Chapter Text
Dean didn’t manage to move until the sun rose. Even then, it was because of Sam. His brother had come and shaken him gently, for quite a long time probably. He had asked him if Dean wanted to get Cas home for his funeral or do it there. The older Winchester had only managed to say home, before going into the house retrieve some blankets.
They had buried Kelly to the outskirts of the forest, put Cas’ body in the back of the impala and taken off to the bunker, Dean behind the wheel.
Sam called Jody a third into their way back, to tell her how things had turned out. Really, the only good news they had to offer was Lucifer being locked in another universe. Their mother was stuck with him, probably dead already, Kelly was dead, her son on the loose, and Cas had been killed by Lucifer.
Dean, who had gripped the wheel with more force than necessary when Mary was mentioned, swerved the car and clenched his jaw, prompting an alarmed look from Sam. His brother wrapped up the conversation quickly after that. Jody had said Claire had come to visit her and that they would come to the Bunker for the funeral.
Funeral. The word seemed strange. Especially for Cas. They wouldn’t really even be burning him. The body they had, was his vessel. But at the same time it had been more than a vessel for so long now.
They had lost him several times, but never had a body to burn. And except for that time in the lake… Cas had been brought back almost immediately. Having a body, it gave a sense of finality. He wouldn’t come back this time. He was really gone. For good.
The thought made his stomach lurch, and Dean hastily pulled over. He got out of the car, and almost ran to the nearest tree where he leaned an arm. After a good minute of dry heaving, he felt a hand on his right shoulder.
“Dean ?”, his brother asked gently. “I’m fine”, he mumbled back.
The older Winchester took a few deep breaths and finally looked at his brother. Sam’s eyes seemed to be searching for something, then his frown softened, and he said “I’ll drive for a bit. You rest.”
Dean didn’t feel the energy to contradict him. After an hour of Sam’s driving, Dean started to doze a bit. He woke up half an hour later, the sight of white light erupting from Cas’ face burning behind his eyelids. Not wanting to risk looking in the back of the car, he turned his gaze outside.
They mostly kept silent during their way back, the radio here only for background noise. They stopped two times for snacks, gas and toilet rest. They switched seats twice also to rest a bit, even though neither of them managed to really sleep.
The brothers made it to the Bunker in over a day, arriving in the early afternoon. Jody and Claire would be coming shortly, and they needed to prepare them rooms. Dean would do that while Sam did a quick run into town for supplies. But first… first they had to put Castiel inside. Bring him home one last time.
Dean parked baby in the garage and the brothers unloaded the trunk. Later, as Dean stepped towards the backseat door, his brother put a hand on his shoulder, silently asking him. Dean shook his head and opened the door. He took a deep breath and slowly got into the car. He choked back tears as he lifted the blanketed body of his friend in his arms. His dead friend.
The distance between baby and Cas’ room seemed to stretch infinitely, and it felt like hours had passed when Dean finally stood in front of the bedroom’s door.
Sam pushed the door open, and Dean walked into the room. Scarcely furnished, without anything really personal in it. Castiel never put any decoration, never really appropriated the room for himself. They maybe didn’t give him enough reasons to do so, Dean mused. And now… it was too late.
The older brother took the few steps to the bed with lead laced boots. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lowered Castiel on his bed. He then opened the blankets to reveal the body under them and gently replaced a strand of hair. There. If you ignored the stillness, it was as if Cas was asleep.
Except he wasn’t, and the memory of his death played itself once again before Dean’s eyes. Unable to keep seeing it, he stormed out of the room to busy himself. He had two rooms to set up.
Dean had been sitting in the library for some time, not doing anything, when suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. It was nearly seven, so that should be Jody and Claire. He got up to go answer, but Sam beat him to it. He was proven right a few seconds later, when the two women came into view.
Sam hugged them both quickly before he let them enter. As soon as Claire noticed Dean standing near the table, she sped up and her face crunched up with a myriad of expressions. He didn’t get to start trying to analyse them, because as soon as he was within arm’s reach, she punched him in the chest.
“You promised !” another punch “You promised me you would look out for him !”
She was right. He had promised her, and he had been a shit friend. And if she could let off some grief by rightfully blaming him, he would let her. So he let her punch him -it wasn’t doing a lot of harm, she wasn’t putting her strength in it-, but if it could do something for her…
It didn’t last long. Claire hit him another couple of times before stopping, both fists crippling his shirt. She stood still for a couple of seconds then Dean brought his arms around her shoulders. The young woman buried her face in the crook of his head whilst the older hunter cradled her neck. His heart ached for Claire. She was so young and had lost so much already. They stayed locked together for some time, before they left the empty war room and Dean led her to Cas.
The rest of the evening went surprisingly quickly. Jody and Claire unpacked their bags, Dean fixed them a quick meal, they ate in relative silence, then the girls retired to their rooms. Dean didn’t speak once. It’s not he didn’t want to… he just… couldn’t. His head felt like wrapped up in cotton. It was as if he wasn’t there, almost like a dissociation. Maybe it was. Or maybe he was just completely numb.
After he finished cleaning up in the kitchen, he went to see if Sam was in the library. His brother was there, hunched over a book. He had already started looking into parallel universes then. Dean took a look at his tired face and slumped shoulders. Sam was hurting too: Mary was their mother, and Cas had been his friend too. But he also lost Eileen. The kid could have been happy with her, if their exchanges had been of any indication. So yeah, Dean knew his brother was grieving too. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything to alleviate that grief. Not this time. Hell, his mouth wouldn’t even let out more than three words at a time.
He saw Sam lift his head and start to open his mouth. But then he apparently decided against it, because his brother ported his gaze back down again. Good. Dean didn’t know if he would have been able or even willing to answer anyway. He simply took a seat across from the other hunter and opened up a book. It’s not as if he would be able to sleep anyway.
It was a pain in his arm that made him decide to go to bed. He stood up and saw Sam slumped over a chair. His brother didn’t seem uncomfortable, so Dean decided not to wake him up. He needed the rest. He quickly grabbed a blanket and draped it over his brother’s shoulders and retreated to his room.
Sleep eluded him for hours. The complete darkness and silence of his room only allowed his brain to assault him with images of Cas’ death. Again and again. Castiel’s smile when he had walked back in their universe, Sam’s breath of relief. The shocked look of Cas’ face, as white light erupted from him. His own scream, as Lucifer plunged Cas’ own blade in his back. Then Castiel’s limp body falling on the ground as his evil brother taunted the Winchesters. And their mother. Their mother, who either to protect them or avenge Cas, maybe both, had managed to send Lucifer in the other dimension, falling with him into the rift.
When sleep finally caught up with him, it was only to see the same images. After waking with a start, Dean looked up at the time: 4am. He had barely slept for an hour. Without him really noticing anything, he suddenly stood up in front of a familiar door. His hand reached the handle and opened the door as if of its own accord. The man walked in and gently pushed the door. He lifted his head and sucked a breath. Here he was, still looking as peaceful as he left him hours ago. Dean walked past the chair that was next to the bed, probably left here by Sam or Claire earlier and sat with his back to the wall, facing the door.
He was still there in the morning, head on the bed, a hand clutching Cas’, when Sam opened the slightly ajar door.