war heroes
III: No salvation
~1~
“Yeah, funny, but that's why we raise our voices! And picket their so-called weddings, and their funerals. Someone has to speak for God,” the reverend says. Castiel's seen too many of them. God just let them be with their free will to hate whatever they want to hate.
“And who says you speak for God?” he asks. “You're wrong, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation. On the other hand, I cannot abide hypocrites like you, reverend,” he carries on. Everyone is looking at him now and that's how it should be.
“Okay, fun's over friend.”
“Tell your flock where your genitals have been before you speak for me,” Castiel says, ignoring the reverend.
“And who the heck are you?”
“I'm God,” he answers calmly. “And he who lies in my name shall choke on his own false tongue, and his poisonous words shall betray him.” He watches as the reverend begins to choke and then falls to his knees, collapsing and dying on the floor.
“For I am the Lord, your God,” he finishes and starts to walk out of the church.
“Castiel...“
He stops and cocks his head. There's something, something- he grasps the back of a pew.
“Cas!” the voice says again.
He turns and looks at an image of Jesus in a window. He needs to get a grip. The voices will shut up soon. He'll make them if he has to. He needs to get himself together so he can continue to do the work that God just didn't.
~+~
The thing is that the voices inside his head don't shut up. They get louder even. He makes it into a bathroom after he healed the blind man and looks at himself. The blind man was right, he thinks. He doesn't look good. His face, there are blisters all over his skin. It's like his skin is burning up from inside.
And the voices won't shut up. No matter what he's doing.
“A mistake. Too late. Let us out.”
It feels like something wants to claw its way out of his skin. He unbuttons his shirt and the souls inside him, maybe not all, but some, are trying to get out. “Let us out. Let us out!” They repeat and it's an echo that never stops, never stops.
He looks at himself again. “No,” his reflection answers.
~+~
Sam and Dean are plotting against him. While he is healing the sick and punishing the wicked they are plotting against him. Trapping Death to bring him down. He can't believe it.
“Because... We said so, and we're the boss of you. I mean... Respectfully,” Dean says.
“Amazing,” Castiel interrupts.
“Cas,” Sam tries.
“I didn't want to kill you.” And he didn't want to. They were through so much together. “But now-”
Dean cuts him off, “You can't kill us.”
“You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean,” Castiel answers, coldly. A part of him, a very tiny part, feels regret.
“Death is our bitch. We ain't gonna die, even if god pulls the trigger,” Dean says.
Death looks him over once. “Annoying little protozoa, aren't they? 'God'? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode.” Death states it in the calmest of tones.
“No, I'm not.” And even to his own ears it sounds petulant. “When I've finished my work, I'll repair myself.”
“You think you can because you think you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too,” Death replies.
“Irrelevant. I control them.” He does. Now, he feels them slipping, but he is still in control here.
“For the moment.”
“Wait, what older things?” Dean throws in.
“Long before God created Angel and man, he made the first beasts. The Leviathans,” Death answers.
“Leviathans?”
Death nods, a gesture that is barely there at all. “I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the entire Petri dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home.”
“Enough,” Castiel says.
“Stupid little soldier you are.” Death nearly seems amused, Castiel thinks and it makes him feel angry. He can feel his control on all the things inside him slipping.
“Why? Because I dared open a door that He shut? Where is He? I did a service, taking His place.”
“Service? Settling petty vendettas?” Death says.
“No. I'm cleaning up one mess after another -selflessly.”
“Quite the humanitarian,” Death remarks.
“And how would you know? What are you, really? A flyswatter?” Castiel says, he's pissed off. How dare Death talk to him like that? He is the new God. He's the most powerful being in existence right now.
“Destined to swat you, I think,” Death replies.
“Unless I take you first.”
“Really bought his own press, this one. Please, Cas. I know God, and you, sir, are no God,” Death answers.
“All right, put your junk away, both of you. Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!” Dean throws in and Castiel can feel that he means it. Can feel the hate, all the anger and wrath that is directed at him. He holds no place in Dean's heart anymore, but it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't have one in his either.
Death looks at him. “Alright. Fine,” he says and Castiel has had enough of this. He snaps his fingers and frees Death. Sometimes you have to be smart about these things. “Thank you,” Death says with a barely there nod and Castiel doesn't think he needs to be around for the rest of that little play. He has places to be and people to punish.
~+~
When he wakes up he's covered in blood and everyone is dead. This is not what he wanted. This is not what he did. This is not who he is.
He lost control he realizes and if he did lose control once, he knows it's going to happen again. He can hear the voices: whispering and screaming and they want only one thing. To get out. To be out there to be free.
~+~
“Hey, Castiel. Um... Maybe this is pointless. Look... I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but... Look, we still have till dawn to stop this. Let us help. Please.”
He can hear Sam's voice through the fog of a million other voices screaming in his head. Seems that a part of his mind is so tuned to the whims and wishes of the Winchesters that he can't turn it off. Even now, even in this state. And it will be easier to deal with Sam than with Dean. He does need help. He can't do this on his own.
~+~
“Sam?” his voice sounds funny, he thinks, but he's barley on his feet. He's a mess of blood and gore and all the voices in his head that are begging and demanding to let them out and he-
“Cas.”
“I heard your call. I need help,” he gets out just before he passes out for a bit.
There are things in his head. Not really dreams, because angels don't sleep, but things, like memories in the nearly empty corners where his self used to be.
~+~
He's holding on to these parts, to these memories that are mostly fighting, war and the surprisingly soft skin on Dean's back and the scent and taste of whisky on Dean's breath and lips. He's holding on to that, because these might be the last minutes he has on Earth, before he just ceases to exist again.
He's sitting on the floor of the lab and watching Dean being, well Dean he thinks. “We need the right blood. There's a small jar - end of the hall, s-supply closet,” he tells Sam.
“Got it,” Sam says and goes to fetch it.
He pulls the trench coat tighter around him. He has to do this now. Time is running out. “Dean?”
“What, you need something else?” He sounds distracted, Castiel thinks, but he can't blame Dean. He can't blame Dean for anything. This here, this is all on him and his arrogance.
“No. I feel regret, about you,” he says. Letting it all sink in, he can't be frank about it. Not with Bobby in the same room. Dean made it perfectly clear that this wasn't something to be shared. “And what I did to Sam,” he adds.
“Yeah, well, you should.”
“If there was time, if I was strong enough, I'd, I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die,” he answers.
“Okay,” Dean says. He's keeping himself busy on the other end of the room.
“Is it working?” he asks. He never really did this before. Never felt like this before.
“Does it make you feel better?” Dean asks, stopping whatever he was doing a second ago to look at Castiel.
“No,” he admits and then a bit softer: “You?”
“Not a bit,” Dean answers.
It isn't what Castiel wanted to hear, he realizes. But then Dean never was anything but unpredictable. There is reassurance in that. And maybe peace. He isn't sure he deserves peace after all that he's done, but it would be nice to have it anyway.
~2~
Dean has no idea what the heck to feel. He's all messed up by this. Cas dying again isn't helping the freaking situation. They need him. He needs him.
“Damn it. Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me?” He stops as Castie] moves. “Cas?! Hey! Hey! Okay. All right.”
“That was unpleasant,” Castiel answers.
Dean reaches out to help him up. It feels like second nature to touch Cas. “Let's get him up. Easy, there.”
“I'm alive,” Castiel states the obvious.
“Looks like,” Bobby says, steadying him on the other side. Dean wants to hug the living hell out of Cas, even if he's still mad as fuck.
“I'm astonished. Thank you,” he says, looking at Dean and away. “Both of you.”
“We were mostly... just trying to save the world.”
“I'm ashamed. I really overreached,” Castiel says and even the way he speaks now is different. This is the Castiel Dean knows. This is his nerdy angel.
“You think?” he asks.
“I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you,” Castiel replies.
“All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let's get you out of here. Come on.”
Castiel grabs his hand and it brings all the memories back, he stored away while Castiel was god and the freaking enemy.
“I mean it, Dean,” Castiel says, and the way he says Dean's name. The tone in his voice. Is something Dean can't think about now.
“Okay. All right. But let's go find Sam, okay?” Because Sam is still on the crazy train and it needs to be fixed sooner rather than later.
Castiel lets go and stops dead in his tracks. Dean is freaking confused.
“You need to run now! I-I can't hold them back!”
“Hold who back?” he asks.
“They held on inside me. Dean, they're so strong.”
“Who the hell -?” Dean starts but is cut off sharply.
“Leviathan! I can't fight them. Run!”
Of fucking course, Dean thinks. They can never catch a break. “Go! Go get Sam! Go get Sam!” he says to Bobby.
“Too late,” Cas says, but Dean knows, because this isn't the voice Castiel uses. He knows every single shift of tone in Castiel's voice.
“Cas?” he tries nevertheless. Just to be sure.
“Cas is -- he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now. Ah. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”
Dean wants to just fucking kill something, but even breathing hurts right now.
~+~
If he lets himself think about it, if he lets himself feel it, he's going to scream and he'll never stop. So he stares out over the lake and at the dark water and lets his brain deal with it in anyway it wants, except for thinking and feeling.
He fishes the trench coat out of the water. Wet with blood and water and god only knows what else and folds it together and doesn't think about Castiel's death, or why he's hanging on to that freaking trench coat.
It shouldn't mean anything.
Cas betrayed him. Cas left him, he was ready to kill Dean. Dean was ready to kill him and there's so much bad blood between them, but- But, he can't. He can't think about why he can't let go.
Can't think about how he thought for one stupid moment in time, a far away night so long ago it isn't even true anymore, that it would be okay, because Cas was strong, because he wasn't human, because he wasn't fragile like Lisa, like Ben, like the rest of them.
He clutches the trench coat to his chest and ignores the world for a heartbeat, two at most before he gets a grip.
They have work to do.
~+~
Dean is a fucking expert in not falling apart. No matter what.
He kills his daughter and he goes on.
His brother is the star in 'one flew over the cuckoo's nest' and he tries to deal and fix this.
Then there is freaking Dick Roman and his smug face wherever Dean turns and-
Sometimes all he needs is to sleep and know that somewhere up there is an angel who watches him do it. It used to help, knowing that.
But that is not on the plate anymore. Cas is gone, ripped apart by the evil things that are now trying to take over the world and make it into their own little friendly family restaurant.
He throws something breakable at the wall and closes his eyes.
Bobby dying is just the icing on the freaking cake he didn't ask for.
~3~
To say that seeing Castiel is a shock would be the understatement of the freaking century. Maybe somehow he should've known. Castiel never just dies, he always comes back. He is, maybe, a very tentative maybe, Dean thinks, one of god's favorite angels.
Seeing Castiel with a woman, a wife, for fuck's sake. It might be jealousy in that first moment, it might be something else entirely. He doesn't know and he doesn't want to have to deal with this, but he realizes that this is the only real chance Sam has.
~+~
Castiel sits in the passenger seat like he used to and Dean is ready to jump out of his skin.
He keeps it together, because Cas has no freaking idea who he is, what he is. “So, Daphne - is that, uh, your wife?”
“She found me and cared for me,” Castiel says.
“Meaning?” Trust Cas to be cryptic about everything.
“Oh, it's a...strange story. You may not like it.”
“Believe me, I will,” he answers, because not knowing is never bliss and always dangerous.
“A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and,” he stops and risks a side-glance at Dean. Dean waits. “Unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me.”
“So who named you Emmanuel?” Dean asks.
“Bouncybabynames.com.”
“Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are.” He wonders how much he can say, how much he can get out of Cas by slipping random information into the conversation.
“Well, it's my life. And it's a good life,” Castiel says simply.
I bet, Dean thinks. It could be bliss in this case, not knowing. He doesn't say any of that. “Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know...bad guy?” he asks instead.
“Oh, I... don't feel like a bad person.”
And when it comes down to it, he isn't. Never was, Dean thinks. Castiel always did what he thought was best for them. And Dean's pulled some really shady crap to save the people he cared about too, still. Betrayal always hurts the most from people you love.
~+~
“So, your brother...” Castiel begins.
“Sam,” Dean cuts in, hoping for some kind of reaction.
“Sam. What's his diagnosis?”
“Well, it's not exactly medical,” Dean answers.
“That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin.”
“Spiritual? Okay,” he says and then, because he needs something more than that from Cas, “someone did this to him.”
“You're angry,” Castiel states. He always liked to state the obvious, especially when Dean was freaking angry.
“Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head,” Dean gives back.
“He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?” Castiel wants to know. There is real curiosity and compassion in his voice. If anything this is making the whole thing harder for Dean.
“Yeah, well, he's gone.”
“Did you kill him?” Cas asks. “I sense that you kill a lot of people.”
Dean risks a glance at Castiel and then looks at the road again. “Honestly, I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but - I always could. What Cas did, “ he looks a Castiel again. Searching for a reaction that isn't there. “I just can't - I don't know why.”
“Well, it doesn't matter why,” Castiel answers.
“Of course it matters!” Dean explodes. This is so freaking messed up.
“No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human,” Castiel answers and then after a short pause: “Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name.”
Dean has no idea what to answer to that. So he keeps his mouth shut and turns the radio on. He's tired of thinking and there are demons on his heels and he needs to get to Sam as soon as he can.
Everything else can wait. Will have to wait until Sam's better.
~4~
Dean cannot believe this shit. Why in hell can't they ever catch a break? If something goes according to plan a million other things just appear out of the blue. God, or whoever, must really hate him.
Or maybe it's the King of Hell who hates his guts - or wants to jump them. All the demons seem to have a thing for him.
There's a fraction of a second where he wants to tell Meg she can go to hell, but as that is home, and besides, he really does need backup and Cas has no freaking idea who or what he is.
He's neck-deep in the water and she is his lifeline. Not very safe, but the only one that is available.
When your options are limited, you just take the one that is less likely to get you killed.
~+~
Dean parks the car and grabs the binoculars. He needs to know what they are going to have to deal with.
“Oh, gracious,” Cas says.
This can't be good.
“Damn it. Demons,” Meg throws in.
“All of them?” Because they can't be freaking serious about it.
“No grass growing under your feet,” Meg answers. He finds her pretty funny if he doesn't have the urge to kill her on the spot.
“How many of those knives do you have?” Cas asks.
“Just the one,” Dean replies, putting the binoculars aside.
“Well, then, forgive me, but what do we do?”
Which is a freaking excellent question, Dean thinks.
As does Meg, apparently. “Yeah, Dean. Got any other ideas how we could blast through that?”
“Excuse us. Meg?”
“Oh, for the love of...” she sighs, but follows him a bit away, so they can talk in private. “Sam's in there. I know you're enjoying the double dip with your old pal, but - “
He cuts her off, “You think it's that cut and dry? Really? You know what he did. And you want to tell him and just hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap. He could... disappear. Who knows?” The possibilities here are endless and he doesn't like a single one of the scenarios his head is coming up with.
“I gather we know each other,” Castiel says from behind them. Damn, the angel is a freaking ninja.
“Just a dollop,” Meg answers.
“You can tell me. I'll be fine,” Castiel says and he's looking at Dean when he says it.
“How do you know? You just met yourself. I've known you for years,” Dean replies.
“You're an angel.” Damn Meg three days from Sunday to hell and wherever it's worse than there.
“I'm sorry? Is that a flirtation?” Castiel wants to know. Some things just don't change, Dean thinks.
“No, it's a species. A very powerful one,” she answers.
“She's not lying. Okay? That's why you heal people. You don't eat. I'm sure there's more,” Dean says, you don't sleep is on the tip of his tongue, but who would be helped with that? They are running out of time here and they have bigger fish to fry.
“Why wouldn't you tell me?” Cas asks.“ Being an angel sounds pleasant.”
“It's not, trust me. It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant,” Dean answers.
“He would know. You used to fight together. Bestest friends, actually.”
God, Dean wishes she would just shut her cakehole.
“We're... friends? Am I Cas? I-I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry.”
“Look,” she throws in, “you got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot.”
“But I don't remember how,” Castiel says.
“It's in there. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike,” Dean says and they are too close again.
Castiel turns to look at him and his face is so freaking sincere when he says: “I don't know how to do that, either.” That, Dean has no idea how to answer. He just stays silent. “All right, I'll try,” Castiel adds after a moment.
“This ain't gonna go well,” Dean says under his breath as he watches Castiel walk into the parking lot.
“I don't know. I believe in the little tree topper,” she answers.
~+~
Maybe she isn't so wrong. Castiel kills the demons like a pro.
“That was beautiful, Clarence,” she says with a smile.
“Cas?” Dean asks tentatively.
“I remember you,” he answers and turns to look at Dean. “I remember everything.”
Dean doesn't think he's happy about it. Dean supposes he wouldn't be happy about it either. It isn't only the shit he pulled on them and crumbling Sam's wall, it's also all the other stuff no one knows about and they don't talk about either.
“What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Sam is dying in there,” Dean says.
“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn't be here,” Castiel replies and walks away and that, that is something he can't allow to happen. Cas is Sam's only hope.
“Cas. Cas!”
~5~
Castiel needs to be away from here and he needs to think, but of course Dean is close behind him.
“If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time,” Dean says. He didn't see it that way back then, Castiel thinks bitter. He fought tooth and nail to stop Castiel.
“Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?” he asks, turning to face Dean. He remembers everything. Everything. Does Dean too? Has he flashes of them on a warm summer night, stealing seconds, minutes out of battle and lies and spending them together under the stars? “We didn't part friends, Dean,” he adds, because that is true too. Dean wanted Death to kill him and he meant it. Castiel knows, because he could feel it at the time.
“So what?” Dean wants to know. He's so stubborn and trying to fix this and Castiel called him his favorite pet.
“I deserved to die. Now, I can't possibly fix it...” he says helplessly. He feels so out of it. Maybe ignorance is bliss. “So why did I even walk out of that river?”
“Maybe to fix it,” Dean replies softly. “Wait,” he adds, opening the trunk of the car and taking out the trench coat.
The only thing left is to try.
~Interlude~
“I remember everything,” Castiel says, looking at the sky.
“I know,” Dean answers.
“How I betrayed you, how you wanted to stop me,” he say softer. He remembers Dean's fingers around his arm like a vice. He remembers the white walls of the hospital room and how Dean- he remembers.
“You tried to do the right thing.”
“It was too late and-” He turns to look at Dean. He looks older, worn out. Thin around the lines of his body. Like whatever is holding him together isn't going to hold much longer.
“Cas,” Dean says.
“I know, we don't have time. Sam's in there and demons are hunting for me. And she is waiting.”
“Not that they will be an issue now. You can take them,” Dean says.
“I'm sorry,” Castiel says.
“I know,” Dean answers, grabbing his hand. His fingers curling familiar around the fabric of the trench coat. He looks down at it.
“You kept it,” he says gently.
“It was yours. It was the only thing I had left of you,” Dean replies and he isn't looking at Castiel, but his fingers tighten just a fraction.
Castiel smiles.
Things can be fixed and he's going to star with Sam. “Let's do this.”
~6~
There is no one stopping them when they enter the hospital again. Dean leaves Meg by the car, because he doesn't want her near his brother if it's all the same to her. And it seems it is.
He knows they have no time, but he pulls Castiel into one of the empty bedrooms anyway.
~Interlude~
Dean has a sense of deja vu. He and Castiel in an empty hospital room and the world out to get them. On the verge of something. Something bad, probably.
“Dean?” Castiel says and there is this specific note in his voice, the one Dean didn't think he'll ever hear again. The one that makes him want to press Castiel against the nearest wall, get his knee between Castiel's legs and tangle his fingers into the bloody trench coat while they kiss until they're out of breath. “Dean?” Castiel asks again.
“I don't know. I feel like something bad is about to happen and-” He stops, biting his lip. He has no idea how to do this.
“Before I-” Castiel pauses as if searching for the right words. “Before I got possessed by the Leviathans and nearly drowned,” he settles on, “I told you that I would redeem myself to you.”
“It wasn't all your fault,” Dean says.
Castiel shakes his head. “It was. I was arrogant. I was selfish, I was acting-”
“You were acting human, or as close as you can get,” Dean interrupts.
“I always felt the closest to human with you,” Castiel says softly. “The most centered and connected.”
Dean takes a deep breath and then presses Castiel against the wall. His fingers tangle in the trench coat, he hears Castiel's sharp intake of breath and feels like everything could be okay again when Castiel's hand settles on the scar, the imprint of his hand, on his shoulder.
“This is where you belong,” he whispers just before he kisses Castiel, and he has no idea what he means, but he never knew what he meant with Castiel.
It's not a gentle kiss, he wants it to be, but it's not happening, because there is so much anger and loss and emotions, for fuck's sake, but that's okay. Castiel isn't going to break. If them finding each other again proves anything than it's that: Castiel is build to last.
~7~
“What the hell do you mean you can't?” Dean asks. This, this can't be happening.
“I mean there's nothing left to rebuild.” Castiel's standing at a distance, but it seems to Dean like he still didn't master the boundaries thing. It doesn't bother Dean anymore.
“Why not?”
“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever's happening inside his head right now,” Castiel answers. He looks like the world is going to hell and the funny thing is, the world might be.
“So you're saying there's nothing? That he's gonna be like this until his candle blows out?”
“I'm sorry. This isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that,” he replies and then stops, cocks his head in that weird way of his. Dean does have a very bad, not good feeling about this. “But I may be able to shift it.”
“Shift?” Dean asks. There's a knot in his stomach.
“Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet,” Castiel answers and sits on the bed, as close to Sam as he can. Dean is watching. He isn't sure he wants to know what Castiel is going to do. He might not like it. He might try to stop it. “It's better this way. I'll be fine,” Castiel adds with a glance at Dean. Dean has a flashback to the time he tried to put the souls back where they belonged.
“Wait, Cas, what are you doing?” he tries again. Ignorance is never bliss.
Castiel ignores him. “Now, Sam this may hurt. And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you,” he says softly, touching Sam's head.
And suddenly Dean gets it and he has no time to stop it and he doesn't know if he could. Everyone pales compared to Sam and Dean knows that it's not healthy and maybe Lisa was right as she said that he would never be happy as long as Sam was alive.
Castiel knew, of course, he didn't give Dean the option to choose. Maybe he didn't want to know.
~+~
Dean has his brother back and because this is his life he lost someone in return. Again.
“I don't know. I mean, we can't just leave him,” Sam says as they're leaving the hospital.
“Well, we can't bring him with us. Everything on the planet's out for us, okay?” He waits for Sam to nod before he continues: “When word gets out, we can't protect him. Not really. This is safer.”
Sam doesn't get in as they reach the car. Dean knows that look. It's the ‘I'm righteous and concerned’ look. “Every demon who knows about Cas is dead,” he adds.
“Not everyone. Look, Dean, this whole 'enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing feels kind of like a demon deal.”
“It's not a deal. It's -“
“It's what?” Sam cuts in.
“Mutually assured destruction. Look, man, I get it. She's not our friend,” Dean says, because leaving Castiel with Meg isn't the best solution, but it's not like they have any other freaking options left. They can't help Castiel, Dean can't be sitting at his bed, no matter how much he wants to right now. “We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead,” he finishes opening the car door. That shuts Sam up.
There is a slight chance Castiel can fight it off, after all this is not his memory, it's not his madness and he isn't human. He doesn't have a soul. For all they know Castiel could snap out of it.
Dean sighs and starts the car.
What do they keep saying? Hope springs eternal.
~end~