Chapter One: A child called Grace
In the morning, Dean felt out of sorts. Despite not being hungry, he ate a piece of dry toast. The smell of bacon made him feel slightly nauseous.
There were some patches of powdery snow left outside, but most of the snow was gone. In the stables, Castiel was already preparing to go check on the herd. Dean decided to accompany him on his errant. Undoubtedly, Castiel would rather go at it alone now that Sam was gone, but Dean could use a distraction. So, tough shit.
Whatever his feelings about Dean's intrusion, the young man waited patiently while Dean took his time saddling a horse. They rode out together. The sky's colour was faintly pink mingled with pumpkin orange. Early morning sky. Dean liked it far better than the threatening clouds they usually got lately.
With the sun out in full force, it wasn't exactly cold. There was no wind either. Nonetheless, Dean felt chills run down his spine. He pressed his spurs deeper into the horse's flanks to propel it forward. Castiel quietly accepted the challenge and they raced until they were both panting with exertion. The horses' flanks were wet and moving rapidly.
Castiel won, of course, because the guy was like some fucking horse magician. He was all whispers and encouragements with the animals, while Dean was lucky if Castiel saw fit to say two words to him on any given day.
The road they were on now – the one that led into the nearest town if you kept following it – was covered in brown leaves. Dean saw no evidence that the leaves had been disturbed, though they must have, as recently as yesterday. Sam and Gabriel weren't due back until that evening, but that didn't stop Dean from peeking further up the road every now and again, looking to see if his brother might appear.
In an unguarded moment, Dean caught Castiel doing the same. They would most likely hear the others long before they saw them, however. Sam's daughter had been so excited about visiting the town that she would probably alert everyone to their approach with her incessant chatter.
Finally, they reached the horses. Dean was relieved, because his back had started to hurt. He slipped off his horse and tied the reins to a nearby tree. The herd was spread out all over the prairie, except for a few horses that were clumped around a single tree. They all looked healthy as far as Dean could see. Their thick winter coats seemed to have protected them just fine from the steep drop in temperature at night.
He wandered a little way into the woods to take a leak. When he turned around, he saw Castiel kneeling in the midst of the group of horses, softly shooing them away from something. The horses obeyed and trotted away.
Castiel gestured for Dean to stay back, but he couldn't. He took one step and then another. There was snow in Grace's hair. The flakes whirled down when Castiel bend over Sam to feel her neck for a heartbeat.
They were sitting with their backs to the trunk of a red oak. The way they were sitting looked unnatural, as if they had been dragged there. After.
'Are they...?' Dean asked, unable to form more words. Castiel looked up and nodded. Quickly, Dean blundered back into the woods and fell to his knees. His body convulsed. In the back of his throat, he swore he could sense the acrid taste of vomit. His hands clawed at the unyielding earth, but nothing came. Still dry heaving, he struggled to his feet and returned.
The sight was the same. He couldn't decide whether the positioning of the bodies was cruel or kind. Castiel was searching the ground. If Dean had possessed the power so speak just then, he would have cursed up a storm. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. Sam's horse was gone. The dark look on Castiel's face indicated that the snow had erased any traces there might have been.
At least their faces were smooth, Dean thought. They didn't seem to have suffered. Castiel conducted the methodical search in a widening circle. Meanwhile, Dean was attempting to envision the walk back to the ranch.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do it. He couldn't imagine adjusting his brother's body every time it threatened to slip off. He couldn't picture Jessica's face when he told her. He couldn't imagine himself saying something meaningful or comforting.
When Castiel untied the horses and led them closer, Dean realised that he had been staring at the bodies. He averted his eyes and shivered. Hesitantly, Castiel beckoned him over. Dean had to overcome a new wave of nausea when he understood what Castiel wanted him to do. Together, they hoisted Sam onto Dean's saddle. As always, Castiel was the essence of calm. It is almost like he drags around corpses daily, Dean thought bitterly.
Then Castiel very gently lifted Grace.
A noise that was barely human escaped Dean. It unnerved them both. He didn't know what had caused it. Was it the knowledge that his brother was already lying in the saddle like a sack of grain? Was it the thought that his niece would also be reduced to that?
Somehow Castiel knew what to do. He held Grace and took the reins of his horse. They started the walk back; Dean in front, deliberately keeping his horse behind him and Castiel following.
From time to time, Dean glanced over his shoulder. Quietly, Castiel continued to carry Grace.
As the sun rose in the sky, Dean's face grew hot. It was the fight in him that kept him going. It was the anger that allowed him to carefully tug on his dead brother's leg to prevent him from sliding out of the saddle.
When he finally reached the familiar fences and the barn and the stables, he felt relieved. Until he remembered what was to come. His head pounded, but he still led the way. Castiel trailed behind. They approached the house. Jessica came out. She let out a strangled sob when she spotted Sam.
'No,' she said. When she came running towards them, she almost tripped. She touched Sam's cheek - as if she needed to confirm the reality of the moment - and turned to Dean. There were tears in her eyes.
'What about Grace? Where's my baby?' she asked him. Dean stepped aside and she saw Castiel. He handed Grace to her. As Dean watched her face fall, he found it impossible to believe anything could ever be good again.
Dean felt as if the rage was burning him up from the inside. Alarmed by the noise Jessica was making, Bobby came out to investigate.
'What the fuck?' he breathed. Dean stalked to the house, throwing open the screen door. It slammed shut in his wake. He made a sharp left turn and bumped into the coat rack, sending it clattering to the floor. Past Bobby's room, Raphael's room and his own room to Gabriel's. The door was unlocked.
Immediately, Dean noticed that there were things missing. The silver flask no longer occupied its regular space on the night stand. The new hat was gone. Had Gabriel worn it yesterday when they left? Dean couldn't remember.
He pushed the bed away from the wall. There were marks on the wooden floor from the million times Gabriel had done that himself. With his knife, Dean pried loose the floorboard in the corner. Empty.
'That bastard,' he mumbled.
The bed was closest, so he kicked it. He smashed a lamp. He punched the wall. He broke a chair on the chest of drawers.
'You're bleeding,' Bobby pointed out. He was leaning in the doorway and was watching the destruction unfold. Dean looked at his knuckles. No broken skin there. Suddenly, he felt the blood running from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Damn, he was sweating like a pig.
'Maybe you should sit down.'
Furiously, Dean shook his head. He reached out to steady himself against the wall, but stumbled instead. The last thing he remembered was refusing Bobby's helping hand.