Title: When You're Gone
Author: Indigo Night
Feedback: Yes please
Summary: As soon as the scar disappeared, Dean knew.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters
Spoilers: Not really.
Pairing: Puts emphasis on Dean and Cas's relationship, but doesn't define it. So friendship/brotherhood/slash, your choice.
Warnings: Character death, angst.
Author's Note: I seem to be fixated on the idea of Dean praying to Cas tonight. Random angst. Read, Review,
Enjoy!
They were on a routine hunt in Middle of Nowhere, Nebraska when it happened. Basic salt n' burns had become so few and far between for them that it was almost like a little vacation.
They had just finished up and were heading back to the car with their gear when abruptly Dean collapsed, clutching his shoulder. Sam's first thought was that the spirit had gotten him somehow without either of them noticing.
It was Dean's first thought too. But it didn't feel like any of the usual spirit-inflicted pains. It burned, and of course he'd been burned before, plenty of times, but this was different because it was burning him from the inside.
It became so intense that his vision whitened out and he lost all awareness of his surroundings. It started in his shoulder but spread down his arm and through his chest and on until he was certain that he was going to be consumed completely until there weren't even charred bones left behind.
It was a long time before he could do anything but huddle on the ground, clutching his shoulder and make choked half screams. Sam hovered over him anxiously, trying to pull Dean's hand away so he could see what was happening.
But then, just abruptly as it had started, it ended. Leaving behind nothing but a hollow, empty ache deep inside Dean's gut.
As soon as the tension drained from Dean's body Sam moved in, inspecting for injury. His brow furrowed in a frown and he glanced at Dean, concerned.
"What?" Dean asked hoarsely, "What is it?"
"There's… nothing there."
Dean frowned. It was weird, but the things they fought didn't always leave outward signs, so it wasn't quite weird enough for the look Sam was giving himself. "What?"
"Dean, there's nothing there." And Sam moved back, pulling away Dean's shirt so he could see. It took a second, but then Dean saw it, and understood.
There was nothing there. No wound, no scar, no handprint.
He swallowed, mouth dry. "Cas?" He felt his eyes stinging before his mind could even really process what he was seeing. Because there could only be one possible explanation. That scar was the only thing that had come out of hell with him, the mark of his and Castiel's first meeting. It had stayed with him even when Castiel had lost his Grace and become human.
He turned away from Sam, because what could he say? He couldn't face the sympathy in Sam's eyes, the understanding.
It was for real this time. No do over's, no miracles.
They never found a body, though they didn't really expect to. They never spoke about it either. Sam tried a few times, but Dean would just give him this empty, hollowed-out look and the words would die in his throat.
They continued on like they always did, because what else could they do? But Dean's heart was never in it anymore. He rarely spoke, and even never smiled. Soon, it was like there was nothing left of the big brother Sam had once known.
It was only in the dead of the night, when Dean thought Sam was asleep, that whatever small fragments of him showed through.
He could curl up and bury his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds, and begin to whisper.
"Hey Cas…"