after cas is taken by the empty, after dean has been consumed by the bone-chilling cold from the floor that has crept into every cell of his body, he’s suddenly angry. irrationally and irrevocably angry.
storming out of the room, dean marches down the hallways in a familiar path to cas’ room. flinging the door open with enough force to splinter the door, dean tears into the room and kicks over the desk chair.
fists against wood, dean smashes against the desk and rips at the neat papers and books perfectly left by cas. small keychains dean had given him and old fake IDs ripped apart and thrown against the wall.
the bed was next. a bed they could’ve shared together. a bed they could’ve called theirs. “how dare you!” dean cries, pillows and mattress pulled apart until pieces were strewn everywhere. “we could’ve had this!”
glass bottles and jars of things cas has collected over the years shattered against the floor. spare shirts and old ties torn at the seams. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!” dean screams, kicking apart the bed frame and shredding pictures.
and that was when dean saw it. in the last drawer that wasn’t in shambles. a mixtape. his mixtape to cas. his love confession. all the fight drained from dean’s body and he sunk to the floor in the rubble and debris. splinters of wood and shards of glass sticking against his skin as trembling fingers gently plucked the mixtape from the drawer.
“you left me alone. you left after saying those words. why cas? why?” dean whispers, the tears burning thick at the back of his throat. and then, even more agonizing then the simmering rage and the destruction, dean presses the mixtape against his heart. “I love you, too, cas. I always did. I always will.”
leaning his back against the wall, eyes blurring as he looked at the complete devastation that cas’ room now was, dean ached with regret. the only pieces of cas that he had left and he’d just gone and ripped it all apart. cas was gone. and so was cas’ room. all that was left was the mixtape.
in tiny black font, almost imperceptible on the bottom of the cassette were four words that cas had never noticed. dean traces his fingertips over them now, etching the words into a prayer that he begs cas to hear.
