Today, a family weeps as they bury a man; our father who art in heaven; our brother who art in the graveyard. A too-big city with fairy tale lights, a man with a too big heart. Tears and blood; what else could there be? Vodka and cheap smiles for gravediggers. A man with a heart pure as snow, light as the first rays of sunlight, carves tearmarks into asphalt with a buck knife. He's got a trench coat and sad eyes, a life with too many mistakes, a life that's not really life, has never been and will never be. Not anymore, anyway.
Blood and whiskey, steely taste of red liquor on top of a tongue. Is this the breaking point? Where he leaves in hopes to find him and never leave? It might be, he thinks - it might be. You can never know. Our father who art in Heaven, take care of him. Let him rest now.
It's a mistake, all of it - a chapter of a heart-wrenching piece of literature, a chapter the author decided to rewrite. No happy endings yesterday, today, tomorrow, goodbye the house by the sea, goodbye the blonde little girl and the dark-haired little boy, goodbye black suits and rings and forever, goodbye all. It's not like anyone wanted any of it anyway.
All out of context, says Sam, downs another glass of whiskey with his red-rimmed eyes staring straight through Cas. All out of context, he repeats. Cas isn't sure what he means. He doesn't know if he wants to know. Sam doesn't look at him.
At this point, Sam is drunk. Little Sam, who never liked alcohol much - Sam, they buried your brother, they killed your hero. Sammy, what are you going to do now? He pours himself a shot of vodka, mixes it with cranberry juice. As the darkness falls, he cries, steady flow of salty water down his face. Little Sammy, you're alone now.
Charlie leads him back to his hotel room. Sam is still crying, wet marks on her shoulder and deep sorrow in her eyes. Sam's eyes are just shallow pools of cheap escape.
There's two large apple pies and they're playing rock music - a too-big photo of a man in a suit, his eyes surprised as he smiles. Cas traces the angle of his jaw through the glass, Sam is long gone by now and they're alone. Ashes to ashes, burn down the bridges you're never going to cross.
There's black and there's blue - the casket wasn't open because they all know what Dean looks like, wouldn't want to remember him like he is now. Blood and pain and bruises, nightmare after a nightmare, three of them in a row.
Castiel hits the snooze button and thinks of dying for the third time.
