They moved Dean to a new unit.
The said it was more comfortable and they needed his room for a new patient.
They gave Sam the things Dean had on him when they found him.
He came by that day.
Light knock at the door.
"Cas..?" He asked.
I remained silent.
He entered, anyway.
"Cas... they gave me his stuff..."
...
I did not maintain eye contact.
"Uh... well... I thought you should have this." He left something small on the table.
"I'll be going then..." He left.
I didn't turn around until I heard his car pull away. The familiar gurgling of Dean's baby. The engine purred as he left.
Silence.
Again.
On the table sat a small envelope which had something encased within it.
I grabbed at it. The seal was already broken. Sam must have looked at it already.
Inside was a note card. (I couldn't read his reminders made of illegible chicken scratch.)
And a small, silver ring.
The engraving on the inside of it read:
"It's a good kind of different."
I held it tightly. My hand folded over it, my eyes closed, I pressed my knuckles against my lips and I cried. The streams of warm, lonely tears ran over my cheeks and I stayed that way for seemingly hours on end.
I slipped it onto my finger. I examined it.
I shook like a chihuahua. I had no more tears left.
I decided it was time to for bed.
But it's not like I sleep, anyway.
So why do I bother trying?
