Fic drabble eeeee- im fixing the ending, guys :D (this is literally all I've written so far tho lolol) (constructive criticism vvverrryy welcome! But I mean constructive criticism, not just insults, tell me what I could work on.)
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Each time they burn a new body it's like seeing Jessica on fire all over again. Hunter funerals were practical, but it killed a part of Sam and Dean every time they had to make the next pire.
Now all it meant was one of their friends were dead, and despite everything, despite the fact this wasn't the first time they'd held a hunter funeral for Cas; this time it felt final, and they didn't even have his body to burn.
Sam had looked to his right, to his brother, to Dean, and all he saw was empty despair.
He was scared he'd not only lost Castiel, but that his brother couldn't move on anymore, that he'd die out like the fire on the funeral pire and he'd be on his own.
At night, he found himself scouring the library and archives in the bunker, again and again, reading the same books twice just in case he missed something. He HAD to have missed something because Dean hadn't left his room in days by this point and every time he peeked inside, he'd be drunk or fast asleep, the food he'd left for him hardly touched.
It was like looking at John the first night it hit him that Mary would never come back. Bottles strewn all over the floor, clothes in the corners, messy greasy hair. He was four, he hadn't understood yet that grief lingered, that for four years John Winchester still had some hope. He always wondered what had set the crash off.
But now Dean was wasting away, and he understood, he needed to find a way to bring Castiel back. Because that's what they always did. Because Dean didn't need to crash. Because he needed something to distract himself from grief.
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