Chapter 8: Oblivion

I remember. Four days and three hours ago you had found the stain of blood on my shirt. I had said I didn't know, whose blood it was, and dismissed it. And even when you had had all the doubt in the world in your eyes, you had accepted it. At least for the moment. For four days and three hours now something was different between us. You only answered with short phrases to my words, actually you tried to avoid words in general. Every now and then I noticed you staring at me, whenever you thought I wouldn't see it. And you always looked away, when I stared back. You avoided eye contact, but I could see it. The idea inside you. Something was working in your head. Something doubted me. But the worst thing in all this was our routine. You broke our routine. Every night I sat in the kitchen and waited for you to get up and come to that very kitchen. For your snack. For your Scotch. For me and our togethership. But every night I remained alone.

"I fear oblivion, (…) I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark"

(John Green, "The Fault in our Stars")

I remember, when I was wandering around the hallways, how I did often these days. My little own pastime. Sometimes I wonder, if I had reached the point, where this was the only thing I could still do alone. Sometimes it scares me how important you are to me. And sometimes I wonder, if not really I am the one, who needs you, and not the other way around. And the wandering through the hallways of your bunker made all these thoughts more bearable and gave me the possibility to think about all the impossibilities. Without distraction and without you. So yes, it was the only thing I needed to do without you.

I came along the hallway, which ended in the big split hall, the entrance area with the big glowing table, where I had been sitting, when you had come back, and the other area, where I always watch you read. I heard you talk, couldn't make out the words, though. A smile formed on my face, because I hadn't heard so much of your voice in a long time.

"Hey," I said more cheerfully than planned and sat down at your table.

"Hey, Cas," your brother answered, not you. You were just staring into your phone and seemed to barely pay attention to me. Sam on the other hand sensed the tension in the air that threatened to set everything on fire. Like the quiet before the storm. Or as if a giant thunderstorm had descended upon us, only that the predictable fight hadn't taken place yet. I knew, you were having a thought, a bare accusation, which was lying on your tongue and was just waiting for you to word it. It was as if I was bound to a torture rack and looking at the instruments that would inflict pain on me. And somehow I hoped, you would finally use them. Because only then I would know, how deep they really cut.

"So uhm, Cas…," Sam began and just now I remembered again, that he was here, too. I looked at him and waited. But there followed… nothing. His gaze moved to you and I saw how you practically tried to make him understand telepathically, that he should say something. But he didn't. A deep sigh pushed out of your lungs.

"Whose blood was it, Cas?" you suddenly asked and I noticed how hard you tried to stay calm. It sounded like pressure, but it felt like a rhetorical question. As if you already knew the answer and just asked out of politeness. But in your eyes I found something like hope. Hope to be wrong. And it crushed me, that I couldn't seem to be able to give you this one thing you needed. Something simple as a new shirt could have prevented all this. And I hated my inattentiveness and I hated my mistake. But I had made it and I had to handle it. If only I knew how.

"I don't understand," I almost stammered.

"Answer the question," you fired and your voice became angrier and your eyes lost their hope. I stared at my hands, then I closed my lids, as if to hope, would I not see it, it wouldn't happen. I sighed and decided honesty was the only way out of the labyrinth.

"The woman," I only said and literally felt your heart skipping a beat. It didn't need more, you knew right away who I meant. I had broken your hope and lived up to your expectation. And I told myself, it was all going to be okay, and I told myself, I would work through your disappointment. I would do everything and you would see it. You would forgive me and it would all be like it had used to be. You would answer me again and send me these little texts, when you're away, and you would renew our routine and come to me at night. And our togethership would go on.

"Why?" you asked after too many moments of silence, while the air hang heavily and the time seemed to stand still.

"It was a misunderstanding, Dean," I answered with a voice so little and quiet, I was afraid you couldn't hear it.

"A misunderstanding?"

"I thought she was the ghoul, Dean"

"You thought? Since when is that our way of dealing with things, Cas?"

"I…," I began, but you interrupted me. And I finally saw all the instruments and felt the whole depth of their cuts. I had failed so badly.

"Cas, apart from…," and you stopped yourself for a second to breathe and to not get loud, „… apart from the fact that you killed an innocent woman, the VICTIM, Cas, apart from you having failed colossally. Why the hell were you even there?!"

And I thought and I thought about it. I was there for you. I was there for your safety. I was there to protect you. I wasn't there to be given credit for it, because I don't do all that for me. I do it for you. And I failed. For a moment I had really failed colossally.

"I followed you," I said quietly.

"You followed us?!"

"Dean, I…"

"Why?!"

"I just wanted to make sure you…," and before I said it, I swallowed it and knew I had to say it differently, "… you two are okay"

"We don't need a babysitter," and I just now wondered, where Sam was in this conversation. Silently and apparently voiceless, he was sitting to our opposite and followed our words with his eyes, without ever commenting on any of them. I almost wanted to force him to take part, but he probably wouldn't be on my side anyway.

"Dean"

"You can't just follow us like a goddamn stalker"

"Dean"

"And you can't walk around killing innocents, just because you 'think' they're some monsters"

"Dean," and it was as if I hoped, the more I repeated your name, the less you would blame on me. But the opposite seemed to be the case.

"We were handling it, until you showed up and screwed it all up like a fucking idiot"

"Dean"

"Cas!" you suddenly screamed far too loud and I winced, "Someone died. And all because of you"

"I know," I whispered and stood up, "I should go"

And I hoped, you would stop me, but all I heard was silence. Your look like stone and your eyes like fire. And suddenly it was gone, the dark stain of lie inside me, that had threatened to devour all of me. And I knew, it was the truth that had rescued me. And I hoped, you would forget about it. And forgive me.

"You can stay," you said out of nowhere, "but I don't wanna see you."

Slowly I moved back into the hallways of your bunker. I was still welcome, and at the same time completely invisible. I don't know what was worse, the fact that I had disappointed you, or that you didn't want to see me. And I promised to myself to never make a mistake like that again. And I told myself, that everything was going to be fine. You would forgive me. You would forget about it. You would want to see me. There would come a day, I didn't know yet, how far away it was, but there would come a day you would miss me.

"It is saying these things that keeps us from falling apart. And maybe by imagining these futures we can make them real, and maybe not, but either way we must imagine them."

(John Green, "Papertowns")