"Dean, I-"
"I know Cas, it's okay, I know."
"Please, just let me say it."
"..."
"I love you."
"Don't do this to me, not you."
"Can I hear you say it?"
"I...I love you buddy. Ca-
Cas...Castiel! Cas!"
Dean lays there for hours, with Cas in his arms and his angel-wing marks tattooing the ground around him. He doesn't let go even after he drained all the tears from his body that he never cried. All those concealed tears from each death and loss that he had was always pushed down, deeper and deeper, building a well inside of him. The well burst, along with all the anguish and sorrow in each drop.
His hand weakly grasps the wood handle of the knife beside him. Dean stares at his reflection in the gleaming, cold, and beautifully sharp knife that was used to kill who knows how many demons. Will he be using it one last time to kill the worst demon of them all? He leans down and lightly kisses the lifeless Castiel on the forehead. Will he see Cas in heaven?