"Hey Cas." Sam whispered, his breath fogging out into the cold, leaning against the railing of the old motel. "It's Sam Winchester." His gaze trailed the empty parking lot, and flickering floodlight. "I don't…" he trailed off for a moment, "I don't even know if you can hear me anymore, or if I'm just" he chuckled a little, it was a sad sound that carried into the night, "talking to nothing. But I wanted to say I'm sorry, Cas."
Sam sent a look back to the motel door, where Dean's laptop glowed. "I'm really sorry for what you're going through. And if you can hear me, just… I don't know anymore, Cas." Sam whispered, a hand wiping down his face in his exhaustion, "Lucifer isn't there, in case its- if you can see him, he's not there. And that won't dissuade him, but it's good to acknowledge it, I guess."
"Gosh, Cas." Sam muttered, his exhaustion seeping into his words, "I can't lie to you and tell you that I wasn't—that I'm not angry at you for what you did. You messing with my head like that? Pretty crappy move." He huffed his words out with a laugh, however quickly sobering up.
"But to be honest, I think I kind of understand. I've made some crappy decisions myself and screwing with someone's head isn't the way to go, but I think you know that already." His hand ran down the cool metal of the railing, eyes trailing back to the stars, even though he knew his friend was not up in the heavens, "I've made my fair share of bad decisions, I get it."
"I mean, I was the one who let Lucifer into the world. Guess we aren't so different, are we?" he shook his head sheepishly, "guess we both just trusted the wrong person."
"I wish you would've talked to us, man. Wish you would've stuck around after pulling me out. We could have helped you. Figured something out." He took a breath, "Thank you for trying, by the way. Trying to get me out of there. It really screwed up, but you tried and I appreciate that."
His hand moved to thumb a book in his jacket pocket, a small hardcover. "I just wish I could've gotten answers. Not that I would've cared without a soul, but knowing the truth, that's important, you know?"
He pulled the small book out, looking at the cover, it was an old thing, one written in Latin, not something he would peruse in his pastime. "And Cas, man, you gotta know you can come to us for things, if you," he exhaled, "well, if you get out of that."
His thumb trailed the maroon cover, "I know that you probably took this as some sort of penance, out of guilt or shame, but Cas. Cas, you don't deserve this. No one does. You're a good person, and," He ran his empty hand through his hair, moving it out from his eyes, "I do still believe that, even after all of this. I think you got lost. Just like I did. You've given so much for us. So much for the world."
Sam dropped his hand, back to leaning over the railing, the book in hand, his tone shifting to one of quiet determination, "Dean and I are hitting the lore in our time off leviathan chasing. Honestly, I think Dean's trying to figure something out for you right now, but he wouldn't admit it." Sam's smile was soft, if a little forced, "We miss you, Cas. So, if you can, fight whatever's up there. And if you can wake up? Please do.
"We just want you back." Sam whispered into the night sky, part of him waiting for an answer, for the light across the parking lot to blow out, for the trench coated angel to appear.
After a few beats of silence, Sam flipped through the pages of the book in front of him, the turning leading to a singed page.
The book was given to him by Balthazar, that night after Cas showed up in the Impala half-dead. The angel had merely said, "When it burns, then you know," before disappearing as silently as he came.
Sam had been more than confused by its contents, old Latin he couldn't hope to fully understand. It was when he saw the black inky feather poking out the top, he realized what Balthazar had meant.
Now, that feather was singed into the pages.
He wasn't exactly sure when it happened on the day Cas had died, whether it was when the Leviathans claimed his body as theirs, or whether it was when he drowned in the lake.
All he knew is it was still smoking when he had pulled it from his pocket, pages burning with the imprint.
It marked the angel's death.
He looked over the page again, unsure why he was still holding onto the book when their friend was alive.
The door squeaked behind him, making Sam straighten his back, looking to Dean as he stepped out into the cold. His older brother looked as tired as he felt, but even so, his eyes were squinted in concern, "You good?"
Sam forced his smile, "Yeah."
Dean's eyes moved to the book in his hand, "You do realize you can read inside, right?"
Sam chuckled, "Just getting some fresh air," he tucked the book back into his pocket.
Dean nodded, handing a beer from his hand to his brother. He took a swig of his own, resting the bottle on the railing.
"Find anything?" Honestly, Sam didn't feel the need to clarify, leviathans or Cas. He knew the answer either way.
"Not yet."
"Something will come up, Dean." Sam tried to assure, eyes looking to find Dean's own, "We'll figure something out. We always do."
Dean took another swig of his beer, gaze distant as he stared into the night. They watched in the far distance the lightning strikes on the horizon.
"You think Cas is okay?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.
Dean shook his head, shrugging at the question, "Dunno. I mean, Cas is tough," He tilted his head, looking to Sam, "He's come back from the dead a couple times now. He'll figure it out."
The brothers stood there for a few minutes longer, eyes out toward the horizon in silence. "I'm heading in," Dean murmured, turning, and placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, patting it once. He slid his key into the door and opened it. "You comin'?"
Sam nodded, "yeah," following him into the old motel, door creaking behind them. The laptop was the only light in the room, casting a glow.
Glowing like angels do when they are full of power.
Glowing like angels do when they die.