Cafeteria food is gross. No matter where you are, school or prison, a hospital or maybe a government building, cafeteria food is always the opposite of appetizing. It may sometimes look moderately good, until you take a bite and you realize it's fresh from the freezer. No matter where you go, cafeteria food is never really food. The cafeteria at the Hospital of the Angel Michael, or H.O.A.M, was no different. Luckily, it's very difficult to ruin pasta.

On his 5th day at H.O.A.M, (pronounced 'home') Castiel sat with Charlie for lunch, as he had done every meal. Really, Charlie sat with him. His first day he sat at a table, ready to sit alone, and then BOOM, a nerdy redhead was there. At first, Cas didn't didn't really care if she was there, but eventually she became actually kind of nice. Of course he didn't say this, he never said anything, but he hoped in some way she knew he was thankful for her company.

Charlie was much quieter during their hospital activities. Her normally energetic and quirky self dulled whenever they were told what to do by the hospital staff. It wasn't just Charlie though. The place was its own form of gloomy. No matter how many fish murals and fountains and encouragement posters were on the wall, nothing could change the grey mood of the place. Honestly, Cas didn't really expect them to. A hospital is meant to be devoid of anything happy, it's just how it was meant to be.

This lunch of cold pasta with a stale breadstick and peas was one of the better meals they had had so far. Others included soggy turkey sandwiches, fake fish sticks, and the absolute worst in all cafeterias, pizza. The pizza was completely disgusting in every way. Cas could handle though, pizza wasn't his thing, but when someone ruined PB&J, Cas couldn't stand it. PB&J was his favorite food, as it was what he and Dean ate the night they met. It reminded him of squealing during the horror movies they watched, or how LOADED with peanut butter their sandwiches had been. Dean almost used half the jar just on their 2 dinners. So yeah, lots of peanut butter with a little bit of jelly and white bread brought back memories. Good, blue and green memories.

Castiel took a bite of the pasta, fixing his eyes on a patch on his trench coat. It was stained with chocolate ice cream, from that time when they were cuddling and Dean's half eaten bowl had spilled. Good. Good blue green memories.

He looked up, glancing around and watching the people in the cafeteria. Charlie was consulting a therapist about medication today, so Cas was left on his own, which was fine. Charlie was great. She was funny and kind and super extra in a good way, but for some reason he felt like she was making him replace Dean. As if Dean was watching around every corner, feeling his heart break into pieces whenever anyone spoke to Castiel. He couldn't bare it, thinking of Dean hurting more. He hurt so much now. Every word he spoke was laced with the hugs he could not give, and Cas knew this. It was his fault. He was to scared to let Dean close, and now the person he cared about most was suffering.

Cas turned his head around, watching the people at the tables behind him. He was alone at his table, but he had no problem just watching. A lot can be learned from people who don't know you're listening. He saw at the table 2 tables behind him,Chuck, Michael, and Fergus. Fergus and Michael were both in for the same reason, their self-destructive and angry nature. Both had a tough childhood of neglect, although neither cared to go in to anymore detail than that. It was customary to ask everyone you met why they were there because maybe then you'd be able to bond. You'd be able to bond over a pain that neither could understand. Chuck was in for a suicide attempt after his parents kicked him out. Being bisexual just wasn't accepted in his house, and now with no home he only saw one option. Cas was glad he had survived, he seemed like a nice guy. He was quiet, but very caring nonetheless. He sat with Michael and Fergus because he didn't make any noise, and the two didn't really care who sat with them.

No one knew what happened to Cas. No one really asked either. They could just kind of... tell. He had a mood, a deep blue radiating off the said loud and clear,

Don't

And they didn't, not even Charlie, who liked knowing everything about Cas. Apparently a PB&J obsessed book worm with PTSD was very interesting.

Cas' ears twitched as he heard chairs move behind him. The trio had gotten up, thrown out their lunches, and were heading for the common room. It was group meeting time, and everyone actually kind of enjoyed it. They got so see everybody that wasn't in their sessions or other personalized events. During the group meetings, doctors would talk about possible new activities, events, and take suggestions about what the patients wanted more of. They all assumed the doctors couldn't care less about what they wanted, but gave the illusion that they did. For some, it did work though. Fergus and Michael would laugh whenever someone actually put thought into one of the ideas; it wasn't going to happen. No, we're not getting Call of Duty for the Xbox.

The common room was an average size, with a wide flat screen TV hanging in front of two old, green couches. Between those two couches sat a small wooden table with a magazine holder resting in it. There were magazines concerning sports, Tv entertainment, and those weight loss ones with the photoshoped models on the covers. To the right of the Tv there was a smaller Tv with an xbox 360 under it and 4 controllers. The walls were ugly beige and a bookshelf sat in one of the corners. Cas sat on the ground where he could fidget with the carpet as other patients started filing in.

"Everyone, please settle down.." Dr. Shane said, clearing her throat as she waited for the noise to die down, "We have nothing especially new today, just a few schedule changes and some packages for some of you." Dr. Shane smiled, "Firstly, lunch will be a half-hour later from now on, just to let you all sleep more."

There were some groans and some cheers. Castiel wasn't listening, he just had found a very interesting string that laced throughout the carpet, and was intrigued by how it twisted and burrowed between his fingers. And then, the string reminded him of how his hand used to be intertwined with Dean's, and suddenly a string was a knife, slicing through his soul. He began to shake, yet it was so ghostly no one even turned or twitched their ears.

Dean

Dean

Dean

Dean

I want to speak to Dean. Let me speak to Dean.

Like all times he asked for such a blessing, his mouth seemed to laugh to itself and smirk.

Let me speak.

Met with only the same shrewd response, Castiel tugged the string right from the ground, and stopped his rushing mind by simply collapsing.

Dean paced around his home. It was the 5th day without Cas in the house, and each day the lavender smell of Castiel's all natural cologne started to fade. He couldn't smell it anymore. The floors seemed to creak more than usual, but he was probably only noticing it more. Without Cas always shifting in his seat or walking around aimlessly, every sound was... louder. Of course, 2 years ago the house was filled with their laughter and Cas' dad jokes. Their house was filled with quick kisses and chip wrappers littered around the house, and maybe, just maybe butterfly kisses, but those were very special.

Dean sat on the white leather couch. He placed his palm where Cas' hand should be and shook his head, "Baby, come back."

It was scary how much he remembered just from touching that one spot on the couch. How many stains they struggled to wash off, just for Cas to push Dean away and sit on it.

"If you can't see it than it's not there,"

he would say, smiling at Dean. Dean would smile with him, and they would forget about it until it would be a sin to get it off. It was a recollection now of their love. The humor side of it, filled with making each other feel complete happiness, even just for those few seconds. Cas pushing Dean's face away with the sleeve of his coat, sitting on the stain, and simply saying, "If you can't see it than it's not there."

He couldn't see Cas right now, and Cas wasn't there.

That night, Dean pulled the blanket over him. Beside him was one of Cas' old sweatshirts with birds on it. It still smelled like him, so Dean had been using it as a stuffed animal to reassure himself when he slept those first few days. The side of the blanket beside him got colder with each passing day, the mattress getting firmer, and the pillow hardening. The world, Dean's world, was adapting to life without Castiel, and he hated it.

"He's not gone," Dean muttered, "He's not gone," but it had been two years, and now a new threat slowly began to pour down;

Dean was beginning to lose himself. He was losing hope, losing confidence, losing everything. Who was he without Castiel? Who was he without his angel? Who was he without his happiness?