Chapter Text
Some nights he can barely breathe from the grief. The sobs tear through him in waves while it feels like his chest may rip apart. He gives into it. The consuming hopelessness. He will scream and sob into his pillow until he has nothing left to give. And head pounding, eyes swollen, he will finally rest. But those are not the worst nights.
Some days he forgets. He will find himself doing some mundane task and he will realize he forgot to notice the aching hole in his chest where love used to reside. A brief respite from the pain. He will awake, as if from a dream, and a stab of guilt will coarse through him, followed by the fear that he may forget Cas. His face. His smile. He will close his eyes and try to remember. To find his constant companion: the grief that reminds him he was loved. But those are not the worst days.
There are times when he can almost find peace. It taunts him, with the promise of a future where the pain is nearly tolerable. He will see something beautiful or funny and think: Cas would love that. And instead of a stab of pain, he will feel a twinge of bittersweet affection in the place where his heart once lived. And if he closes his eyes, he can almost feel Cas standing beside him. Those are not the worst times. In fact, they may be the best. The happiest he is these days. The times where he can almost accept that the price of the love he felt is the pain he feels now.
Then there are the moments of rage. Nobody prepares you for the anger. The anger isn't socially acceptable. Not fit for public consumption. Grieving is supposed to be hushed voices and quiet platitudes. Maybe fresh hot tears. How could you leave me like that? We were supposed to have more time. Life was supposed to be different. Sometimes he just screams at whoever may be listening out there: Why? He wants to throw things. He wants to break things. To make things on the outside look like he feels on the inside. Irretrievably broken. And he knows he shouldn't be angry at the women talking about their favorite show in line at the Gas-N-Sip. He wants to scream. How can you talk about something so stupid when the world is broken? When my world is gone? He definitely shouldn't hate the couple holding hands and stealing kisses on the sidewalk in front of him. Shouldn't feel that spike of white hot rage tear through him. Part of him wants to give into it. It's easier to be mad than to feel the overwhelming flood of sadness that threatens to pull him under, but his better judgment always prevails. Breaking things won't fix him. Hurting people won't stop his pain. Besides, it's not who you are. Not really. A voice inside his head says. A sacred, beautiful voice. But those are not the worst moments either.
The bad memories are almost the worst of it. In the dark of night he relives it all. Regret weighing him down, his limbs heavy and his heart a block of ice. He tries to rewrite it in his head. To solve the puzzle. If he can just figure out how he could have saved Cas. Because he knows. Deep in his heart, he knows he failed him. And he knows it doesn't matter. Even if he solves the puzzle, he can't fix it. He can't put the pieces back together. But he can't stop. Won't stop. He relives it over and over. The moment he knew that he had lost everything. I was such an idiot. I wasted so much time and then you were gone. Sometimes he dreams of it. He sees Cas's face, hears him say "I love you" and he wants to reach out, but he is too late. Always too late. He wonders why he bothers to keep going. What the point of it all could possibly be. But he knows Cas would want him to keep fighting. And besides, wherever he goes when he dies, Cas won't be there. He is in The Empty. Gone forever. There is no happy ending. Not for Dean. And those memories are almost, but not quite, the worst of it.
It's the happy dreams that cut him deepest. When his traitorous mind forgets what they have lost. When the phantom of his broken heart is reawakened, a vengeful spirit set on Dean's destruction. They are memories of being side by side in Baby while a song he loves plays on the radio. Memories of stolen glances and not-so-casual touches made precious by the knowledge that Cas loved him too. And sometimes they are dreams of the life he could have had if he hadn't been so terrified. He dreams of holding hands and stolen kisses and a shared life together. And for a moment after he wakes, he forgets. He forgets that there is no joy in his world. Not anymore. He reaches out for warmth that isn't there. Was never there thanks to his cowardice. And his fingers instead find a cold and empty bed. And that is when he remembers. And he loses Cas all over again. The dreams fading away. He tries to grasp at them. To hold them close. But it is like trying to hold sand and it slips through his fingers every time, leaving behind only grit.
It is those nights that he knows he will never find peace. On those nights he sits up and pours himself a drink. And then another. He tries to outrun the grief. To soften the edges of his memories. Some part of him knows it will destroy his body. If the monsters don't get him, the alcohol will. Eventually. He can't bring himself to care. Not when he faces down what could have been.
*******
They were sitting on Baby, side-by-side, looking at the stars.
Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler next to him. He popped the tops and handed one to Cas. Their hands brushed and Dean forced his face to remain blank. Years of practice had allowed him to perfect his poker face. Most of the time
"See, this is what it's all about. The open road, a couple of beers, and the sky on a night like tonight. I tell ya, Cas, it's a beautiful thing." Dean said, looking up. Looking away from Cas before he said something else. Something that wanted to bubble up from the surface.
"It is." Cas agreed. His voice was quiet. Reverent.
Dean looked at him and swallowed. It felt like he was forgetting something. Something important.
"You aren't even looking at the sky." Dean said quietly.
"I've seen it. I have watched as stars were created and I have watched them burn out." Cas said. He looked like he wanted to say something else.
Cas put his hand down next to Dean's on the front of the car. Dean could feel the heat of his skin. He closed his eyes and imagined taking that hand in his own. If only he loved me. If only I was worthy. But he has been around since the dawn of time. What would he want with me?
I love you. The words floated through his brain and he opened his eyes. How could he forget? He looked at Cas who was staring at him. His eyes reflected the same longing Dean felt. He leaned forward, heart beating out of his chest. He raised his hand and touched Cas's cheek.
"Cas," Dean said, "I love you, too. Surely you know that. How could you not know that?"
Cas looked at him, tears in his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed Dean. Tentatively. Like he didn’t believe it was real. Dean leaned closer, parting his lips, drawing Cas in.
Cas pulled back and said "Dean, I . . . "
And suddenly Dean was alone in the bed. His hands outstretched to nothing. Cas? He thought, shaking off his confusion. And then he remembered. The sharp pain of loss tore through his chest.
He sat up. He didn't even bother with a glass. He grabbed a bottle from the kitchen and sat against the wall. The liquor burned. It felt good. It reminded him he was alive.
Miracle whined and laid his head in Dean's lap. Dean scratched his ears absentmindedly as he tried to drink away the pain.
*************
Somewhere and nowhere, Cas felt like he was wading through sludge. Dean, I love you. He thought. Dean, I love you.
The taste of beer and the tingle of his lips where they had met Dean's faded. Cas stirred.
HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE . DEAN. I HAVE TO GET TO DEAN.
He didn't know if he said it out loud. Didn't know if anyone could hear him.
The Empty screamed in frustration. A high, angry noise that made all of the inhabitants clutch at their ears.
The sleeping beings were waking up. Again.
"WHY WON'T YOU STAY ASLEEP" they yelled.
They pushed the beings' consciousness down again. Ever since the explosion. So much work. They were so tired.
It was coming faster now. Their sleep was being disturbed on shorter and shorter intervals.
For now, it was quiet again. The Empty could sleep.
Somewhere and nowhere, Cas felt himself fade away. Dean. He whispered.
**********
"He's getting worse." Sam signed to Eileen.
She nodded sympathetically. "I'll go get coffee." She signed back, grabbing her keys.
Dean was passed out on the kitchen floor. Miracle was curled up next to him. He looked up at Sam and wagged his tail twice in acknowledgement.
Sam sighed. He debated waking Dean up vs. bringing a pillow and blanket from the supply closet to try to make him more comfortable. Sam would have bet money that it had been a late night. Most of them were lately. If he woke Dean, he would make a joke. He would try to pretend he was okay and Sam would let him. He always did these days. He opted to bring a pillow and blanket to Dean, to make him as comfortable as possible. He would be sore, but at least he would get some rest.
Sam frowned at Dean a moment longer, wondering if there was anything else he could do. Something had happened to Dean that day. The day Cas had sacrificed himself. Dean would only say that he died to save him. But Sam knew there was more to it.
His phone buzzed. It was Charlie. Sam stepped into the hallway.
"Hey, Charlie." Sam said.
"Good, I caught you." Charlie said. "Stevie and I are running down something weird."
"Let me get to my laptop." Sam replied.
It had been 6 months since Jack had taken over. Despite his promise to be hands off, Jack was the kid of three hunters. He was a hunter himself. He wasn't going to let monsters continue to run unchecked.
"I can't just let vampires break into homes and kill parents in front of their kids." Jack had explained. He couldn’t undo their monster status. That was for Eve. She had changed them. They were her children, not his. So he opted, instead, to take away their hunger on Earth and their dependence on humans to survive. Most monsters, removed from their need to feed, had stopped attacking humans. Most, but not all.
As with humans, some monsters enjoyed the hunt for the hunt's sake. There weren't many. Certainly not enough to keep Dean busy. Sam pushed the thought away. It wasn't right to wish for more terrible things just to keep his brother occupied. Besides, he was too distracted. He was bound to get himself killed on a hunt. He might even prefer it , Sam thought miserably.
Sam had set up a network, assigning each hunter a different territory. He allocated cases based on location and each hunter did their own supplemental research.
"How is he?" Charlie asked while Sam walked down the hall.
"About the same." Sam lied.
"That bad?" Charlie asked sympathetically.
"Yeah. Maybe you can try to come by soon?" Sam asked hopefully. "I think he is sick of me and Eileen. Not much to do these days. I was trying to get him to consider a normal gig, but . . . . Anyway, he doesn't get out much."
"Sure." Charlie said. "You know . . . ." She paused. Sam waited her out. "When I lost Kara, I wasn't sure I would ever recover. It just took time. It doesn't stop hurting, but eventually you figure out how to live with the pain."
"Kara? That was your partner." Sam said.
"Yes." said Charlie. Her tone implied Sam was missing something obvious.
"Oh. So you think . . . ." Sam trailed off. "Huh. I mean, I would have had to be blind to miss the way they looked at each other, but I sort of assumed, after all this time, that they were never going to actually figure it out. I mean, you know Dean."
"Give him time, Sam. I will visit as soon as I can." Charlie said.
"Sure." Sam said thoughtfully. "Now tell me about this case."
*************
Dean found Sam in the library. It was almost noon. Sam schooled his features, ignoring the smell of old booze and the bloodshot eyes.
"Hey, man." Sam said neutrally. Miracle plodded up for some ear scratches. Sam took a small measure of comfort in the gesture.
"I must have been fighting monsters in my sleep again, eh Sammy?" Dean said with false cheeriness neither of them felt.
Sam felt a wave of nausea, but he smiled and gave a polite chuckle. "I talked to Charlie today. She and Stevie are tracking Amazons."
"No way." said Dean. "They need help?"
Sam shook his head. "No, I think they have it, actually. She is going to update us tonight." Dean nodded.
"I think she may come for a visit soon." Sam dropped in as nonchalantly as he could.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "I always love a visit from Charlie, but why do I suspect an ulterior motive here?"
Sam raised his hands in surrender. "No ulterior motive, Dean. I promise."
"I am gonna go do more research on Cas." Dean said.
"Speaking of Cas . . . Look, Dean, I know you haven't told me everything . . . And that's fine. I just want you to know . . . ." Sam started.
"Don't." Dean said gruffly, standing up and walking towards the door. "Please. Just don't." Dean said.
Sam watched him walk away. He thought he had seen a sheen in Dean's eyes. His heart lurched. "that I love and support you. That I am here." He finished quietly to the deserted room.
"Hey, Jack." Sam prayed. "I know you are busy rebuilding heaven and you want to be hands off, but we could really use your help. Dean . . . he's really hurting. If there is any way to get Cas back . . . . please." Sam sighed. "um, Amen."
*********
For the 100th time in the day (hour?) Jack wanted to go down to earth and throttle Chuck.
My brother really left a mess, didn't he? Amara said in Jack's head. He's human now. You could make his life miserable. He would deserve it after what he did to you and your family. And me. And, well, everyone.
That would be petty. I am supposed to be above all that. Jack responded. Well, maybe just a little.
On Earth, Chuck tripped over a curb and dropped the coffee that he had purchased "as a treat" after finishing his latest draft.
Amara snorted in his head.
Jack sighed. He needed to be better than this. He knew that. But he couldn’t entirely suppress the small bit of satisfaction he felt. We have to be better than this. He sighed.
I know. Amara agreed. But he could feel her amusement.
When he had first absorbed Chuck's power, Jack had seen everything. Known everything. He was confident that he could step in and make a few adjustments. But it hadn’t taken long to figure out that the universe was a mess.
As far as either of them could tell, Chuck's big master plan had been:
- create a bunch of beings he didn't understand
- give them free will
- get mad about what they were doing with it
- manipulate them for his own amusement
- ??????
The most pressing example on his plate was heaven. The ultimate reward. A place of peace when your journey was through. A promise to the devout. To the loyal. To those who loved and served others
Except Chuck hadn't known or cared how to deliver on that promise. Humans were complicated. Most of them weren't content to sit quietly in perpetuity. They needed connection. They needed each other.
Jack understood that. He thought about his family with a twinge of regret.
When giving them peaceful settings to wander alone didn't work, Chuck had just forced them to relive their good memories over and over. And when they began to get sick of those, he sped up time. But forever is a long time to relive one life.
He blamed Chuck for leaving, but some part of him got it. If he was totally honest, the urge to flee from this monumental task was hard to ignore. And then there were the prayers. Heaven was full of existential screaming. People begging and praying to be let out. Jack could barely stand it.
On top of that were all the prayers pouring in from Earth. Part of him wanted to go down to Earth and just start answering prayers. Big prayers, little prayers. He knew that wouldn’t end well, but his heart ached.
Then there were the prayers from Dean and Sam. Cas. Please save Cas. He felt the prayers deeply. HE wanted Cas back too. But he couldn’t exactly run over and ask The Empty, could he? He could feel their anger and rage from Heaven. They hadn't exactly liked his little stunt with the bomb. If he asked them for a favor now, they were just as likely to use it against Jack.
Do you feel that? Amara broke into his thoughts. Over there.
He followed her down a mental pathway to a portion of heaven. He listened. I don't hear anything. He thought.
Exactly. Amara said. No screaming. No begging. When was the last time you felt a part of Heaven that was quiet?