“Dean…” Castiel looked at his hunter with a look that screamed be okay. Just please, please be all right. Dean was lying on their stiff bed in their crappy hotel room; curled around himself, hugging his knees, Dean hid his face from Castiel. He hadn’t moved in days.
“Dean, you’re withering away. I – I know you miss him. I do too, but…” he walked over and sat at the edge of the bed, still unable to see Dean’s face. “But you can’t just… you can’t just stop living. There are things to kill, demons to hunt, people to save. You know he would have wanted you to keep going.” “Well, he’s not here, Cas. He doesn’t want anything,” Dean whispered in a gravelled voice; he did not move even his eyes from the same spot on the wall that he had been staring at for the past week. Cas tried to reach over and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. He wanted to do something- he needed to. He couldn’t stand to watch Dean slowly kill himself. He wished that his hunter would look at him like he did before – like he could never get happier than when he was with him, like nothing would ever go wrong: he wanted to be able to bring Sam back. But he couldn’t. He just wished he was enough. “Dean,” he started. “No, Cas,” Dean shot back, sitting up to face Castiel. “I can’t just ‘keep going.’ There’s nothing to keep me going anymore. I don’t have anything to live for. I can’t do it, Cas! I can’t do it without Sammy.” Cas was surprised. Dean didn’t ever yell. Not at him. He raised his voice, maybe. Never did he yell. And Cas didn’t yell back. Dean took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. Castiel saw a tear fall and he moved to wrap Dean in his arms. “I really can’t do this without him, Cas.” Dean sobbed into his angel’s shoulder as he shook, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t know how I could.” Castiel wanted to get angry – didn’t Dean know that he was here for him? That he has to keep going because without Dean, Cas wouldn’t be anything. Cas missed Sam, too. Didn’t Dean see that? He wanted to yell at Dean for being selfish. He wanted to scream and throw things to get Dean to see that he was here for him. But he never did. He just held Dean while he sobbed and blamed himself for Sammy’s death. Cas shushed him, lightly drew circles on his back, assured him that it wasn't his fault. He did everything that he could do, but it was just his time to go. Dean ignored him because if he had just gotten to Sam sooner or hadn't let Sammy go on his own or even if he had suggested another case, then maybe, just maybe, Sammy would still be alive. Eventually, Dean had stopped blaming himself and was just crying into Cas’s chest, still in the same position they were in when Cas first embraced Dean. Neither of them could tell how long they stayed like that, but Dean had fallen asleep against Castiel, and Cas had laid them both down on the bed and fallen asleep holding Dean, his tear-stained shirt sticking to him as he drifted off. * * * Dean woke up, eyes achy and the back of his throat dry from crying all night. He reached out but quickly discovered that he was alone. Panicked, he shot up and called out loud enough for the whole floor to hear him. “Cas!” His voice was scratchy and needy, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t see anyone. Had last night been a dream? Was Castiel gone, too? Did he leave because Dean said he wasn’t something to live for? Had he scared away the only thing he had left? “Castiel!” Cas rushed out of the bathroom. “I’m here, I’m here,” he called, running to hold Dean. Without hesitation, Dean stood up and embraced Castiel. “I thought you were gone, too,” Dean sighed into Castiel’s neck. “No, I will never leave you. Don’t you ever worry about that.”
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May 2014
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