean asks as he wanders into the kitchen. He’s wearing one of Cas’ trench coats and his hotdog sweatpants, and he’s tired. But it’s not a bad tired. It’s a good tired, because he got home late last night from work and just cuddled with Cas until he fell asleep. It’s something that never gets old, honestly, and he loves doing it whenever he has the chance. He’s the little spoon, though he’ll never tell that to Sam. It’s comforting as ever. Like being wrapped in feathers.

“Probably because you’re a firefighter,” Cas retorts from where he’s standing in front of the stove, his fingers sticky with batter. Dean grins. Of course Cas’d be trying to cook. And of course he’d burn it, because Cas really can’t cook for shit.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Dean says, tapping his chin with one finger. “I think it’s because you’re hot as hell.”

Cas gives him a look, half between disapproving and flustered. “You’re confusing me with yourself again.”

Dean rolls his eyes, still grinning wide as he walks up to them and wraps his arms around their waist. “Yeah, whatever…” he mumbles against the back of his shoulder. Cas tries to push his arms away.

“Dean, you’re going to make me mess these up worse than they already are.”

Dean laughs. “Impossible, angel.”

Cas turns around to look at him. “Let me go and go get the honey.”

“Mmm, we’re out of honey,” Dean says. Cas pushes lightly at his chest.

“I collected some this morning,” they snap, but it’s playful and kind. Dean kisses the tip of their nose.

“Dean!”

“Cas!” He kisses him. He kisses him and feels like he’s been carried to cloud nine.

“If you two would stop making out, then you’d know that we’ve been knocking on the door for like a minute,” Sam’s voice says suddenly, and Dean pulls back. His brother’s standing a few feet away. His eyes roll.

“Please, as if you and Eileen didn’t do the do last night.”

Sam’s eyes roll right back. “Shut up and put on a damn shirt, Dean...Claire and Kaia are here.”

Dean smiles and glances at Cas, who’s smiling that smile that makes his nose crinkle just a little. It’s the best thing Dean’s ever seen, and it’s contagious as anything. He hears Sam walk out of the kitchen, and he just keeps staring at Cas, because he’s just so distracting. Even after all this time, Dean can’t believe this is real sometimes. That Cas loves him. That he’s with Cas. That they left that life behind, the life that Dean was so sure was going to kill him a couple years ago. The life he was thrown into. The life he never wanted but had to deal with until he was convinced he did. And look at him now. He’s happy. He hit two weeks sober yesterday. It’s not much, really, but Cas seemed really excited about it. And Dean can’t help but be proud of himself. Maybe that’s stupid. His dad’d say that was stupid. That a real man can handle his drinks, or something like that. But his dad’s not here. And no one can stop Dean from doing this and being proud about it.

“Dean, you really should put on a shirt,” Cas says, and Dean realizes he’s staring right back at him. “And maybe you can call Miracle back, I let him out this morning.” They’re both smiling like idiots. Dean manages to pull away.

“Fine, fine…” he mumbles. Cas kisses his cheek, and Dean feels like he could fly. He couldn’t be happier in this moment. He knows it won’t last. Him and Cas have a shit ton of issues that are always going to be there. But they’re gonna help pick each other back up. Sam and Eileen are gonna help pick each other back up. Jack is going to help. They’re all there to help each other. Family. 

“I love you…” Cas says as Dean walks towards their room. Dean glances back at them, smiling. The sort of smile that he can feel inside of him and that spreads through his whole body, embedding itself into his veins. The smile that usually only happens when it comes to Cas. The smile that he knows somehow, deep in the pit of his stomach, will be with him for a long time. It reminds him he’s alive. It reminds him Cas is with him. It reminds him…

“I love you, too.”