Part 1: The River

"I keep going to the river to pray/'Cause I need something that can wash all the pain"

Dean wasn't sure what he was doing here again. Or why he had felt the need to lie to Sam about it. Maybe he just didn't want to see the pitying looks. Or maybe he didn't want Sam to offer to come along. This…this was something Dean needed to do alone.

He knew this wasn't healthy, returning to the place where he'd seen his best friend explode, ripped apart by the Leviathans; then again, Dean had never really cared about what was healthy regarding his emotional state—he just did what he wanted and that was that.

It had been a little over a month since Cas' death—because he had to be dead, or he would have returned by now—but Dean still found himself drawn to this place, where he'd pulled the black-stained trench coat that was still folded in the trunk of the Impala. Every time Dean got a chance to sneak away, he found himself driving here, praying to an angel that could no longer hear him.

Dean thought it was the pain that kept dragging him back.

If it would just stop hurting so damn much, he could move on with his life already. But the agony of Castiel's death was as raw now as it had been the day it had happened. He had lost so many people in his life-it was a hazard of the job-but losing Cas was worse because he had never expected it. The angel had always been, to him, someone impervious to death. He'd always come back to Dean and the hunter had come to expect it would always happen, so the shock of losing him had been abrupt and staggering. Even when he had planned to kill Cas, a small part of him had been relieved when it hadn't worked.

And now the hunter didn't know what else he could do but pray, pray for his friend to come back like he'd been doing for a month now. There had been no word—no sign, and Dean knew he was dead. He didn't like it, but he knew it was true and there was no getting around it.

Nobody was listening to his prayer.

But what else could he do?

Exhaling raggedly, Dean moved to his usual spot: the grassy area at the edge of the water, where he'd stood with Bobby watching his best friend wade out until he was gone. He could still remember being confused, wanting to chase after Cas, to dive in after him and stop him or maybe go with him, he wasn't sure, he just knew that he couldn't lose him. Not now, not like this, not after they'd been so close to having him back, to fixing everything…it couldn't end like this.

Swallowing, the hunter looked out across the grey water as he knelt, rippling slightly in an almost-nonexistent breeze. The grass soaked through his jeans, leaving his legs cold and damp, but he didn't care because he couldn't. He couldn't afford to care about much these days, not when everything was falling apart around him and he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't care...

He tipped his face to the sky, towards Heaven, and he hoped to God that someone—anyone—up there was listening, would give him answers. Because he couldn't take one more day of this, damn it. With Sam's wall gone and the Leviathans ready to tear the world apart, this one thing was just too much. And Dean couldn't stand it. He just…couldn't.

So he prayed out loud, his voice quiet and slightly ragged.

"Hey, Heaven. You sons of bitches are probably sick of hearing from me by now, but I don't care. I'm going to keep praying until someone gives me an answer. You can't…you can't leave me hanging like this," he said raggedly, and he almost lost it. His eyes stung and his chest constricted, and for a few seconds he couldn't breathe. When he had regained his control, he continued roughly, "You can't. You people have taken everything from me, time and again. You owe me this much, damn it!" he yelled at the sky as he finished, wanting to scream, break things, to make someone hurt as much as he did.

He was met only with silence.

Typical.

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head, shaking with anger and grief. He wasn't going to cry. He'd done that way too much already the last few weeks, and he was tired of it. Tired of locking himself in the bathroom at night to grieve in private, tired of burying his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds of his pain, tired of the taste of salt on his lips, and especially tired of Sam's pitying gaze when he saw Dean's weary, puffy green eyes. He never said anything, probably because he knew Dean would rip him a new one if he did, but Dean knew he was worried and it irritated him. Sam had to worry about keeping a hold on his sanity, he couldn't be worrying about Dean too.

"Cas," Dean found himself whispering, even though he knew it was pointless. "Cas, buddy…you gotta come back, man. I know you probably feel guilty about the God thing, and the Leviathans, because that's just how you are. But Cas…you can't stay away like this. Sammy and I, we need you. You're one of us—you're family, Cas. We'll forgive you for all of it, you know we will, damn it, just get your feathery ass back! Please, Cas…please. Come back you stupid little angel. Please," Dean whispered before falling silent.

He stayed like that for a long time—kneeling in the damp grass by the river, waiting for an answer that he knew wouldn't come—because moving would mean feeling, and that was too painful. He blocked it all out because he couldn't take it. Only his cell phone buzzing in his pocket was able to rouse him. He dug it out without getting up, staring dully at the screen.

It was Sam. Probably wondering where he was.

Dean sighed wearily before reluctantly hitting the answer button, knowing that Sam would only worry and maybe try to come after him if he didn't, and he didn't want Sam to find him—didn't want him to know about Dean's visits to Castiel's watery grave. Sam didn't need to know.

"Yeah, what?" Dean grumbled into the phone.

"Where are you?" the younger hunter immediately demanded, confirming Dean's suspicions. The concern and slight irritation mixed in his tone had Dean bristling. He was the older brother, he could take care of himself, damn it. As he'd reminded Sam a countless number of times.

"Out for a drive," he said shortly, aware that he was being a total ass. Again. Not that he cared. "I needed to clear my head a little."

Sam made a skeptical, impatient noise. "Well hurry back—I think I may have found a case for us. It looks like Leviathans, but I guess it could also be demons—"

"Great," Dean interjected before Sam could start babbling about whatever it was he'd found. "I'm on my way." He hung up quickly, but he didn't move just yet. He went back to staring at the water, shivering a little in the cold morning air.

"I gotta go, Cas," he murmured. He knew nobody was listening—he knew that, but pretending there was was currently the only thing keeping him just slightly sane, so he kept at it. Sam had already lost his marbles, he couldn't afford to as well. Swallowing again, Dean shut his eyes tight as he added, "Sam needs me…work to do, you know. Saving people, hunting things. Family business—always something waiting." He laughed hollowly, wondering when that phrase had become so meaningless to him. "Anyways…you—you know how to find me, buddy. I'll be waiting whenever you decide to show your face. Just come back, okay Cas? I'll forgive everything you've done if you come back," he promised, and suddenly he couldn't spend another second there as his eyes burned and he spoke out loud to empty water.

He lurched to his feet, practically running to where he'd parked the Impala. He twisted keys in, but the familiar purr as he revved the engine lacked its usual comfort. Dean took one last lingering glance at the water—hoping for something, anything, even though he knew there wouldn't be—before he slammed his foot on the gas, driving as fast as he could, as though he could outrun the pain and loss chasing him if he was only quick enough.

He wouldn't be coming back to the river again, he decided. There was nothing here for him but a ghost.

[A/N: So yeah…I know I should be working on MTB right now, but—well—I have such writer's block for it! I can't think of how to do the next chapter even though I know what I want to happen and it's frustrating me! So I'm taking a small break to work on this three-shot. Well, three-shot with an epilogue. It's all very feels-y and this has been writing itself in my head for a while so I decided to take a small break from MTB to do this. It's a song-fic, inspired by Ella Henderson's "Ghost". So yeah…lemme know what you guys think please!]

[Oh and just so you guys know, in case anyone didn't catch it, this takes place in season 7, in the time after Cas took in the Leviathans and was 'dead' for a while. So yeah.]

—Makky