Dean pulled into the driveway. His dad wasn't home. Really wasn't a surprise, he was probably at a bar or something. He made his way inside, Sam walking silently in front of him. Dean unlocked the door. It was too quiet. Normally, his mother would have her record playing, The Beatles, most likely Hey Jude because that was her favorite song. Sammy went up to his room, closing the door behind him. Silence lapsed once more. Dean's breathing sped as he looked around the empty house, eyes filling, tears leaking down his cheeks. He hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, wiping furiously at his eyes. He cupped his hands under the running water, splashing it on his face. He blew out a breath and looked at himself in the mirror. All he saw was his mother. Her dirty blond hair. Her piercing green eyes. Her sharp cheek bones. Her strong jaw. Her long lashes. He smashed his fist through the mirror, trying desperately to get rid of the image, the wish that his mother was still here. He relished in the pain of the glass slicing through his knuckles. His jaw quivered as tears spilled down his cheeks once more. He clenched his jaw, and dropped to his knees, sobbing.
"Please, please, please," he begged, hands clasped in front of him. "This can't be real. Please, she has to be here, please God, please…" He prayed as hard as a faithless man could. It was no use. He curled up in a ball; head buried in his knees, tears spilling down his cheeks, and tried one more time.
"Please come home." His prayer was answered with agonizing silence. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and cried.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there. It could have been hours, it could have only been minutes. He wasn't sure. He pushed himself to his feet, numbly cleaning up the broken glass and throwing it in the trash, pulling small shards from his knuckles and washing away the blood, bandaging the gashes. He opened the door and walked out of the bathroom, took in a shuddering breath, and headed upstairs to check on his brother. Sammy was curled up on his bed, a pillow clutched to his chest, staring blankly at the wall with watery eyes. He sat on his brother's bed, putting a hand on his back.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly. Sam shook his head slightly. Dean frowned and pulled his brother to him, resting against his chest. Sam sniffed, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, burying his face in his shoulder.
"S'okay, Sammy," he murmured softly, stroking his brothers hair. "Don't worry. We'll get through this together. S'okay….I'll fix this. I promise." He kissed his forehead and held him even closer. Sammy didn't move. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound of their hitching breaths.
They didn't go to school the next day. They were hurting too much to focus on that. Dean desperately wanted to see Cas, but figured he could see him later, maybe over the weekend.
They didn't know that Cas didn't go either.