Sam was in hell. Sam took over Lucifer and was in hell. Sam, his brother, Sammy, took over Lucifer and went to hell to stop the apocalypse. Which he started. And was his fault.
Dean's mind was a mush of feelings. He couldn't think straight, not after what happened. The marks of Lucifer's- Sam's- fists still hurt on his face, even though Castiel got rid of them, and his lungs were hurting with every breath he took. Every once and now, he would raise his hand and put it on his cheek, finding nothing but a slight stubble. It seemed unreal, the way things happened, crazy even in Winchester's mind. But the fact that Sammy wasn't here, in the car with Dean on his side, was real and made everything else seem real. It hurt- a physical ache that made its way up to Dean's heart and settled there, ripping out and shredding, cutting and torturing. Like hell all over again.
Sammy was in hell and only thought Dean had was how to get him out of there, as fast as he could, before he gets slaughtered and broken like he was. But he made a promise and swore to keep it, swore to keep it to Sam. And Sam, and Sam only, was the only thing that mattered to Dean in his whole life. Yes, there were other things, but none of them mattered as much as his little brother. He always took care of him, treated him as his own child, for hell's sake. It was like he was a brother, a father and a friend at the same time. Imagine loosing it all.
When the tears came, he didn't stop them from falling. They slowly rolled down his cheeks, pain written all over them. A cry of devastation passed through his lips and then he was literally shaking, sobbing, gasping for air, mumbling Sam's name over and over again like a mantra.
He was broken, ripped to shreds, and felt like he was teared in half, and then cut to even smaller pieces. It felt nothing like hell- fuck, he would gladly take that all over again because the thought of Sammy, his little noisy geeky brother whom he loved more than anything in the world being tortured, hurt more then any other physical pain he ever lived through.
The next couple of minutes were a blur to him- suddenly Impala was parked by the road, shut down, his lips were bleeding and he could taste the blood on his tongue when he passed it over his chopped lips. There were strong hands on his arms and they were holding him tight, keeping him from falling apart. Blue eyes were staring into his, so intense and beautiful, that it hurt Dean to look at them. They were filled with concern and brows over them were pressed together tightly, forehead creased. Dean just wanted to put his hand out, smoothen his forehead with his fingers, tell him not to worry, that he is okay, but instead he just kept staring at Castiel with teary eyes, lips still shaking.
"I know what you are thinking, Dean, but it wasn't- isn't- your fault", said Castiel, sounding almost like he was on the edge of tears. This wasn't right, Dean reminded himself, angels don't have feelings-they shouldn't do this.
But then again, it was like comfort, and that was what Dean needed right now. Sammy wasn't here to soothe his pain, so why not take somebody else to make it right.
Castiel tilted his head a slight bit and raised a hand to wipe a tear from Dean's cheek. It felt wrong- but right at the same time, and Dean leaned into the hand, his thoughts still not coherent. His mind wandered off Sammy for a moment, that warm hand on his cheek making him lightheaded for some reason. Sammy. Sammy wasn't here. And there were the tears again, falling soundlessly down his cheeks.
He could have stopped him. He was there, standing right beside him. But...for some reason unknown to him, he didn't. And he'll regret that decision for the rest of his life, because he could have done something, but he didn't.
"Sam...he did it because he wanted to, Dean. It isn't your fault...Dean, listen to me! It isn't your fault. You couldn't have done a thing." Castiel suddenly grabbed him by the arms and shook him. Dean looked up to Castiel, hands wiping off the tears from his face and sniffed. It made him concentrate for a moment.
"I know", he said with a broken voice. "I just...it doesn't seem real, does it. This morning he was here. Now...he's gone, Cas, and I'll never see him again." Sobbing, he pulled up his knees to his chest and hugged them tight. He could have died in that moment and he wouldn't even mind or care. Without Sam, he didn't have a meaning.
"You do, Dean, you do have a meaning. Remember the stuff you did before the whole thing with the apocalypse started? That's what you need to do." Castiel's voice was calm and filled with so much feeling, so much appreciation and care. His words felt heavy on Dean's ears.
Dean whimpered. "Can't...not without Sammy."
Castiel let him cry for a bit more, and then there was no more Impala, just the comfortable surroundings of a cheap motel Dean was so familiar with. The same sheets as in every, same furniture, even the same curtains.
Dean was still sobbing when Castiel pushed him to the bed, took his shoes off and slid his jacket down his shoulders. Then he tucked him under the covers still dressed and wiped the tears from Dean's cheeks. Dean didn't even react to stuff that was happening around him, just kept staring with numb and swollen eyes.
Castiel leaned over him and spoke with a soft voice: "Go to sleep. You'll be better tomorrow, you'll see."
Dean didn't nod or do anything. He was staring into nothing, and it hurt Castiel to see him like this, but he didn't know what to do. All of a sudden, Dean stood up and put his arms aroundCastiel's neck, crying into his shoulder. It was an awkward moment where Castiel didn't know what to do, but then Dean took Castiel's arms and put them around his shoulders. Dean felt comfortable enough to let himself cry when Castiel murmured low shush's to him.
They stood like that for a long time, Castiel rubbing circles into Dean's shoulders and Dean crying soundlessly into his neck. It was a bittersweet moment between them and it was weird that Dean didn't even seem to mind it. After all, Cas was his best friend, one he could talk about anything because the angel already knew everything, one who understood him the best...after Sam. Somehow, he was the only thing left. Bobby didn't count- he was a father figure, but never enough of it to make its way up to Dean's heart. Castiel was the only thing left that really mattered to Dean.
Dean realized he was gripping Cas' shoulders too tightly and decided to let him go, but Castiel grabbed his arms and brought them around his neck, hugging him even closer to his body. Dean relaxed.
"I can go to sleep now. I..I think." His voice was still shaking when he said it, so he coughed to make it better. "I'm okay, Cas. You can let me go."
However, the words hit Dean- he didn't want Cas to let him go. He wanted Cas to hold him and rock him to sleep because it made him feel better when he was around him. The thing was, he wanted to feel safe for once in his life, and this night was perfect for it- him feeling broken and unable to take care of himself in this situation and all. He wanted to be treated like he always treated Sam when the nights were cold or dad wasn't there.
Castiel slowly moved them to the bed, pushed Dean's shoulders down and made him lie on his back. He took his shoes off then, brushed the trench coat down his shoulders and sat on the bed, staring at Dean.
"Come here", Dean said softly and tugged Castiel to him, hugged him tightly around his waist and then pulled the covers over them. He sighed into Castiel's chest when the angel put an arm around him. Dean already felt safe and warm.
And when Castiel started humming a tune of some Metallica song, Dean knew this was it. He closed his eyes and let himself fall to sleep, with the though of doing this forever now when Sam was gone. Just for the company and the comfort.
"I won't leave you", Castiel said and then Dean could finally fall asleep.
Castiel didn't keep his promise, though. Dean woke up in the Impala, chin on his knees. The first thing he thought was that it was something that Castiel made him to dream, but then he saw that he was barefoot and not wearing a jacket. He yawned and rubbed at his puffed eyes.
What startled him a few minutes after was a small piece of paper on Sam's seat. He took it and turned it over, then read the note written in a neat handwriting. The tears were prickling in the backs of his eyes but he didn't let them fall.
He didn't believe in himself enough to know how to do it right. But, living a life as an obedient son, he listened and did what was expected from him.