A/N: This is not my normal Supernatural posting day, but Loreley had requested a coda to 12x9 from Sam's or Mary's POV, and the next opening I have in my Wednesday posting schedule (jeez, I'm starting to sound like a network 0_o) isn't until February 22, and I felt the "moment" would be over by then. So here it is. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading as always! And for the title. ^_^

"When You're Gone"

Mary kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. If she didn't, her hands would still be trembling, and she didn't want Sam or Dean seeing just how shaken she was by what had almost happened. By what she had almost done. Taking her own life, even to save her boys…she'd be lying if she denied that it had frightened her. It was a mother's instinct to protect her children, but she didn't want to stop and wonder if there was a darker undercurrent to go along with it. Being alive in this time, with the life she knew utterly gone, with John and the two little boys she knew gone—it was hard. Sometimes more than she thought she could bear. But then there was the way her sons had pleaded for her not to do it…and having to face them after was almost harder.

Not that there had been a confrontation. After the shock of Castiel killing Billie, the angel had been the first to return to the car. Mary, Sam, and Dean had traded stunned looks, the crash of adrenaline and discomfort of reality settling over them. And then they had wordlessly gotten back in the car to continue the drive back to the bunker in complete silence.

Mary occasionally flicked furtive glances at Sam in the passenger seat or Dean in the back, but she was afraid of meeting their eyes, afraid of the emotions—hurt, anger, disappointment—that she might receive. She never did catch their gazes, though, each wrapped in their own private maelstrom of thoughts, perhaps about her, perhaps about their harrowing time in captivity that had driven them to making that deal in the first place.

Mary glanced at the rearview mirror to Castiel, his silent silhouette an almost palpable throb of righteous fury. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand this unearthly being, he did something to disrupt her perception. When she'd first been introduced to the angel, she'd seen the friendship and fierce protectiveness he had toward her boys. Guardian angel, she'd thought, with a hint of awe and gratitude.

Then when Sam and Dean had been missing and Castiel had become this fractured, defeated being, mired in helplessness yet also adrift, Mary had reevaluated him and thought, he's just a man, as human as the rest of us.

But after that brash display of divine retribution, she had to readjust once again. Castiel had become the image of her first preconceived notions: the avenging angel. Awesome and terrible to behold, yet still seeming oh so human as his eyes had glistened with raw emotion and he'd poured out a heart as broken and bleeding as hers. And while it didn't surprise her that he was so devoted to her boys, Mary was taken aback that his declaration had included her.

For one thing, their…alliance, friendship?…had grown tenuous while Sam and Dean had been missing. Mary hadn't been very fair to Castiel when she'd first found out. She was just upset, and worried. But Castiel seemed to take everything she'd said to heart, and she didn't know how to retract careless barbs born of frustration that had unintentionally struck to the core.

They made it back to the bunker around 5:30am, and Castiel was exiting the car before Mary had even engaged the parking brake. She climbed out and watched him stride into the woods and meld with its darkness. Sunrise was still two hours away.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as his gaze also tracked the angel.

"He'll be back," Sam said quietly.

Mary wondered if that was really in question; the bunker was Castiel's home too, after all.

Dean wrenched his gaze away from the impenetrable wood and equally inscrutable angel, and headed inside. Mary lingered a split moment before following, wondering how the joy of having her boys returned could have turned so dreary.

Sam couldn't decide whether he wanted to shower and change or eat first. He really wanted to get out of the wretched jumpsuit, but his stomach was growling, as prison rations wasn't enough to satisfy a guy with his metabolism. He wasn't gaunt, by any means, but his muscles definitely had a leaner tone to them.

"I'd kill for a burger," Dean said, standing in the library and vacillating between the hallway to the kitchen or dormitory. The lines of his face showed a certain slimness as well.

Sam let out a soft snort. "Me too." Something hot instead of tepidly bland.

"I can make something," Mom quickly offered.

Dean waved her off as he apparently decided to head toward the kitchen. "You just saved our asses; you shouldn't have to slave over a stove, too."

Mary crossed her arms and followed. "I'm your mother. It's my job to do both."

Sam couldn't help but smile as the three of them made their way into the kitchen, though it wasn't until they were there he realized there probably wasn't much stocked. Hopefully a few things were still in the pantry and not too stale; he didn't know if he could stomach anything that tasted like the food he'd had in captivity.

But when Dean opened the fridge, they stopped and stared. The shelves were full. A carton of milk, packages of meat and cheese, even prepared salads stacked to one side. Sam's preferred brand, actually. All of it was his and Dean's staple foods.

"Uh, wow," Sam said, for lack of a better response. "How'd you have time to do this?"

Mary shook her head. "I didn't. Castiel had the fridge stocked when I was here a few weeks ago…but I was away on hunts mostly," she said regretfully. "It's probably spoiled."

Yeah, since Cas didn't eat.

Dean grabbed a bag of cheese slices and looked at the label, his mouth turning down. "This one's expiration date isn't for two weeks."

Quirking his brow in equal confusion, Sam reached past him to pick up one of the salad containers. It also had a future expiration date, and looked fresh. Cas had…kept the fridge stocked with fresh items this whole time? He must have replaced perishables as they'd expired, just so everything would be here when Sam and Dean finally came home.

Sam met his brother's eyes and saw some of the same emotion he was feeling reflected in them. Cas's little outburst on the bridge that night had left them both reeling. Because for the first time in a long string of selfishly driven decisions, Sam and Dean had finally agreed to let the other go. It was going to be Dean, too. Sam hated it, he did, but Dean had said Sam deserved to have more years with Mom, since he got gypped as a kid. Sam could think of lots of reasons it should have been him, though, but Dean had stubbornly refused to allow the discussion, and between running for their lives and simply enjoying being reunited with Cas and Mom, it'd been easy to leave it unsaid.

And then Cas had killed Billie, and who knew how monumentally stupid that decision would prove to be when those 'cosmic consequences' came knocking. Yet Sam couldn't be angry with the angel. You mean too much to me.

Sam roved his gaze over the fully stocked fridge, then at the island counter where a bowl of fresh fruit he hadn't seen at first currently sat. Cas had expected them to come home. He had planned on it. And then he'd stood on that bridge and had to listen to them say one of them wouldn't be. Sam knew dropping the news on him and Mom like that was a dick move, but it had just been too hard to say before that. And could anyone really blame them for wanting to spend the last couple hours pretending things were normal? That Sam had his family back and everything was going to be okay?

His grip on the salad container tightened, and he imagined Cas living in the bunker, buying and replacing food but never eating it. Sitting in his room but never sleeping. Completely…alone. Because Mom had gone off on hunts and hadn't been back in a few weeks, she'd said. And Cas had…stayed here? The entire time? Trapped in a similar isolation as Sam and Dean, and probably just as tortuous.

Dean opened the freezer door, and simply stared at the box of frozen hamburger patties.

It was Mom who finally moved, who finally shattered the brittle tension by reaching into the freezer for the box. "I can make these up real quick."

Dean rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and nodded mutely. Sam put the salad container back in the fridge, but went to get an apple from the fruit bowl. Cas had left it for him in particular, as Dean would never touch the fruit; Sam should eat it.

Mary set the patties out on a plate and then placed them in the microwave.

"Mom—" Dean started.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, cutting him off. She lifted pained eyes to him, and then to Sam. "I wasn't trying to leave you. I never want to leave you like that again. But I couldn't let you die. Children aren't supposed to go before their parents. That's not the way the world's supposed to work."

"You weren't supposed to die when we were kids," Dean said roughly. "The world's broken." He let out a garbled sound and turned away. "And we just broke it. Again! Or, Cas did."

"We'll figure it out, Dean," Sam said quickly, because he didn't want his brother being angry at Cas over it. Maybe what Cas did was stupid. Maybe the deal they'd made with Billie was. Maybe the world would suffer the consequences, but they'd fixed it before. They were the guys who saved the world.

This sad, doomed little world, it needs you.

Mary lifted her chin. "Well, I for one am glad Castiel did it. He saved you…he saved me, gave me another chance to do better by you. And I am not sorry to be standing here with you both."

Sam gave her a small, half sad, half sympathetic smile. "I'm not sorry, either," he said softly. He looked to Dean, who just stared back at them with a pinched expression, the emotional roller coaster of the past few hours, hell, the past few weeks, ready to pitch him over the edge of a precipice. But he managed to pull himself back, and he nodded in solidarity.

The microwave beeped. With less tension in the room, Mary turned to continue fixing the burgers. Sam kept glancing at the doorway, expecting Cas to join them. But he never heard the bunker door creak open, and Cas never did.

Mary watched her boys scarf down their burgers with ravenous relish, and it was almost amusing except for the reason behind it. She caught both Sam and Dean casting sidelong glances at the door, and noticed the way their shoulders tightened as time went on and Castiel still didn't come inside. She didn't think the angel would simply walk off—he traveled by car, after all. But it had been over an hour now, and Mary herself was beginning to feel concerned.

When they finished eating, Dean announced he was going to take a very long shower, and excused himself, leaving his dish on the table. Sam stood up as well, but hesitated.

"Shower," Mary said. "I'll go find him."

Sam gave her a grateful smile, and took the corridor toward the dorms.

Mary headed outside. It was still dark, save for a faint tinge of twilight barely creeping over the horizon. She found Castiel not too far from the bunker, standing on a crest with his head canted back to look at the stars. He looked as still and firm as granite, like a forgotten statue buried in the woods. All that was missing was lichen. Had he been here this whole time?

"Castiel?" she called.

He shifted then, proving he wasn't a statue, and something in his shoulders seemed to deflate at the interruption. "What?" he said, voice hoarse and gruff. He closed his eyes and gave himself a small shake. "Sorry. What do you need?"

"I was going to ask you that," she replied, drawing closer to him.

He didn't respond, just went back to gazing at the constellations. "You know, Heaven used to be full of angels as numerous as the stars."

Mary frowned. Her experience in Heaven had been limited to her own personal paradise, with John and her two young boys. "What happened?"

Castiel's mouth twisted bitterly. "War."

She fell silent a moment at that, and Castiel didn't seem inclined to elaborate. But after a few more beats, she spoke again. "Thank you. For saving me. For saving them."

Castiel continued gazing at the stars forlornly as the cerulean and lavender light of dawn began to seep across the sky, snuffing them out.

"I know you have to die eventually," he finally said, voice low and gravelly. "You're human, and that's the natural order of things."

Mary arched a wry brow at him, but he didn't seem to catch it.

"But you're all I have left," he went on brokenly. "You and Sam and Dean. And when you eventually die, and go to Heaven, I will be alone. Forever."

Mary frowned. "Won't you just…come see us in Heaven?"

Castiel shook his head, moisture glistening in his eyes in the gloaming twilight. "I've been cast out, declared a traitor and an abomination. There is no going back for me."

Mary stared at him incredulously. She hadn't known that, though perhaps there had been small remarks and hints she should have picked up on before. There was so much history she was unaware of.

A nippy breeze tried to worm its way under her collar, but she stoically ignored it, feeling as though the slightest movement might shatter Castiel like glass.

He looked back at the sky, now devoid of stars. "I was once part of the Host, connected to all my brothers and sisters, able to hear their song no matter where I was. And now I have none of that. When you all are gone, I will be fated to spend the rest of eternity walking this earth alone. Unless I get killed," he added almost uncaringly, "in which case I will just…wink out, I suppose, like these stars."

Mary's chest tightened.

I won't let any of you die.

She couldn't imagine living forever in that kind of bereft isolation. Dean and Sam had experienced six weeks of it, and had said it was worse than Hell.

Mary tentatively reached out to place a gentle hand on Castiel's arm. "You're not alone right now. And we're not going anywhere anytime soon. So come inside."

She kept her hand there, waiting, until he finally dragged his attention away from the lightening sky and turned to follow her back.

Mary found herself having to adjust her perception again. She didn't know how to fix the inevitable loneliness that came with being immortal, didn't have any words of comfort to offer someone who was ancient, timeless, and who had grown attached to two—three—very mortal, human hunters. All she could provide was presence, because their time wasn't up yet.

And if she had a say, it wouldn't be for a long time coming.

Two days back and Sam was still getting up pretty much every hour to relocate to another room, just because he could. The bunker was nothing like that cell, but the cement walls and windowless rooms did have a certain claustrophobic effect. Sam hoped it went away soon.

Mom had taken off again. Not leaving-leaving like she had before, but to go meet an acquaintance she'd made hunting, she'd said. Sam was a little surprised by how quickly she was getting back to regular activities, though it wasn't like either he or Dean wanted to be babied. They may have had some minor adjustments to make, being back—Sam caught Dean migrating between rooms too—but overall they were good.

Except that Dean and Cas were giving each other the silent treatment. When Sam had come out of the shower that morning two days ago, his mom had convinced Cas to come inside, but the angel had already retreated to his room and shut the door. Sam had decided not to disturb him, though mostly he was just being a coward. What did he say to someone who had just killed the new Death for them at potentially catastrophic cost?

Not what Dean had said, which was to ream Cas for being "stupid." Cas refused to apologize, but also refused to respond, which had led to their current stalemate. Sam couldn't really do anything about it, but he did need to talk to the angel.

Because before she headed out, Mom had told him about her conversation with Cas. Sam was kicking himself for never thinking about what Cas's future would be like once he and Dean were finally gone…he didn't really think that far ahead concerning himself. Hunters didn't exactly grow old and die of natural causes. Sam's life was about the next hunt or the next big bad, and his death would probably be in the midst of facing one of those.

He knew he'd see Dean in Heaven once they were both gone. And Sam supposed that somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd just assumed that Cas would be there, too.

But Cas had been cast out of Heaven. Again. And with Chuck off who knew where, there wasn't really anyone to change that.

Well, almost not anyone.

Sam knocked on Cas's door and waited for an invitation. The angel had been spending most of his time sequestered away, maybe avoiding Dean, maybe avoiding them all. They were all terrible at talking things out.

"Yes?" Cas's muffled voice finally responded.

Sam opened the door and took a tentative step inside. Cas was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a book in his lap. A perfunctory glance showed it was in another language, probably an ancient one.

"How's it going?" Sam asked.

"Fine," Cas replied stiffly, not looking up from the tome.

"Okay. Good." Sam shifted his weight in discomfort, unsure how to broach what he came to say.

"Are you doing alright?" Cas asked, flicking a brief glance up at him.

Sam gave him a small smile. "Yeah. I'm relieved to be back."

Cas nodded minutely. "That government detention center was hard on you and Dean," he said, and there was a slight recrimination in his tone for the deal they'd made, for them giving up.

Sam wasn't going to yell at Cas like Dean had, though. "I'm grateful for what you did," he said. "Saving us, saving Mom."

Cas angled a somewhat doubtful look up at him, and Sam tried to convey the depths of his sincerity through his eyes.

Some of the tension in Cas's shoulders seemed to lessen then, and he let out a weary sigh. "I do wish you'd stop trying to sacrifice yourselves."

Sam's lips thinned. "You do know me and Dean think the same about you, right? That's why Dean's upset." And yeah, Sam was worried about the cosmic consequences, too, but he understood why Cas had done it, and so the Winchesters would just have to do what they always did—fight to save their brother.

Cas shook his head. "You and Dean have too much to live for. Mary has too much to live for. After all the sacrifices you three have made already, you deserve to have each other, to live."

"And what do you think you deserve?"

Cas looked away. "This isn't about me."

Sam moved forward and sat on the foot of the bed. "Mom told me about your conversation with her, that morning we got back."

Cas visibly stiffened.

"Don't be mad at her," Sam said hurriedly. "She was just concerned. And she only told me after she saw how we weren't really talking much." He grimaced, knowing he was equally at fault with that.

"Did she tell Dean?" Cas asked gruffly.

"No, just me," Sam assured him. And while he wanted Cas and Dean to get their heads out of their assess and talk things out, he wasn't going to share what had obviously been private. "I am glad Mom told me, though," he added.

Cas turned his head away. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter, Cas," Sam insisted, and leaned forward earnestly. "Look, I don't know how yet, but me and Dean would never leave you behind, not even after we die. We've saved the world how many times? I think that buys us some credit upstairs."

Cas started shaking his head again, and Sam reached out to clasp his knee.

"Hey, even if it doesn't, we're Winchesters, and we always find a way. You won't be left alone, Cas, I swear."

Cas just gave him a sad look and a wan smile. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's not sentiment," Sam argued. "It's a fact. And a promise. And once Dean gets his head out of his ass, he'll tell you the exact same thing. You're family."

And that meant no one got left behind.

Ever.