-Disclaimer: I Own Nothing-

Alright, just a few notes:

1. This is intended as a one-shot, although I do have ideas as to what may come after.

2. Destiel? I'm undecided. Let me know what you think.

3. Just a warning that my writing style isn't for everyone, I like to try and experiment with my writing. If you notice any mistakes or anything please let me know. I have edited it about a dozen times now and have gotten sick of reading my own writing, so it's more than possible that there may be mistakes.

4. Essentially, this is my vaguely educated guess at what I can see happening towards the end of season 7 (which naturally means there is no chance of this actually happening). So you probably need to know a couple of things that precede this scene. Firstly, for several reasons I dispute that Dick is the top of the leviathan hierarchy and that whoever is at the top is still in Jimmy/Cas' meatsuit (If you'd like me to explain why I think this, I am happy to). So basically, because I am crap at coming up with mythology stuff, I skipped the bit where they managed to 'exorcise' the big bad boss from Cas and send the leviathans all back to purgatory. I'm guessing there is some kind of ritual, possibly involving ravioli, the seeds from an endangered south uruguayan strain of horseradish, a couple of condiments, a semi-precious stone or otherwise rare kind of rock, some blood, bones, sweat, tears... I have no idea.

Anyway, the 'exorcism' or whatever you want to call it has left Cas extremely damaged. This is where I begin.

Please enjoy, or not, your choice.

Castiel collapsed in a bloodstained heap.

They had done it - again. The world was saved. The leviathans were gone.

The shotty clattered to the ground. Forgotten.

Dean dropped to his knees beside Castiel's limp form.

'Cas?' He whispered, a hand hovering over his curled shoulder.

Nothing.

'Cas?' This time louder. He squeezed his shoulder gently.

Nothing.

'Come on, man. Don't do this, not after everything.'

A flutter of the eyelids.

It was enough for Dean.

'Cas, wake up.'

A stern order that suggested consequences was it not followed promptly.

Castiel clambered back into consciousness, fighting back at the darkness creeping in.

'Dean.'

A barely audible affirmation that he was still there - one that both of them needed to hear.

Dean slid down the cold concrete wall next to him. Partly from relief, mostly from exhaustion.

The scent of stale urine mixed with alcohol-infused vomit reached its potent fingertips from a nearby stairwell.

'I'm here, Cas.'

Castiel's breathing was laboured, it was difficult to speak but he had to get it out, 'Dean…I'm sorry - for everything. I –'

'It's ok, Cas. There's no need to apologise.'

'No, there is, Dean.' He opened his eyes for a moment, just long enough to beg Dean not to interrupt. 'I'm an idiot, you were right… I should never have… I should've known… I'm sorry.'

'You were only doing what you thought was right.'

Cas was quiet for a moment. How quickly his friend's opinions could swing from one extreme to another.

'"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions…" You of all people should know that.'

Dean struggled to find a response. He changed the subject.

'We did ok didn't we? I mean, it's over now, things can go back to normal.' He thought for a moment and joked, 'Or, y'know, whatever our normal is.'

Castiel did not answer.

'So Heaven must be in a real state, huh? You gonna have to fix it again?'

'Dean…'

Dean looked down at him - forced himself to really look for the first time.

There was no real damage, just a few cuts and bruises. Most of the blood was not even his. Cas probably just needed to rest, and then he would right as rain.

At least, that is what Dean told himself.

'Dean,' Castiel repeated. 'You and Sam are going to do what you always do.'

'And you, Cas? I'm not going to let you just disappear on us again. Look at what happened last time we didn't hear from you for a year.'

'Dean…' Cas stopped, unsure of how to continue. 'Dean, I don't think I'm –'

Dean realised then that he had known for some time what Cas' fate would be in all of this. In fact, he thought, Cas had signed his own death sentence the moment he made that deal with Crowley.

'Cas, don't you dare…'

'I'm not afraid of death. Non-existence isn't harmful. To suggest that it could be is plainly illogical.'

Dean closed his eyes. 'Cas, you're family. I'm not going to let you die.'

'It's not up to you, Dean. I'm sorry.'

Dean clenched his jaw. Castiel's calmness annoyed him.

'Would you stop apologising?'

He looked back at Castiel's forlorn shape and sighed inwardly, guilt settling itself uncomfortably somewhere deep in his gut. He wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him into a rough embrace.

'Dean…take care of yourself, and Sam.'

Dean could not bring himself to look at Cas. Instead, he concentrated on examining the pipe-work on the ceiling, forcing his eyes to stay dry.

'Dean?' Sam stood in the doorway, his face marred with concern.

A tear ran escaped and ran down his cheek.

Damn it.

'It's fine, Sam. Just…get the stuff. I'll meet you outside.'

Sam hesitated, unwilling to leave.

'Go.'

Sam nodded and hoisted the duffle bag onto his shoulder before leaving, but not without a backwards glance.

'It's ok, Dean.' Castiel's voice was fainter now. He was motionless asides from his lips slowly, deliberately forcing out the words, without the breath to support them.

Another tear rolled out.

'It's not 'ok', Cas. None of this is 'ok'. It never is.'

He pressed his forehead hard against Castiel's, as though maybe the pressure would stop the tears struggling out from between his lids.

Castiel's lips twitched, 'Dean – personal space…remember?'

Dean tried to laugh. Honest to God, he did. His grin became an anguished grimace as tears slid down his face and dripped from the tip of his nose.

'Cas, you're a bloody imbecile, you know that?'

There was no answer.