The Glass Vial | Prologue
Prologue
Masterpost
This is it. They have five minutes until the eclipse, and then it’s time. Dean paints the blood on the wall with a scrap of cloth as quick as he can, and Bobby says, “It’s good enough,” over his shoulder. Dean throws the cloth to the floor and tries to gather himself. Deep breaths. He spares a quick glance to the door behind him, but Sam isn’t back yet, and he runs a hand through his hair nervously, anxious for this night to be over.
Bobby helps get Cas up from the ground where he’s slumped over, and walks him towards the wall where the blood has been painted. Dean hands the sheet with the foreign words on to Bobby, and stands there, watching as Cas sways. Bobby starts speaking and Dean looks at his watch, nervous. Cas falls and Dean is quick to run towards him, and lifts him up before stepping backwards, his arm still outstretched in case he falls. The blood on the wall begins to glow and burn, and Cas turns towards Dean, a look of remorse in his eyes, and says, “I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything, and Cas turns back around, looking hurt and guilty and broken. Something hot and acidic burns in Dean’s gut and he swallows, trying to push it down. Bobby finishes speaking and the tiles rip away and the wall begins to crumble, a wide black hole appearing, the blood alight and glowing. In a sudden flash of light, Cas’ chest bursts open, a bright whiteness smashing out of him into the gaping hole. Dean turns away, shields his eyes, hears a muttered yell of “Dean!” and Dean turns back around to see Cas get sucked into the hole and the door close.
The silence that follows is heavy, deafening, and he looks to Bobby, an icy coolness swallowing him.
“Cas?” he says, into the empty room, except for Bobby who is looking at the wall with an alarmed expression.
“I think he’s gone, Dean. He’s gone.”
Dean walks towards the wall and places his hand over the tile, that’s still warm and sticky from blood. He lets out a slow breath. “Dammit, Cas. You child.”
There’s a low, strangled scream, muffled and distant, but Dean snaps his head up, because he knows that sound. He always knows.
He runs out of the room, down the winding hallway, Bobby following him, and finds Sam pressed up against the wall of the building, eyes wide and arms outstretched. Dean can see the hellfire from behind his eyes, sees as he slumps to the floor, and doesn’t respond as Dean shakes his shoulders and yells his name.
Sam is broken and Cas is gone, and there’s not a damn thing Dean can do.
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