no p.o.v.

Lawrence Kansas, 2:34 a.m. 

Cas arrived at the bunker covered by darkness, pulling baby into the garage and walked up the steps, his boots thumping softly on the metal stairs. he drug his hand along the wall, finding the light switch, flipping it on. 

it's as if he had never left, files spread out on the map table, old takeout boxes piled up, and Dean's 'magazines' stacked by Sam's laptop, that was still wide open. Cas sighed, he hadn't been here since- well, you know. 

he went down to the table, and looked at the old case files they never got to finish. he went to Sam's room and look at plain walls, books stacked on his desk, and then to Dean's room. 

Cas opened Dean's desk, inside was a hand full of photos, from his childhood, pictures of family and friends and then one at the bottom, a photo of Cas, Dean and Sam at a bar, the photo that he had taken only a few days before his death.  

and Cas laughed. not a laugh of amusement or joy, but a kind of tired laugh. "alright then," he mumbled to himself, "you win." 

He went down the hall to the dungeon and opened the door. inside was a pair of empty shackles and a few dusty shelves with some storage boxes. he lifted one off the shelf, blew the dust off and lifted the lid. 

inside was a familiar looking silver syringe. it was cool and heavy in the palm of his hand. this, would do the trick. hopefully. and with that, he jammed the needle into the flesh of his neck, and began to extract his grace.