The Empty promised Castiel sleep. An endless, peaceful slumber. So why are Cas's eyes open? Staring ahead into the darkness, anything that extends outside of his body is just darkness and darkness and nothing. It's a strain, having nothing to fix his gaze on; his human eyes and his angel eyes still trying to, against his will, looking outwards and outwards, reaching as far as they can. There's nothing. All is empty.
He drops his eyes to his own hands, his knees, the frayed hems of his coat. Those are real, solid things. Only real things in the vastness of here.
He's real. And he's alone. And he can't sleep no matter how hard he tries to.
How long has it been? How long since he got here, since he gave up his life for Dean? He doesn't regret it, not for one second. He was always gonna end up here, anyway. What's important is that Dean is alive, fighting God, saving the world.
It just hurts, knowing he will never see Dean again. How can he sleep if he can't stop thinking about him? About the terror on Dean's face as the Empty was taking him. About every moment, good or bad, ever since he pulled Dean out of hell.
If he could sleep, maybe he'd be able to dream about Dean. Maybe it would even feel real, even if it could never be. Cas hasn't dreamt in so long. It could be nice, he could see Dean, hear his voice. He could touch him and talk to him and have Dean smile at him with that wide smile that brightens up his whole face.
Cas lies down on nothing. It's neither soft nor hard, it just—isn't. But he knows where the up is and where the down is, so at least he's got that. And there's more of nothing above him.
He closes his eyes. Not much changes, really. It's still the same darkness, except this way his eyes get to rest. So he lies and lies and lies there. He's trying to think of good things, then he makes himself let go of Dean's face, just for a moment and think of no things at all.
Then, he's trying counting sheep. Under his eyelids, white puffy things jump over an imaginary fence. One at a time.
Three thousand and seventy two, three thousand and seventy three. How much further does he have to go?
This isn't gonna work, is it?
There's Dean's face again. In the broad daylight, it's still brighter than the sun. He's talking to Cas and his words don't really matter, it was one of those days when he'd talk about beers and burgers and the last vamp nest he and Sam slain.
Cas still remembers every word, anyway. He remembers the timbre of his voice, low and warm. It couldn't have been that long, then. In the end, all those will begin to fade away. Dean will fade away. From Cas's memory, from the earth. Maybe then, Cas will be able to drift away, at last. Get his promised sleep.
He just has to wait. He just has to forget what loving Dean feels like. Even if the very idea of it hurts. If he loses his love, what will be there left of him? Maybe to sleep he needs to be as hollow as the empty, first.
But until then, as long as he gets to keep his love, he's happy to suffer his existence in the nonexistence.
He sits back up, as if it changed a thing, wraps his arms around his knees. Eyes ahead, again, stuck on nothing and nothing and nothing.
Until nothing changes into something. Cas blinks. It's just a shadow in the darkness, he could be seeing things. But he's sure it's there, though it can't be. With each step closer taking in more shape, more solidity.
Is it the Empty coming to torture him, unable, just as he is, to sleep after all? Is it Billie, still alive, craving revenge? As if there was anything worse she could do to him. Is it one of his brethren, Lucifer? His demons? Whoever it is, a prospect of having anyone or anything real near feels like a relief.
Soon, the form becomes clear. Familiar. It's a man, burly, bearded, a cap on his head.
"Benny?"
Cas springs up to his feet.
Benny lets out a chuckle. "So that's why the Empty is asleep, at last."
Cas narrows his eyes at him. It's Benny, it's really him. The same voice, the same blue eyes, even the smile, though Cas was never the one at the receiving end of those.
"What do you—?" No, that's not relevant. "How are you here?"
"It looks like you got the answer to your…metaphysical question," he says. What question? All Cas asked was how. "Where do monsters go when they die in monster heaven?"
"Oh." Of course, Benny died. He had to go somewhere. Or perish. "I suppose there aren't that many options to choose from."
"Too many if you ask me. I miss Purgatory. This? This is cruel."
"We should be sleeping, too," Cas explains. Sleep doesn't seem more cruel than constant fight and flight. "Why aren't you?"
"Looks like that wasn't in the cards for me," Benny muses. A curious smile plays on his face. "I'll keep falling asleep then wake up. Too much going on in my head to fall asleep again. So I took a trip. You're the first person I found."
"I'm glad you're here," Cas says, surprising even himself. Although Dean adored Benny, Cas and he never really got close. It wasn't that Cas was jealous. Or maybe he was — he was that Benny got to take care of Dean while Cas fled. But that's Cas's own fault. And it was so long ago.
Now, they'll at least have each other in this nothingness.
"I'm glad too. I hope you took good care of Dean," Benny says in a tone that won't accept no.
"Dean's good. At least was, when I saw him the last time. He and Sam are fighting God, now."
Benny laughs. "Why am I not surprised?"
Cas can't help but accompany Benny's laughter. It's Dean Winchester, after all. Of course, he'd go against God, for the world, for freedom. For love.
They sit down, back to back, leaning on each other, the same way Cas would often see Benny sit with Dean in Purgatory. It's good to have some company. Someone to open his mouth to, someone to touch, to know that they're real.
"It's been seven years since we met," Cas says. Met with a silence, he adds, "Do you still think about him?"
"All the time." Benny lets out a heavy sigh, but there's no regret in it. His voice is soft and Cas could swear he's smiling. "All the damn time."