No one is ever truly gone as long as there is someone to hold on to a feeling, a thought, one single memory about them. Sam is thinking this as he sees Dean pull the soggy, bloody and seemingly forever dirty trench coat out of the backseat of the Impala.
Ruining the black leather interior was the furthest thing from the older Winchester’s mind. He just watched his only friend get sucked into the bottom of a lake. He was even more torn up over the fact that only hours before he had his angel back, even if it was only for a few moments. In that short time hope had made its way back into his heart. The thought that maybe, just possibly, things would end well for him. But loss, it seems, is the Winchester curse, and it had bit him in the ass once again. Dean held the jacket tightly in his arms as he made his way silently into Bobby’s house. He walked through the door and down the hall to the spare room that he had claimed as his own years ago when Bobby became him and Sam’s surrogate father.
He laid the bloody fabric out carefully onto his bed, taking great care to smooth out as many creases as possible.
He looked at it.
The coat was more than an object. Like the Impala, the angel’s overcoat had gained and energy, a life of its own. This was a piece of his angel.
Dean looked down at his hands, which were shaking slightly. He felt tears fighting to break out of his eyes. Dean concentrated all of his will and prayed harder than he ever had in his life. He prayed to Heaven, to God, to whoever and whatever would listen.
“If there’s one thing that I need more than anything I’ve ever needed, it’s to have him back. He can’t really be gone. Not after all of the other crazy shit that we’ve survived. He’s more than an angel, more than my friend, maybe even more than family. He believed in me no matter what I did. He’s my Savior. I just need him back. Please.”
A single tear cu a path down his freckled cheek.
There was a knock at the doorway. Bobby stood there looking down at his feet.
“Dean…” He started.
“No.” Dean said and turning to look Bobby in the eyes.
Bobby glanced at the coat on the bed, and Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand, drying up the tears.
“Dean.” Bobby said again. Dean turned his green eyes away from the doorway and back to the coat.
“Just give me five minutes, okay? I need…” He didn’t know what else to say so he stayed silent. Bobby’s footsteps dragged their way back down the hall.
Dean took one finger and touched the hem of the trench coat.
“Cas.” The name fell from his lips for the first time since the angel went into that lake. He took the coat, folded it neatly, and set it in a plastic bag.
He would wash it, Dean decided.
That way it will be fresh and blood-free for when his angel returned. Because he will hold on to that hope that Castiel would make it back to him. Cas made a promise, after all, that he would redeem himself, and Dean intended to hold him to his word.
- Current Mood: nervous