Winchester Ghosts

For a moment, Castiel sat in shock. When realization hit him, he was frozen under the weight of his grief and guilt. Dean Winchester was dead. The man that he had pulled from hell, who had become Castiel's family, and who was the only human that ever really mattered. He was dead and it was all Castiel's fault.

The hunt had gone well. They had eradicated the major demons in the nest and had let their guard down. That was when the last of the demons attacked. They were much stronger than Castiel had anticipated and they had overpowered him quickly. One of them had held Castiel's hair to make him watch as the other drove her blade deep into Dean's chest. The look on Dean's face would forever be burned into Castiel's memory.

The demons had stabbed in the side and let him bleed before throwing him to the ground next to Dean's crumpled form. Then they had fled. Castiel did't care. All he could think of was Dean. He crawled closer to him.

"Dean." His throat was already choked with tears.

"Cas…" Dean whispered. He was so weak. Humans were fragile, but Dean had always seemed something other. Something so much more. But he was dying right in front of Castiel and there was nothing that Castiel could do to stop it. His grace was too diminished by the fight.

"Dean…don't leave me. Please." His voice broke on the last word. But dean didn't answer. He was already gone.

Castiel was alone in the world. There was no one left. A few months after Dean's death, Sam had been killed by a demon. His family, the Winchesters, were dead. Castiel spent his days in silence, sitting in the bunker, imagining the voices of Sam and Dean filling the air again. Sometimes they were working a case:

"So get this," Sam said. "There were five bodies reported found without their brains in the past two weeks."

"What the hell?"

"I don't know, man."

Sometimes they were just talking, bickering, and spending time together:

"Sammy, catch!"

"Dean! Don't throw my computer!"

And sometimes, they talked to Castiel:

"Cas, buddy, you gotta get out there. People could be dying without your help. C'mon, man."

"Dean's right, Castiel. And it's not healthy for you to stay in here with us all the time."

Castiel could hear them so vividly, sometimes he wandered from room to room looking for them. But of course, he never found them. Because they were gone. Once this realization hit him, he fell apart all over again, a crumpled figure in a dirty trench coat. His vessel could not stand the grief of the angel and over time, started to die. Castiel was ready, but there was something he wanted to do, a place he wanted to go when it happened. So he spread his ratty wings and flew off.

Once he had gotten his strength back, Castiel had made the impala like new. He couldn't do it like Dean, but his celestial powers did work on the car. Then he had driven it to a place he knew his human would have wanted it to be. It stayed hidden in a lot outside of Lawrence, Kansas. When Castiel got there, he drove the car into town and found the house. It was old and beautiful, and Castiel could easily picture the little Winchester boys here. If their mother had never died. If John had never made them hunters. If they had never known that monsters or demons…or Castiel existed. They could have been happy here.

Castiel sat in the quiet, in the dark, imagining the sounds of the Winchester family, living and happy, in the house. The ghosts of his family, at peace. He sat there for the rest of the night, smiling, with tears running down his face, until the sun came up. And when the sun came up, it was met with the sound of police sirens and an ambulance that was far too late.

"Daddy, can we play football?"

"Sure, Dean-o."

"Sammy, let's go play."

"John, make sure Dean is careful with him!"

"Their fine, Mary."

"This is the best day ever, isn't it, Daddy?"

"Sure is, kiddo. Sure is."