Dean couldn't sleep. The minutes passed by but he didn't realize it. His mind was occupied with Cas, unbidden images of the Angel's mangled form pressed against his eyelids, imagination taking control of what he saw, thought. It made him want to scream.
He buried his face in his pillow, trying to block out everything, the world, the pain, everything. It didn't work. "Goddamn it," he muttered. "I need a fucking drink."
Sam woke up to the sound of a cabinet closing. Immediately, he recognized the sound of soft footsteps as his brother walked towards the kitchen table and felt his heart sink. "Dean," he said loudly, not bothering to get up, Dean would come if he called.
Sure enough, only moments later, Dean appeared in the doorway. "Sammy? You alright?"
"I heard you."
Dean shook his head, caught red-handed. "I'm not gonna be able to sleep if I don't get a drink Sam."
"Try." Anger rose in his throat. This was dangerous, Sam highly doubted Dean had eaten the food he had prepared and not enough food and too much alcohol wouldn't bode well.
"I've been trying for the past hour."
"Try harder." Sam heard his voice tremble and cursed himself internally, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath.
He heard Dean plop down next to him. "Sammy, no- don't, don't get upset- Sam."
Sam turned his head away so Dean couldn't see him blinking back tears. He felt Dean hand on his shoulder, thumb gently rubbing his shoulder blade. "Sorry," Sam whispered. "It's been...a hard few days."
He heard his brother give a dry laugh. "Yeah, no shit."
"Sorry," Sam said again, hearing Dean laugh break into a dry sob. "God Dean, I don't even know anymore."
He felt the bed creak and move as Dean lay next to him. "It's fine Sammy. I know, it just feels so surreal...I keep thinking he's going to come back, you know, walk through the door and just...be okay. I want to tell him so much, I want to be able to show him how much he means to me."
Sam rolled over to face his brother. "I know," he murmured. "It hurts."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
For a long moment no body said anything. Then Sam, who had spent a minute gathering up the courage to ask, said, "hey Dean?"
"Mhm?"
"When...when you...died, what happened? You were gone a while."
"I was just up in Heaven."
"...did you see Mom?"
Sam felt Dean tense and immediately wondered if he had overstepped. "Sorry," he said. "You don't have to tell me."
"No, no, it's okay Sam. I did, I saw her, Dad, Bobby, and..." Sam could have sworn he heard Dean's voice crack.
"And?"
"...Jess."
Sam felt his breath leave him. "Jess," he whispered, closing his eyes, letting it sink in. "You saw Jess...in your Heaven?"
That roused a soft chuckle from Dean. "Nah. The Angels took me to see Mom and Dad cause something about how Dad and I never got along so he wasn't in my Heaven and I never knew Mom well enough. Well, it was a second before I left and she came in."
"Did...did she say anything about me?" Sam hardly dared to hope, even after all these years he loved her so much.
"Yeah. I...I didn't get a chance to tell you, what with all the shit happening in our lives. She said..she said she loves you still, she's not mad about, well, anything. She said it was an honor to assist you in becoming who you are now."
Sam closed his eyes, feeling a tear drip down his face. "Thanks for telling me." It was a fight to keep his voice steady. He felt Dean hand squeeze his shoulder.
"Mom also says she'll always love you, no matter what. Also, she completely lost it with Dad when I told her what did me in." Sam could hear the smile in Dean's voice.
Sam let out a small laugh. "I'd have liked to see that."
"That would have meant you'd be dead so I'm glad you didn't see it."
"Are you ever going to stop being so overprotective?"
"No."
"You can't keep trying to die for me, I can handle things by myself."
"I know you can. But that's not gonna ever stop me."
Something about the conversation felt off, Sam was grateful that this seemed to be distracting Dean from whatever inner turmoil was going on but something still felt wrong. Dean sounded off, too tense. Then it hit him. "What did you do?" Sam asked, his voice turning hard.
"Huh?" If Dean knew what Sam was about to bring up, he didn't show it.
"When I got shot, with the werewolves. You wouldn't have left me there if there was even the slightest chance I wasn't dead. So what did you do?" There was an accusatory tone in his voice now but Sam didn't care, looking at it in retrospect, nothing about it seemed right.
Dean closed his eyes. There was no way in Hell he was telling Sam the truth, that he had almost killed himself to talk to Billie, and he had only a second to think of a suitable lie. "Fine, I did think you were dead. We ran into a cop and he tasered me when I tried to go back to get you. Nothing happened."
"Promise me you didn't do anything stupid?"
Dean's heart twisted as he pushed the lie out from in between his teeth. "I promise, Sammy."
"Thank you."
He didn't say anything for a minute. Then added, "I asked the Angels about what will happen to us when we die. We share a Heaven, just so you know."
"I'm not going to Hell?"
The disbelief in Sam's voice made Dean's heart clench painfully. "Not on my watch," he whispered.
They lay there as the clock ticked minute after minute until around 4:30am Sam realized Dean had fallen asleep. He grinned, happy that his brother was finally resting after such a horrible event. Slowly, as to not wake him, Sam rolled off the bed and fiddled around his nightstand for the notepad and pen he kept there.
Dean, he wrote. You fell asleep so I went to your room to sleep so don't worry if I'm not there. Also, sleep as long as you can, I'll take care of everything, you need the rest more than me but if something happens I will get you. -Sam.
That should satisfy him, Sam thought. He left the note where he knew Dean would see it first thing and walked to Dean's room where he flipped off the lamp and stopped. On the right side of the bed, neatly folded, lay the trench coat.
Sam picked it up, stared at it for a moment, lost in grief for his friend and his brother. He closed his eyes, feeling sick rise in his throat when he saw a spot of blood on the coat, most likely from running around Eden so long. Either way it was unsettling and he set the coat down on the nightstand and lay down in the bed.
Sam closed his eyes and prayed, for the first time since Cas died, he really prayed. Please God, please make things right. Make my brother okay, make us both okay. He swallowed back a rising sob. Heal him, make Dean better. I know...I know we've screwed up so much but please, he doesn't deserve this.
Sam pulled the blankets around him, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible despite the ache in his chest. He prayed harder, wondering if anyone- anything- would even hear him.
