Chapter Text
“Where’s Cas?” Dean asks, looking around, hopeful.
Everyone who Chuck made disappear has been brought back by Jack. With a simple snap of his fingers, the world has gone back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened.
And yet, Cas is nowhere to be seen.
Panic starts to flare inside him. Cas should be here already. Jack should have brought him back the moment he fixed the world.
Dean still looks around, hoping to spot beautiful blue eyes, messy dark hair and a trench coat amongst the crowd. Maybe he is just somewhere else. Maybe he is in the bunker. Maybe he appeared in the last place he was, and that’s the reason why he isn’t right here.
“Castiel is in the Empty,” Jack answers.
Dean looks directly at him. He must have misheard, but still, the fragile hope inside him starts dying against his will. “What do you mean he’s in the Empty? Can’t you bring him back?”
There’s pain and desperation in his voice, and he knows those emotions must be showing up on his face as well, but he doesn’t care. Swallowing his feelings as he was taught to do -or more like forced to do- has only done terrible things to him and to those he loves and cares about.
The most recent example of that happened when Cas died. He had confessed his love for Dean after saying so many beautiful things about Dean, things that Dean had never heard before, things that went straight to Dean’s heart, and yet, when Cas said that he loved him, Dean didn’t say anything. Cas died without knowing that Dean loved him back.
“I can’t,” Jack says mournfully.
Dean’s already shattered heart, breaks again. The world seems to come to a stop. He can’t even hear the noises the people around them make as they go about their lives, unaware of what Chuck did to them. A familiar and unbearable pain settles inside Dean’s chest, a grief so violent that feels as if somebody was ripping out his heart with a chainsaw.
This isn’t supposed to be happening. Jack is now powerful enough to get Cas from the Empty. Cas is supposed to be here, celebrating their victory, being alive.
He should be happy about defeating Chuck, about saving the world, but how can he be happy when Cas is still dead?
Anger and grief soon take over Dean.
“What do you mean you can’t?!” Dean asks in a raised voice. Some people stare at him as they walk past them, but Dean doesn’t give a fuck at all. He has every damn right to be furious about the love of his life still being dead. “You’re the fucking God!”
“Dean,” Sam warns, not wanting to draw any attention to them.
“Bring him back! Now!”
“Dean, I can’t,” Jack says. “The Empty has hidden him from me. I can’t find Castiel.”
Dean feels how his legs want to give up. It is by sheer luck that he doesn’t end up on the tarmac on his knees or that he doesn’t end up throwing up. But what really surprises him is that he is still alive after having his heart completely destroyed.
“How is that possible?” Sam asks. From the corner of his eye Dean can see the alarmed look on Sam. He has witnessed firsthand how Cas’ deaths have shattered Dean in the past. With every death, it gets worse and worse for Dean. And even though Sam doesn’t know much about the way Cas last died, he must know that, if this time, Cas is gone for good, Dean isn’t going to be able to put himself back together.
“I am not sure,” Jack replies, confused. “I can feel every angel and demon in the Empty, but there is no trace of Castiel. The Empty has a tight grip on him, and it is using it to hide him. It might have to do with the deal he made.”
“Deal? What deal?”
“He made that deal because of you, Jack,” Dean snaps. As he approaches, Jack, he ignores the questioning look Sam is giving him. Out of the three of them, Sam is the only one who doesn’t know about Cas’ terrible deal. “The least you can do is bring him back!”
“Dean, I already told you; I can’t bring him back if I can’t find him,” Jack insists. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t you— don’t you fucking dare,” Dean mutters, already shedding tears. He isn’t going to give up on Cas. He isn’t going to let him rot in the Empty. It isn’t right. Nothing about this feels right. “You’ve gotta do something, kid. You’ve gotta— You’ve gotta be able to bring him back somehow. You can’t just leave him there. Cas doesn’t deserve it. There’s gotta be a way to save him.”
“There is nothing I can do, Dean. After everything Cas did for me, don’t you think that I would bring him back if I could?”
Dean stares at him. Of course that Jack would have brought Cas back the moment he got powerful enough to do so. If he hasn’t done it already, is because he can’t.
Realizing that, Dean feels as if he was being killed in the spot. This is how he starts to die, slowly; from a destroyed heart.
“Please,” Dean begs, unable to control his tears. “Please, bring him back.”
Bring Cas back. Bring the love of my life back.
“I can’t, Dean,” Jack repeats, shaking his head.
“There’s gotta be something we can do to find Cas in the Empty,” Sam says. He has approached Dean without him noticing. “Maybe, if we can find him, you can bring him back.”
“I don’t know how to do that, Sam. I don’t know why I can’t find him. It seems that the entity of the Empty has made sure to hide Castiel, and if I can’t find him, I don’t think anybody can find him.”
“So what? We’re supposed to just let Cas rot in there?” Dean asks, voice trembling. After everything they went through, after defeating Chuck, they can’t bring Cas back? It isn’t fair; it isn’t right. “Are we— are we supposed to give up on Cas?”
Jack doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Dean with sad eyes.
“Fuck you,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “He would still be alive if he hadn’t made that deal to save you!”
He knows he is being unfair, that Cas’ death is also on him, because what truly killed Cas in the end, was the love he felt for Dean. Because Dean’s touch corrupts; Dean’s love kills.
And he also knows that if Cas hadn’t made that deal, the two of them would have died. But Dean would have rather died with Cas than survive and live without him.
“Dean, that’s enough,” Sam says, somehow calmly. Despite being in the dark about the circumstances regarding Cas’ death, he knows that right now, it isn’t the time to ask the questions that are burning him. He places himself in front of Dean and forces him to take a few steps back, pulling him away from Jack’s personal space. “You need to calm down, okay?”
“Calm down?!” Dean laughs, and it is an ugly, hollow and bitter sound. “Cas is fucking dead and the only one who can bring him back is saying that there’s no fucking way to bring him back! How the fuck am I supposed to be calm about this fucking thing?!”
Sam gives him a frustrated look. “Yelling at him won’t fix anything.”
Dean simply clenches his jaw. There is so much he wants to say, but he swallows his words and his feelings. How can he tell them that he needs the love of his life back? That he needs to tell Cas that he loves him too? That he can’t live in a world where he gets to live while Cas gets to rot in the Empty without knowing how much he is loved? How can he even start to unleash the secrets in his heart when his heart is buried deep in the Empty?
“There’s gotta be something we can find in the bunker’s library,” Sam suggests. “Something that tells us how to— how to find Cas in the Empty, right? Or maybe— Didn’t you manage to wake him up in the Empty before by just calling him, Jack? You could try that again. If Cas wakes up again, you’ll be able to find him, right?”
“I have already tried that, Sam,” Jack answers. The little hope that was trying to ignite inside Dean while hearing his brother’s words, quickly dies again. “I have already tried to find him by calling him. I have already tried to find any trace of Castiel, any tiny thing that might lead me to his presence. But there is no trace of him. I can’t find him. Whatever the Empty did with Castiel, it is above my powers. And I am afraid that you won’t find anything in the bunker nor in any book. I’m sorry. I’m truly am.”
“No,” Dean mumbles. He can’t lose Cas. He just can’t. Cas should be here. Cas should be alive. They were supposed to reunite after defeating Chuck. “There’s gotta—” He suppresses a sob. Breathing feels so painful. It feels as if his lungs couldn’t get enough air. And his heart, the absence of his heart is too painful. “There’s gotta be something. Anything.”
“There isn’t. I wish there was some way I could bring Castiel back, but I can’t. All I can do, is wait for the Empty to make a mistake and release its strong grip on Castiel so I can find some trace of him. But until then, there is nothing I can do.”
“And how long would that take?”
Dean can wait, if it means that Cas will come back in the end, he can wait. It will be painful, but he will wait.
“At best, decades,” Jack answers. “But I think it will probably be in a century.”
“No,” Dean murmurs.
He doesn’t have that long.
“I am sorry, Dean,” Jack says.
“Stop saying that!” Dean screams. He feels as if he had claws in his body, tearing him from the inside. He is being slowly killed, he can feel it. “You were supposed to bring him back once this was over! Cas was supposed to be alive! With us!”
With me.
“That is all I can do,” Jack keeps saying. There is defeat in his voice, and Dean hates it. “I wish I could do more, but I can’t. I hoped that I was going to be able to bring Castiel back, but I can’t. Not yet. Not for a long time.”
Dean closes his eyes and more tears fall from his eyes. He is dying, he can feel it. He is dying, but so fucking slowly.
“So, now, what are you going to do?” Sam asks, clearing his throat.
“I have to fix Heaven. I can do that,” Jack answers. “Let it be the place Castiel wanted it to be. A place where souls aren’t trapped in a perfect place of their own, but rather a place where they can visit those they love. And I will create new angels that will take care of Heaven and will care about humans as they were supposed to do. That was what Castiel told me he wanted Heaven to be like. That was what he wanted for you two to find once you died and went to Heaven. And I intend to make that a reality.”
Dean opens his eyes and tries very hard not to collapse onto the floor.
“This is a goodbye, then?” Sam asks, sounding extremely sad.
“It is a see you later. Or that is what I hope,” Jack responds, looking directly at Dean. “I promise you that I won’t give up on Castiel. But I can’t promise you that I will be quick about it. It all depends on how long the Empty will make a mistake, and that is something I can’t control.”
It hurts. It hurts so fucking much. Dean has to face a life without Cas, while knowing he is suffering in the Empty. Dean feels as if he were back in Hell, being in the rack, tortured.
“Just bring him back,” Dean says before turning around, showing his back to Jack, not caring anymore about the farewell. Sam, on the other hand, stays with Jack to give him a nice farewell. He is probably apologizing on Dean’s behalf, telling him to understand that Dean is mourning.
Dean walks and walks towards the Impala, never looking back. He doesn’t fight his tears. He is entitled to cry; after all, he has been told that he is going to be mourning the love of his life for the rest of his life. Cas is going to be dead and rotting in the Empty while Dean gets to live. Of course he is fucking entitled to cry.
*
“Dean,” Sam starts when they reach the bunker.
“Leave me alone, please,” Dean says, not looking at his brother. Something in his tone, or maybe the fact that he said the word please must have some effect on Sam, because his brother doesn’t say anything else and lets Dean go alone. He doesn’t reach for him nor tries to say something. He gives Dean his space. And Dean is so grateful for that.
Dean walks through the empty and silent halls of the bunker. He makes a quick stop on his bedroom and grabs one of the many bottles of whiskey he has been hoarding ever since Cas died, and then, he makes his way to the gym, closing the door behind him.
In one long sip, Dean drinks a third of the bottle. The liquid should smart in his throat, but Dean is in so much pain, that he doesn’t feel the burn of the alcohol. He then leaves the bottle in a corner and with a couple of steps, he approaches the punching bag. He hits it hard, to the point that his hands immediately hurt, but that is what he is seeking; physical pain, the type of pain that it is easy to deal with, the type of pain that is tangible, not like the pain he is feeling from losing Cas. That pain is always hard to deal with, and so fucking painful. It is the type of pain you can’t numb with anything. The type of pain that becomes part of your being, the type that shatters you to the point that there is no coming back from it, the type that turns you into a hollow shell of the person you used to be. The type of pain that no heart can take.
So Dean hits the punching bag over and over again, focusing on the pain in his hands. But that pain is nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Soon, he starts crying, but it has nothing to do with the bruises that are appearing on his fingers and knuckles. The tears are for Cas, who is still dead, who is still in the Empty, who died with a smile on his face after telling Dean that he loved him, who died without knowing that he was loved too because Dean was physically incapable of letting those words out.
Dean screams in pain and decides to punch the walls of the gym. His hands meet the bricks, and quickly, the skin begins to tear, and blood appears, painting Dean’s hands and painting the places where Dean’s punches land. It hurts, it hurts so much. He feels how his skin gets destroyed, how it reveals the muscles and the tendons, how the bones are aching, threatening to break.
And yet, the pain is not bad nor strong enough to diminish the pain in his heart.
Dean hits the wall harder, and this time, some of the bones of his left hand snap, almost breaking. He lets out a painful moan and stops. He holds his almost broken hand and looks at it, watching the carnage he has inflicted on himself.
If Cas could see him now, he would be so disappointed in him.
But Cas isn’t here. He won’t be for the rest of Dean’s life.
It is those thoughts that finally break Dean, and he starts trembling as he starts crying like he has never done before. He presses his forehead against the brick wall, and for a moment, he plays with the thought of smashing his head against the wall until he falls unconscious, and maybe then, he will stop being in pain; he will pass out and he might not be haunted by the images of Cas dying in front of his eyes. But he knows Cas would hate him for that, to see Dean like this. Still, Dean wants to do it. He wants to close his eyes and sleep until Cas comes back, if he ever comes back. If not, he just wants to fall asleep and not wake up.
Cas died to save his sorry ass, and all Dean wants to do now, is to just die.
“You shouldn’t have done it, Cas,” Dean cries. “You shouldn’t have fucking died for me. It wasn’t worth it.”
He keeps crying, letting out some of the pain he feels. But it doesn’t matter how much he cries, how much he tries to vent, the pain is always going to be there because Cas will still be in the Empty. But he keeps crying, because there is nothing else he can do.
Time passes, Dean doesn’t know if it is minutes or hours. Eventually, he finds that there aren’t more tears inside him for now. He is still trembling, though, he can’t stop shaking. As best as he can, he sits on the floor, pressing his back against the wall, and then, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and takes another long sip. He wishes he could numb the pain, but it won’t work. It didn’t work when Cas walked into that lake after the leviathans killed. It didn’t work when he came back from Purgatory without Cas. And it definitely didn’t work when Lucifer killed Cas. Still, Dean keeps drinking, because maybe, just maybe, he will pass out eventually. He won’t get any sleep, but an hour or two spent out in the dark is better than nothing.
He bends his knees, until his legs are pressed against his chest and he buries his face in his knees, his right hand holding the bottle of whiskey. He is still shaking so badly, and somehow, there are still a few tears forming on the corner of his eyes.
After a while, he hears the door of the gym opening, but Dean doesn’t move a single muscle, he stays in the position he is, not wanting to face the pity on Sam’s eyes.
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam says, devastated. He takes a deep breath; he is probably taking in the image of his brother, trembling, wounded and with an almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. “I’m getting the first aid kit.”
Dean doesn’t say anything. He hears the sound of Sam’s rushed steps getting further as his little brother goes to the bathroom to retrieve the medical supplies. He is soon back into the gym, and before he knows it, Dean has Sam sitting on his right, opening the first aid kit and taking the bottle of whiskey from Dean’s hand.
“Alright,” Sam starts, trying to remain calm. “Let me—”
“I’ll do it,” Dean interrupts, finally pulling his face away from his knees. He sniffles as he does so, and he can see from the corner of his eyes that Sam notices the redness and puffiness on his eyes as well as the trail of his tears.
“What the hell did you do?”
“I punched the wall,” Dean answers, shrugging casually as he starts to clean his wounds. It smarts and it makes him hiss, but it is a pain easy to handle.
“Why don’t you let me heal you? You clearly have a broken hand.”
“It’s fine.”
Sam huffs, bitterly. “I don’t see how any of this is fine, Dean.”
Dean simply clenches his jaw to avoid saying something snappy, and he starts bandaging his knuckles. He still leaves some of his wounds unhealed, because he thinks he deserves the pain as a punishment for getting Cas killed and for not being able to tell him that he loved him too.
“Jack promised that he would bring Cas back eventually,” Sam says after a beat.
“Yeah, in a few decades at best,” Dean snaps. “But the reality is that it’s gonna take him a century at least, and that’s even if the Empty makes a mistake, which means that Cas is gonna be rotting and suffering in the Empty for a fucking eternity. So yeah, that’s awesome, that’s fucking awesome.”
He feels the sting of tears again, and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Breathing always hurts when Cas is gone. He is drowning, and he can’t find the surface, and worst of all, he isn’t sure if he wants to reach the surface.
“I know it hurts, that it’s really hard to accept that Cas is gone, but we can’t do anything else,” Sam adds, tiredly. “It’s something we both have to live with, even if it hurts us.”
“Easy for you to say,” Dean mutters, tightening the bandages with more force than he should.
“Cas was my friend too, Dean,” Sam says, angry and offended.
“Yeah, but you aren’t in love with him.”
Dean stops what he is doing. How the fuck did those words come out so easily now? How couldn’t he have had that easiness with letting the words out right after Cas told him that he loved him? It might probably be because he is a bit tipsy, who knows, but still, why couldn’t have his words made it pass his throat the night Cas died?
He looks at Sam, briefly, almost scared of the expression he is going to see in his brother’s face, but he is bewildered to see that Sam isn’t shocked nor surprised by Dean’s words. Instead, there is understanding on his face.
Dean frowns. “You don’t… you don’t look surprised.”
“I am surprised that you admitted it, to be honest,” Sam says.
“You knew?”
“Yeah, Dean, I knew. I’ve known for a long time. I didn’t say anything because it was clear you didn’t want to talk about it.”
Dean can’t argue with that. If Sam had even hinted anything about Dean’s feelings for Cas, he would have basically punched his brother in the face. Or maybe just cut his hair while he slept.
“Then, you know why I can’t just live with this fucking bullshit,” Dean comments as he finishes bandaging his hand. He also gets a wrist splint and puts it on his left hand. “I can’t just live while knowing that Cas is still dead, rotting in the Empty. I can’t just pretend that any of this is okay because in a fucking century or so, he might be saved. I just can’t. I can’t. He deserves better, for fuck’s sake. He deserves to be alive, to be at home, to have the life he wants and deserves. But instead, he’s in the fucking Empty!”
He chokes onto the last word because he starts crying again. He presses his hand against his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself, but he can’t. Sam doesn’t say anything; he simply stays by his side, letting him vent.
“He should be here with us,” Dean sobs.
“I know, Dean, I know,” Sam says, defeated.
“This isn’t right. This isn’t how it should be.”
“We can try to do some research if it makes you feel better. There isn’t much lore about the Empty. A couple of mentions here are there, but nothing else. I hate to tell you that it is probably going to be a waste of time, but if you want us to look for something about the Empty, we can try.”
Dean closes his eyes and tilts his head up, pressing the back of his head against the bricks. He knows Sam is right, that they won’t find anything useful, but he still has to try.
“How did you manage to go on when you lost Jess and when you lost Eileen?” Dean asks after a moment.
Sam seems taken aback by the question. He first gives Dean a surprised look, but then he looks serious. “I just forced myself to go on. Even when it was unbearable, I always tried to go on, I always tried to find a purpose, trying to find something that would help me to keep going on. And it is hard, but with every day that passes, it becomes just a little bit easier. But even when it hurts really bad, you just can’t let grief take over you, because if you do, you won’t be able to keep going on.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Yeah, that’s always the problem, isn’t it?” He looks at Dean, with so much sorrow in his eyes. “You are gonna have to live with this, Dean. You’re gonna have to face the fact that you’re gonna have to live in a world without Cas. It is unfair and it hurts, but you need to accept that, because—”
“Just shut up, please,” Dean begs, shaking his head. “Shut up.”
Sam sighs. “Dean—”
“Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t right now, I just can’t.” He starts crying again, uncontrollably and he hates it because this is probably how the rest of his life is going to feel like. A terrible pain caused by grief, because love left a wound in his chest that it is never going to heal. “Leave me alone, alright? Just leave me alone.”
Sam takes a deep breath, but he stands up. He places his hand on Dean’s shoulder and clasps it lightly. “I know you are mourning and you need time and space, but please, just please, don’t hurt yourself. It won’t help.”
Then, reluctantly, Sam leaves the gym, and Dean remains on the floor crying. He wishes this could all be just one of his nightmares, but it isn’t.
“Cas, please,” Dean prays, even if he knows his words won’t be heard. “Come back to me. You always came back to me, no matter what. Come back to me one last time, sweetheart. Come back to me.”
But the gym remains as empty as the place where Dean’s heart used to be.
And Dean keeps crying until he ends up sobbing on the floor, until the emotional tiredness takes hold on him and he falls asleep on the cool and unforgiving floor.
*
For the next few days, Dean barely comes out of his bedroom. He grabs all the books that contain any mention about the Empty. To his disappointment, there are only four books that mention the Empty, and none of them have much about it. Most of them have one or two paragraphs talking about how the Empty is the place that holds all the dead angels and dead demons and how it is controlled by an entity that no one knows much about it.
The reading is quick and useless, so Dean decides to read about spells concerning resurrections. There are more books about that topic, but none of them talk about bringing back an angel from the Empty. Still, Dean doesn’t give up. He spends his days and nights trying to find a spell to bring Cas back while he drinks a bottle of whiskey after another. He tries to get his four hours of sleep, but his nights are plagued with nightmares of Cas dying in front of his eyes. He sees his beautiful blue eyes full of tears and his relieved smile as he gets taken by the Empty. He always wakes up crying and trembling, and he always drinks a generous amount of whiskey after he wakes up before going back to the books, desperate to find something.
Sam tries to help in any way he can, but Dean doesn’t let him. Dean is pissed at him for saying that he has to accept that Cas is gone, that he has to live with that. So Dean pushes him away and barely says a word to him, which makes Sam even more worried. He keeps asking Dean if he wants to talk about it, and Dean’s answer is always either a glare, a grunt or showing his middle finger. Despite Dean’s responses, Sam doesn’t give up; he still wants to make sure that Dean is okay, but they both know that Dean is far from okay.
Sometimes Sam goes out to pay a visit to Eileen. And before he goes out, he always asks Dean if he will be fine being alone for a while. Even though Dean is hurting and even though he is still pissed at Sam, he doesn’t have it in him to be the reason why his brother can’t go and see Eileen. At least one of them gets to have the love of their live. So Dean just pretends to be doing better and to not be mad at Sam, even if deep down, it hurts to know that Dean can’t have what Sam and Eileen have. But he doesn’t let Sam see it. He won’t be the reason that stops Sam from getting his own life and his own happiness.
But when Sam leaves, a melancholy and a terrible pain take over Dean and he always cries for an hour, because the love of his life is still dead.
He also seizes the opportunity of being alone in the bunker to go out and buy more alcohol for himself. And as much as he hates the fact that Cas would hate him if he saw how much alcohol Dean has been drinking since his death, he still needs to drink himself to get some sleep even if it is brief.
Dean knows that he should be trying to be better, to be the man Cas thought him to be, but it is hard to do so when the simple fact of being alive hurts more than anything, when breathing feels like you are being burnt alive, when you have to go through life without a heart in your chest, when you know that your best friend and the love of your life isn’t coming back and you are responsible for his death.
It is hard to be the man Cas wanted him to be when you really don’t want to live anymore.
But Dean forces himself to remain alive, because Cas sacrificed himself so Dean could live. In Dean’s opinion, it was the worst choice Cas made in his entire life, but he isn’t going to let Cas’ death be for nothing, even if it feels like that.
It is during those nights when Sam isn’t in the bunker that Dean grabs the jacket with the bloody handprint on it, and he puts it on as he desperately prays to Cas, begging him to come back home. As always, his prayers go unanswered. He falls asleep with the jacket on; a hand on a bottle of whiskey and the other hand gripping the handprint tightly.
He imagines waking up and finding Cas there, giving him a sad look before taking the bottle from his hand and then caressing his hair while Dean cries in relief because Cas came back to him. But when he wakes up, he finds that he is still alone, and that the bloody handprint on his jacket is all that’s left of Cas.
*
Almost a month passes by. Dean doesn’t find any spell that can bring Cas back. There is nothing in the bunker that can help him. Sam had been right, but Dean had to try. Now that there aren’t any books to keep him busy, to give him a purpose, being in the bunker starts to feel like a special torture. There are memories of Cas in every spot in the bunker. Every spot reminds him of a moment spent with Cas, which only serves to accentuate the terrible reality that Cas is dead, that there won’t be any new memories to make with him.
Obviously, he keeps his distance from the dungeon. He doesn’t go into the hall that leads to that room. Even when he needed some of the books inside the dungeon, he had to ask Sam to get them, because he couldn’t be in that room. Sam understood and got him all the books he needed as well as he brought them back once Dean was done with them.
Still, a place that Dean used to call home, now feels like a hollow place. Because home isn’t just a building; it is also the people that form said home. And without Cas, the bunker isn’t a home anymore. It feels like any of the motels they used to spend their time before they knew about the existence of the Men of Letters.
But things start to be more unbearable once Eileen moves in.
Dean adores Eileen; he still thinks she could do better than Sam, but he loves how much she loves Sam and how much Sam loves her. They are great together. And that is what truly hurts, seeing that he could have had that happiness and that love if Cas wasn’t dead.
Sam asked him if he was okay with Eileen moving in. Dean said that of course he was okay with her moving in; he didn’t understand why Sam was being so cautious about it.
A few days later, after seeing how in love and how happy Sam and Eileen were together, he realized that Sam had asked him because he knew that seeing them like that, would only make Dean’s grief worse. And it did, but Dean promised to himself that he should hide those feelings from them. After all, he has a lifetime experience on swallowing his feelings and pretending that he is fine.
In order to not worry Sam nor Eileen, who immediately noticed that Dean wasn’t fine and quickly told him that if he needed to talk about anything at all, she would listen to him, Dean spends the majority of his time in his bedroom, listening to music and drinking bottle of whiskey after bottle of whiskey, avoiding his brother and Eileen.
He manages to keep some façade when they eat together, because both Sam and Eileen insist on the three of them eating at least one meal together. Dean knows it is just a way to keep making sure that he is fine. But the moment Dean steps outside of his bedroom, a heavy lift falls into his shoulders, and with every passing day, he gets more and more tired of having to wear a mask all the time. He doesn’t fully hide that he is still mourning and in pain, but he hides most of it for the sake of Sam and Eileen. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have; they already have to deal with him. They already worry too much, and Dean doesn’t want to be more of a burden.
It doesn’t take him too long to start taking drives to nowhere. He tells them that he needs to get out, that he needs to breathe fresh air, to let his eyes wander into the distance, that maybe going outside to just feel the nature instead of just going out to the grocery store might help him somehow. He doesn’t tell them that he can’t stand the thought of being in a place where he is haunted by the memories he shared with Cas, nor that he can’t cry as much as he needs to for fear of being heard and worrying them more than they already are, nor that he can’t sleep in his bed because it feels too cold and too empty and the other side is still waiting to be occupied by Cas, who isn’t going to come back. He doesn’t tell them that he feels homeless again, like a stranger living in a place that isn’t home anymore. He doesn’t tell them that the things that used to make him happy don’t make him happy anymore. He doesn’t tell them that he still wishes he had died that night with Cas. He doesn’t tell them that he is only still alive because he doesn’t want Cas’ sacrifice to be for nothing. He doesn’t tell them that every time he catches them laughing or kissing, he has to look away because it causes him an unbearable pain. He doesn’t tell them that he can’t listen to Led Zeppelin anymore because it reminds him of Cas. He doesn’t tell them that he still prays every night, hoping that his prayers will wake Cas up and he will find his way to Dean one more time.
He just tells them that he thinks driving somewhere quiet and staying there for a while might help him. Sam and Eileen give him dubious looks, but they both hope that it will actually help him.
And Dean drives and drives, until he finds a lonely place where he can park his Impala. Sometimes all he does is cry. Other times he simply closes his eyes, opens his window and just listens to the sounds of nature. Other times he just lies down on the front seat and stares at the ceiling for hours. Other times, he just brings with himself several bottles of beers and drinks them. But what never changes, is that he still prays to Cas, begging him to come back. It still doesn’t do anything but bring tears to Dean’s eyes. Then, he goes back to the bunker and pretends that he is feeling slightly better. But he isn’t.
His drives become longer and longer with each day. He wants to put as much distance between him and the bunker as he can. It is on one of those longer drives that Dean finds himself driving towards the meadow where he spread Cas’ ashes a couple of years ago.
Dean gets out of the car and his legs bring him to the spot where he cried and prayed for Cas to come back, to rise from the ashes as if he were a phoenix. Years have passed, and still, Dean finds himself kneeling on the same spot he stood that last time, crying harder than he did in the past, pressing his forehead against the grown grass, his whole body shaking at the constant pain that Cas’ absence has left in him.
“Cas, sweetheart, please,” Dean prays. “Come back to me. Please, I can’t do this without you. I can’t live without you. Please, Cas, come back. You always come back to me, so please, please, I’m begging you. Just one more time, Cas. Come back. Come back to me.”
And just as the last time when he cried and he prayed and he fell apart because of Cas’ death, the meadow remains empty except for Dean.
Cas isn’t coming back this time, and Dean, poor and already shattered Dean, shatters even more.
*
Unable to get any sleep at all, Dean begins to go out during the nights as well. There isn’t a night where he doesn’t have nightmares, and his bedroom, which felt like a shelter since he first tried that amazing memory foam mattress, now it is a place where its walls have been replaced with grief, pain, nightmares and depression.
Dean drives to different bars. He stays away from those bars in Lebanon; he doesn’t want any of the citizens to spot him and start talking about how he is spending most of his nights drowning himself in alcohol. It might reach Sam’s or Eileen’s ears, and he doesn’t want that. He even makes sure to get back to the bunker right before either Sam or Eileen wake up. He still has to keep up the farse that his grief isn’t as bad as it really is.
His escapes remain unknown to both Sam and Eileen until one night, when Dean ends up drinking more than he should. He is having a rough night, one of those nights in which Cas’ absence becomes more painful that it already is. One of those nights where Dean is locked in his head, replaying the last time he saw Cas. He remembers every word Cas said to him, how much love there was in those beautiful eyes, how he basically said that he knew what love was because of Dean. He remembers the little breath Cas let out before he confessed his love. He remembers how he couldn’t say anything to Cas even if he wanted to. Dean was so terrified because he knew Cas was saying goodbye, he was going to die because of him, he was sacrificing himself, and he was saying all those things that Dean had never heard and much less expected Cas to say. He remembers how he couldn’t look away from Cas, how he was shocked that Cas could see so much good in him despite everything, how he couldn’t believe that his feelings were returned after thinking for over a decade that Cas would never fall in love with him. And he remembers how he tried to say something, to give Cas a love confession of his own, but his words got stuck in his throat. And he remembers the last look and last smile Cas gave him before being taken by the Empty.
So Dean drinks and drinks, trying to cope with the grief and the pain, but still the tears show up, and the asshole sitting next to him starts to call him names, saying what a pathetic thing he is. And Dean, having had enough, stands up and starts beating the shit out of the guy.
They are both extremely intoxicated, but both of them know how to fight. Dean ends up with his nose close to being broken, bleeding a lot, with his brow broken, with his eye black, and with a lot of wounds and cuts both on his face and on his hands. The other guy ends up with several broken ribs, several wounds and a broken jaw, and after a strong punch, he ends up on the floor crying in pain and asking Dean to stop, so Dean does, although he kicks his stomach, as a last warning.
The fight feels longer than it should, but it isn’t. Dean pays the bartender over three hundred bucks, apologizing for the mess. The bartender looks at Dean and then at the money; he has a phone on his hands which means he clearly wanted to call the police, but as soon as he sees the money, he puts his phone back into the pocket and nods to Dean. Nobody says anything as Dean walks out of the bar, miraculously staying on his feet despite being drunk and despite his wounds.
He cries on his drive back to the bunker, because if Cas saw what he just did, he would take back every single word he said to Dean the night he died.
Once he makes it back to the bunker, he tries to be as quiet as possible, but on the hall that leads to his bedroom, he trips and falls onto the floor, making a loud noise and a loud groan. He is surprised that he didn’t fall before or that he managed to drive without any incidents.
“Dean?” Sam asks, opening his and Eileen’s bedroom door. He quickly spots Dean and he approaches him. “What are you doing?” He grabs Dean by his arms and helps him stand up. He instantly sees the state of Dean’s wounded face and he quickly picks up on the alcohol smell coming from Dean’s breath. “What happened to you?”
“Bar fight,” Dean grumbles, still quite drunk. He had asked for the strongest liquor they had, and Dean drunk and drunk one glass after another, wanting to get drunk as fast as possible.
“You got into a bar fight while drunk?” Sam asks. His worry is soon replaced by anger.
“Yeah.” On shaky legs, he manages to stand, and he immediately presses his back against the wall, seeking support. “S’me ‘sshole call’d me pathetic ‘cause I was cryin’ about Cas.”
“Dean,” Sam says, both exasperated and disappointed. He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. Dean closes his eyes, because the room is spinning without control. “This needs to stop, okay? You need to stop drinking. And you need to start doing something with your life. I’m not asking you to do something big, but you need to start living instead of passing your days just mourning Cas.”
Dean lets out a chuckle mixed with a sob and he looks at Sam. “That’s easy for ya, ya got the love of yar live in there,” Dean says, pointing to Sam and Eileen’s bedroom.
“I know it is hard for you, Dean, but you can’t keep living like this. Do you think Cas would have wanted this for you?”
“Ya don’t have any idea what Cas wanted!” Dean yells angrily, approaching Sam, ready to get into another fight if he has to. But he moves so fast that he loses his balance. Sam is quick and stops him from falling onto the floor again. “He coulda had what he wanted but he didn’t!”
Because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.
“Dean,” Sam murmurs. The anger is gone from his voice, replaced by pure concern.
“He had me,” Dean sobs. The tears are back, and he grips his brother tightly, because if he lets go, he is going to fall apart, and he barely can keep his shit together anymore. “He had me and he didn’t know. He didn’t fuckin’ know ‘cause I didn’t say anythin’.”
His feet begin to slip on the floor, and Dean feels his knees give up. Sam notices and lowers the two of them until they are both kneeling. He keeps holding Dean, who can’t stop shaking and crying.
“I miss him, Sammy, I miss him so much,” Dean cries. It is a raw and wounded sound.
“I know you do,” Sam says and he sounds close to tears too.
“I want him back. I need him back. Why do I get to live and he gets to rot in the Empty? It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.”
The wound on his broken brow opens again, letting out more blood that runs down his face to mix with the trail of his tears. It should hurt; his face and hands should be in pain, but he doesn’t feel any of that pain. The real pain resides in the Cas shaped hole in his chest.
“He shoulda known,” Dean keeps saying in between sobs. “He coulda had what he wanted. But he didn’t. And it was all my fault. It was all my fuckin’ fault. And now he’s gone and it’s all my fuckin’ fault.”
Sam doesn’t say anything. He just keeps holding Dean. He probably knows that whatever he might say will only distress Dean even more.
And Dean keeps crying, repeating the same things over and over again, until the tiredness, the pain and the alcohol lull him to sleep. He falls asleep with Cas’ name on his lips, a simple plea for his angel to come back to him.