Wayward •𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕•

sixteen

The next day, Sam and Blair arrived, receiving the same greeting Melody had—holy water, Borax, and silver. Sam's smile was bigger than Melody and Blair had seen in a very long time. Sam wasn't Sam without Dean.

"So what about Cas, was he there," Sam asked, picking up a slice of pizza. Dean had devoured a box by himself, claiming to have missed the cheesy goodness—regardless, he would've done that anyway.

Dean's gaze dropped from Sam's, to the ground. "Cas didn't make it," he responded, turning away from the group. "Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he...just let go."

It was lost on Melody, the look of remembrance on his face. "So Cas is dead," the brunette asked, clarifying. "You saw him die?"

"I saw enough," Dean answered. "I just can't believe you're actually here." He turned to his brother. "You, what? Drop hunting altogether? Cut half your phones off? I tried calling...texting."

Sam shrugged, glancing over to Blair. "Yeah, you were gone, Cas was gone, Bobby died," he sighed. "Crowley even shipped Meg and Kevin off to parts unknown."

"So you just turn tail on the family business," Dean retorted.

"Nothing says family business quite like the whole family being dead."

The room was quiet for a minute. Dean was fighting off the anger that he unintentionally showcased in front of Melody yesterday. "Did you look for me, Sam?" He didn't need to answer the question—he already knew the answer. "I guess that's good, right? We always told each other not to look for each other. Of course, we always ignored that because our deep, abiding love for each other. But not this time, right Sammy? Did you at least keep all of your phones on hand in case something happened?" Sam shook his head.

Melody frowned at the brothers' conflict, but she knew that some things just needed to be aired out, as did Blair. "Look," Sam sighed. "I'm still the same person, Dean."

"Well bully for you. I'm not." Dean walked upstairs, and all the group could hear was a door slamming when he reached the room.

Melody pursed her lips, at the now awkward silence. "I think you should pull those phones out," she murmured. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

When she cracked the door, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Melody crouched in front of him, replacing his hands with her own. "Are you okay?"

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I'm so on edge about everything. I know what hides in the shadows, waiting to catch you when you're weak. I'm pissed that I missed out on a year of my life. I'm pissed that my own brother didn't come and look for me. I'm pissed that everyone can move on and I'm just here."

"I'm here, too."

"Are you? Do you know the number of Djinn in purgatory?" A look of distress was was present on his face. "This might not even be real. This could just be in my head. What if—,"

"Hey, hey," she murmured, stroking his cheek with the pad of her thumb. "This is real. I'm real, okay? Just breathe."

Dean began to visibly calm down with each breath. He really felt like he was losing his mind. Paranoia was constantly setting in, and every time he closed his eyes he was seeing something—anything—attacking him.

It was all the Melody could do not to cry, as she pulled Dean's head to her chest. "I love you, Mel." She couldn't tell if he was crying, but his voice was trembling. "I love you so much. You're gonna get tired of hearing me say it, but I do." It had been a long year without her—a year that he didn't have the chance to make she she knew just how much she meant to him. Everything that happened from the moment they met all those years ago—their dad pawning them off on Bobby, the thunderstorms, the kiss, the promise he'd made her, Bobby's death, the beach—all the way to him getting dragged off to Purgatory with Dick, made him realize just how dull life was without her.