Author's Note: This fic is pretty angsty, and it's set after Cas's speech in season 15. None of the other canon for season 15 probably applies, because I haven't watched all of season 15 (just the confession) yet. Pairings are Destiel and Sabriel, but there is more emphasis on Winchester brotherly feels than romantic pairings in this one. Warnings include: character death (Cas; he doesn't come back in this fic), self-harm, suicide attempt, self-hatred, and mentions of past child abuse. Title is from Chord Overstreet's Hold On. Link to the AO3 version is in the external link. I hope you enjoy this! 

~ Em

Dean's head swam with pain, and his hands shook with it, and pain was all he could feel - painpainpainpainpain. He couldn't stop the tears that spilled over with every shaky inhale he took, and he swore he had never felt so cracked open before. Cas was gone. Really, completely, forever gone. He and Sam had no chance of retrieving Cas from the Empty, even with Jack. Not even God could unlock it. The Empty was older than God. It was older than everything. Cas wasn't coming back this time. Cas would never come back.

That thought made Dean scream, a sound that he didn't even know he was capable of making. He struggled to his feet and plunged his fist into the concrete wall. Pain exploded across his knuckles, and he welcomed it, sank into it, because it was better than the crushing feelings of loss, of guilt, of devastation that came with the knowledge that Cas was gone. He was so gone that Dean could feel his absence, like a hole in his chest where the angel should be.

He could still hear Cas's words in his head, the "I love you," with absolutely nothing there to make Dean hear otherwise, for the first time in a long time. He'd known Cas had loved him, he loved Cas, too - but this? Dean hadn't known Cas felt like this. That Cas had, had loved him in the way that Sammy loved Jess, or his father loved his mother.

For the first few seconds, after Cas delivered his mindblowing statement, Dean was in shock. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Cas's words replayed like a broken record in his mind, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. It was so impossible that Dean couldn't hear it at first, couldn't process it. Cas couldn't love him; Dean was practically unlovable, besides Sam, and Sam was his baby brother. Sam was someone that he had raised, someone that he had always been devoted to, come hell or high water. This, having someone choose him over everyone else, over veritably anyone that he could have had, especially when Dean didn't choose him when he should have, it was too much. It was way too fucking much.

Dean stared at his bloody fist, at the bits of concrete that clung to his misshapen fingers. It was his fault. He'd reacted too late. By the time Dean knew what to say, knew what he had been dying to say for years, Cas was gone.

He could hear Sam banging on the door, knew that he had close to thirty missed calls and texts from him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He knew that they still had work to do, that they would always have work to do, but he didn't care. Cas was gone. There would be no changing that. Cas was gone, and he had left thinking that he would never be able to have what he wanted with Dean. That Dean didn't feel the same way. He had left with some, some stupid acceptance that he would never be happy the way that others were, the way that he fucking deserved. And that whole "happiness is in the having" speech? That was bullshit.

Dammit, Cas could've had it, and Dean could've had it, and they both could've fucking had it if Dean wasn't so goddamn stupid and self-absorbed and blind. He couldn't believe what they'd missed, what he'd missed, what Cas would never be able to have. They could have had everything.

But then again, they never would've, would they? Dean had too much history with men, too many memories of his father and a belt and being called slurs and horrible names, to ever just be with Cas. And when, in all of his godforsaken life, had Dean Winchester ever been able to just be? He was too broken for that.

"Dean!" Sam shouted from the other side of the door. "Dean!" Dean couldn't speak, couldn't answer him, could hardly think. He knew that Sam was there, knew that he wasn't alone and he hadn't lost everything and all of the other bullshit he was too used to hearing, but it felt like all that was left was a gaping hole in his chest where Cas was supposed to be, where Cas should've been if it wasn't for Dean.

Dean heard the unmistakable sound of Sam breaking the door down, and he tried to call out to him, tell him to stop, but all that came out was a choked sob that made Dean want to disappear, in more ways than one. Sammy couldn't see him like this. Hia little brother wouldn't even understand.

The anger from before had been replaced almost completely with devastation, and goddammit, Dean couldn't stop fucking crying and Sam was going to see him like this. He raked a hand down his face, trying to erase the tear tracks, but it didn't do much good when he couldn't stop the damn tears from coming. He cursed himself, focusing his gaze on the broken fingers of his right hand. It hurt. Good. He deserved the pain.

It wasn't long before the door caved in on itself and Sam stepped through, racing to Dean's side. "Dean? Dean! What happened? Where's Cas?"

"Gone," Dean choked out. "Cas is gone."

"Whaddya mean, 'Cas is gone'? Where'd he go?"

Dean shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the pain that the movement caused his broken one. "The Empty took him."

Sam was silent for a few seconds, and Dean felt himself start to shake. The effort it took to keep his sobs pinned back in his throat was immense, and he couldn't help the way he'd begun to tremble like a leaf. But he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't sob like a baby, not in front of Sam. He wouldn't. He didn't deserve to.

To his surprise, Dean felt strong arms wrapping around him before he could protest, and then Sam's voice was right next to his ear, and his brother's stubble was scratching his cheek, and suddenly it was even harder to stop himself from breaking down.

"I've got you, Dean," Sam murmured. He didn't try to offer reassurances, didn't say that it was okay or that it would be okay, because he and Dean both knew that it was quite possible nothing would ever be okay again, that Dean would never be okay again. Dean choked on a sob and found himself leaning into Sammy's touch without meaning to. Oh, fuck all. He clutched the fabric of Sam's shirt, feeling his own jacket becoming wet with tears. Sam was crying, too.

A wave of guilt crashed over Dean, and he pulled away, wiping his eyes quickly. Of course Sam was crying, too. Sam had just lost his friend, the man that he'd come to see as another brother over the years. Sam was hurting, too.

Dean tried to speak, tried to tell Sam that he was there and he wasn't leaving, but the words wouldn't come out. Sam shook his head, reading Dean's mind. "Don't even try," he said through his tears. "Let me help you for once."

Dean shuddered and nodded, too broken open to even try to resist. He pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder and pulled his brother into a crushing embrace. The pressure on his ribs was almost enough to keep his thoughts from wandering to Cas, to what they'd lost and what Dean had done, or rather, not done. His chest hurt, and he felt like he might throw up. Sam was a grounding presence in front of him, and he could feel the way that they were hurting, hurting together. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. And yet, he knew that something was missing; Sam was mourning his fallen friend while Dean was mourning the loss of the person he was in love with.

Dean felt another fresh wave of tears threaten to overcome him as Cas's words rang through his mind once again. Cas was really, truly gone. And he was never coming back.

~ ~ ~

It took hours for Dean to calm down enough to follow Sammy out of the room and into the bunker. By that point, he was too tired to even protest when Sam put him to bed, tucking him in like he was five and their mom was still alive and Dean didn't feel like he was breaking apart with every breath he took. After Sam left, giving his shoulder one last supportive squeeze, Dean let his eyes fall shut, too exhausted to even cry anymore. That night, and for many nights after that, he dreamt of blue eyes and trenchcoats and lost angels.

Sam retreated to his room as soon as he was sure Dean would fall asleep, and the second he had shut his door, he collapsed. His head hit the wall as he fell against it, and even though he was sure he'd cried himself out before, in the room where Cas had died, he felt tears rise to his eyes once again.

"Sam?" A concerned voice spoke up from his bed. Sam shook his head, tried to say something back, but all he could manage was a pathetic little noise. It didn't matter, though. Sam knew who had spoken, and he knew Gabriel understood.

"Aw, hell," Gabriel muttered. "C'mere, kid."

Sam struggled to stand, almost collapsing again as soon as he did. Gabriel rushed over, a flurry of wings and concern and steadying hands. He wrapped Sam in a tight embrace, his wings folding over Sam's shoulders, effectively cocooning him against the angel. Sam let out a shaky breath, burying his face in the angel's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What the hell for?" Gabriel retorted.

"I, I, this," Sam replied, clutching him tighter. "You lost a brother, too."

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah, I did." His wings tightened around Sam. "But I have a feeling it's not just losing Cas that's tearing you up inside, Samsquatch. Am I wrong?"

"No," Sam replied quietly, his voice muffled against Gabriel's shoulder. "I'm scared. I'm scared for Dean."

Gabriel nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I figured Dean-o would take Cassie's death pretty hard."

"I'm scared he's, he's not going to want to live anymore," Sam admitted. "I know how that feels, to think that the person you've been in love with this entire time just died and you didn't tell them how you feel." He pulled away just enough to meet Gabriel's eyes, the golden orbs still fascinating even years after he first saw them. "And I know I didn't see much point in living after that, either."

Gabriel inhaled sharply. "You never told me that."

"Why would I?" Sam muttered bitterly. "No use in making you feel guilty for dying."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't have. Unlike you and your brother, I do not have that much of a guilt complex, Samster."

Sam chuckled, and the sound felt almost foreign.Wrong, somehow. "None of this feels real," he told Gabriel. "I mean, yeah, we've lost Cas before, but this time...this time we really lost him."

For once, it seemed like Gabriel didn't know what to say. Sam knew he agreed, knew that, as an archangel, Gabriel understood the powers of the Empty even better than he did. He, of all people, knew that there was no getting Cas back.

"And I'm scared, I'm fucking terrified, that I'm going to lose Dean, too."

~ ~ ~

The next morning wasn't much better, for anyone in the bunker. While Dean knew Gabriel was alive, and he knew that Sam and Gabriel were close, he had never bothered to lay down ties with the archangel, and Sam felt stretched thin between trying to help his brother and trying to make sure that Gabriel was alright, too. It was just a shitty situation, possibly the shittiest they'd ever faced when it wasn't either Sam or Dean in Hell.

Sam knocked on the door to Dean's room early. He knew that Dean, most likely, hadn't slept for very long at all. Unsurprisingly, he heard a muffled, "Go away, Sammy!" a few seconds later. Sam sighed. He'd expected that, but the rebuff still didn't feel too good.

"C'mon, Dean," Sam pleaded. "You've got to eat something."

Silence.

Sam sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, relishing the bite of pain. He knew how his brother could get, and it scared him enough when Cas wasn't locked in a hellscape with no way out. He couldn't leave Dean alone, not until he was sure he could be alone without mortally wounding himself in some way.

"Dean!" Sam called. "Just open the door, please."

The pain of Cas's death was still frying Sam's nerves, and his hand tightened on the doorknob when there was no response to his call. The urge to just break down the door and force-feed his brother until he stopped blaming himself for things he had no control over was growing more and more by the minute.

"C'mon, Dean," Sam tried again. "Cas wouldn't want you to lock yourself in there all day." He knew it was a low blow, but it worked. Dean threw the door open, his eyes flashing. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. He looked wrecked, even more wrecked than he had been after Mary died, or when Cas had been poisoned at Asmodeus's house.

He looked, he looked...broken.

"I was going to make some pancakes," Sam told him, willing his voice not to shake. "I want you to eat them."

With that, the door was being slammed in his face once again.

~ ~ ~

Dean knew he should feel bad about ignoring Sam, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when everything hurt and he felt like every breath he took was something he didn't deserve. He clenched his hands into fists, nearly swaying on his feet when the movement caused a sickening rush of pain in his broken hand.

He still couldn't get Cas's words out of his head, and he was tempted to just play his music as loud as he could until he drowned out the sound of Cas telling him that he was worth something, that he was more than a soldier, that he was someone worthy of Cas's love.

Dean eyed the gun resting on his nightstand, not for the first time that morning. He knew he was being impulsive, acting before he should, acting without thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't think, anyway. All he could do was feel, and all he could feel was pain. That wasn't exactly an existence worth living for.

Dean grabbed the gun and settled back onto his bed, fiddling with the safety. He flicked it on, and then off, on, and then off. His hands trembled on the gun.

"Dean?" It was Sam again. Kid just didn't give up, did he?

"'M not hungry!" Dean shouted, his voice raw and hoarse. He knew Sam was just trying to look out for him, but Dean didn't deserve to be looked after. He didn't deserve Sam's care, his, his attention when everything was going to shit and they had worse problems to deal with than Dean's fucking heartbreak.

Sam didn't call out to him again, but Dean heard a thud outside his door and knew Sam had sat down in front of it, the way they used to when they were kids and one of them had locked himself in his room, not letting the other one in.

Dean swallowed hard and turned the gun over and over in his palm. He couldn't do it now, not with Sam sitting outside the door.

Realistically, Dean knew that the gunshot would echo throughout the bunker, and Sam would know what he'd done regardless of where he was in their home. But he couldn't bring himself to put a fucking gun to his head with his little brother sat outside, listening, no doubt hoping or praying - maybe both - that Dean wasn't doing anything stupid. He couldn't. No matter what, Dean would never stop being a big brother. He would never stop trying to protect Sammy, even from himself.

Dean heard a flutter of wings a second later, and he knew Gabriel had joined Sam in sitting outside of his door. He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the gun. He didn't even know why Gabriel gave a shit - he should be mourning, too; after all, Cas was his brother as much as he was Sam's. And yet, instead, the archangel was keeping watch over Dean of all people. They didn't even like each other! He scoffed and shook his head. He didn't deserve any of this shit.

Outside, Gabriel tangled his fingers together with Sam's, trying to instill some hope in the younger man. "Dean is strong," he reminded Sam quietly. "He'll get through this."

"Will he?" Sam said morosely. "You didn't see him, Gabe. He looks, fuck, he looks bad."

"That's because he is bad, right now," Gabriel said, squeezing Sam's hand gently. "But he won't be forever."

"How do you know that?" Sam said sharply. "I know my brother a hell of a lot better than you do, and I know he isn't okay, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it!"

"Hey," Gabriel said, "I may not know Dean, but I do know you. I know you'll do the best you can, Samsquatch."

"And what if my best isn't good enough?"

Gabriel sighed and pulled Sam closer to him, carding grace-tipped fingers through his long hair. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Dean ran his thumb over the white grip of his revolver absentmindedly, listening to the conversation Sam and Gabriel were having outside. He obviously wasn't meant to hear it, but years of hunting meant that his senses were far more advanced than the average human's.

He clenched his jaw, flexing his broken hand and relishing in the waves of pain it sent through him. Sam and Gabriel, it seemed, were even closer than Dean had thought. Gabriel was someone that Sam could talk to, someone that he confided in. Dean used to be Sam's only someone. He swallowed hard. His someone had been Cas.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his heart twisted with pain. He'd dealt with plenty in his too-long life, some of it bad enough that it still gave him nightmares, even years later, but he didn't think he'd ever felt anything quite like this. It was pain like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

"Dean?" From outside, Sam tried again. "Would you come out, please?"

That sentence was almost, almost, enough to make Dean let out a bitter laugh. He wouldn't be on his bed with a gun in his hand, contemplating suicide, if he had just came out. None of this would have happened if he'd just been brave enough to say, "I'm bisexual," and deal with the fallout, whatever it might have been. He knew as well as he knew his own name that Sam wouldn't give a shit, and now that he knew what Cas's reaction would have been, well. Dean was feeling more and more like the worst kind of idiot there was with each minute that passed.

He didn't respond to his brother's call. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to come out of his room, not even for Sam. He'd already fucked up once today, letting Sam see him, even if it was just for a few seconds. He knew his appearance hid nothing of his mental state. He looked just as bad as he felt.

"Give him some time," Gabriel said softly. "It'll be alright, Sam."

Sam chuckled humorlessly. "No, it won't."

Dean could tell Gabriel didn't know what to say to that. Sam was right. It wouldn't be okay. It wouldn't be alright. Nothing would. Not now, not ever. With Cas gone, Dean wasn't sure he could remember how to be okay, or what okay even felt like.

~ ~ ~

It was mid-afternoon by the time Sam left his post by the door, and it was only because Gabriel promised to stay and watch out for Dean. It made Dean's jaw clench to know that his little brother was so worried about him that he was afraid to even leave long enough to get something to eat. Which, given his position, which hadn't changed since that morning, was a valid enough fear, but it still made him wish with everything he had that he wasn't so fucking obvious about how bad he was hurting.

With Sam gone, the gun in Dean's hands felt a little less heavy, a little less like something that would hurt and betray his brother and more like a means to an end. He took a deep breath. If he was doing this, he'd better fucking get on with it. His window of time was limited.

Before he did, though, there was something he had to say.

"Gabriel?" Dean called. He shoved the gun underneath his pillow and ran his fingers through his hair, wiping furiously at the tear tracks that stained his cheeks. "I'm going to unlock the door. Come in. I have to talk to you."

He heard the archangel shift, knew he was confused - if Dean was going to talk to either of them, surely it would be Sam? - but Dean didn't offer any further explanation, going to the door and turning the lock. He returned to his bed afterwards, watching as Gabriel opened the door and slipped inside. He lifted his hand, and a familiar white light flared in the room for a minute. It made Dean's throat close up and his heart ache.

"There," Gabriel said. "Now Sam can't hear anything you say to me." At Dean's look of surprise, he added, "I figured you'd want to keep our conversation private."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "Thanks."

"No problem, Dean-o." Gabriel sat down on the edge of his bed, clearing a space for himself amongst the headsets and piles of cassette tapes. He folded his hands together awkwardly. "So, what's up?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Gabriel was somehow worse at this than Dean was. "Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about Sam."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "What about Sam?"

"You two seem...close."

"We are." There was something stiff in the way Gabriel spoke, like he didn't want to be having this conversation with Dean, but he didn't want to make him stop talking, either.

"You'll look out for him?" Dean said, and then winced. Fuck, he would have to work on the way he said this or Gabriel would have Sam back, ready to hold him down if need be, in the blink of an eye.

"Of course," Gabriel replied hesitantly, and Dean saw the way he glanced over at the bedroom door for a second. He clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the pain that exploded from his broken hand. He just had to get through this. He had to know that Sammy would be taken care of.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked, taking care to keep his tone neutral. Gabriel was smart, and the last thing he wanted to do was worry the archangel, because then that would worry Sam, and then Dean would be in the same position he started in.

"I'm managing," Gabriel replied truthfully. "Being near Sam helps."

"You really love him, don't you?" Dean murmured.

Gabriel's eyes widened. "I don't - we're not - "

Dean chuckled, and the motion felt foreign in a way that made his heart ache. "Relax." If there were any doubts in his mind about Sam and Gabriel, they were gone now. "It's okay. I don't care."

"Well, that's good," Gabriel said, "but that wasn't why I panicked, Dean-o." He sighed, avoiding Dean's gaze. "Sam wanted to tell you himself."

"And he will," Dean reassured the archangel, though his mind screamed at him that he was lying, that he was two-faced and dishonest in the worst way. Here he was, acting like there was going to be a later, when he really just needed to make Gabriel understand that someone had to be there for Sammy when he was gone.

"Look, I just wanted to make sure you're taking care of Sam, too," Dean said carefully. "I know, uh, I know Sam's focused on me right now, and I need you to make sure he doesn't drive himself into the ground or somethin'."

"You got it," Gabriel replied immediately. "Don't worry about Sam. I won't leave his side."

"Good," Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief. His gaze flickered to the pillow where his gun was hidden. "Thank you."

"Of course," Gabriel replied. He waited, seemingly hesitant to leave until Dean kicked him out. "Uh, what about you?"

Dean huffed out a long breath. He'd hoped that Gabriel would take his out and leave the second Dean indicated their conversation was over, but apparently the archangel needed a bigger hint. "I'm fine," he all but growled. "Wishin' you two would leave me the hell alone, honestly."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Dean-o." He rose to leave, but before his hand could touch the door handle, he turned back to Dean. "Look, your brother's worried about you. I know, believe me, I know, how hard this is. We're here for you." He gestured to himself and swept a hand to indicate the rest of the bunker - Sam, Jack. "You don't have to do this all by yourself."

"Sure I do," Dean replied, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone. He waved a hand at Gabriel, a clear dismissal. "Just go. Please."

With that, Gabriel left, shutting and locking the door behind him, which Dean was grateful for. He let out a breath of relief and reached underneath his pillow for the gun. It was smooth metal, cold to the touch, and Dean didn't think he'd ever felt so relieved to have it in his hands before. It was one of his hunting guns, a favourite. Once again, Dean thought to himself, it was the only thing standing in the way of him and almost certain death.

Cas's blue eyes flashed through Dean's mind, and he lifted the gun to his head. He flicked the safety off and sent up a prayer, even though he knew it wouldn't reach the only angel he had ever prayed to.

"Thelma and Louise," Dean whispered, and pulled the trigger.

~ ~ ~

Sam dropped his plate, shattering it into billions of pieces, when he heard the gunshot. He didn't think he'd ever ran faster in his life, and he knew he was still going to be too late.

The door to Dean's room was open, blown to the side by Gabriel's grace, and the archangel was kneeling over Dean, working frantically to patch the bullet wound in his head.

Sam skidded to a stop a few feet from Gabriel, dropping to his knees and cradling the sides of Dean's face in his palms. "No," he muttered, "No, no, no!" The last half of his words came out a scream.

"Come on, Dean-o," Gabriel said through gritted teeth. "Come on!" Sam could see how hard he was working, blue-white grace sparking at his fingertips. His brow was creased in concentration. "Sam," he said urgently, and Sam looked up from the sickening sight of his brother and the pool of blood that was slowly surrounding him to meet Gabriel's eyes. "I need you to go get Jack. Now, Sam, go!"

Sam struggled to his feet, tearing himself away from Dean reluctantly. He ran down the hall to Jack's room and pounded on the door.

"Jack! It's Dean! We need you, now!"

Jack flung the door open, and Sam barely had time to take in his bloodshot eyes and disheveled appearance before he was grabbing the boy's sleeve and dragging him towards Dean's room.

"What happened?" Jack asked. He wasn't struggling against Sam's hold, but Sam knew he would have to explain before Jack saw the ruins himself.

"It's Dean," Sam choked out. "He, uh, h-he tried to kill himself." He wouldn't say he had succeeded. Not yet. He couldn't. Sam didn't know what he would do without his brother. He couldn't lose him, not now. Not with Cas gone and their big fight right around the corner. They all needed him.

Jack paled, and he ripped his arm from Sam's grip, taking off down the hallway himself. Sam sprinted after him, and they arrived at Dean's room in record time.

"Jack!" Gabriel called the second they arrived. "Over here, with me!"

Jack raced forward and fell to his knees next to Gabriel. "What do you need?"

"I can't heal him while I'm trying to keep him alive," Gabriel said through laboured breaths. "I need you to heal him."

Jack's eyes widened. "But if I do, I won't be able to - "

"Yeah, you won't be able to kill God as quickly as you'd like, or even at all," Gabriel snapped. "What matters more to you - smiting Daddy and winning the game, or saving Dean?"

Jack nodded, his mind made up, and placed his hand near Dean's wound. Sam could practically feel the grace pouring from the two of them, filling the room with angelic power. Sam watched with trepidation as the bullet hole in Dean's head slowly closed up under Jack and Gabriel's grace.

When it was done, Jack collapsed against Dean's bureau, breathing hard. Sam reached forward to catch Gabriel as he fell back, too.

"It's done?" Sam had to confirm. "He's alive?"

"He's alive," Gabriel breathed. He touched two fingers to Dean's forehead, and Dean's eyes slipped shut. "There. He'll sleep now."

Sam nodded, hardly daring to believe it. "And, and he'll wake up?"

"He'll wake up," Gabriel confirmed. "I don't know when, but he'll wake up."

"Thank you." Sam wasn't even aware of the tears sliding down his cheeks until Gabriel moved to wipe them away. "Fuck, I - thank you. Both of you."

"Of course, Samsquatch," Gabriel said softly. "You think I'd let anything happen to either of you?"

Sam chuckled a little, barely managing a smile through his tears. He knew Gabriel couldn't really promise that - nobody could - but he appreciated it, nonetheless.

"Jack..." Sam started towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jack replied, "Just catching my breath." Sam nodded tightly. He didn't want to think about what Jack had just done, what they'd all done. What Dean had done.

"I wanted to," Jack said suddenly, and Sam was left to wonder if reading minds was a power of Nephilim that he and Dean didn't know about. "I chose this, Sam. Stop looking like you just ruined everything."

Sam sighed shakily and brought the younger man in for a hug, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "Yeah. Thanks, Jack. Really."

"You don't have to thank me," Jack replied. "I was just doing what I had to."

Somehow, though it was meant to be reassuring, that sentence didn't make Sam feel any better. They were always doing what they had to, until their best just wasn't good enough.

~ ~ ~

When Dean woke up, it was to a pounding headache and the feeling of someone else's eyes on him.

"Dean." Sam's voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. "Dean, are you awake?"

Confusion muddled Dean's mind. He was. He was awake. And he, he shouldn't be. Dammit, he fucking shouldn't be!

"Look," Sam began, and Dean could tell he was in for a chick-flick moment like none they'd ever had before. "I get it. I've been where you are, Dean." He took a deep breath, like he was gearing up for something, and Dean's heart rate rose in anticipation.

"I've lost someone I'm in love with before, too."

Now that had Dean opening his eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean said, and though his voice was hoarse from disuse - son of a bitch, how long had he been out? - there was no mistaking his warning tone.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Sam didn't give an inch. "You're in love with Cas. It's okay, Dean. I, of all people, don't care that you're, you're bisexual or gay or whatever."

Dean's breath caught in his throat, and he struggled to speak, struggled to force the words out of his throat, but they wouldn't come out and he sat there, staring helplessly at Sammy as he continued on.

"And look, it's time I told you something about me, too," Sam was saying. "I'm bi, Dean. I'm in love with Gabriel. We're, we're together, we're a couple, and I'd love your support, but this isn't about me. The point is, I know how you feel, man. I've lost Gabe before, too. I know how bad it hurts. I know it can seem like there's not really a point in trying anymore, but fuck, Dean, you've got to keep trying. We need you. I need you."

Dean fought against the tears that pricked the back of his eyelids at Sam's words. I need you. He remembered those same words coming from his mouth once, when Cas was under a spell and he thought the angel was going to kill him. He knew what he'd meant to say, what he should've said, but I need you was what came out instead.

Story of his fucking life, it seemed.

"Dean?" Sam sounded more hesitant now, and Dean just knew his little brother was about to pull him into a hug, or say it was okay, or do any of the other things Dean knew he would explode if he tried to do right now.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean forced himself to say. "Yeah. I hear you."

Sam's eyes flashed, almost angrily, for a second. "Do you?"

"Yes," Dean said through gritted teeth. "I understand what you're trying to do here, Sam."

"That's not - I - Dean!"

"What?"

"Will you stop talking like that?!" Sam said, and he sounded close to tears. "Like you're dead already."

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. "Aren't I?"

"No!" Sam burst out. "Of course you're not, Dean! You have me, and Gabriel, and Jack, and so many other people! We need you, Dean! That didn't change when Cas died. We still need you." He scooted closer to Dean on the bed and clutched his wrist like a lifeline. "You're my big brother, Dean. I'm always going to need you."

Dean lost the battle against his tears and turned away from Sammy, burying his face in his hands. "Dammit, Sam," he cried. "You don't get it! None of you get it!"

"What don't I get, Dean?" Sam looked bewildered, and Dean didn't blame him. Maybe if he'd told his brother what really happened in the room before the Empty took Cas, they wouldn't need to have this conversation in the first place.

"Cas told me he loved me," Dean said, raising his head to meet Sam's eyes.

There. He said it.

"He said that he made a deal with the Empty, that the Empty would take him whenever he was at his happiest."

"Oh," Sam said, his face falling.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "And then Cas went on some bullshit speech about how happiness is in the having, and he was his happiest when he was with me, regardless of if it was the way he wanted it to be or not." Dean took a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists and sinking into the pain that the movement brought him. "But you wanna know what the first thing he said to me was, when we were in that room? He told me that the one thing he wanted, more than anything, he knew he couldn't have."

"Oh," Sam said again, starting to feel like a broken record.

"Cas thought - " Dean broke off, choking back a sob. "Cas thought that I didn't feel the same way, Sammy. That I didn't want him, that I, fuck, that I didn't love him the way that he loved me. He went to the fucking Empty thinking that I'm not just as in love with him as he was with me!"

For once in his life, Sam was struck speechless.

Dean collapsed back against his pillows, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fuck, this was all so messed up, and he had no idea how to even begin taking a step forward without Cas.

As it turned out, he didn't need to. Sammy took that step for him.

Without speaking, Sam reached forward and drew his brother into a hug, just like he'd done the night that Cas died. He didn't say a word. He didn't try to tell Dean that it was alright, or that he would learn to live with the knowledge that Cas would never know Dean's true feelings for him. He didn't say anything, but his silence spoke more words than Dean knew what to do with.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, Dean crying quietly into Sam's shoulder, not saying a word. Eventually, Dean pulled away, wiping his eyes and mumbling a quick, "Sorry," to his brother.

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," Sam said, and his voice was surprisingly strong. He reached forward and gripped Dean's shoulder tightly. "You're allowed to be human, Dean. You're allowed to have emotions and need a little help sometimes and, and be fucking broken, okay?" The hand that was on Dean's shoulder moved to catch his chin, forcing him to meet Sam's eyes. "We'll put you back together again."

"I don't know that you can, Sammy," Dean said truthfully. "I don't, fuck, I don't know if I'm gonna make it outta this one."

"Of course you will," Sam replied, and there wasn't an ounce of hesitation in his voice, which Dean found strange given his earlier doubts about whether or not Dean was going to be able to survive without Cas. "You're Dean fucking Winchester."

Dean had to smile at that.

"You'll make it," Sam promised, and he sounded so sure about it that Dean found himself feeling, for the first time since Cas was taken by the Empty, something akin to hope.

"It'll probably take a long time," Sam continued, "and it won't be easy. But you have me, and you have Gabriel and Jack and the others. We're all here for you, Dean. We're a family. Families support each other. You have to keep fighting, man. You can't just roll over and die."

It took a few minutes - a few minutes during which Dean contemplated the merit of Sam's words in comparison to the relief of his gun - but eventually, Dean nodded. It was small, hardly noticeable to someone who wasn't looking for it, but it made Sam smile in a way that made Dean wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could learn to be alright again.

"I've got you, big brother," Sam said, and it was the first thing since Cas's death that Dean thought he might be able to believe in.