"It holds you, so hold me. Until it sleeps."
-Until it sleeps by Metellica
Dean visits the grave early in the morning, before Sam wakes up. He doesn't want anyone's pity, he doesn't want anyone to give him that sad smile and tell him what day it is because he already fucking knows what day it is.
He just wants to visit Cas.
The days are becoming easier. It's hard though. Some days, he stares long and hard at a gun he's turning over in his hands and wonders if it would be easier just to pull the trigger. He was so close one day. He had the barrel pointed at his face, his finger grazing lightly over the trigger, but he'd stopped himself. Because no matter how bad he felt, no matter how much the pain constricted in his chest, he just couldn't put Sammy through it.
Sam already had to bury on of his best friends, Dean couldn't make him bury his brother too.
Today though, his breath came easier. It was an odd sensation. He was unaccustomed to the complete lack of pain. He wasn't happy, or even content. He was just comfortably numb. No feeling. No happiness, but no pain. It was a nice compromise.
He doesn't have any flowers with him, because Cas wouldn't want flowers. If Dean had ever brought him flowers while he was alive, Cas would've knitted his eyebrows together, and held them at arm's length. "But what do I do with them Dean?"
Dean didn't really have anything with him. He couldn't think of anything to bring. He really just wanted to sit and think, and be alone. He could remember better times, and think about the times they could have had.
He arrives at the grave just in time to see the first streaks of light break through the sky. He rolls his eyes at how poetic it is, and sits down, kneeling before the mound of earth in front of him. The numbness is ebbing away, and the familiar stabs of grief grasp at Dean's heart.
"Not today." He mutters to himself. "Remember the good shit."
He looks back at the unmarked headstone, and forces a sad smile onto his face. "Happy five years buddy."
