A/N: Just a short drabble that came to mind after listening to Forgive Me by City and Colour, and also after watching The Mentalists episode. Enjoy. Reviews/ConCrit are very much appreciated!

"You know what... you were right. About Amy."

These are the first words he hears from the Winchester boys in weeks. He's seen them, yes. He's watched them from afar, never really letting them out of his sight, but never approaching within earshot of them either. Because he is afraid.

Ever since he washed up onto the shore of that municipal lake a few days after the Leviathans had taken over him, confused and lost and alone, fear has driven him.

That fear of having no purpose, and of rejection—from both Heaven and the two boys he at one time considered family. He is afraid of not having the ability to do anything, so he watches the Winchesters, invisible to their senses, waiting for that one single moment to show himself when he is needed. When he believes he is forgiven.

But then he wonders if that moment will ever come. And that's what has kept him back, lurking outside of their perception. He wonders if there will ever be a moment where the memory of him will be acknowledged in a sad, hopeful way by the two hunters. By Dean. He wonders if they miss him—despite his lies. Despite his betrayal that he so desperately wishes to take back.

And he is so afraid. So afraid that he will remain this way—confused. And lost. And alone.

Then today comes, and he sees even from his far distance the flash of his overcoat in the trunk of that blue stolen car as Sam closes it, the younger brother paying no attention to it but it's there. It's there and then Dean is there and he, like a fly to a fire is drawn to them, looking for answers. They still have his overcoat. They still hold on to a piece of him.

They still hold on.

Sam speaks those words. He listens vaguely as he forgives Dean for something he has done. He waits. Waits for something beyond a simple apology, because he knows Sam, and when Sam wants to talk to Dean there's always something greater behind what he is saying. He can feel it in the air.

And then there it is.

"But here's the thing. You can't just look me in the face and tell me everything's fine."

He looks at Dean, watches how he reacts as Sam lists off what he's noticed about his brother's behaviour. He sees it. That attentiveness, then that sigh and shrug as if he is denying it but he sees it in his green eyes. Sorrow. Pain.

It's all his fault.

He wants to stop being afraid. To stop this hiding right there so he can ask for forgiveness. To step close and cup his face in his hands and cry and say those words over and over again.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

And then he is doing it without even realizing. Without revealing himself he's walking closer to Dean and bringing his right hand up, hand open, hardly aware of the fact that the other man is talking to Sam and his brows are furrowed. But then he hears his name.

"Ever since Cas, I'm having a hard time trusting anybody."

All of the hope he has is shattered in that moment. His hand is a stone and yet feels limp, fingers inches from Dean's jaw, unwilling to move, conflicted, at a loss. His mouth is slightly open, slack, and if Dean is still saying something he's not aware of it.

He doesn't move when the Winchesters get into the car. Doesn't move when they start the engine. Doesn't move when they drive off, his overcoat still in the trunk. Doesn't move even when they pass the horizon, out of sight for the first time since he woke a few weeks ago.

He just stands there. Confused. And lost. And alone.

And unforgiven.