.Take me to church.

.Church.

I don't believe in God. still, I sit in a church with my head down and my hands pressed together talking to myself in my head once again. If you had asked me a few years ago I would have never expected that I would continue to attend church after I turned 24 but family calls. Sam my brother sits behind me and although neither of us believes that god would ever come to our father's aid. We sit in silence our heads down hoping something is listening. I feel a small tap on my shoulder, "Mom"

"Dean, Sam. time to go."

Finally, I couldn't sit in that stuffy place. then I remembered, I couldn't leave just quite yet. Sam sat up as did I, but when Sam stood up I stayed. "I will meet you both out front." they quietly nod and I watch them leave the large building. Standing up slowly I finally looked around at the stained glass that covered the building, but only one spoke to me. the building was stuffy yes, but large. huge in fact and the stained glass reached almost to the ceiling. Walking down to the very last window.

To me, this was the most beautiful, a biblically accurate angel a dark grey and brown stain that was complemented with gold and almost a sky blue color. despite the dark colors used within the glass, the sun created a warmth right next to the window that felt like home. something so comfortable about the heat that pulled me in almost like I was intoxicated.  the only thing I know about the stained glass is the name. Castiel.

Stepping out of my trance I walk outside to meet Sam and our mother who even with the dark circles under her eyes still looked put together for the weekly trip to the holly place. Sam places a hand on my shoulder as we walk towards the car. a silent agreement that this was best for Mom. I drive home, it's not a long drive only 6 minutes from home She and Dad moved close once Dad fell sick the same small town just a smaller house. the drive somehow felt longer these days the silence was louder than my thoughts making it hard to think well Mom sits In the seat next to me.

As Mom gets out of the car Sam pops upfront and finally, the silence is broken. "How are you?" he only asks me now because by the time I picked him up this morning, Mom was already in the car and he couldn't break the silence that had already settled between us.

"I'm doin' just fine Sammy how about you?"

"not too bad the past couple of days, Jess says I'm getting better. I think I'm getting better."

"you do look like you're doing better, have you been sleeping?" 

"I have, the nightmares seem to be dwindling. The ocean sounds have been helping."

Sam had been experiencing nightmares since Dad's diagnosis. for months he was sleeping at my place which was just a small trailer a few miles away from the main street, although he owns a small apartment that houses him just fine. his cat had been clawing up my furniture, a male calico he so happened to name Gaberail. I always thought it was a bad name for the little monster but Sam insisted that it fit perfectly for all the "domestic terrorism".

"That's good Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy."

"yes sir."

After dropping Sam off at home I return home to my flat-screen TV and 17-year-old couch covered in a thick layer of blankets. Nothing like pulling a beer out of the mini fridge and crawling onto the couch in my shitty trailer. The comfort could never compare to the stained glass light. but that was okay with me at least it was my comfort. I drift off to sleep with a beer in hand watching some shitty dateline of a girl that went missing a few years back.