PART 2
Sam woke as soon as the door shut.
"Dean?"
He watched the Impala pull out of the space across from the window in the parking lot and veer onto the street.
"Dean!" he yelled, running out the door and into the pouring rain. "Damn it!"
Sam returned to the motel room, shutting the door carefully. He did not want to attract the attention of any of the other guests at the motel.
He started cramming all of their belongings into the bags they had. He pulled out his cell phone and started to call Bobby when he remembered that no one would be on the other end. A rush of sadness and anger ran over Sam, but he was used to it. He knew how to let them go through him without letting them break him. The feelings subsided when he remembered that he and Dean had taken care of the bastard that had killed Bobby Singer. They had sent every last damn Leviathan back to Purgatory more than two months ago and yet Dean still could not pull himself out of the depression that had trapped him ever since Cas's betrayal. It only swallowed him more deeply with every misfortune along the way, especially with Bobby's death. Sam had done everything that Dean was willing to let him do to help him, but nothing was working.
Sam ran through the contacts on his phone and called Dean's cell. The phone, he found, was on the table by the armchair where Dean had fallen asleep.
He stuffed the last of their belongings into a duffle bag and made for the door when he stopped and threw the bag on the floor. "Damn it, Dean. What the hell are you doing now?"
There came a knock. Then, another few irregular knocks, soft and jumbled. Sam, frowning, walked to the door and opened it. A man with dark hair and an unshaven face was hunched against the doorframe.
"Uh, look, buddy, now's not really a good time…," Sam said, closing the door.
"Wait."
A weak hand stopped the door, but he only had to speak in order to get Sam's attention. The man raised his head. He hardly had the strength to meet Sam Winchester's eyes.
"Cas?"
Dean drove around for a long time before pulling over. He did not know what he wanted to do. He looked between the gun and the trench coat at the seat of the Impala. He was starting to regret leaving Sam so abruptly, but it was not important. Nowadays, not much registered as important in Dean's mind. Something, some piece of him, was long gone, and he knew the chances of getting it back were slim.
The dream had only made him feel worse. For that short time, he had his friend back. He was able to tell him how much he actually needed him, but it was not real. None of it was real. Who was he kidding? Cas was long gone. But Dean couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't a normal dream. His eyes kept straying back to the trench coat, as if it was watching him, trying to say something.
"Oh, shut it," Dean growled. His mind felt empty again. He reached for the bottle of whiskey and took a swig. Dean considered driving up to where Bobby's house used to be, just to screw his bad feelings even more deeply, but he decided against it. He couldn't leave Sam and go so far. No, Dean figured it'd be smarter to head back to motel once he cooled off a bit more.
He felt completely exhausted all of a sudden, and the rain was only worsening. He took grabbed the trench coat and climbed into the back seat. Like many times before, he lied down and, with his head on the trench coat, he fell asleep.
"Sam," Cas managed to say. He tried to stand but as soon as he let go of the wall, he swayed and fell forward. Sam caught him and pulled him in to the motel.
"Cas—Cas, hang on—," Sam said as he led him to Dean's unmade bed. Cas landed in a heap on the sheets. Cas tried to sit up, but he fell back down. "Take it easy, Cas… god, Cas, how are you here? You're—you were dead."
Sam stared at him. He stared at the weak man as if he had never seen him before. Cas's lips hardly moved when he said,
"Water."
"Oh. Yeah! Sorry—"
Sam rushed to the sink and filled the last clean glass with water. He handed it to Cas, who could hardly keep from sloshing it all over his clothes. Only when the water spilled did Sam notice what he was wearing: a loose t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He had sandals on his feet.
"Sam… I'm sorry…."
"Cas, just rest. We can talk later when you're feeling better, okay?"
"No—Sam, I'm dying. You have to listen to me," Cas begged, turning his gleaming blue eyes on Sam. He looked positively feverish. Sam reached out and touched his forehead: he was cold as ice. Then, Cas began to explain.
"They had me in my vessel. They were killing me slowly… it was very painful. I fought them, but they were too strong. I think they thought they'd killed me, but they did something far worse… they ripped my grace away from me little by little.
"When they finally left my vessel, I was left in what was left of my vessel on the bottom of the lake with just a shred of grace. Thankfully, it was just enough to pull bits of my vessel back together. With every bit of the vessel I recovered, I became a little stronger. But I was still drowning down there… I needed my grace back, or I was going to die."
"So you got out of the lake? When was that?" asked Sam.
"Only a few days ago," Cas said slowly. He paused to take a couple of breaths. "I'm human, Sam, but I'm dying so quickly. The Leviathans left a terrible injury in this body—only the rest of my grace can fix it."
"So we've gotta find the rest of your grace? Is it back at the lake?"
"I expect it would be," sighed Cas, shutting his unfocused eyes. "I did not try and take it all in when I was still under the water. The risk was too great. I was still too weak, not that I am much better now," Cas added with a small smile. "Where is Dean?"
A shadow crossed Sam's face.
"Gone. I don't know why or where. He just took off," Sam said, irritated.
"Did you fight with him?"
"No… we were sleeping. We just finished a job and we were tired as hell. He just got up and left. Took your coat and a gun and some whiskey."
"My… coat?" repeated Cas. Slowly a smile formed on his cracked lips. "Sam, he will be back."
"How can you be so sure?"
Cas did not respond. His face settled into something of a smile, a very slight upturn of the lips, his mind focused on something far away and long gone.
"Cas?"
Sam watched the dying man fall into a slow, deep sleep. He waited half an hour, an hour, two hours, even three hourse, but neither did Cas wake nor Dean reappear. Sam stared at the notes he'd taken, his mind blank. He took a sip of water and set the cup down on the edge of the table; it fell and shattered.
-
Lightning struck the great tree in the middle of the lake. The water came alive and the one figure standing in the water, swathed in a tan coat, took in all the lightning. He raised his face to the sky and smiled. Everything turned white. The tree fell in a black heap, but the man in the water was unscathed.
Dean watched from afar.
"Cas?" he called. The man in the water turned around.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
The water swallowed him in one gulp.
"Cas!" he yelled, running through the shallow end of the water. Dean felt the tingle of electricity running up his legs but he didn't care. The trench coat floated up to him, but Cas was nowhere to be seen. Dean took the trench coat in his arms. Hell, he put it on before diving under the water. He searched the dark waters but saw no one, only roots that threated to scrape his eyes out if he took a wrong turn.
Deeper and deeper he swam. He was running out of air as he reached the base of the tree, the root of the roots. Dean found Cas under the base, perfectly calm, eyes closed and concentrated. He reached and stretched, but no matter how hard he tried, Dean could not reach him.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, letting the last of his air out into the water. Panic kicked in. He started swallowing mouthfuls of water, his lungs pulling him down with leaden strings. Dean flailed until he grabbed hold of one of the largest roots. He felt a blinding shock as soon as he touched it to push off and swim to the surface.
Air was suddenly around him. Dean felt the cold wind holding him up. When the light around him subsided and he could breathe properly, Dean looked down—he was high above the surface of the water. He started to panic again, but he looked from one side to the other and understood.
Wings.
An idea occurred to him. And suddenly, he dove straight back into the lake.
Dean woke with a start. He looked around; the rain had subsided during his nap. Dean got out of the car and walked around to the driver's seat. He searched his pockets for his cell.
"Damn it," he said. Dean started the car and drove back to the motel.
When he opened the door, he found the room cleared of all their belongings.
"What the—?"
There came a ringing from the table by the chair where he had slept. Dean flipped it open and read the caller ID: Sam.
"Where the hell are you?" Dean demanded.
"Me? You're the one who took off!" Sam snapped back. "Look—doesn't matter—Dean, Cas is here. He's with me."
"Oh, cut the crap, Sam. Just get your ass back here so we can leave."
"Dean, no—Cas found us right after you left. He's dying. He needs his grace back. I took a car; we're on our way back to Bootbock. Cas says it's still there. Can you meet us there? Fast?"
Dean already started the Impala's engine by the time Sam finished his question.
"Just—tell Cas to hang on. I'm coming."