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Dean's death had been hard on everyone. He had sacrificed himself for his family - hell, for the world. And sure, it wasn't the first time he died, but it was the first time he didn't come back.
His body had disappeared. They had left him alone in one of the bunker's many spare rooms, the door locked from the outside. It gave them hope that he might've lived, a lingering trace of sulfur making them believe that Crowley might have had a part to play in it. They waited days, weeks, months for Dean to stroll through the bunker door with his signature grin as he cracked some dumb pop-culture reference or witty remark, beer in hand. As time continued to slip by, however, they forced themselves to face the truth.Dean was gone.Sam was understandably upset. He refused to believe that his brother was gone for good. They had brought each other back before, and he had been convinced he could do it again. He poured every ounce of his energy into spell books and online forums, contacting Rowena and many other witches, shamans, angels, healers, and crossroads demons; he talked to anyone who he thought could possibly give him a way back to his brother. After over seven months of research and failed spells, his energy was now gone. Sam had truly exhausted every possible resource and was utterly broken when a solution was proven to be impossible.Now, he simply sat at the table, staring either at his laptop or at the two pairs of initials carved into the wood. He hardly slept; he hardly ate; the only thing he did nowadays was hunt. He took on job after job, sometimes being gone for even weeks at a time.Throughout it all, Sam completely forgot about the one other person that Dean had called family; the only one who could've shared his pain, made him feel less alone.Castiel felt like the world had ended. Sure, Dean had stopped Metatron, but to him? He didn't know what the difference would've been. Either way, his world was gone; life had lost its meaning. Cass had lost the one thing that he had always fought for, that he had rebelled against heaven for. The only person that had ever truly motivated him, cared for him, loved him.If someone were to tell him about two years ago that the loss of a single human would crush him, would leave him lost and confused with no idea of what to do next, would destroy his hope and send him into numbness like this, he would’ve insisted it was impossible.And yet, here he was.The death of Dean truly had impacted Castiel much harder than the angel could’ve ever expected. He spent his days aimlessly, his mind always wandering back to candy apple green eyes and old, worn brown leather jackets. Dean’s hearty laugh followed the angel everywhere he went, like an inescapable ringing in his ears, taunting him and reminding him of what he lost. He would catch himself staring at photographs, at the Impala, or at the initials carved into the wooden table, his chest aching and growing heavier with each glance. The butterflies that used to fill his lungs at the sight of the hunter had been replaced with spiders, the once welcome warming feeling becoming poisonous overtime. The faint blush that used to coat his cheeks grew uncomfortably hot, a physical reminder of the time that he would never get to spend with Dean. He found himself unable to even speak his name, to audibly admit what had happened; every time he tried, his throat would close up as if something was lodged in his windpipe, causing him to use all of his willpower to not start gasping for breath mid-sentence.Castiel felt like he couldn’t function without the late hunter by his side.What was worse, perhaps, was the disconnection from the bond that he and Dean had possessed. Before, Cass could’ve tuned in to the mind of Dean Winchester whenever he wanted. He could hear his thoughts, catch glimpses of what the hunter was seeing, know his precise location, and feel every emotion that Dean felt. It was unique, it was intimate, but more than anything, it was a comfort to the angel. It assured him that Dean hadn’t died on a hunt or been taken somewhere inaccessible— a threat much too real in the Winchesters’ line of work.Yet ever since Dean had died, that connection had been severed. It was strange because it wasn’t entirely gone; instead, it was blurry, unclear, like a radio station experiencing electronic interference. Only some things came through, and it was never consistent. One day, he would feel an overpowering rage that he could instantly and undoubtedly identify as the doe-eyed hunter’s emotional outburst, his heart immediately longing for a way to comfort Dean and reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Other days, the things he picked up on were disturbing. He would hear a random scream, a maniac laugh, the mind-searing images of blood and bodies.It was terrifying, for Castiel couldn’t distinguish what they meant. Was Dean in trouble? Was he hurting somewhere, entirely isolated from the people who cared for him?It was this feeling, this desperate uncertainty, that spurred Cass into action. After watching Sam’s futile efforts, watching him lose a part of himself with every failed outcome, he had been discouraged in his thinking that saving Dean was possible. Yet, he refused to give up on his lo- friend. Cass knew that the hunter was still alive somewhere; that much was obvious. He would rather die trying the impossible than sit back and do nothing. Maybe Sam had finally thrown in the towel, but that did not mean that Cass would follow suit.The angel walked out of the bunker with a final glance at the broken-spirited younger hunter hunched over his laptop, silently vowing to not return without Dean Winchester by his side.
Castiel had been searching for the late hunter for three months now; it had been nearly a year since Dean Winchester’s death and disappearance.The angel had exhausted quite possibly every resource, both ethical and unthinkable, and ended up with jack squat. He had admittedly become desperate, turning to methods that he previously would’ve considered far too low for him to ever reach. Consorting with monsters, demons, fallen angels, politicians - Cass had truly tried everything.He had failed.Now, he was sitting on top of loose cement bricks in an abandoned factory, staring out into the vast emptiness of the building’s decrepit halls as he contemplated his choices. He pulled out the phone that Sam and Dean had given him, checking its inbox for the twentieth time that day just as he did every day. And true to the pattern of these past three months, he had nothing. No missed calls, no texts, no voicemails; Sam Winchester wasn’t looking for him.Cass supposed it should be comforting, that he wasn’t worrying the already lost hunter with his sudden absence, but instead, the lack of concern stabbed him in the chest. After all, he could’ve died or been kidnapped, he could be undergoing torture or brainwashing once again - Sam had no way of knowing. Did he truly not care? Maybe, after Dean’s death, the young hunter just didn’t have it in him to care for anything anymore.With a sigh, the angel stuffed the phone in his pocket so he couldn’t stare at it any longer. Looking out at the abandoned and broken machinery, Castiel forced himself to stand up. He got to his feet slowly, distractedly, his sky-blue eyes unfocused as he gazed out at the empty factory. He started to walk forward aimlessly, unsure of a destination but too worn out to think of one.After roughly a minute or two, Cass heard a shuffle, a rock being kicked across the dusty cement floor, from behind him to the right. He quickly whirled around to face the threat, his silver blade falling out of his trenchcoat sleeve into his hand. Eyes wide with unbelief, he stared at the figure as it slowly emerged from the building’s shadows.“Hey, Cass,” a deep, sultry voice called, a hint of mischief audible in his tone. “Miss me?”The man standing before Castiel was tall and athletic, his muscular build wrapped in flannel and denim. His silhouette was intimidating, the clean lines cast from a single swaying lightbulb stark against the mangled background. His brown hair was clean, freshly cut to lay close to his head. He wore boot-cut blue jeans, worn down over time, draping over the heavy hiking boots he always had on. His plain black shirt was accompanied by an open red button-up Tee, its color almost too fitting for the scenario. On top of that he donned his trusty army green jacket, the color palette akin to that of a decrepit Christmas.The most eerie part of his appearance had to be the bloodstains. Small reddish-brown dots and lines were drawn over the sides of his brown boots and the bottoms of his jeans, as if he had been walking through pools of the thick red liquid. The ends of his sleeves were tinged red, like there were repeated stains that had been washed off again and again. If he were still a hunter, it may not have been so disturbing and unusual, but these were new. Cass always noticed every single detail of Dean’s appearance, burned into his frontal lobe permanently, a poisoned memory. He knew that these stains had come from something else, something less humane.Looking into the body of Dean Winchester, Castiel’s heart broke. He did not see the soul that used to reside there, the playful ultra-violets and bright bluish whites that danced around. He couldn’t see the radiating green hues that symbolized his snarky nature, his quick-wittedness. He could no longer see the purples and reds that mixed together in his sadness, his anger, his buried trauma. Everything that made this man Dean Winchester was simply absent. In its place was an ugly, swirling black mass, the x-rays pulsing outward like a poisonous gas. Its grays and blood-reds were painted across the man’s chest, revealing his new, evil nature.In front of him stood not a hunter, not a human, but a demon.“Dean?” Castiel called out uncertainly, almost desperately.The man simply flashed him a nasty smile, his posture confident and ready to strike. He took a step forward, and another, slowly sauntering towards the angel. Dean looked him up and down, observing his defensive stance, his furrowed eyebrows, his quivering hands. Castiel felt vulnerable and humiliated in his presence, as if he had been stripped naked on live television.“No,” Cass said, shaking his head in disbelief as his thoughts ran wild, confused. “You’re not Dean.”The rugged man simply smirked, raising his arms as if he was presenting himself to the angel. “I’m still myself, Cass. New and improved.”Dean took a few steps forward, causing Castiel to instinctively step backward to increase the gap between them, raising his angel blade a little higher. The demon’s smile grew wider at the sight of him being so defensive, so scared.“I just don’t have to follow the rules anymore,” Dean continued. “I’m not being held back, not being reined in by you, by Sammy.”The intimidating figure began slowly stalking in a circle, forcing Cass to follow suit if he wanted to maintain the distance between them. They were staring at each other, into each other’s eyes. Cass could see into Dean’s corrupted soul, into the eyes of his new demonic form. Dean matched the intensity of his gaze, his eyes piercing through Castiel’s vessel as he could finally see his true angelic form. It was more than just a meeting, so much more than just a standoff. The tension between the two of them was palpable, hanging in the air hot and heavy, making Cass’s every move feel like he was wading through molasses as time seemed to slow down just for them.“Not being reined in?” Castiel questioned him, raising an eyebrow at the irony. “You’re Crowley’s bitch.”The demon scoffed. “I’m not his bitch.”“Maybe you should tell him that,” Cass countered.The two continued circling each other like two apex predators, the volatile silence returning quickly. The sounds of the old walls creaking and the rubble shaking, scattering, filled the expanse that separated the fallen angel from the newborn demon. Their opposition was almost poetic, like something one would read about in ancient texts. A tragic tale of heartbreak, betrayal, and a torturous reunion.The longer the pair faced each other, neither saying anything as they let the tension stew, the more Castiel could see into Dean’s mind, and he had not doubt that it worked the other way, too. He knew that Dean had access to Castiel’s most vulnerable thoughts and emotions; he didn’t have the heart to shut him out, even now. The very thought of blocking out the man he loved felt like a cement block sitting on his chest, the grief of losing Dean weighing him down. He couldn’t bear to let go of the one connection that he had had with Dean, the one thing he had always been able to rely on when he didn’t know where the hunter had gone off to or if he was okay. He would use his mental connection with Dean like a crutch in his darkest moments. To Castiel, it was more than just a way to find Dean’s location— it was his way of finding comfort. When he was rebelling against heaven, when he was alone on difficult missions, when he was being tortured, when he had become human, he would tune in to Dean’s emotions and listen to his thoughts to distract himself.He would soak in the pure happiness Dean felt as he sat and watched cheesy slasher films with his brother, bickering over the best movie candy. He would find a strange comfort in Dean’s overwhelming sadness, realizing he was not alone and desperately wishing he could convey that to the other man. He would observe Dean’s sudden rages, quietly listening in as the hunter would drastically lash out. He would try to comfort the taller man from afar as he yelled, screamed, and broke the things around him. He would smile uncontrollably as he witnessed Dean’s excitement and enjoyment at the little things in life, such as a good song playing on the radio, seeing a reference from the cartoons that he secretly loved, or finding a cheap burger joint with good food.It was the intimate moments like these that Castiel simply adored. He could spend hours just staring at Dean’s candy apple green eyes, at his soft lips, at his gentle scattering of freckles, at the faint smile lines that creased whenever his face lit up. He was entranced by the rhythmic motions of Dean’s fingers as he fidgeted with a pen, the edges of his jacket, or with the golden amulet Sam had gifted him many years ago that always hung around his neck. Castiel was in love with every aspect of Dean Winchester: the fun-loving Dean who pulled practical jokes on his brother and made people laugh, the determined Dean who saw every hunt through to the end and took his job as a hunter seriously, the burdened and traumatized Dean who buried his emotions and struggled with mundane tasks that bore a striking resemblance to an incident from his childhood, and even the angry and resentful Dean who took out his stress on the people he loved most. There was absolutely nothing that ever could’ve driven Cass away from the hunter.But now, as he stared into the inky black eyes in front of him? Castiel couldn’t be more terrified of Dean Winchester.He could feel the demon fighting against him, actively pushing him out, but he caught glimpses, nonetheless. He could hear Crowley cashing in favors and barking orders at his new plus one. He could hear violent thoughts of torture and slaughter. He could hear the agonizing screams of dozens of different people, angel, demon, and human alike. He could hear the horrible sounds of metal against flesh, ripping, tearing, slicing as blood dripped against tile floors. He could hear Dean’s hearty laughter poisoned by sadistic pleasure ringing out clear over the pleading voices of his victims. Cass saw images of blood pooling and running down pale flesh in rivulets. He saw Dean’s unforgettable hands fidgeting with his demon knife, caked in darkened, drying blood as he sauntered around a desecrated body teasingly, chuckling at the weak coughs and begs that the figure choked out. He saw Dean sitting at a bar with Crowley, eyes an inky black, as he smirked and agreed to track down a personal grudge for the King of Hell.Castiel’s lips quivered, his hands shaking as he stared into his eyes, now a poison apple green. His mind was flooded with horrifying images that warped the angel’s perspective of the ex-hunter. For the first time, Cass felt truly scared of the man in front of him.Dean looked the angel up and down, observing him. The pair was still circling each other slowly, analyzing the other’s every move. He smirked, and it was clear that he knew everything Cass was feeling, everything he felt about him. The malicious smile looked so out of place on Dean’s face that sickened the angel, twisting his stomach into knots.“I’m flattered, Cass,” he began, his body posture confident as he gestured out with his arms. “Really, I am.”“Dean-” The angel began, his voice wavering as it betrayed the emotions he was desperately trying to bury. He knew that it was pointless, that the demon already knew everything there was to know about him, yet he still couldn’t force himself to admit it to Dean’s face. To the demon’s face.“It’s funny, actually,” the man in question interrupted. “Because once upon a time, I actually reciprocated.”Castiel froze in place. His heart was hammering faster than ever before, his vessel’s pulse deafeningly loud in his ears. His palms felt clammy and cold as he gripped the pointed metal blade tighter, white knuckling the hilt. One word rang out loud and clear in his head as his thoughts felt fuzzy and distant: ***reciprocated***.“I loved you, Cass. And I was too damn stubborn to admit it, too insecure, too afraid. But I was so deeply in love with you that every time I laid my eyes on you, every time I thought about you or heard your name, my heart ached, and it was easily both the best and most painful feeling possible.”The angel felt his heart swell at the confession, beating hard and fast as if it were about to leap out of his chest. The ghost of a smile graced his features as he slowly soaked in Dean’s words, his body feeling lighter and lighter as if he were a balloon floating towards the clouds. The hunter’s use of past tense didn’t escape him, however, and it poisoned the feeling that was supposed to be joyful.Dean watched Cass intently, expectantly, as the raven-haired man fought back the lump in his throat, not trusting his voice to betray what he was really feeling. The weight of his gaze was like that of the weight of the ocean, pressuring him to do something, to say something.The demon tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lips turning up in a perverted version of his signature mischievous grin. The feeling of accomplishment, of success, radiated from him like an airborne disease.Suddenly, Cass felt his blood run ice cold. It was a phrase the angel had heard many times before and had never truly understood its meaning until this very moment. His veins felt freezing as fear gripped his body, a cold layer of sweat coating his body. He was petrified, unable to move, as he realized his mistake: he had never closed himself off from the demon. He knew everything, everything, about the angel.Dean knew that Castiel had been in love with him since before they had ever met. He knew how Cass had suffered as a mortal being after the hunter’s harsh rejection, how Cass has suffered more after his disappearance. He knew how the loss of Dean had tortured the angel more than any demon, any angel, any creature roaming the earth ever had. He knew the overwhelming joy that came from being around him, and how much seeing him like this, warped and deformed into something demonic, felt like a lethal blow to the angel’s heart. He knew how every time his eyes turned black like the abyss, every time he spoke in his new cruel and teasing manner and sauntered around with an attitude so foreign, it twisted the blade in excruciating agony.The more Cass searched, the more he realized just how deep into his mind Dean’s awareness was. He wasn’t just focused on Castiel’s soul-crushing feelings or the events that had taken place while he had been away. He had gone farther than Castiel’s lone adventures with Crowley, his experience with the Leviathan, his mistakes with Metatron.Dean had found all of the information on heaven and angels that Castiel knew. He had“Oh, Cass,” Dean cooed, a faux sympathy dripping from his deep, sultry voice like toxic honey. “You once told me that you rebelled against heaven, against the angels, all for me.”He closed the gap between the two of them, cupping the angel’s cheeks in his calloused hands with deceiving, tempting gentleness. He stared into Castiel’s terrified sky-blue eyes, observing his reaction as the angel nearly got lost in the familiar beauty of Dean’s eyes, his face, his pursed lips.Dean leaned in towards Castiel’s body, curled into the large trenchcoat that had protected him for years as his body shook with fear and confusion. One of the hunter’s rough hands slid across his cheek and rested against his neck, cradling his face and pulling him in closer, while the other made its way to the angel’s bicep, holding him tight. The sudden, intimate position made Castiel melt, electric waves of shock and attraction pulsing through his body and making him feel weak. The silver angel blade clattered to the concrete floor as Cass stared into those entrancing green eyes that had made him fall so hopelessly in love all those years ago, his head fuzzy and confused as if it was stuffed with cotton. He was scared of the man who was now holding him, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t relishing in the moment, nonetheless.“Yes,” the angel replied breathlessly.Dean angled his face to the side as he pulled Cass in closer, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. The taller man’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath hot against Castiel’s lips and cheek. The angel felt as if he couldn’t breathe, the tension between the two of them too thick to allow for any oxygen to get to his lungs. He gasped and shivered as the hand against his neck slowly dug into his skin, needy.Cass closed his eyes and leaned into the hunter’s body, their lips brushing against each other as he went in for a kiss. Dean’s hands prevented the angel from being able to move any closer, however, giving him full control. The pair hovered there for a while, panting, before Dean opened his eyes to stare into the brilliant blue eyes of the angel, brimming with unshed tears.The demon grinned, and Cass could feel the man’s soft lips pulling away from his own.“Now, you truly have betrayed them.”Castiel’s eyes widened just as Dean pulled him in for a harsh, rough kiss. He gasped at the sudden action, his muscles contracting in surprise. The angel wanted to pull away, wanted to fight back. He knew that this was wrong. He knew that the demon didn’t share his feelings, that he didn’t want the kiss. He was painfully aware that he was only doing this to hurt Cass more.Yet as much he wanted to push the taller man away from him, he couldn’t. It wasn’t that he was physically incapable— if he really wanted to, he could use bursts of immense power to push the demon into the wall or he could easily smite the demon and its vessel— the angel just couldn’t make himself tear away from the kiss. Instead, he succumbed to Dean’s harsh, dominant touch.Electric waves of joy, of heartbreak, of shock, of arousal, pulsated through Castiel’s veins, making him feel more alive than he ever had, even when he was mortal. The soft lips pushing against his own were warm, a poetic opposite of the nature of the kiss itself. He shivered as the hunter’s rough hands caressed his neck and arm, his skin and his lips tingling at the contact. Dean pulled Cass in closer as he forcefully shoved his tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth recklessly. A few small tears traced shimmering paths down the angel’s pale cheeks as he finally closed his eyes, the taste of salt appearing on his tongue to join the taste of Dean.He couldn’t stop himself from moaning at his lover’s expert and intimate movements, relishing in the rough, hungry kiss. Tears continued to slowly roll down his face as his chest felt heavy, making it difficult to breathe properly. He felt used, taken advantage of. The longer Dean made out with him, the more it hurt. He knew that this kiss meant nothing to his partner, and Dean knew that it meant everything to him.Finally, Dean pulled out of the kiss. He shoved the crying angel away from him harshly, causing the shorter man to stumble backward. The two stood roughly three feet apart, panting heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes. The tension between the two had doubled from before.The demon watched Castiel’s face carefully. The angel was staring at him with a terrified gaze, his sky-blue eyes wide and glistening, swollen and red from the slow but steady stream of tears falling from his lash line. His chest was rising and falling in time with the small movements of his parted lips as he took in deep, shaky breaths. His hands were hugging each other in front of him in an effort to feel less vulnerable. The demon grinned as he took a step towards Cass.Cass furrowed his eyebrows and pressed lips together, straightening his stance as his arms fell to his sides. Apart from the teary, swollen eyes, the angel looked unemotional and ready for a fight, but Dean still had access to every corner of Castiel’s mind. He knew how torn, broken, used, confused, heartbroken the angel felt, and he loved it.“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice watery and uncertain. His lips quivered as he searched for something to say, but the immense weight of his emotions had stolen his voice.The man simply chuckled at this, taking another step toward him. The angel instinctively opened him palm, as if to catch his silver blade, but nothing happened. He glanced down at his sleeve in both confusion and fear at the absence of his weapon.“Oh, Cass,” Dean chided with a smug smile.Still looking down, a small glint of reflected light caught Castiel’s eye. He turned his attention to the angel blade that had landed near his shoe. Quickly, heart beating loud and fast, he bent down to grab it as he heard the unmistakable sound of Dean’s heavy boots approaching him.His fingers brushed against the cool metal of the blade’s hilt just as a hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him away with so much strength that it hurt. The intimidating man braced his hands on each of Cass’s arms, forcing him to stand upright, their bodies once again mere inches apart. Cass watched the hunter roll the blade away from him with the tip of his boot.One of Dean’s calloused hands wandered up the side of his arm, his neck, to trace his jawline and land underneath his chin. He tilted Cass’s head up gently, making the shorter man look him in the eyes once more. Cass shivered underneath Dean’s touch, wanting to pull away and yet finding himself leaning into it.“You really chose me over the world,” Dean said in a silky voice, his expression confident and proud. “Over the angels.”“I didn’t choose you,” the angel replied defiantly, his voice wavering with emotion. “I chose the real Dean, my Dean.”“I am your Dean,” he said, cocking his head to the side.“No,” Castiel corrected. He pushed the other man away, glaring at him with angry, tear-filled eyes. “You’re a demon. You’re nothing like him.”Dean simply scoffed, his face still as smug as before. “Maybe.”In one swift movement, the demon reached for the angel blade that laid near him on the dusty concrete floor and launched himself at Cass, the menacing silver aimed right at the angel’s heart. In his emotional, confused state, Cass barely had the time to react and dodged the blade at the last second. It tore through his white shirt, slicing the soft skin underneath with a stream of glowing blue light. The angel hissed at the searing pain that the blade caused, not just on the sin of his vessel but also on his true form.The ex-hunter then reached for Cass’s shoulders, gripping them tight. One arm, the one holding his angel blade, snaked around his back to hold him in place.Dean smirked. His piercing emerald green eyes bore into Castiel’s, wide and pleading.“Don’t do this, Dean.”The demon pulled him arm away from Castiel’s back, and the angle could feel the tip of the blade slide against his spine. He braced himself for what was about to come, doing nothing to fight against it as a tear balanced on his lashes, threatening to fall. He gazed into Dean’s eyes, into Dean’s mind, pushing past the horrible images from the past year and stopping on the memories of Dean smiling, laughing.Castiel thought back to all of the happy moments that the two of them had had together, long before Metatron, before Naomi. Back when they would sit gathered in the bunker, beers in hand as they talked and shared stories. They would laugh at each other’s jokes and tease each other with small smiles. He remembered peaceful night drives in the Impala, Dean’s preferred music artists playing softly in the background as they simply enjoyed being in each other’s presence.Cass smiled as his final teardrop ran down his cheek.Dean thrust the angel blade into Castiel’s back, burying the silver metal down to the hilt. The angel gasped as white-hot agony emanated from the injury, spreading throughout his entire body. Brilliant blue light began to leak out of his eyes, out of the corners of his mouth. The luminating graceful hue revealed the shape of his large, imposing wings stretching out behind him.In his final action, he grabbed Dean’s shoulders and pulled him forward, chest to chest, impaling him on the angel blade. He heard Dean’s pained cry rip through the silence of the abandoned warehouse. He felt Dean’s hands clutch onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly in fear, in pain. He felt Dean’s rollercoaster of emotions: rage, grief, fear, betrayal.Castiel held Dean close as the divine light pouring out from his vessel overtook them both. Amidst the overwhelming wave of the hunter’s emotions that had begun to blend in with his own, he could feel one in particular grow stronger than all of the others: regret.Dean had regained his humanity in his last moments, leaving him feeling shame and guilt for everything he had done. He was filled with regret, thinking of everything he could’ve done differently and everything he would never get to experience. He mourned for the people he killed, he mourned for Sam, he mourned for Cass.Above it all, he mourned for what they would never get to be.