A year later
Voices were surrounding him, reaching him from what seemed to be a very distant place. He was hearing them, but not listening to them. His chaotic heartbeats kept him from understanding, the cruel sadness distilled in his veins kept him from thinking straight. From thinking about something else than this burning despair, that was paralyzing his whole body, destroying every tiny bit of his once mended soul.
"Oh my god… 911… Do something…
What's goin' on?
Ma, Why is the man screaming?"
Distorted sounds were coming to him, slowly making sense at first but then they started to rush, all together, mixing up, tangling in his brain. He did not understand them. Truth be told, he did not want to understand them.
"Sir? You have to step back, you have to let him breathe. They're on their way.
What's the point? Let him be, it's too late already. Just look at the poor man. What was he thinking really?"
Late? Too late? Not it wasn't too late. It just couldn't be. That was a lie. An awful and absurd lie. It couldn't be, it shouldn't be too late.
"No, no, no, no, it ain't true, stop saying that!" he said in a whisper. His voice breaking on the last words, while the stinking and vicious pain made its way to his consciousness, showing him what was in front of him, lifting the veil from his eyes with a sadistic laugh. He could almost hear it, telling him that it was indeed too late. That it was over. That their happy little bubble had finally popped, like he always feared it would.
His eyes started to adjust, allowing him to see the perfect body he was clutching on too hard. Already losing its colors, losing its warmth, losing its sparkle of life. The demonic voice kept on talking inside his head. Reminding him about the beautiful blue eyes he would never see again, the soft yet passionate lips he would never kiss again, the cute yet sexy grin he would never gaze his eyes upon again. His thoughts began to properly align and work. And he finally understood what everything in front of him meant. To put it simply, it meant that a big emptiness was waiting for him. He would never feel Castiel's heart beat again against the palm of his hand, his laughter would never fill his black heart again, his arms would never hug him too tight again, begging him without a single word to protect him from the big frightening reality outside their bed. Dean's world was falling apart right before his eyes. His sanity flowing to the manhole, along with the blood pouring from Castiel's broken body. There was some much blood, it seemed unreal.
He tilted his head forward, tears falling onto Cas' perfectly still face, when his eyelids opened suddenly, revealing fading blue irises. Cas tried to talk, a bloody foam forming at the edges of his lips, body shaking against Dean's torso. His eyes moved quickly, a terrified look in them. He had not realized what had happened to him, why his whole body was aching and petrified at the same time, why he was looking up at the rainy sky, and most of all, why the love of his life, the healer of his mind had the most melancholy face he had ever seen.
"C-Cas? Do not move. Everything is alright. Everything is going to be alright, you'll see. Don't you worry baby. Hush now. I love you, my sweet, sweet darling. Dean said while stroking the young man's hair with a gentle hand. You'll be fine darling. Just… Just close your eyes. Close them for me darling. And you go to sleep, alright? I'll be right with you in a sec, okay?"
Castiel gathered his strength to focus on Dean, but he still didn't understand what was going on. Why was he so cold? And why was Dean telling him all this? He tried hard to concentrate, but he was suddenly so tired. He listened to Dean's voice, coming from afar. Each slowing heartbeat putting an even greater distance between us. It sounded like a bittersweet lullaby. After a little while his eyelids shut for the last time. His lungs exhaled their last hollow breath and he drifted away into the big unknown.
- "That's alright baby. You can let go now. Thank you, for everything. You got nothing to be afraid of. You can let go." Dean didn't understand why he kept on saying the opposite of what he was thinking. All he wanted to do was yell 'do not leave me, don't you dare! Do not leave me all alonej here. What am I gonna do without you now, huh? You fucking, selfish, stupid man. Why didn't you look before crossing the street? But no, you just had to turn around and flash your bright fucking smile at me. Stop doing that, start breathing again! You cannot do that to me. It is not fair. You cannot walk into my life, turn it upside down, make me fall madly in love with you, make me feel like I'm worth something, that I could be happy, to walk out now. Breathe you bastard!'
Still, deep down, he knew. That it was too late. That the best thing to do, the only thing to do, was to allow Castiel to leave. He wouldn't otherwise. He would fight, he would be stubborn, he would bleed to death, hurting like hell. For nothing, because it was indeed too late.
When the paramedics finally came, Dean stood up. He had stopped crying. He just kept on staring at what seemed to be a wax sculpture now. He didn't feel anything anymore. His despair was so big, so devouring that it couldn't be labeled as a feeling. He was not desperate, he was despair itself. He just stood there, stepping on the bloody sidewalk. Seconds, minutes, hours went by. He was just waiting. Waiting for an answer on what to do next. Waiting to live, waiting to die. When the sun went down at last, the shadows of the night surrounded him, tearing what was left of his soul. At that time, he knew that he would never see another day again. That this would be his punishment, his curse, for believing in something better. He had dared to taste happiness and now he would have to live in a world that was no longer his. He had given his heart away and now, it was going down in the cold and wet tomb with Castiel's corpse. A few months in paradise, for a lifetime in the darkness.