Cass knew what was going to happen. He should warn them, he should say something, but he just can't bring himself to. Because what can he say to them now
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He should have been able to prevent this, but Cass didn't know Dean carried a gun. Truth be told, he mostly stays away when Dean walks the earth because it hurts too much to see him like this, eyes flashing red as he talks someone out of their soul. He's never lingered long enough to see a confrontation, and so it's his fault that Sam takes a bullet now. From the time Dean pulled the weapon to when it discharged was hardly a split second, no hesitation, no recognition, as though Dean didn't live there anymore. As though it was just a shell of something that was once named Dean, hollowed of memories and compassion and everything that made him the man he had been.
He was moving before he realized he was, lunging forwards out of concealment and into visibility with a cry, "No!" And there was a flash of light, for Sam and Bobby at least, and the two men would find themselves a day away from this place in the Impala, no bullets, no blood, no books of Latin or torture implements laid out before them. Just two men displaced from danger, alone at the side of a forgotten country road.
And Castiel remained with Dean, standing to his left, just outside of his red trap, staring in. Did Dean even remember him? Blue eyes searched for something that registered, something that recognized him... was there even a shred of the man that had given up everything he had to save him?
"Dean..."
It was part question and part broken realization that this was somehow beyond repair, and it was a plea. He was begging, because he knew even when the Leviathans took over there was still a shred of himself left. Dean had believed that, even when no one else did, knew there had to be some part of him still curled up in the wasted shell, beneath the beasts, cowering and clinging desperately to keep from being washed into oblivion. There had to be a similar part of Dean in there. There had to be. Some demons remembered their lives, Crowley remembered his life. Dean was different, he was special, he'd been through more than the average human, he had to remember. Because if he could remember, there was still hope that Cass could save him.
He was moving before he realized he was, lunging forwards out of concealment and into visibility with a cry, "No!" And there was a flash of light, for Sam and Bobby at least, and the two men would find themselves a day away from this place in the Impala, no bullets, no blood, no books of Latin or torture implements laid out before them. Just two men displaced from danger, alone at the side of a forgotten country road.
And Castiel remained with Dean, standing to his left, just outside of his red trap, staring in. Did Dean even remember him? Blue eyes searched for something that registered, something that recognized him... was there even a shred of the man that had given up everything he had to save him?
"Dean..."
It was part question and part broken realization that this was somehow beyond repair, and it was a plea. He was begging, because he knew even when the Leviathans took over there was still a shred of himself left. Dean had believed that, even when no one else did, knew there had to be some part of him still curled up in the wasted shell, beneath the beasts, cowering and clinging desperately to keep from being washed into oblivion. There had to be a similar part of Dean in there. There had to be. Some demons remembered their lives, Crowley remembered his life. Dean was different, he was special, he'd been through more than the average human, he had to remember. Because if he could remember, there was still hope that Cass could save him.
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