A/N: Thought I would take another shot at this. Not sure where this story is going; it's mostly just to improve my writing. Team Free Will 2.0 trying to deal with their world after the war. Don't expect consistent updates. Unbetaed.
Prologue
I suppose for them, as they would think, that they were finally at the end.
Their enemies were dead. Their world didn't need them anymore. Their mother was safe with them and alive, and their father dead as both parents should of been. Their angel was slowly falling from Grace with the certain knowledge known by all that he would never again see Heaven. Their recently acquired orphan, once the monster they feared, was now in their care. Their good friend and brother had long lost the life he loved, but was free from evil.
But the eldest son?
He was lost.
And even though they knew it was the end, maybe they were lost too. The world didn't need them anymore, but maybe they need each other.
Chapter 1
Sam was cleaning up dinner by the time Castiel decided to wake up that day.
Mary had been teaching Jack proper dining etiquette since their previous life had only required his hands, not cutlery. As expected, the room was left a mess and the participants frustrated. So, Sam had volunteered to take care of wiping everything down and packing away what little was left intact while the other two head for bed.
Nobody saw Castiel much anymore. He was usually locked away in his room for days on end, never sparring a word to anyone or opening the door. His appearances away from his self-imprisonment would few and far between, and even then he barely uttered a sound. Mary assured them all that he just needed time. That he just needed time and space. But Sam wasn't too sure.
Nonetheless, it was a surprise to Sam to see that Castiel had finally emerged after four days in hiding. Even more so when he spoke.
"Hello."
"Heya, Cas! How have you been? I just put dinner away, but if you'd like I could heat you up a plate?"
No eye contact was made during the exchange. When Castiel just strode right out without showing any acknowledgement of Sam's inquiry, it was almost as if it had never even happened.
Sure, it was improvement considering Castiel had spent nearly the last two weeks in isolation, but the pit in Sam's stomach was still the same, maybe even larger.
His "family" was in pieces.
Dean was unsure of everything these days. His life, and more importantly his head, were in disarray.
Each day consists of waking up at six o'clock harp in the morning, fixing his bed the way his father taught him, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed. He works out until seven, then showers and changes his clothes again. This wastes about fifteen minutes. If he is early, he can grab a granola bar for breakfast. If he is late, he skips it.
More often than not, he is late.
Dean then checks every gun, cleaning those that needed it and just maintaining the rest. He stilled carried his Colt everywhere, refusing to admit he didn't need it anymore. His next destination is the garage to work on Baby. She never needs it, but he still manages to find something to keep him busy with for a few hours while listening to Metallica. He spends the rest of the day driving on back roads until it finally gets dark and he has grabbed a burger from the closet diner and a cold bottle of beer.
That's when he heads to the hill next to the bunker. He drives Baby to the top, pulls out his dinner, and eats it sitting on her hood, watch the sky until he finally heads for bed at eleven.
Castiel feels emptier each day. Well, that's the closest thing he can relate his draining Grace to.
He doesn't want to see the others. The former angel knows they are there, but interacting with them is too much for him to handle. It almost scares him. His conscience doesn't want to take the chance of indulging himself with something positive. He doesn't feel like he deserves it.
At least, that is what he tells himself.
But really, it's just pity.
Pity for the others in having to see such a disappointment as himself. Pity for his home, his brothers and sisters, and those he will never be able to help. Pity for what he once was, what he will never be, an those he lost.
Pity for himself.
So, he spends his days alone, depriving himself of anything good, until his remorse and curiosity overwhelms him.
That's when he goes to the hill, like he did that day.
It was inevitable that Castiel had to pass Sam, but he didn't have to be rude, so he gave a greeting. It didn't mean he had to have a conversation, though.
It took a few minutes to get outside and head towards the hill, but he stopped in his tracks that day. Because Dean was there.
Now, Castiel goes to the hill to clear his head. But that day, instead of turning around because Dean was there, he thought for a bit. He didn't know why, but a little wouldn't hurt.
He began walking. Shockingly not back to the bunker, but towards the Impala.
That night, Dean's routine had changed. He didn't know what to think about it.
That night, Castiel wasn't alone. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't depressed for once.
That night, it was almost as if things were like they had been in the old days as they stared at the sky in silence.
A/N: Thanks for reading this far! Please leave a review and any criticism you may have.