Castiel closed his eyes and breathed in. 'Sam, I can't-'

'You deserve to have it,' Sam interrupted earnestly. 'He wanted you to have it. I know he would have.'

'Please…'

'No, you have to take it,' he insisted, pushing the paper into one of Castiel's limp hands. Cas weakly grasped the paper and turned away from Sam.

'I can't.'

'Yes you can. At least go to your car and read it. Read it for Dean. And if you still don't want it, come to this address,' Sam said, scribbling on another piece of paper. He handed it to Cas.

'I should go,' he whispered before briskly walking away from the taller man. His breaths were shallow and laboured all the way back to his car, the two sheets of paper in his hand feeling like they weighed a tonne. The inside of the car felt impossibly cold when he got in, condensation puffing from his mouth with every pant. He shivered and opened up the letter, noticing the blood splatter in the top right hand corner. The writing was slightly slanted and desperate, a panicked scrawl from a broken man.

Sam,

I'm tired, Sammy. You knew this was coming. I know you did. I've been waiting so damn long for this, so damn long. And you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm too old now anyway to even try to spend time with this 'soulmate'. I waited too long. I was too fucking scared maybe, I don't know.

If you ever find them, tell them about how even though I don't know them, I love them. I know I love them. I would fucking die for them, obviously.

When you find me, Sam, don't blame yourself. You did the best you could. I was just a lost cause. An old man, an old lonely man. And I'm sorry I put you through so much shit. I'm sorry I was a terrible brother and I'm sorry I'm not gonna be around anymore. I'm sorry. So fucking sorry.

Hey, would you look at that. 6:51. Less than ten minutes to go now, Sammy. Only ten more minutes.

I love you, little brother.

'God,' Cas grit out, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to halt the flow of moisture. 'Why wasn't I there?!'

The shivers coursing through his body picked up and his teeth began to chatter. He froze when he thought he heard a whisper next to his ear. 'Cas.'

'Who's there?' Castiel asked, eyes wide. As soon as he'd spoken, the cold vanished and the car's heating kicked in. 'The hell?'

Castiel blinked a few times before coughing and placing the papers in the glove compartment. Despite the dark sky and the late time, he began the long lonely drive back to Pontiac and away from his soulmate.

'Castiel?' Amelia gasped, clutching her nightgown around her. 'What are you doing back? It's four in the morning.'

Cas dipped his head and stared at his scuffed shoes and then looked up at his aged wife. 'He… he died, Amelia. He's gone.'

Amelia's mouth dropped open and she gathered her husband in a hug. 'I'm so sorry.'

'I know you are. I am too,' Cas mumbled into her hair.

'Who was… he?'

'Dean. Dean Winchester. He was a retired mechanic, a doting older brother and… a lonely soul.'

Amelia pressed her lips together and rubbed Cas' arms. 'It's terrible you didn't find him sooner.'

'It's fucking tragic, that's what,' he growled under his breath.

'Cas,' Amelia started softly,' come inside and let's sit down.'

Castiel sighed and allowed himself to be pulled into the house by Amelia.

'Tea?'

'Please,' he replied, sinking into the familiar cushions of the sofa. His eyes slipped shut as he listened intently to Amelia's movements in the kitchen. 'Can we go upstairs?' he asked, voice only just carrying over the sound of the kettle.

Cas didn't wait for an answer, getting up off the couch and trudging upstairs. He slid under the covers of his and Amelia's shared bed and curled into the foetal position. Amelia joined him not long after, mirroring his position under the covers and looking him in the eyes with deep understanding. She didn't broach the subject of Dean straight away, something that Cas was grateful for.

'Claire's going to visit next week,' she murmured. Cas nodded.

'It'll be nice to see her again.'

'She's so grown up, isn't she?'

'Yes.'

Cas' eyes closed but he continued to talk about trivial things with his wife. She was distracting him, he knew it, but he was glad of it, glad to be able to have a conversation with her, glad to be with someone who cared.

The note he'd placed in his pocket before entering the house burned a hole in the material, a constant reminder of what he was trying to avoid with his and Amelia's inconsequential chatter.

Slowly, in the middle of discussing nothing, Castiel managed to fall asleep, his wife at his side and Dean plaguing his mind.

When Castiel awoke, he noticed he was alone in the bed and stiff from wearing his everyday clothes to sleep. He stretched and let his old bones crack before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrinkled paper. He looked at Sam's address and sighed but frowned at the shiny feel of the other side of the paper. He sucked in a gulp of air when he saw what it was.

Sam was in the photograph looking so much younger, a lot more carefree. His hair was brown and his clothes were muddied, probably from the forest he appeared to be in. He and the man next to him both had rifles slung over their shoulders but the weapons contrasted with their happy faces. With a start, Castiel realised that the man next to Sam was Dean. Cas guessed the photo had been taken a little before he gained his tattoo and became depressed. Dean looked handsome, all rough and genuine too. His sandy hair was in disarray and his eyes shone bright green in the dappled light filtering through the trees above him.

Cas smiled faintly at the image and clutched it close. His eyes watered but he blinked away the tears, instead choosing to get up and shrug on a sweater; the room was incredibly cold, a lot like the car had been the day before outside the cemetery.

'Amelia?' Cas called. After hearing no response, Cas walked down the stairs, cursing because of the pain in his joints. He reached the bottom of the stairs and continued to the kitchen. First he noticed the spilled coffee coating the floor and then he saw the crumpled figure of his wife lying in the middle of the liquid. Castiel stared blankly at her for a moment before sinking slowly to his knees. 'No.'