"Dean… how are you holding up? I mean, honestly?"
He nearly laughed at that. How are you holding up? After what had happened? Dean closed his eyes and tried to force the images away. The blood. The burning light in the angel´s eyes. The frame of burned wings on the ground, as he had seen so many times, only this time they had belonged to the most precious being he had met in all his life, who owned a place in his heart right beside his brother. How he was holding up? He didn´t. Because everything that he felt, everything that could have been, every reluctant touch of their hands, every time their eyes met as if drawn together from across the room, every prayer and drop of blood shed for each other didn´t matter anymore. Cas was gone. There would be no more awkward conversations, battle plans, quiet evenings with a bottle of beer and Netflix. Why talking about something that was so nauseating pointless? Because no matter how much he prayed and cursed and grittet his teeth and called out to Chuck, there was no coming back this time. Why talk about something that lost all meaning when Cas´s grace burned out around Lucifers blade?