Chapter Text
When he crossed the rift, the first thing he saw was the relief on both of the brothers’ faces. Before he could even gather his wits, he felt a sharp pain in his back: something was very wrong. In a flood, his grace was leaving, streaming from every pore of his body. His mouth and eyes lit up, and then, just like that, it was over and he collapsed.
Castiel, the angel of the Lord, was no more.
Dean heard himself yell in fear, then there was nothing but the hollowness. Deafening silence punctuated only by the heavy pounding of his own heart.
What unfolded afterward, Mary beating the crap out of Lucifer and disappearing into the rift, seemed to happen in slow motion for Dean. He emerged from his torpor momentarily, seconds too late to reach for his mother, his fist closing on thin air.
He hadn’t noticed Sam running back towards the house. He hadn’t even noticed himself falling to his knees beside the angel. He looked up at the night sky, numbly hoping for divine intervention. Silently praying for Chuck to appear or at least to revive the angel. When nothing happened, he felt it. The weight of loneliness. The void. His eyes filled with tears.
He grabbed Cas by the collar and shook him in a desperate attempt to wake him.
“Cas! Wake up! Wake up for fuck’s sake! Wake up you hear me? Don’t you die on me, you son of a bitch!” Tears were streaming down his face now but he couldn’t care less. He shook Cas one last time and let out a loud heartbreaking sob. He buried his face in his best friend’s shirt, crushing it between his fingers.
“Please, Cas. Please, I need you.” he managed, between sobs. He looked up to where the rift had been. He remembered his mom’s face as she vanished and he sobbed again.
After some time — he had no idea how long — he let go of Cas and stood up. His teeth gritted and expression hard. He picked up the angel blade, lifted Cas’s body in his arms, and carried him to the Impala. He laid him carefully on the back seat and put the blade on his friend’s chest, placing his hands over it.
He sniffled and looked up at the house. He ran in and up the stairs, boots stomping loudly, his own angel blade in his hand.
He came running into Kelly’s room where he found her lying peacefully on the bed. He grunted in frustration, kicking out at the door then barged into the nursery, nearly running into Sam.
“Where’s that fucking baby?”, he yelled, Sam grabbed his arm and wordlessly pointed to where Jack, the new-born Nephilim, sat naked in the corner of the room.
“Dean —Don’t —” Sam whispered.
Jack rose up suddenly, lifting from the ground in one movement, unnaturally effortless and walked towards Dean, his eyes gleaming gold. His feet left burns on the hardwood floor as he moved. With a flick of his wrist, the angel blade in Dean's hand became white-hot. Dean hissed, dropping the knife as he stared at the young man in disbelief. Dean’s face fell as the Nephilim smiled. Then both brother’s eyes widened in shock as the voice of the creature began to resonate through both of their heads although its lips had not moved at all.
“I have no interest in you. So, I’ll allow you to live for now, but do not cross me or it will be the last thing you’ll ever do.” The voice chilled them both to their bones.
Jack walked between the two brothers grazing their hands and burning them as he did so, apparently unconcerned by his nakedness, and headed towards Kelly’s room.
As they turned to follow, both brothers found themselves unable to move. They twisted on the spot but their feet refused to move.
From the nursery they watched Jack lean over his mother's body and kiss her forehead. As he stepped away, flames appeared, licking around the edges of her body at first and then swirling around her like a whirlwind of fire, engulfing her in a raging pyre. She was gone. He turned and smiled at the boys one last time, and disappeared in a flash of golden light. Hot air whooshed from the bedroom to the nursery and instantly the boys were able to move again.
Flames began to spread, consuming the house as they ran for the door. When they reached a safe distance, they turned back to see the house engulfed in flames.
Despite the heat, Dean felt a sudden cold wave run up his spine.
He had seen a house burning down before, and it had been the end of his happiness. Tonight, though he had never thought it possible, his misery had reached a new low. He had lost his best frenemy, his mom and his angel, all in an hour, and once again, a burning house was the dreadful symbol of all that.
Sam glanced at his brother. “I’m sorry Dean— I don’t— I don’t know what’s going through your head, right now but—” Sam started.
“Don’t,” Dean replied with a pained expression.
“I’m so sorry— I didn’t trust Crowley, but I know you sort of did and—”
“Shut up, Sammy.”
Sam moved closer to Dean. “But Cas— A… And Mom, I—” his voice cracked as he went to hug his brother but Dean spun to face him.
“I said shut up Sam!” he yelled and threw a punch, hitting his younger brother straight in the face.
Sam fell to the ground and looked up at Dean in shock. “What the hell, Dean?!”
Realizing what he had done, Dean paled and held out a hand to help him up. “I’m sorry man, it’s just too much,” he said quietly, rubbing his hand over his eyes, “We need to go, I can’t be here.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing his hand over the bruise rapidly forming on his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell some more but he just sighed and shook his head as he scrambled to his feet.
They headed towards the car, Dean’s heart sinking as he remembered who, or what was inside. He bit his lip, fighting back tears as he approached the Impala. Sam followed him and stopped dead when he saw the body of their friend lying still on the back seat. Once again, Dean’s heart broke. But his smart baby brother had the decency not to say a word.
Dean drove back to the bunker, carefully avoiding glancing over his shoulder or into the rearview mirror, ignoring the spot where Cas used to sit and where he was now lying dead.