Cas' Memories

Sometimes you don't get any last words. Sometimes you don't get anything at all.

It wasn't nothing. They could have woken to find his bed empty, drenched in ashes. But it would never be enough.

What was the last thing he said to her? Was it when he prodded her awake in the middle of the night, restlessly shifting between his paws, his whisper: "Let's go to the beach. C'mon, it'll be fun."

Or was it her name – "Cas" – a hoarse whisper that could barely break over the crashing waves?

The patches of Grey had spread until they consumed him, until every cerulean scale had its colour drained from it. He had to lean against her, small as she was, as they hobbled towards the ocean. When he stumbled and fell, she picked him back up. But something was wrong.

"Turn back," she whispered as he managed to right himself, taking a few steps forward. "Cephi, let's turn back."

But he ignored her, as if driven by some higher purpose. And he pulled himself along alone.

The moment they reached the beach, his legs gave out and he collapsed into the sand. She ran over to him, but he had relaxed already, tipping his head up towards the stars.

"I wanted to see the sky," he murmured. "It's clearer out here by the beach, don't you think?"

She didn't know that she thought anything. She'd stopped thinking a long time ago.

They sat there for an eternity and an instant all at once. Leaned against him, she nearly fell asleep, but something kept her consciousness pinned in place. Like she was waiting for something to happen.

But she didn't want anything to happen. If they could have stayed there forever, that could have been good enough, but she could feel every moment draining away.

He rose suddenly, startling her out of her starry trance. "I want to go home," she blurted out.

Yet again he didn't seem to hear her. He just stumbled determinedly towards the waves, every dragging step leaving a trail in the sand. She started crying, not knowing why. "Cephi, I want to go home!"

She knew she was acting like a little baby hatchling, but she didn't care. He wouldn't listen to her. He made it to the ocean edge before he stopped, one foot in the seafoam.

Behind him was an ocean of stars. She couldn't find the edge between the two, sea and sky, they both were so overflowing with lights. And him against it, pale white and glowing and beautiful.

He opened his mouth, saying something then, or trying to, but the truth was she couldn't hear it over the waves breaking against the shore. "Cas," she imagined. But really, she would never know.

In the next moment, he had collapsed, falling to the draining waves. She didn't get to him fast enough.

And the ocean spread his ashes.