This is my first fanfic. It may seem familiar: I had an account on here before with only this first chapter. i never had time to write so I blanked my account (deleted everything) I forgot I did that and made a new one and decided to keep this so... Well, have fun! and please review, I would really appreciate it ;p
It's been two years now, since Castiel died - well, disappeared. Two years, but for Dean, it felt like a lifetime.
And he refuses to believe Cas is dead. He just can't be dead, he can't be.
That's what Dean has told himself, and anyone who disagrees, for a long time now, but it doesn't make Cas any more alive.
And somewhere, deep inside, he knows that. He knows his angel isn't coming back. He doesn't want to believe it, but with everyone telling him to get over Cas… should he? Should he stop hoping, stop searching for his angel?
Even his brother gives him that caring smile, the one that says: "It's okay Dean, It'll all be okay." Although, Sam doesn't really believe that, and Dean doesn't either.
Sam cared about Cas and he wishes it all ended differently. But it didn't.
And Sam knows that. Dean doesn't want to talk about what happened back then. About any of it.
But after two years, Bobby, he's moved on. And he keeps telling Dean to do the same. Even Sam doesn't seem so sure about Cas coming back these days.
That's the reason why he feels so betrayed and alone. Don't they care? Don't they want Cas back?
Of course he knows that Bobby hasn't forgotten about Cas, and that Sam is still struggling what to believe.
Still, Dean feels like they've given up somehow. Though, they continue to support him in whatever he does. Like he's some kid that has to find out the truth on his own, the hard way, by walking right into it.
This isn't over - Dean thinks - I won't let it be over.
Dean walks over to the man, his last steps almost running. He thinks he's found Cas again. Sam is watching him from across the street, wondering if he should stop him, if he should say: "Dean, you know that isn't him."
For two years Dean's been curling his fingers around shoulders that belong to other men, his voice trembling and painfully hopeful – Cas?
But it never is. Today the man in the light brown trench coat turns around and his eyes are brown and his hair beginning to grey.
"Sorry." Dean mutters, and marches back across the street. Back to his brother. "Not him." He mumbles, his head slightly facing down. Sam nods and slides into the passenger seat. It's never him.
"Don't stop." Is all Sam offers, because he doesn't want Dean to give up hope.
And secretly, Sam doesn't want to either. And he knows how Dean deals with stuff like this. He buries it away, to never talk or think about it again, and that it kills him.
The guilt. It'll haunt him, it'll hurt him. And that's the least thing Sam wants. As long as Dean's hoping, it won't hurt him so much.
And between the two of them, he wonders if there's enough hope to call Castiel back, if only for a moment. Just to see his face. They'd know it was Cas, even if it was another, even if it wasn't Jimmy. Dean would always know.
Sam thinks they should be thankful for anything these days.
But that doesn't stop Dean from trailing after every stranger in a trench coat, or catching every pair of blue eyes he sees, hoping for that bit of something elsethat always made Cas exactly what he was.
I wish I could carry your smile and my heart. For times when my life feels so low. It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring, when today doesn't really know.