The Soul Burns Brighter Than The Sun

Chapter 1: Back and Better Than Ever

Dean's sitting at the kitchen table with Sam when his phone rings. Jody's name flashes across the screen and he considers not picking up, but Sam's there, and he'd just start asking questions if he left the call alone. It's not like Dean doesn't want to talk to Jody, its just that he just can't fucking bear talking to anyone these days.

Sam, as always, is barely the exception. Most days, he wakes up–well, more like just leaves his room, it's not like he's been sleeping a ton– and stumbles into the kitchen. If Sam's there, he says hello, and grabs a bit of breakfast. If Sam's not there, he grabs a beer or five and hightails it back to his room.

What can he say? They won, but Dean didn't win a damn thing.

So Dean picks up the phone and presses the speaker function. "Hey Jody," He grunts. His voice is gruffer than it usually is. He doesn't do a whole lot of talking these days. "Sam's here too."

"Hi Jody." Sam says, much brighter than Dean can muster himself to be.

"Howdy, boys." She greets them, and begins talking about some case she's asking them to possibly take over, maybe drive out to take a look. Dean doubts they will, Sam hasn't let him pick up a gun or knife in months, not since their last hunt.

Dean's not really in the mood for it though, so he puts his head back into the bowl of Lucky Charms he can't taste and doesn't pay attention. Sam's said that Dean's been depressed lately, and fuck him because, well, yeah obviously. Cas is dead, been dead going on five months now. Sure, they beat Chuck. Dean even punched the dickwad in the face, but ever since then, Dean's been doing his same old schtick. Rise, drink, punch something, knock himself out with whiskey. So yeah, sue him, he's depressed. Sam gets a gold prize for his little guessing game.

"Looks to me like it's a poltergeist just outside of Frankfort." Jody rambles on, and Dean's stomach twists at the thought of taking another case. It's not like he doesn't want to hunt, he's just sitting around anyways, and it's better to help people than to sit and mope, but Sam benched him after Dean let a vampire rough him up a little too much. Apparently, Sam thinks Dean's suicidal, which... Dean's got nothing to say to that.

It wasn't the first time Dean let some half crazed monster get its teeth a little too close to his throat. What can he say? It's not like Dean's doing great , but he's not stupid.

Sam says something to him, and Dean grunts in response. He doesn't want to take the case, he wants to drink until the bottle's empty.

Dean's limply shoving another spoonful of cereal into his mouth when Jody's voice cuts through the phone, clear as the damned day he was pulled from hell. "Alrighty, if you boys don't wanna take the case, I'll see if Castiel will, but I think he's helping Claire with a werewolf case in Colorado. She's still shaken up after her last werewolf encounter–"

Dean spits the cereal out of his mouth, and it splatters all over the table. "What Jody?"

Sam, too, is shocked, but now he's also covered in mushy cereal. "Dean! What the fuck–!"

"Honestly, it's kinda sweet of Castiel to offer to help her out, but I don't know if Claire's too upbeat about it, you know how she gets."

"Cas is–" Dean can't even say it. Can't even think it.

His stomach twists, and he holds down his cereal just barely. "Cas is–"

He chokes, and Sam fixes him a look.

"You've heard from Cas, Jody?" Sam asks, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Uh, yeah?" Jody answers, her voice warbling through the phone. "He's been hanging out nearby for a few weeks now, maybe about a month? I figured he was–"