A/N- Based on this fucking evil Tumblr prompt. Enjoy!
Dean winced again, forcing lightheadedness away. He was scared to look down, but the warm, thick niagara gushing between his fingers was enough to tell him it wasn't just gonna hurt in the morning. He took deep breaths, trying to concentrate on anything but how very quickly his life was leaving him.
The demon was dead, but not before it could tear him open with its bare hands. It was lying some feet away, its body still sparking now and then with light from the power of Ruby's knife.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds as tightly as he could before opening them again, trying to hold on to consciousness. His first thought was to call Sam, but then he saw Sam's phone on the ground on the other side of the room where his brother had left it when the demons took him.
He could try Bobby. But after several minutes, Dean realized that he couldn't do this to Bobby. Not after all Bobby had gone through for them. Then, he realized who he could talk to. Who could lull him into his final sleep.
"Hey, Cas?"
"Hello, Dean." Cas's voice crackled over the phone line, clear even with the screwed up reception. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Dean said, trying to quiet his struggles for breath. "I'm great, I just wanted to say hi."
There was a pause, and Dean could picture Cas thinking about it.
"Well, hi." Cas sounded confused.
This was the last time he'd ever talk to Cas. He didn't want the angel to worry, but keeping up a cheery, normal conversation and acting like he'd see Cas in a week or so was really hard. Because he wouldn't see him in a week. He wouldn't see Sam, or Bobby, or anyone.
At least his demon pals would be glad to see him back downstairs. Someone would go home happy.
Dean smiled into the phone. "How's it going?"
"Honestly, Dean, is something wrong?"
"No, I'm great." Dean finally made himself look at the pool of blood snaking out and shimmering sickly on the tile floor. He quickly glanced back up, at the ceiling, and drew another breath that came out shakily, part way from pain and part way because yes, he'd started to cry. "I'm wonderful."
"Good. I'll… I'll hang up, then."
"No, don't," Dean said quickly, trying to freeze the panic in his voice. "No, just keep talking. You have a great voice."
"What should I say?" asked Cas, and, without trying at all, Dean pictured him standing somewhere wooded, one arm hanging limply by his side and the other holding the phone. His trenchcoat was just as lifeless as ever, swinging as he paced back and forth.
"Anything. No, nothing. I need to-" Dean coughed, feeling blood hit his hand. When he tried to take another breath, it just triggered more coughing. He slowly recovered himself. "Don't change, Cas, don't ever change."
"Why?"
"You're great this way," explained Dean, wiping at his face and achieving nothing except from mixing the tears already there with the blood on his fingers. "You're… perfect. So don't mess yourself up or anything."
"I won't…?"
"And you know what?" Dean continued, removing his hand from the wound. There wasn't any point to keep using up strength there, he was already too far gone.
"What, Dean?"
Dean gritted his teeth as hard as he could, feeling his face contort as he tried to hold back a sob. "Let's get coffee or something, okay? Maybe next week. How 'bout Thursday?" He looked down at the floor, which was slick with his blood. It was just an estimate, but he guessed he had about a minute left to live. He sure as hell wouldn't make it to Thursday.
"Thursday's my-"
"Your day, I know," Dean said, chuckling. He spat out the tears that had found their way to his mouth. "I'm only not paying attention most of the time."
"That sounds… good. Thursday's good."
Dean shook his head, trying to keep it clear, but the burning behind his eyes and the tears running down his face were preoccupying his mind. "It's a date, then," he said, but right afterwards a sob he couldn't choke down showed up and he let it leave his body.
"What? A date- Dean, what's- I-" Cas was confused, and flustered. He didn't know what was going on.
Dean could still picture Cas's face as he closed his eyes, giving in. This was it. Even the imaginary Cas in his mind's eye was beginning to face away as blackness ate at the corners of Dean's perfect picture. He was going.
Dean raised his voice one last time, drowning out Cas's confused stammerings. "See you then, Cas."
Everything was black. The phone dropped from his hand but he didn't hear it hit the floor, and he didn't feel the splash of blood it sent up. As the last bits of life trickled out through that gash in his side, Dean couldn't help but smile.
See you then.