Summary: Just another fix-it with a little bit of a darker twist after Cas went to the Empty…
Prologue
It had been four months.
Four months, two weeks, ten hours, forty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds. Not that Dean had been counting or anything. Sixteen seconds now. Four months since he lost Cas.
No. Since they lost Cas, Dean reminded himself. Just…it didn’t feel that way.
Sam had lost a friend, too. Jack had lost a father. Many of their friends had been shaken by Cas’…disappearance. Not death. No. Dean refused to call it that. It sounded so damn final.
Four months. Three and a half since they finished Chuck, since Amara took over the role of God, since everyone had been returned to earth. Everyone except Cas.
Sam had Eileen back. Dean was happy for him. For them. He truly was.
They’d heard from Jody, Donna and the girls a few times. It had been particularly hard for Claire, hearing the news that the angel was gone. But she had Jody and Alex and Kaia. She’d be fine. Dean was sure. They’d all be fine. (Actually fine. Not like him. Dean had told people he was fine. So many times that he’d lost count. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. What did that word even mean at this point?)
But the world kept turning. It kept turning because they’d made damn sure it would. The sun came up every morning, went down with the promise to appear again the next day.
Yes, life went on. Time moved forward. And everyone seemed to move along with it just fine.
Only Dean didn’t. Couldn’t.
He watched Sam press a kiss to Eileen’s temple while she was reading in the library and told himself to be happy for them. He ruffled Jack’s hair while the kid stuffed his face with sugary cereal at the breakfast table and managed a smile when the boy grinned up at him.
He didn’t blame them. Most of the time. He wished he could be like them, just move on and keep living, make the best of it and learn to be happy again. He envied them, most of the time. But sometimes he couldn’t help the feeling of anger clawing at his heart and boiling in his veins, couldn’t stop the hateful thoughts that popped up in his head unbidden.
Why did they get to be happy when he felt so miserable? How dare they be happy while he felt like a piece of him had been carved out of his chest, leaving an empty hole that could never be filled? (As empty as the place Cas had been swallowed by.) How could they allow themselves to be happy when they knew that Cas was gone? Cas had sacrificed himself for them, for Dean, but for all of them, really. Cas was fucking gone, and this was how they repaid him?
Dean hated himself in those moments. He knew it wasn’t fair to them. They were just trying to get by. He should do the same. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t.
He saw the happiness all around him, but he didn’t seem to be able to experience it, was nothing but a numb spectator. He spoke and smiled and laughed along, but it all felt empty, hollow and fake. He was pretty sure they noticed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wouldn’t have been able to put on a better show anyway. There were looks sometimes, when he’d forced a smile again. But no one ever said anything, and Dean was glad.
He just stood by and watched, watched as they lived and made themselves forget by making new memories and new laughter. New happiness. New love.
Dean couldn’t do that. It just reminded him of all the things he had lost. Everything he had lost by losing him. Trying to find them anew with him gone felt like he was trying to replace him, like he was cheating on him somehow.
So Dean made himself forget in other ways. He’d lost his best friend, so he found others. They were called Jack Daniel’s and sleep. He drank and slept and woke up from nightmares of that day, images of black goo swallowing what little light he’d had in his life. So he drank more, drank himself to sleep just so he wouldn’t have to dream for once. The pounding headaches were a welcome punishment during the following hours he spent consumed by guilt, guilt for allowing himself even for a second to forget about Cas.
Memory was all he had, all that was left of Cas. And here Dean was, trying to drink it away just so he could find peace for a few hours.
But he didn’t deserve peace. And Cas didn’t deserve to be forgotten.
So he drank to get through the day, embraced the nightmares at night, and wondered if he was ever going to feel anything else again but this emptiness that kept nagging away at him, every day that passed.
~oOo~
Six months.
Six months on the day, and Dean couldn’t do it anymore.
He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Sam. It hurt to think about how he’d react when he found out, but Dean couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk telling anyone in case they tried to stop him.
The books he’d sneaked into his room at night to research sat back on their shelves as if they’d never been taken in the first place. His room was a mess as per usual, the bed unmade. No sign that there was anything about to happen, no sign that he wouldn’t be here anymore tomorrow like he’d been here every morning for the last half-year. He hadn’t even packed anything. There was no need for luggage where he was going.
He paused on his way down the hallway, his socks making no sound at all on the cold tiles beneath his feet. He could hear the sound of breathing coming through Sam’s door, two bodies sleeping, calm and peaceful and not plagued by nightmares. Jack would be down the hall, eyes closed and hugging that stupid talking bear to his chest that Cas had gotten him once.
Dean had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, leaned his forehead against the wall as he breathed.
In. Out. In. Out.
He tried to keep the stinging in his eyes under control. Failed.
In. Out. In. Out.
He pressed his lips together, hands clenching into fists until he could feel his nails biting into his palms, nearly drawing blood. He welcomed the pain.
I’m sorry.
Sammy would be devastated. He’d probably blame himself for not seeing it sooner, for not saying anything. (There was nothing he could have said, anyway.)
I’m so sorry.
They’d look for him. Wouldn’t find a trace.
I love you, all of you. I hope you know that.
Dean wished it didn’t have to be this way, wished he didn’t have to do this.
He wished this would be enough. His family surrounding him, peaceful and happy. He wished they were enough.
Forgive me.
With a last deep breath, Dean straightened, blinked the tears from his eyes.
