Cas was dying.
The phrase echoed over and over again, a mantra in Dean's mind.
Cas was dying.
There was no going around it, no other angle, no angel mumbo jumbo to fix it. Dean couldn't save him this time.
Cas was dying.
Sam shook his shoulder. "We have to go." he said. "Dean, come on! We have to leave now. What's wrong with you?" Dean blinked. He blinked again. Shook his head. Dean picked up his gun, and started towards the door. "Cas..." he mumbled.
"He's in the car already, Dean. Now let's go." They ran. Sam, from the bomb they had attached to the corpse, Dean from what the angel, no, angel of death, had whispered in his ear. When they got to the Impala, Dean told Sam to drive, saying something about bandages. He sat in the backseat, telling Castiel to move over. Sam hesitated, staring at Dean, before getting in the driver seat and taking them to the was silent the entire way there, despite both Cas and Sam asking him what was wrong on the way. They soon fell silent however, when he refused to respond. They sat in silence the rest of the way.
Cas was dying.
-oOo-
Dean was dying.
Castiel didn't know what to do, so he just thought.
Dean was dying.
There was no demon to make a deal with, none of his powers would work.
Dean was dying.
And so was he. Cas was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about that either. He didn't mind. He had died many times. The only difference was, this time he would stay dead. But that was okay. The problem was, if he died, Dean did too. He wouldn't have Cas to kill the cancer at night after night while he slept. Dean didn't know. It just kept coming back. So Cas just kept killing it, every night, until he would succeeded in killing it entirely, something that wouldn't happen, unless he was very lucky. But Castiel knew better than that. Luck was something given, something you had to earn, a favor from a djinn. The originals, that was. Deal was, you save their life, do a good deed, or defeat a great evil, and they give you three wishes. The story books weren't wrong, per say, just outdated. If you knew their lore, you would ask for luck. They would take it from someone else, and give it to you. They didn't do life and death, or love, or money, not directly, anyway. But most had no problem giving circumstances a shove in the right direction, such as putting a giant rock three feet in the air above someone. Only problem was, they were dead. All of them. With the angel uprising, came many… unpleasant changes with some of the native species. One of them being: instead of relying on their inner fire and natural energy in the environment, they relied on blood. Human blood. "Well," they thought, "we can just poof some up, right? Rob a blood bank, get some energy, then make our own from that point on. It will be fine!" Until they realized that that didn't work either. They could put people in comas, however. Make them think they got their wish. Drain their blood. The old ones died out, refusing to do this. The remainders became more savage, more terrible. Monsters. Story had it, however, that there were still a few of the old ones, living in small communities, who had, when the horribleness had began to spread, very quickly gotten each other to wish to be immortal, untouched by this disease, and protected from humans. They knew it would not be long before they were hunted like their former brethren.
So. Cas was going to find them. And he was going to wish for good luck, for himself, for Dean, and for Sam. They were all he had left.
Cas left the bunker with a flutter of wings.
Dean was dying, and Cas was going to save him.
-oOo-
Dean heard the flutter of wings in the other room, signaling Castiel's departure. He got up, and went to find Sam. He checked his room, before finding him in the kitchen, making a bag of popcorn. He was probably going to pitch movie night, again.
But Cas was dying.
So he told him, in a gruff voice "Cas is dying."
Sam dropped his popcorn.
-oOo-
Cas slammed down in front of the Mathews library. A furtive glance over his shoulder confirmed that no one had seen. He walked through the front doors, passing the book returns. A woman was exchanging the cart for an empty one.
Castiel like human libraries. They were quiet, a good place to think. It didn't hurt that he loved reading. He looked at the books nearest to him.
Not today.
He walked over to the restrooms, where one of many small, blue, abstract statues was. He tapped it on the top. A librarian at the desk gave him a funny look. He smiled at her. He went upstairs, to the research and teen sections. (He didn't know why it was arranged like that, he would have thought the two would be as far apart as possible. The planner must have had a sense of humor.) He stopped between the two matching abstracts, patting each on the top. Then he waited. A sizzling noise and some singed hair later, and he was inside the djinn lair. The same librarian who had given him a funny look from the front desk was there. She started towards him, obviously ready to attack if needed. Cas opened his mouth. "I-" his voice broke, and he closed it again.
"I'm an angel." he said in a small voice. She flinched and shrunk back.
"And I need your help." She stood up a bit straighter.
-oOo-
"Nothing." a harsh statement. "There is nothing we can do." said Dean bitterly.
"Nothing." Sam repeated quietly. "He's going to..." he trailed off. "Shit."
"Basicly."
-oOo-
"My… friend… Dean, he's… he's dying."
"We can't change death."
"I aware of your limitations. I am also aware of your capabilities. I know you can stop and heal cancer."
"This is true. Who is it that owes you a wish here?"
"Phillipia. Brown hair, about this tall?" he said, gesturing at chest height. "She is young." The woman flinched.
"Phillipa is not here." she said harshly. "She is dead."
"How did she die? I don't understand." said Castiel, concerned for the child.
"Hunters." A sharp, almost inhuman, sound.
"O- oh. I am sorry for your loss."
"What was his name again? Your friend?"
"Dean."
"Winchester? I know someone who owes him a wish."
"Really? Who?" Castiel said, his hope returning.
"I lied." she said, "He killed my daughter. He killed Phillipa" she hissed out, and lunged.
-oOo-
Cas is dead.
Thought Dean. He thought it every day. He turned to Sam in the passenger seat.
"Cas is dead." he said. Sam sighed.
"I know Dean. I know."
-oOo-
"Cas is dead." whispered Dean to the window. Steely, impenetrable, unbreakable, impossible Cas. Dead. He turned to Sam in the drivers seat. "My head hurts. Why are you driving?"
"I know Dean. We are going to the drug store for migraine pills, remember?"
"Right."
-oOo-
"Cas is dead." said Dean to the wall. His Cas. His beautiful, wonderful, perfect Cas. Dead. He turned to Sam from his bed at the hospital. They had fought about going.
"Cas is dead." he repeated.
"I know Dean."
-oOo-
"Cas is dead." Dean croaked to the nurse who gave him his pills.
"I know sweetheart. Open wide." he did. She put two pills on his tongue and walked out of the room. He spit them on the floor.
"Cas is dead." he whispered hoarsely at them.
-oOo-
"Sam?"
"Yeah, Dean?" visiting hours were almost over. He would have to leave soon.
"I never told him."
"Told him what, Dean?"
"Who?"
"Cas."
"Who's that?"
Sam sighed. He couldn't do this again.
"No one, Dean. Go back to sleep."
"Okay."
-oOo-
"Cas is dead" said Gabriel from behind Sam.
"So is Dean." he replied, not looking away from the twin graves. Dean and Castiel Winchester.
"Fuck."
"Basically."
-oOo-
Sam sighed.
He was alone.
Again.
-oOo-
Well that was fun to write :')
I completely forgot to post this after I wrote it, I am so sorry! It took an entirely separate angst war for a different fandom to remind me, so whoops!
EDIT: shoutout to for being the worst and deleting all my dividers and extra returns :^) I got the dividers back but it seems this reruns are not making a comeback, so sorry! apologies to those who had issues and shoutout to GraceMotley for bringing it to my attention! Thanks!