the island.

ii.

A few weeks later, the Winchesters were sitting in the basement library, surrounded by piles and piles of books. Sam had moved all of Rowena's witch books down there, but after searching through them, could not find a single spell that would involve killing, trapping, or at least diminishing God. But he was pleased with the distraction. He didn't want to just sit around and wallow in his self-pity the way Dean does. He hadn't heard from Eileen since she left, despite leaving her a few messages. Okay, maybe several. Twenty to be exact.

Dean wouldn't stop bugging him. He was constantly checking on Sam, seeing if he wanted anything; junk food, talk, alcohol, porn. Dean just wouldn't understand that Sam handled his grief differently than he did. And that meant that Dean wouldn't leave Sam alone for five minutes, either leaving Cas with him if he had to leave the room, or telling Sam to come with him, wherever he needed to go. There was no way Dean was letting his little brother out of his sight again, not when last time Chuck managed to get his twisted claws into him. 

Although Dean never wanted to leave Sam's side, he was in his personal hell; days and days of reading books was not his favourite thing in the world. After yet another God-less book, Dean slammed the cover shut and groaned loudly. 

"Dude, we got nothing. We've looked in every single book in this bunker a billion times and still we have nothing!" Dean exclaimed, frustration laced in his voice. Sam just looked at his brother incredulously, scoffing at how childish Dean was acting.

"We haven't read them a billion times," he started.

Dean frowned and banged his feet onto the table. "Well it bloody well feels like it."

Sam frowned at his brother's behaviour. "Dean, come on. Have a little patience."

"No, Sam! We've been looking for an answer for weeks now. Cas has been searching for anything on angel radio. Michael has been and tried to help but the levithan blossom spell was all he knew. Donatello has searched the tablets. Hell, even Rowena is searching Hell's records for something, anything. But we've got nothing. We've lost every time we tried; we lost Mom, we lost Jack, we lost Eileen." Sam's face dropped at the mention of her name. "I don't even know why we try anymore," Dean finished, tears glistening in his eyes. Sam dropped his eyes to the open book in front of him.

"Dean . . ." Sam trailed off as Cas appeared next to Dean, the flap of his wings sounding weak and exhausted. 

Dean jumped slightly before noticing Cas' weak state and worry crossed his features. "Cas, here," he said, leaping out of his chair for Cas to sit in. Cas flopped into the chair, exhausted. Dean immediately moved to place a hand on his shoulder, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. Sergei has nothing either. I even threatened to burn his living quarters down, but he was adamant he had never heard anything about a God-killing spell or weapon," Cas explained, breathing heavily. Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous habit. He was worried about Cas' diminishing grace. Over the past couple of weeks, Cas had done all he could to help the brothers by using his grace, but that only caused it to get weaker and weaker. Cas was sleeping more, beginning to get hunger cravings, and even the smallest of wounds weren't healing like they used to. This was the final straw for Dean.

"You're not using your grace anymore," Dean stated firmly, his hand still gripping Cas' shoulder as if he were to fade away from him at any second.

"Dean, I'm fine. My grace is fine to use. It's okay," Cas argued, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"No, Cas, you haven't seen yourself. You look like shit, and I say that out of respect. I'm not letting you use your grace until it's fully restored," Dean said, face hardening and looking right into Cas' eyes. The pair were silent, having a full conversation with their eyes, until Sam cleared his throat, interrupting them.