A/N: Hello!

Okay so I finifhed two exams this week and totally forgot to post in the post-exam relaxation bonanza haha.

Here's the update. :) Reviews are always fantastic!

8. He Lost All Else

It's a fuzzy but peaceful place where Dean is right now and he would really appreciate it if the people around him would shut up. He feels content as he tries to lose himself again to the black void around him. It's comforting, almost… well, except for that. Dean frowns at the dull ache in his head, feeling it become a constant, sharp throb.

He feels a sharp pain on his forearm and he twitches his fingers involuntarily.

"He moved!" says a familiar voice, loud enough to make Dean cringe. He vaguely remembers it belonging to a redhead he may know. Though right now, Dean concentrates on not crying out loud as the voice continues to send sharp jabs of pain rocketing through his skull.

"Shh!" whispers another female voice, different from the first. Jo.

"Sorry," Charlie apologises.

Dean feels himself starting to slip back into oblivion, but holds the reins on that because he's curious, and slightly apprehensive. What happened? Why does he feel like this, and why can't he hear Sam and Cas's voices, too?

He groans out loud, struggling to open his eyelids. Nothing is comforting anymore. It's just plain confusing, and a level of painful that's soon to become "excruciating." He wants to know what the fuck is going on, and make sure everyone is okay.

"That's it, Dean. Come on." There's a hand on his cheek. A small, comforting, familiar hand.

Dean sighs, scrunches his forehead as he finally blinks his eyes open. There's goo between his lids and instant, burning tears streaming down his cheeks. God, he hates it when this happens. He blinks rapidly a few times to clear out his vision and stares in confusion at the concerned faces staring at him.

"What?" he asks, slightly unnerved.

"Oh, nothing," says Jo. "Just that you pretty much scared the shit out of us, lost a lot of blood, and then decided to pass out for the next thirty minutes, making me and Charlie fucking drag you into the cabin."

Dean stares at his friend, his eyes wide. "Huh?" he asks in confusion. A particularly sharp jab of pain slices through his head and he grimaces, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asks, sitting at the foot of his bed.

"I…don't know," Dean answers honestly. "What happened?" He starts to sit up slowly, but the room's going round and round, so he shuts his eyes again.

Charlie doesn't reply, though. Nor does Jo. They don't even ask him why he shut his eyes suddenly, and he starts to feel the worry creep in. A chill runs down his spine at the thought of the fight. He racks his brain, trying to remember the final moments of it when everything had been so confusing, and gasps when it all comes back to him.

"Cas!" he exclaims as his eyes fly open. "Cas and Sammy, I need to – I have to—" Dean stammers as he unsteadily tries to get to his feet. He hisses in pain, his side searing in a spectacular burning sensation, making him sit back down. He can vaguely feel Charlie's hands on one of his arms, supporting him.

"S-Saaam," he manages to moan. He can't bear to open his eyes… just can't and he's so dizzy and Sam and Cas and…

"Hey, hey. I'm right here." It's Sam, and it's Sam's gigantor feet pounding across rotting wood.

Dean forces his eyes open, searches Sam's blurry face with fearful, concerned eyes. His brother doesn't look too worse for the wear. Apart from the fact that he seems to be shaking slightly, probably from shock, Dean is relieved that Sam is okay.

"Cas?" Dean asks Sam, trying to look around the cabin without throwing up. "W-where's he? And—" he remembers who else is missing "—Kevin?"

If Sam was pale before, he's practically white now. Jo and Charlie move back a step each, as though they're afraid of something—possibly of Dean exploding, and this whole thing is setting Dean on edge.

"What the fuck is going on, guys?"

He watches as Sam sniffs, and after patting Dean's knee, walks back to his bed. He lies down and turns his back to Dean. Dean narrows his eyes and looks to the girls. "What is it?"

"Dean… we're sorry…"

"What is it?"

"Listen," Charlie tells him, voice panicky, "we tried, okay? We really did. But there was you and Sam and both of you were pretty wrecked. And…" She gulps. "They took Cas." The last words are whispered hurriedly, as though she's scared, and Charlie's eyes slowly go down to look at the floor.

Dean feels like someone has punched him right through the chest as the air rushes out of him. "W-What?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. We couldn't do anything. They attacked Jo and then pretty much dragged Cas away. They were strong and very fast. And… and Kevin…" Charlie's eyes are blinking fast, pleading for Dean to understand, and not eat her up. Although, there's nothing here he can get himself to blame her for. He's sure she and Jo did their best. And he knows from experience that it takes a lot to overpower both girls because they're probably about ten times more badass than he is.

His jaw drops as realisation starts to sink in. Cas is gone. Gone. He turns to look for Jo, who is now standing near the kitchen counter sewing up a nasty gash on her right side, just above her hip. It doesn't look too deep but Dean knows how much any injury can hurt and admires Jo silently, watching her manoeuvre the needle and tie each suture off as blood drips out in little trickles. She probably hasn't even used a local anaesthetic, yet she's barely flinching as she calmly and steadily keeps going.

"It's…it's okay, Charlie. Don't blame yourself," Dean says at long last, wincing when he moves his arm. "What the fuck happened to me?"

"You lost a lot of blood. One of those doucheheads really got you," she says, pointing to the stitched and bandaged wound on Dean's torso. "Your arm was better but still bleeding. But we managed to fix it up."

"Thanks," Dean mumbles.

"How's your head?" Charlie asks.

Dean sighs. "Hurts. Feel kinda dizzy, but I think I'm okay."

"He probably has a concussion," Jo says as she walks back into the bedroom area. She pokes at the lit fireplace before going over and sitting down on the floor beside Dean's legs.

"So…" Dean begins, "did they take Kevin, too?"

"No," she whispers. "He's here."

Dean's heart jumps to his throat. "What?" He knows the answer to this but no, no, fucking just… no.

"He…we…fuck," Jo curses as she hastily wipes at her eyes. "Everything happened so fast." Her voice breaks. She clears her throat and points through towards the main room. In a far corner, right near the large table in the room, lies a figure that Dean hadn't noticed until now. And it's covered with a white sheet.

"We couldn't keep seeing him, so we covered him up," Jo explains, her voice choked up.

Dean's eyes prickle, and before he realises it, he's staring at the bundle. Kevin. That little geek who was always there. Always a friend. Who mattered so, so much. The tears escape the corners of his eyes, falling silently down his face. Kevin was just a kid. Just a fucking kid.

He doesn't know how long he's been looking at Kevin, thinking, until Jo nudges his leg with her elbow.

"Dean?"

Dean clears his throat, wiping the tears away. "How did it happen?"

"I don't really know. I just heard Charlie scream out his name and when I turned around, I saw one of those angels pulling out his blade from Kevin's…throat."

Dean barely holds back the nausea at her words.

Fuck.

Kevin's dead. Yet another person Dean can add to the 'people I care about but can't fucking protect' list. First Mom, then Sam, who he got back (all broken) but still grieved for four years, then Dad, and now Kevin.

When the fuck was he going to stop losing the people he cared about?

Dean jerks out of his thoughts as Charlie gets to her feet and jogs out the front door. Dean doesn't miss hearing the broken sob that escapes her before she leaves. He sees Jo getting to her feet and stops her.

"Hey, I'll go after her. You get some rest."

"But—"

"No buts, Jo. I might be injured, but I'm not an invalid. You've already done enough. Seriously. Get some rest."

Jo hesitates and then blinks tiredly as she plops down onto the bed previously occupied by Dean. Dean gets to his feet and slowly walks to the front door. Charlie was always at his side when he needed her, it's the least Dean can do to repay her. Besides, Kevin was his friend, too.

It takes a while to locate her. He knows he's straining himself more than necessary but he soon finds Charlie sitting exactly where'd he found Sam when he'd run off mere hours ago. Just hours ago, and Jesus, he can't believe so much could fall apart in such a short span of time.

He sees Charlie spot him and smiles sadly, watching her as she wipes at her face. He slowly walks over and sits beside her.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dean asks. Then he feels like banging his own head into a tree because how the fuck can she be okay?

Charlie takes a shaky breath. "I'm not usually like this," she says, chuckling humourlessly. "But Kevin, he…he was my best friend. Right along with Jo. That nerdy, geeky, kind, smartass in there didn't deserve to die, Dean. My best fucking friend in the whole wide world didn't deserve to die the way he did." Charlie blinks furiously as she tries to hold it together. She determinedly stares ahead, gritting her teeth and taking another deep breath.

Dean feels his own eyes prickle. Damn it, Charlie is right. "I know," he says. "But it's not like we can bring back the dead. If anyone knows anything about what it's like to lose all the best people in your life, I think you're talking to the right person.

"I'm not gonna tell you shit like 'it gets better.' 'Cause honestly, it never does. It still hurts every fucking day. But you know what? You learn to deal with it, you learn to live with it. You remember all the happy times you've had with them and you move on. You drag on, because they wouldn't want you spend your life mourning them. They'd want you to smile, make more friends, fight for what's right. And if there's anything I can promise you, it's that I won't let those douchebags get away with this."

Charlie sniffs, turns around, and puts her arms around Dean, resting her head right below his chin. Dean embraces her back, the two of them sitting in silence.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"Anytime."

She pulls away, and meets eyes with him. "Can I tell you something? About Sam?"

Dean nods, curious.

"When we got to you two, Sam was going to attack one of the angels. But then something weird happened. That angel took out this…mirror, I think. The minute Sam looked at it, he dropped to ground and curled up, shaking. There was this look of like…I don't know… he was all zoned out. Like he wasn't even here. Like he was seeing things only he could see, and…" She bites her lip. "Dean, whatever he was seeing was really scaring the shit out of him."

"Like a flashback?"

"Yeah."

Dean tries not to look too worried. "But he seemed fine right now, in the cabin."

"Jo handed him that necklace thing you always wear. And a few minutes after holding onto it, he just sorta…snapped out of it."

"You sure it was a mirror?" Dean asks.

"Positive." She gives him a small shrug. "Just thought you'd wanna know."

"Thanks, Charlie. I'll figure it out. Talk to him," Dean says. He slowly gets to his feet. "Coming?"

Charlie sighs, curling an arm around Dean back. Dean puts his around her shoulder. They silently follow the trail back to the cabin, knowing what they have to do next.

~o~

Frustrated and angry that he can't remember Kevin, Sam is the first one to head back into the cabin once Dean sets Kevin's wrapped up body onto the makeshift pyre. He feels sad that yet another person he knows, is supposed to know, is gone. Though again, he really wishes he could remember more. He makes a mental note to ask Dean more about Kevin.

Once he's made it back to the cabin, Sam picks up his pencil and one of the newspapers from the large pile he has set on the table and heads towards the back. He sits cross-legged on the lower bunk of the bed, and quietly opens up the page with the crossword.

He doesn't know why, but it calms him down, brings peace to him. It's something he has control over, and busying his mind with something so ordinary and mundane makes him feel good. He sits quietly, the faint crackling of burning wood and the scratching of his pencil on paper the only sounds that he can hear.

He wonders if he's being insensitive by leaving everyone out there. But the fire just kept reminding him of the brand on his back. It's like Sam could feel the pain of getting it all over again.

"You're weak! Pathetic! I'm not surprised your brother never came for you, Sammy."

Sam jumps, heartbeat skyrocketing. He looks around the room and sees nothing. But he'd know that voice anywhere after hearing it over and over for four years. Sam ignores it and goes back to solving the crossword puzzle, steeling himself to stop his hands from shaking too much.

"You're a monster, Sam. Just like everyone else out there. And you're always going to be a monster."

"Shut up," Sam whispers to himself, closing his eyes in fear. He's out. Dean said he was out. Sam drops the pencil and clutches his hair, pulling his knees up to himself.

"I might just hurt you less if you stop fighting this, Sam."

"Dean would be so disappointed in you right now, Sam."

"Scream for me, Sam. SCREAM!"

And someone's yelling and howling and sobbing and Sam can't take it and…

"Sam!"

"Sammy!"

"Sam!"

Sam gasps, eyes flying open. The sound dies in his throat when he realizes it was he who was screaming. He looks with wide eyes towards Dean, whose expression shows nothing but worry and concern.

"Sam, you okay?" Charlie asks.

Sam gulps. Dean looks towards the two girls, who take their cue to leave the room. Then he turns back to Sam.

"What's wrong?"

Sam hesitates. Dean's gonna think he's crazy if he tells him the truth. But if he doesn't tell the truth then Dean will be mad.

"Sam. You know you can trust me, right? If we wanna fix anything, we need to work together. You know that, don't you?"

"I'm fine. I just…feel a little weird. I felt like I was…back there again. I could…I just…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare any of you. I just blacked out a little, I'm fine."

Dean gives Sam a once over, scrutinising him. Sam tries to keep his expression neutral. He didn't necessarily lie to Dean, so he has nothing to worry about.

He feels a lot calmer as Dean asks, "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

Sam licks his lips. "I would."

~o~

"This is not up for discussion!"

"But, Dea—"

"No, Jo! I said what I said and you two are going back to Lebanon or so help me!"

Sam groans as he blinks groggily, eyeing the source of noise with annoyance. Dean had suggested he get some rest. That Sam was probably shaken up after the whole ordeal they went through. Sam hadn't argued, willingly laying down and succumbing to a dreamless sleep. And now Dean's the one who's fucking yelling at the top of his lungs.

Rest, my ass.

Sam pulls the pillow over his ears, trying to drown out the noise until he actually hears what his brother and the two girls are arguing about.

"You aren't doing this alone!" Jo yells.

"Kevin was our friend, too, Dean!" Charlie joins in.

Sam lifts the pillow off his ears as he watches Dean pinch the bridge of his nose. He may not remember a lot, but he can still read his brother well. And right now, Dean is stressed, irritated, and almost at his breaking point.

"I can't," he hears Dean say in a rather sombre tone.

"What do you mean?" Charlie asks, putting up a hand to silence Jo's retort.

"I'm tired of losing everyone around me. I lost Sam four years ago, my dad a month ago, and now Kevin. I don't think I can keep adding names to this fucking list. If you two are back at the bunker, I'll know you're safe. I'll know that there are people like Bobby around to protect you. People I can trust.

"It's too dangerous out here and if I lose…just, please. You've done enough. I can't ask more. I just want you to do this one thing, okay? I can't lose anyone else. Not anymore."

Sam doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Dean stops talking. He's rarely ever heard Dean express his feelings, and listening to it all makes something twinge at his heart. And he knows Dean's really hurting right now just because he decided to open up a little bit.

Sam sits up in bed, playing with a loose thread on the mattress.

"Okay," Jo says finally. "We'll go. But only if you promise something."

"What?" Dean asks.

"Promise you'll make it back. That you'll come back to the bunker. That you won't end up dying on us."

"Jo—"

"Promise me, Dean, and I'll walk out that door. Otherwise, I'm staying right here."

Sam strains to hear his brother's answer.

"I promise."

There is silence. "Okay." A small puff of breath. "Bye, Dean," says Charlie at long last.

"Bye," Jo echoes. She and Charlie must already have their stuff packed.

"Take care of Sam."

Sam smiles to himself. Maybe when they manage to get back, he can get to know those two again. Remember them as good friends. If they do make it back.

They will, right?

He wants to go out and hug them goodbye, but settles on just sitting there, feeling like he doesn't really deserve to do that. He doesn't understand why, but this just feels right to him. He soon hears a car driving off and the shutting of the front door. Footsteps thud over the wooden floor and get louder and louder as they make their way towards the bedroom.

Sam looks up as Dean enters the room.

"Hey, you're up!" Dean walks over and sits beside Sam. "How you feeling?"

"Better," Sam answers.

They sit in silence for a while until Sam asks, "So…now what?"

Dean rubs his face with his hand. Sam notices how tired his brother looks, how worn down. But he feels at a loss of how to make Dean feel better.

"We need to move out of here," Dean says. "It's too risky to stay."

"But what about Cas?"

Dean grits his teeth and Sam feels like he shouldn't have asked. Dean really seems to like Castiel.

"We don't know where they've taken him, Sam. We're at a dead end here. We can't just recklessly go looking for him, as much as I want to. He's strong. He'll…he'll be okay."

Sam knows Dean's lying to himself, but Sam goes along with it, because he knows it will make Dean feel a little better.

"So where should we go?" Sam asks.

"I called Bobby a while ago. You remember him?"

Sam furrows his brows, a vague image of a bearded man in a baseball cap and a vest coming to his mind. "A little."

"He said there's another place in Virginia. A cabin kind of thing near a cliff. Pretty far out from civilisation so there's less of a chance they'll find us there. It's our only hope for now."

"What if Cas escapes? Comes back here?" Sam says, a thoughtful look on his face.

Dean frowns as he looks at Sam. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you broke us out of…Hell…with the help of Cas, right? He could escape from wherever they take him. How would he know where to find us?" Sam asks.

"How do you know he's not dead?" Dean asks, though he sincerely wants to believe his friend is alive.

Sam purses his lips before saying, "If they really wanted to kill him, wouldn't they have done it in front of us? Like Kevin?"

Sam can almost hear Dean think as he registers Sam's words. "Okay," Dean says. "For the sake of it, let's say he's alive. What are you trying to say?" Dean really hopes Sam is right. Because right now, Dean doesn't think he can take another person he knows and cares about dropping dead.

"I'm saying we leave a trail of some sort. For him to follow if he ever comes back here."

"Like what?"

Sam takes a deep breath, thinking, when his eyes land on the crossword on the ground next to him where he'd kept it before he'd gotten some shuteye.

"I think I have an idea."

~o~

Sam casts one last glance at the cabin before closing the door behind him and jogging towards the Impala. This place was his first home after a long, long time; a comfortable, cosy atmosphere for him, and he's going to miss it. He wishes they didn't have to move. But, well, there are worse things out there, so he reckons this is just their best bet.

He instinctively slides into the passenger seat and feels a sense of familiarity as he settles in, closing the car door. It feels like this seat was made just for him. He remembers a bit about the car and Dean always being by his side. Somehow, this makes him feel content.

"So?" Dean asks.

"Huh?" Sam asks distractedly. "Oh!" he exclaims, realizing what Dean's asking. "Yeah, I left it in there. Numbers down and across means coordinates. Down means north and across means west. You said he'd know coordinates, right?"

Dean nods. "He'd seen how it worked when we'd made a temporary stop at that ghetto until we had to bust out."

"Then I hope he sees it and figures it out. When he solves the crossword, he'll find the message I made."

"What message?"

"A message telling him to go through the trapdoor at a cabin by the cliff," Sam explains. Before they'd left, Dean had explained how the cabin would look and where it was situated so they could leave a message for Cas. He's unsure for a moment, and Dean catches that.

"What, Sam?"

"Th-The crossword is pretty easy to decipher, Dean."

"So what? It won't take him long to find us."

Sam scratches at his nose. "Yeah, but…"

"But?"

"What if a demon finds it?" The fear in Sam's heart is deep, pressing at him ever since he set the clues on that crossword.

"They won't," Dean assures him. "And even if they do, dude, they're not as nerdy as you or Cas to stop and solve crosswords. Don't worry." The ghost of a smirk is on his face and Sam glares at him, his heart lightening a little.

"Fine, then," he says, "let's go."

"Yeah." It's Dean's turn to hesitate now, his hands rest on the steering wheel.

Sam watches his brother for a few seconds, and then speaks up. "What's wrong?"

"He'll be all right, won't he?"

Sam stays silent, giving Dean the uncertainty he knows he dreads feeling right now.

"Sammy, please. He's strong, right? He'll make it out of wherever he is, right?"

Dean appreciates the effort Sam puts into his answer. "Yeah, he's tough as fuck, Dean. He'll be all right. Once he finds the clues, he'll be back with us in no time."

Though Dean knows that there's a possibility it's not true, he holds onto his instinct and his brother's words. That Castiel is alive and out there, fighting to be free.

~o~

Dean starts up the car and follows the trail onto a street. He hands Sam a map and with those instructions, it takes two days for them to reach Virginia. It's a tiring ride and they cannot make rest stops because they're not safe, but they take short breaks to leave out clues for Cas. Sam looks out the window at the deserted lands as they move on, fighting occasional carsickness and hoping to reach the cabin soon so he can stretch out on a bed.

They stop by an abandoned diner at their last pit stop for Cas and Sam finally leaves the coordinates for the cabin in Virginia, along with the same message.

He hops back into the car and after another few hours, Dean steers off the road and follows a dirt path. Another thirty minutes or so and Dean parks the car in the shade of some trees so that it's not spotted easily.

They both exit the car. They're at a cliff that's lined by an old, rusty guardrail and as Dean walks to the trunk to get the duffel bag, Sam realises the view before him is more beautiful than anything he's ever seen.

It's evening and the sun's just going down. The sky is bathed in pink, orange, and red as the sun dips into the horizon, colouring the water with the last of its rays. It feels so peaceful and it's kind of easy to imagine that the world beyond this cliff doesn't exist. That none of the things Sam has been through, exist.

"Oh, Sammy. Getting a little too comfortable, are we?"

Sam flinches, turns back, gulping when he spots Nick grinning devilishly at him. Sam takes a deep breath. "Not real. I'm out, I'm out. Dean got me out," he mumbles to himself, wringing his hands.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asks.

Sam jerks his head towards Dean. "Yeah, fine. I'm fine."

He watches as Dean stares at him for a second before taking off his amulet and handing it to Sam. Sam takes it, but just keeps staring at it.

"Just keep it for a while," Dean tells him. "My neck has marks from that leather cord. I'll take it back later."

Sam can tell Dean is lying. He feels grateful that even without words, Dean understands. That his big brother still sees right through him. It's a terrible thing sometimes, but then, it's also comforting when Dean can do this.

As soon as Sam closes his palm around the amulet, squeezing, Nick vanishes. Sam takes a deep breath, grounding himself before following Dean. He hurries over and takes the duffels out of Dean's hands.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"You didn't let me drive, even though you're still hurting. The least I can do is help carry luggage, Dean."

"I'm fine, bitch. And I don't think you even remember how to drive."

"You're my little bitch, Sammy."

Sam clutches the amulet tighter. "Okay, maybe I can't drive, but you're not okay, dude. You got stabbed. Badly. You obviously still have a concussion."

Dean curses, crossing his arms. Sam palms his shoulder. "You've taken care of me all my life, man. Can I please just do the same for you? Just this once?"

Dean sighs as he finally stops. "Fine, Sasquatch."

Sam grins. He watches Dean struggling to kneel down and stops him, kneeling down himself instead. Dean instructs him to dig at a spot in front of him. Sam digs until his fingers hit a solid surface; he wipes away the remaining dirt and finds the trapdoor Dean had told him about. He tries to open the door by pulling at the two ring-like handles, but it doesn't budge.

"Weak, Sam. Pathetic. Useless."

Sam grits his teeth, ties the amulet cord around his wrist, and grunts, pulling hard at the door. It flies open, sending Sam sprawling on his back.

Sam gasps as the ground rubs against his brand.

"Shit, you okay?" Dean asks, helping Sam up.

"Fine," Sam says, gingerly pulling his shirt away from the brand. "That sucked."

Dean chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. Sam picks up the duffel, unwinds the amulet cord, and holds it in his hand, following Dean down the steps that can be seen through the open door.

Dean whistles as they descend into one of the coziest interiors they could have had the chance of living in. The cabin is built into the cliff, hence the reason for the trapdoor.

Sam smiles to himself, walking towards the center of the room. There's a sofa in front of him, with a small television set opposite the sofa on a stand. A large window is set into the wall behind the sofa, and Sam smiles again as he sees Dean gaze out of it, a peaceful look on his older brother's face.

He then frowns as Dean looks down, gulps, and backs off a little.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head, turning red. Sam squints at his brother. "Dean, seriously. Something hurting?"

"N-No." Dean tears his eyes away from the window.

Sam throws Dean a glance, confused, as he walks over to the window. He gasps in awe as he sees the sheer height at which the cabin is set in. The river flowing at the bottom of the cliff looks beautiful to Sam, albeit being a couple hundred feet down.

Sam racks his brain, wondering why Dean backed off from the window. Then, a certain lost memory clicks into place and he grins, finally understanding Dean's look of embarrassment.

"It's too high for you, isn't it?" Sam asks, teasing.

"Shut up, bitch."

Sam laughs. For the first time in four years, he genuinely laughs, highly amused by the look on Dean's face. Soon enough, Dean joins him and they end up on the sofa, smiling at one another.

"Fuck. Don't make me laugh again. It hurts," Dean complains, gingerly holding a hand over the wound on his torso.

Sam gives Dean an apologetic look. "Well, it was funny. You're scared. Only because we're too high up," Sam teases.

"I swear, Sam. You shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you."

"Let's see how long it takes for me to make you scream, Sammy."

Sam flinches, clenching and un-clenching his jaw, closing his eyes, and holding onto the pendant of the amulet so tight that the horns on it dig into his palm.

"Sam? Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam opens his eyes and looks away, knowing Dean didn't miss any of that. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Dude, I'm letting you take care of me, but that doesn't mean you have to hide whatever is bothering you. You fucking flinched, Sam." A pause. "Tell me what's up."

Sam runs a nervous hand through his hair. He licks his lips. "I…I can hear him. N-Nick. Like he's right next to me. I don't know. It's probably just…leave it, I'm fine."

Dean's brow furrows, as he looks at Sam with worry. "That's not what I call fine. Is it because of the mirror? Did it start this?"

Sam feels his jaw drop. How did Dean get to know? Did Cas…?

"Charlie told me," says Dean, "about what happened after the fight with the angels. Seriously, man, if this is something you need help dealing with you gotta tell me."

Oh God, and Sam fucking passes out (kinda) every time he sees a mirror. Exactly how happy or empathetic is Dean going to be about something as shitty as that?

He gulps. "Y-You seriously think a mirror is gonna make me see things, Dean? I'm probably just tired or something. I'll be fine, I promise."

Dean stares at him a long moment (and he knows, so Sam doesn't want to look guilty and he stares back). Sam's brother doesn't say anything further. He slowly gets to his feet, wincing a little. Sam follows suit and they both head towards a door on their left that leads to a bedroom. It's simple—two queens, each with a bedside table and a lamp.

Dean walks over to the bed nearest the door and drops onto it. "Wake me up in a hundred years, will ya?"

Sam chuckles as he sets the duffel between their beds. "I'll go check out the kitchen and stuff. You get some rest."

Dean nods, already half asleep. Sam gives his brother a fond look before walking out of the room to check out the small kitchen and the bathroom on the other side of the cabin. It's a simple place, furnished and stocked with everything necessary, and though they will eventually have to get themselves supplies, this is good enough for now.

Sam feels like lying down in the living room so he walks over to the sofa, opens up the sides, turning it into a makeshift bed, and ends up half-sitting, half-lying down. He doesn't know how long it takes, but soon enough, as the sun sets through the window behind him, his eyes fall shut and he drifts into oblivion.

~o~

Weeks turn into months. Every day, Dean waits, hoping that Cas will come back. It's déjà vu because he remembers feeling like this the first few months Sam had been gone. He'd waited every day, hoping that Sam would waltz through the steel doors of the bunker, all right and alive.

Here Dean waits, sometimes spending hours staring at the trapdoor at the top of the stairs, just hoping he'll hear a knock or scraping, anything to indicate that Castiel is okay.

Dean appreciates the fact that he has Sam. His little brother is adamant and stubborn in taking care of Dean. Somehow, Dean loves it, purely because he can slowly see the kid he'd grown up with coming back to him. He allows Sam to help as much as he can without it hurting Dean's ego and pride.

Sam cooks most of the time, changes Dean's bandages, looks out for infections, and generally becomes a mother hen, teasing Dean about being the same way when they were younger whenever Dean complains.

Dean slowly starts getting better. Sometimes, it feels like the world outside them doesn't even exist. There are days where Dean is happy and content in their little bubble. In the cosy little cabin in the cliff. It feels so easy to forget about the death and destruction in the real world.

However, when Dean does remember what's out there, he can't stand being in the cabin. He makes sure it's safe to go outside and then sits at the guardrail, legs sliding underneath and hanging down the cliff, watching the Evening Star. He reminisces about the times when his mother was still alive, how she'd always sit on the porch with him and tell him to make a wish.

Soon enough, Dean finds himself wishing. From one day,

Cas, man, I need you. I really hope you're okay.

To the next,

Hey, Cas. It feels so weird to not have you around. I kinda miss your stupid babbles. I kinda really want you back, man. I really hope you're alive.

To days on end.

Cas. This seems pointless, this wishing on a stupid star. But my mom used to say that I could wish for anything, and it would come true. So here goes nothing. I wish I could have you back. I think something's wrong with Sam and I don't know how to make him talk to me. You know that side of Sam more than I do. I wish I could have you back so that I know I have family to rely on. I don't know, man. I just really need you back.

Wishing again,

Fuck. Why the fuck aren't you here already? Am I doing something wrong? Should I be looking for you? Did you forget us, stop caring about us? About me? Please Cas, I need you. Where the fuck are you?

And again.

Castiel, I need you to be alive. I'll wait forever if I have to. But I need you to be alive. Please be okay. Please. I'll wait. Because I know you'll come back. You have to.

The only thing that keeps Dean sane is Sam. Sam, who doesn't give up even on the most dreadful of days, hums while making those terrible eggs, makes a face at bacon and demands healthy shit, and marathons TV with Dean, finally falling asleep on his shoulder and making his territorial circle of drool on all of Dean's shirts. Dean is in awe of Sam and his ability to brave through pain and just… just be Sammy, or whatever's left of him anyway.

Dean finds Sam remembering a lot more things than before but sometimes at night, he still asks Dean for stories.

Dean talks about the time Sam started liking marshmallow mix with his mac and cheese. How gross Dean thought it was but it didn't matter since Sam liked it.

Dean tells Sam about the things that happened when Sam was gone. How hard it was, but that it didn't matter anymore since Sam was back.

Dean tells him about the time Sam guessed he'd kissed Jo, and how embarrassing it was.

He talks to Sam about how good Charlie, Jo, and Kevin were in training. He quiets a little, though, once they start talking about Kevin.

"Was I good friends with Kevin?" Sam asks, sitting cross-legged on the bed farthest from the door in their bedroom.

Dean stretches in his own mattress. "Yeah. You two loved to geek out together in the library. You guys were probably the smartest people around at the bunker."

Seeing Sam smile at his comment makes Dean's day. Because he'd missed that smile for four fucking years and anything to make Sam forget, even temporarily about the horrors he went through, is worthwhile to him.

Dean talks about their childhoods, and how it was growing up in the bunker. Dean recalls tales of how they used to train together until they ended up being the ones teaching the younger kids to fight.

"Was I good?" Sam asks.

"Hell yeah, you were good. Though not as good as I am," Dean says with a wink.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

One evening, Dean takes Sam up the trapdoor with him. He sits in his usual spot, legs hanging down the guardrail. He's scared shitless of heights, but somehow, the railing makes him feel safe and he thinks he can do this. And sitting here everyday reminds him of how there are so many other fights he's capable of winning. Sam obediently sits beside him and Dean scans the sky for a few minutes, pointing towards the only bright star he can see in the sky.

"When Mom was…" he swallows, "uh, she used to sit with me, and you, too, when you were born, and she'd always point out that star to me. She'd tell me that it's the Evening Star. That I can wish for anything and it would come true.

"It's a stupid thing to believe in, but I don't know. You asked me yesterday what I did when I came up here every evening. This is what I do. I stare at the star, and make a wish."

Sam gazes in wonder at his brother and then at the star and shuts his eyes, mouthing to himself. Dean looks ahead, too, and they sit in silence for a long time, just looking up at the star.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me a story?"

"Don't I always."

"About Cas."

Dean stills. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything. I don't really remember much of the first few days after you got me out. The only things that stand out are the crosswords. How was Cas? How did you get him to agree to help get me out?"

Dean purses his lips. "Well, he didn't want to be there in the first place. He's an oddball, but he's a lot more human than any of those other dick bags in there. The minute I asked if he'd help me get you out, he didn't hesitate. As for when we got you back, he understood you a lot more than I did at that time. All I did was get frustrated when you couldn't remember who I was. It was Cas who got you to do a lot of the stuff that I couldn't. I never knew if I could trust him, but something about the innocence in his eyes told me he was okay. He'd run out to the ghetto a couple hours away from the cabin to steal food for us, even though it was risky and even when there were no supplies needed, he'd go out anyway, just to get me pie. He knew I liked pie.

"He…he was probably the reason you got better in the first place. He always knew what to say, what to do when I didn't. I owe him so much, Sammy. I just really hope he's okay."

Sam sits, speechless. Dean appreciates Sam not asking any more questions, because he doesn't know how much more he can handle. He blinks and wipes hastily at his face when he realises he's crying.

"Do you love him?" Sam asks quietly.

Dean doesn't answer. He wrings his hands together nervously, looking up towards the star.

Damn it, Cas. Come back, please. I need you. I…I love you.