It started with the sobs. The kind where shoulders shake and lungs seize; breath catching over and over again as tears burn trails down cheeks. The scream built up in Dean’s chest, ready to ricochet off the dungeon walls and into the abyss that the Empty left behind.

No sound came out though. No agonized scream. No piercing anguish. Just a torrent of tears and a rattling shake throughout Dean’s entire body.

And maybe that was all Dean deserved. Because there was no noise, no sound, no words that could portray the ache of losing Cas.

Dean turned his body into the cold wall, thrashing his fists against the sharp brinks until his knuckles stung and the bricks turned copper red; silently screaming until his throat hurt.

But there was no noise.

Dean’s lips formed Cas’ name over and over again; a mantra, a prayer, a false hope for something, anything.

But nothing came.

Not Cas. Not his voice. Not the Empty.

Minutes bled into hours, and Dean’s throat felt hoarse, even without a single noise falling from his mouth. As if the sobs had scratched and clawed their way up from his chest, from his heart, cut open and pouring red on the ground.

Red like blood.

Red like love.

Red like the handprint drying on Dean’s shoulder.

The image blurred from Dean’s vision, fingerprints merging into little red splotches shaped like hearts, and Dean tore the jacket off, throwing it across the room as he opened his mouth to scream again. Another surge of anger tore through him when he still couldn’t verbalize Cas’ name.

A second later, Dean dragged his knees across the ground, scraping open a hole in his jeans as he scrambled to grab the jacket again, holding it against his chest. Maybe, if he just stayed here long enough… maybe Cas would fight his way back. Back from the Empty once again. Back to Dean.

Because this couldn’t be the end.

They couldn’t end here. Not like this.

Not after everything they’d been through; when they could be so much more.

Dean waited for what felt like a millennia. Waited for Cas to come striding back into the dungeon, proclaiming they had unfinished business between them.

Because they did.

Because Cas didn’t give him a chance to think, to react, to say his piece, too.

But, as time slipped by, and Dean’s voice continued to fail him, he knew it was too late.

Cas was gone.

Not coming back.

And Sam and Jack were still out there. Still fighting Chuck.

And maybe that was Dean’s only hope. Chuck was still out there. And maybe, just maybe, if they won they fight, he could get Cas back. And he could tell Cas… he’d tell him… well, maybe he wouldn’t be able to say anything with his voice failing him. But he could show Cas, with just one touch.

There was still a war to fight.

And goddammit. Dean wasn’t stopping until he won his angel back. Screw the rest. He just needed Cas. That was all he wanted.

And maybe his voice, too.

Just so he could say three little words out loud for Cas to hear.

~