Dark blotches stained the white trench coat still. Dean had tried removing them unsuccessfully many months ago. He ran his fingers over them; images of Cas in his last moments coming unbidden to his mind's eye: Castiel's gait an inhuman shuffle, black ooze seeping from his every orifice, black veins lacing up his face, and finally, the awful smile and chuckle as he threw Bobby across the room. "This is gonna be fun."
Dean stood up from the bed, throwing the coat down. He raised his hand to his face and rubbed it roughly across his eyes and down to his mouth as he inhaled sharply. No. He didn't want to remember his friend like that. That was the Leviathan. The Leviathan killed Castiel. They killed Bobby. The Leviathan were gonna pay. The only question was if the rage and grief wouldn't destroy him first.
