A/N: It's been a while since I updated this one-shot series. I apologize for that. Lately I couldn't find the motivation I needed to write and that's mostly because of my work schedule. Hopefully the hellatus will give me a good reason to start writing again.
Major spoilers for the season 12 finale! You have been warned!
Fallen
Sam had never seen his brother quite this way before.
This wasn't the first time something truly tragic touched their lives-and it wouldn't be the last. That was the fine print in the job description of being a hunter, the unspoken rule every hunter understood. Yet no matter how bad things got, Dean would find some way to keep moving forward, to always keep fighting.
Always.
This time was different.
Of course Sam had been equally shocked when Castiel appeared out of that golden tear in time and space only to be stabbed through the heart with an angel blade mere moments later. What shook him to the core was how Dean reacted. His cry of anguish, followed swiftly by pure immobility as he struggled to take it in.
Face ashen, kneeling beside Castiel's limp form, memorizing every detail of his blank face and those broken wings charred across the earth. Staring, as if that would somehow change what he saw. It never would.
Sometimes Dean would reach out a hand, let it hover over Cas' chest or his cheek, though he could never bring himself to touch him, as if that small contact would force him to realize that those eyelids would never flutter, his chest never rise with breath. No sign of life whatsoever. It may as well be Jimmy Novak lying at Dean's feet, for there was no trace of the supreme celestial being they called their brother.
It had been over an hour since Cas had been struck down before their eyes. Since their mother disappeared into that alternate reality with the Devil's blood fresh on her fists. Since that tear sealed itself and trapped her there, possibly forever.
It had been over an hour and Dean hadn't budged an inch from where he knelt.
"Dean?" Sam whispered, taking a cautious step toward his brother. At this point, Sam would have gladly taken a punch in the face from Dean if it meant his brother was still functioning on some level. There was no reply, no tilt of the head, no indication that Dean even knew he was there. "Dean? Come on, say something. Anything."
As he drew closer, he realized that Dean's lips were indeed moving ever so slightly, the words on his lips inaudible. If Sam bent his head close enough to Dean's head, he could just make out Cas' name, repeated like a prayer to call his lost soul home.
Cas...Cas...Cas...
Dean was broken.
And for the first time, Sam Winchester did not know how to save his brother.
"Dean, please," Sam pleaded, moving to stand beside Cas' fallen body, where Dean had no choice but to see him there. It was hard to look down at that body and know it was empty inside. Instead, he looked down at his brother, whose cheeks were streaked with silver tears. "Family don't end with blood. I can't believe he's gone, either...but we can't stop fighting now. Mom is lost in that alternate reality with Lucifer-there has to be a way to get her back, right? She needs us. And to save her, I need you. Like I always have."
Dean's eyes barely glanced his way.
That was it. Short of dragging Dean away, there was nothing Sam could do to bring him back from the edge of that abyss. All he could do was let Dean grieve and hope he could find a way to move past this.
For so long, Dean had been the strong one, always there to protect his little brother from the world, but who was there to take care of Dean?
"Maybe you need me now more than I need you. I'll be here if you do," Sam promised. He squeezed his brother's shoulder before turning back toward the house. "Jerk," he added, in the faintest hope that Dean might answer.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, there was only silence at his back.
Then Dean drew in a ragged breath.
"Bitch," he whispered. Sam stopped in his tracks. In that one word was everything Dean wanted to say and couldn't, least of all "I need you, too." Sam heard it clear as a bell nonetheless.
At last, Dean's boots scraped the earth as he climbed to his feet, knees wobbling from kneeling too long. Sam offered him a hand of support, as much to guide him away from their fallen friend as to remind him that he was still there to help Dean heal. Dean bowed his head once more, a silent prayer of goodbye, and then fell into step beside Sam.
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean barked, fresh determination in his stride and in his eyes. Call it pain, call it fury, call it hatred for what had taken place here. Sam was only grateful for the moment that it was enough to keep Dean going. "We've got work to do."
...
Dare I ask: what did you all think of the season 12 finale?
