Five Years Later

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Return

[writer's note] this chapters may be particularly triggering to anyone who has ever suffered from depression, anxiety, or been suicidal because of how devastated Cas is after Dean's death, so if you are worried, you shouldn't read--keep yourself safe! [end writer's note] 

The journey back to the bunker was cold and dark. Cas made it in one night, jogging along the empty stretches of highways as walkers trailed in the distance behind him. The stars were obscured by the heavy snow clouds, which had rolled in after the storm ones that had reigned on the night of Dean's death had left the area. Cas was heaving for each breath by the time he reached the halfway mark, his legs burning and his hair tousled by the frighteningly cold gusts of winter wind. With every step, he told himself that he promised this to Dean. He had to try.

I love you.

Cas could still remember it just as Dean had said it when he was alive, and he was afraid of ever forgetting. He placed a hand against the tie on his neck, which he had not taken off or adjusted since Dean had put it on. The Samulet was wound in the pocket of his trench coat; whenever he became afraid of the walkers that followed him or tired from the exhaustion of running, he stuck his hand into his pocket and felt for the necklace. It worked as encouragement to keep going, and given everything that had happened, that was the best miracle he could have been graced with.

***

"Castiel?"

Katharine was the one to open the door, her eyes wide at the sight of the angel who she had not known to be alive. Cas realized in that moment that she knew nothing, nor did any of the others inside of the bunker. Dean hadn't returned to tell them and there was no other way to contact people since the start of the apocalypse, which had led to all communication being by word of mouth. They didn't know anything, and he would have to be the one to tell them.

"Yes, hello." Cas stood their awkwardly, fiddling with the Samulet in his pocket. "How is everything?"

Katharine wrapped him in a hug, tears springing to her eyes as she pulled away. "We thought you were dead—" she tried to hold back her sadness as she spoke, stumbling over each word that came from her mouth. "We believed that you had been killed by Negan—no one knew—we would have come looking for you, Cas—and then we saw you by the side of the road, but we thought—Negan was wrecking you in the worst way imaginable and we were sure you were a goner—Dean forced us to go to the base to look after you and they tried to kill all of us—we had to abandon him—and Dean—is he okay?"

"I need to talk to everyone." Cas cleared his throat, overwhelmed to the point of feeling nothing at all. "There's no point in repeating this story time and time again. When is it convenient for me to tell it?"

***

The room was silent with tension. It was strung between each person that surrounded the table, unrelated in blood but still family. Their numbers dwindled from what they had once been. Cas stood at the head of the table, and to his left was Katharine, Joanna, Ron, who had returned miraculously from where Ellen and him were believed to have died all of those years ago, and Bobby. Charlie, Mandy, and Lacey were to Cas' right.

The silence was broken by Joanna crying out for her father, who was no longer Dean, but Ron. Ron scooped her up in his arms and cradled her against her chest, quieting her so Cas had time to speak. It made Cas sick to see how quickly Joanna had moved on. Yes, she was only five, and yes, it had been a long while since Dean had graced the bunker with his presence, but for her so quickly to forget the man who had loved her? Well, on that note, Cas couldn't be further hypocritical. He had done the same.