Dean putted on the black suit, not his fed suit. He had this one tailor fitted. His fingers trembled as he buttoned up his blazer over the waistcoat. Dean's blazer had golden buttons, small rose littered the edges. He picked up a blue tie and stared at the sink. 'It matches his eyes,' he thought to himself. He left it run threw his fighter. He picked up another tie, which was deep red. He sliced it around his neck. He tied it in an eldredge knot, a looked at the layers building up. He glared into the mirror and retuned his looks to the mote's wall.
Dean could hear Sam on his phone.
"Yeah, we understand," Sam muter, "Yeah, Dean's okay... I think. To be honest he looked like shit the last time I saw him." Sam walked away from Dean's Room in the dingy mote. Sam worked to heard for his brother, it was not right. Dean knew he was working the boy to the bone, but he felt so frightened.
Sam knocked on his motel room door, before he walked in. Dean didn't look up, he choose to look at Sammy's shoes. After a moment of build up courage he managed to look at his brother's face. Sam wore white like a swan. They didn't speak in words but in their own way. It was made up of looks and head Dean's head turned back to the wall. Still the only had a shot conversation even.
They got into Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala and derived to a large washed-out building. The stone structure had one large, square tower. A bell sated in its darkened room at the top, four large windows exposed the bell to the world. Dark blue roofs rested on top of the tall walls. An old, white clock face was imbedded in the wall, above the old, heavy door. There were 3 or 4 steps leading to the grand door. The stone matched the bull brown wall, the same as an old English castle.
Dean stepped out of the bull car and felt his hands he wet. He looked down at the fool. He was greeting by white gravely. Dean manually pushed his legs to take his firsts steps towards the spine-chilling. He heard his little brother flowering behind him.
The bell chimed its dark sound as Dean was half way to the building. He felted he heart boomed inside his all ready sore head. Another step towards the lifeless building, soft voices could be heard. Almost darning him to enter the walls, but every step he took the calm chores got louder. The silver bell ringed again. Dean moved closer, near, almost at the door. Within a few steps would be there.
Dean Winchester was there. He was in front of the lager, doubly door. He breathed in a cosmic lump of air throw his nose and ranged his sweaty hands.
"Are you okay Dean?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, fine as rain." Dean said with a grin on his face that died out, like a firework in the air. Dean placed his right hand on the wooden door. He pushed into the door, using his shoulder. It creaked on it old, rusty, melt hinges.
As the door winded the voices come to an immediate stop. Silence filled the air. A least Dean's head didn't hurt. Dean felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and walked into the building.
He when throw a foyer that he didn't paired any intentioned to. Into the lager church hall he when.
The hall was cold, harsh and chilling to Dean's bone with its white walls. The pews were made out of spruce wood, like the floor. An organ played it sorrowful, lifeless song. The building reaches up to the heavens, with long ivory coloured curtains hanging from ceiling.
At the end of the main aisle sat the stiff alter on a raised section. It was cover in a ghostly white fabric and rested before it like knight before a king, a table. That mirrored that... that alter with its cover. All the eyes in the room were engrossed by it, like it had the power of god.
Dean's hart skipped a beat. He stepped toward the table. The sides of his vision blared out into the white. He was there next to the table. He started onto the undyed fabric covered table. He grew colder as if a ghost was in the room.
On the table was a box, a coffin. There was to two things in it. The first was big, red roses. They where blood red, matching Dean's tie. The second lager object in the box was Castiel.
As Dean gazed over Cas' pale face he felted as if he could be sick. Castiel wore a suit that matched Dean's to the tee. His blue eyes coved by his own lids. The angle's dark brown hair stilly mass and arms folded over his chest. He looked so cold and uncaring. It remained Dean of his first memory of the angel.
Before Dean knew it his legs give in. He keened next the coffin with one hand on it wooden eagle.
"Dean! Are you okay? Dean?" Sam asked speedily rushing to his older brother. Dean let out a sofa wiper. His throat clapped shut and his eyes filled with salty tears.
Weakly he left out,
"Why didn't I fucking tell him?" Sam step back. Dean pulled himself up to his feet. "I fucking love you." Dean felt all the angel's brother's eyes on him. He didn't fucking cared. He beat over the dead body and places a kiss on the cold lips.
Nothing happened.