All it had taken was a simple knock on the door. That was it. That was when they knew, he was okay.
It had been months since Sam and Dean had watched the angels fall from Heaven. As if Sam hadn't been gutted enough by confessing that he'd rather die than let Dean down, he'd had to watch as one of the best friends they'd ever had fall. And then not know where he was. It had been a nightmare. Sam had felt selfish that night, even though Dean kept telling him he shouldn't. But while he was crying, Castiel was crashing down to earth somewhere, alone.
Needless to say, the trails were quickly forgotten. Sam liked it a little bit better anyways. He knew Dean wasn't disappointed in him, and he had something to live for again. He had to live for Dean. Because he could clearly see how Dean was slowly losing it.
At first, they searched madly, calling every hunter they knew – who didn't hate their guts – if they'd heard from Cas. They even put in a missing person's report; Dean had insisted on calling him Castiel Winchester, even though Sam had thought of Novak at first. Winchester made more sense.
Months went by. And still nothing. Not even a phone call.
"Well, all he had to dial was '1' for you," Sam said, looking at Dean, "and '2' for me. I doubt he actually knows our phone numbers." And for a moment, Dean had grinned, imagining Cas dialing in '1' and looking utterly confused when nothing happened. But the amusement didn't last long.
As the weeks went by, Dean got more frantic. He started drinking more, and yelling more. Sometimes even at nothing. He just needed to yell and hit things. Sam could only watch as Dean took his anger out on any and every monster they found. Dean had always been an avid hunter, but during those months, he went after monsters, hell-bent. Many times, Sam had to drag Dean away and put the bastard out of its misery. Dean would just storm off to find another one, even with his knuckles bruised and bloody.
It ripped Sam to shreds.
While Dean went on his tirades, Sam continued to call hunters for updates and making more missing people reports. After three months, he started checking morgues without telling Dean. That went on for a little while, but not too long.
"Where were you?" Dean asked as Sam walked back into the Batcave, late once again. It wasn't mean, just confused. Still, Sam sighed.
"Out," he said, throwing his things on the couch and going for a beer.
"You went out?" Dean raised an eyebrow and twisted at the waist to see his brother better. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Got a girlfriend you're not telling me about or something?"
Sam looked over at Dean, and for a moment, considered saying 'yes'. How much easier that would be. But he couldn't lie to Dean. He could never lie to Dean again.
"No," he said, glancing down at his feet. "I was at a morgue."
"A morgue?" Dean asked, the look of confusion growing on his face. "Was there some weird murder?"
"No, Dean," Sam said, leaning against the wall. He still couldn't look at his brother.
"Sammy, what aren't you telling me?" Dean got up slowly and walked over to his brother. "Sammy?"
"I was looking for Cas."
Dean stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Sam. For a long moment, neither said anything. Sam dared a glance up at Dean. His brother's jaw was tense and his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away. The corners of his lip turned down as anger set over his face.
"Dammit, Sam!" he snapped as he threw his beer bottle to the ground. "Cas isn't dead!"
"Dean, we don't know that," Sam said, trying to be gentle. "He fell. And we don't know where. What if he fell in the middle of the ocean? Does he know how to swim? Or what if a demon-"
"He's not dead, alright?" Dean yelled, glaring at Sam.
"You think I want him to be dead?" Sam asked, starting to get angry. "He's my friend too. But we have to face the fact that maybe he didn't-"
"Don't." Dean's teeth were clenched tightly, the word barely making it out. When Sam looked at his older brother, he could have sworn he saw tears brimming in Dean's eyes.
"Okay, fine," Sam said, pushing away from the wall. "I'm going to bed." He walked away, not looking back at Dean.
They barely talked the next day.
A month later, the subject was brought up again. Dean had been on the phone with another hunter, hoping desperately that someone had heard news. Nothing. His temper flaring, Dean snapped the phone shut and then threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall.
"Dean, you've got to stop this," Sam said, trying to get his brother to look at him.
"Stop what?" Dean demanded, turning on the taller man. "Looking for our friend? What, do you want me to just give up on him? After everything he's done for us, and then the shitty way we treated him? Dammit Sam, he's alive. I just know it." He paused and then looked down. "He can't be gone," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We'll find him," Sam said, although he wasn't so sure. But he had to try and keep Dean happy. Or at least hopeful. Dean was spiraling and it was far too familiar. It was how Sam had felt after Jessica had died. He could see it in Dean. Sure, they'd been devastated when Bobby had died, but that had been different somehow. And even if Cas was one of Sam's closest friends, he knew that Castiel was Dean's best friend. Even if Dean wouldn't admit it.
So for Dean's sake, Sam had to pretend that Cas had always had a one-hundred percent chance of surviving the fall. Even if the thought of Cas possibly being dead crossed his mind, Dean seemed to know and lash out. It turned into a mantra for Sam; 'Cas is alive and we will find him.'
It wasn't until maybe four or five months after the night the angels had fallen that there was a knock on the door to the Bat-cave.
For a moment, Dean and Sam looked at each other, mentally trying to figure out who it would be. Kevin had been busy dealing with Crowley as a personal vendetta. He rarely dropped by the Bat-cave, not wanting to risk Crowley would do something. Charlie always called ahead, usually telling them what was up hours before her Bug pulled in. Only one other person knew where the Bat-cave was.
When the second knock came, Dean jumped from his chair so quickly, it was knocked backwards. He didn't even stop to right it. Sam rose to his feet and stared at where the door was, too shocked to move. He heard the door open, and only then did he follow after his brother, terrified that it might be a trap.
"Hello Dean." He heard the gravely, deep voice, even from the other room. Somehow, he knew there wouldn't need to be any tests. There wouldn't be a need for holy water or silver, or a check for black blood. It was him.
Still, Sam had to see it to believe it.
When he got to the door, the first thing he saw was Dean's back, his head ducked down into the other man's shoulder. Strong arms were wrapped tightly around him. A mass of messy, dark brown hair was visible, the face pressed in deep to Dean's neck.
The head lifted, and those blue eyes looked up at him. His face was scruffy and a bit thinner then Sam remembered but it was definitely him.
Sam smiled and Castiel smiled back. He'd never seen Cas smile so widely, so genuinely before.
Nodding his understanding, Sam stepped away to give them some privacy.
"I've missed you so much," he heard Dean say, his voice cracking slightly.
"I've missed you too."
Sam went into the kitchen, a smile on his face as he started to make burgers for them. Everything was going to be alright. He had his brothers back.