Where is he?, Dean angrily checked his cell for the millionth time, he’s supposed to be back today. His eyes flicked up to the calendar, day circled in red – he’d been eagerly crossing the days off until Cas’ return, but he had yet to get any kind of confirmation that he was back. No missed call, text, e-mail – he even checked the mailbox just in case he sent a real letter. There was nothing.
Dean was not happy.
He cried out in frustration, pounding a fist down on his desk, where the hell are you? He got up and paced the length of his room, combing through his memory, I’m sure he said he’d be back today… maybe I got the day wrong? He hopped up on his bed, checking his window again, gripping the sill with white knuckles, c’mon Cas…
“Okay!” he climbed down from his bed, before snatching his phone off his desk, subconsciously saddened when he checked it again to see no new notifications.
Where are you?
“Why’re you being such a chick?”
“Sam!” Mary whacked the back of his head, “Don’t make fun of your brother.”
Sam frowned but mumbled a sorry, before grabbing a sparkler out of her hand, “how long has he been gone now, anyway?”
“Tomorrow will be six weeks,” the blonde unenthusiastically took the other, twirling it absently, eyes creeping back to the window.
“Why don’t you call him?” Mary led the trio out the sliding back door to the deck, taking the lighter out of her pocket, “See what’s going on?”
Dean sighed, leaning against the railing, “I can’t… his voicemail is full and it doesn’t even ring anymore,” he began picking at the end of the sparkler, eyes on the ground, “He must’ve turned it off or something.”
“Maybe he died.”
“It. I meant maybe it died.”
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