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He was just pouring himself another glass of whiskey when Castiel walked in. Balthazar was slightly confused, because he had left the bunker with Sam, Dean, and Janette in tow. It didn't help that Cas looked, for the most part, sad. The darker man leaned against a table, his eyes avoiding Balthazar's at all cost.

"There was a problem during the hunt," the fallen angel began.

"And," the blond prompted. Dark blue eyes met the almost silver gaze.

"The vampires we were after killed Janette," Cas finished. "I tried to bring her back, but it was no use."

Balthazar stared at his brother, his mind refusing to accept what he had just heard. Janette couldn't be dead. She was a skilled hunter. There's no way she was bested by a bunch of vampires. Hell, she wipes out a troop of demons by herself once before.

"Castiel, this better be your attempt at tricking me," he warned. "If so, I'm going to fucking kill you. Janette is more than skilled enough to wipe them out."

"I wish it were, Balthazar," the other man replied. "I couldn't believe it either. But I speak only the truth. They ambushed her, and drained her of every drop of blood. They had no intentions of turning her. Simply killing her." The Brit shook his head.

"No," he whispered harshly. "You're lying, dammit. Or mistaken." Cas's gaze never wavered. "No. It can't be. Not my Janette. She would have been more careful. She wouldn't have walked into a ambush. You must be mistaken." Cas reached for the glass as Balthazar sunk to the floor.

"Balthazar, I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Castiel, please, she can't be dead," the heart-broken man pleaded. "She's my everything. Please, tell me this is just some cruel prank Gabriel is pulling. Tell me she's sitting in the Impala waiting on her cue to walk in." When his brother turned his stare away, tears formed in Balthazar's eyes. "She can't be. I need her. She can't be dead!"

"We brought her body back," Castiel muttered. "Sam and Dean wanted to go ahead and burn her remains, but I felt you deserved to say goodbye."

Balthazar bolted for the door. Part of him wanted to see for himself, to prove that Castiel wasn't lying. But another part wanted to stay away, to go one believing that she was fine and simply left to go straight to another hunt. His hand fumbled with the door knob, his mind clouded with panic. The door finally opened, and he stepped out, spotting the black sedan instantly. He ran to the vehicle, praying that she was simply napping in the back seat.

His eyes spotted the blood before he even opened the door.

The world seemed to stop as his gaze landed on her face. Her eyes, the color of well aged whiskey, stared without seeing. Her flame red hair was matted with her own blood, much to his horror. Her lips were blue beneath the pale pink lip gloss, and her skin was that horrible grey that indicated Death had taken her. He reached for her limp hand, and found it cold to the touch.

A broken sob tore it's way from his throat while his heart shattered. He gathered her in his arms, the deep red liquid staining his clothes, but he didn't care. He sank to the ground, his back supported by the car, his cries echoing in the garage.

This was never supposed to happen. She had reassured him time and time again that she was more than careful when she went on a hunt. He had watched her, saw how hyper-vigilant she was. He was sure that she would know an ambush when she saw one, and that she wouldn't blindly walk into one. Guilt flooded him, and he screamed his grief. He should have never let her go on that hunt. He should have made her stay by his side. Then she would be alive, breathing, and warm in his arms.

"I do apologize, Balthazar," a smooth voice stated, and he looked up to see Death standing before him.

"Bring her back," the angel croaked. "Please, I need her. Bring her back, you heartless bastard."

"I'm afraid I can't," the horseman replied. "As you can tell, her body is far too mutilated to support life. Sure, you could heal her, but your powers can only do so much." Balthazar slammed his eyes shut and buried his face in her neck. "She was not afraid, angel. In fact she seemed resigned to her fate. She wanted me to tell you not to worry, that her soul is at peace." Death sighed. "She truly did love you, but felt she was holding you down." The angel lifted his head, resting it against the cool metal behind him.

"Where did her soul go," he inquired.

"Heaven," Death answered. The blond nodded.

"I can go visit," he said, mostly to himself.

"Gotta put her to rest, first," a rough voice called. He turned to see Sam and Dean making their way to him. "We'll handle that. Go, before you do something fucking stupid." The celestial being nodded, releasing his hold on her body as they wrapped a cloth around her.

Then he closed his eyes and let the tears fall once again.

He watched her as she laid in the familiar field. It was the one he had taken her to when she needed a few quiet moments, filled with colorful wild flowers. He knew it didn't matter which day it was specifically, because for her, they were the rare moments where she was simply Janette. His heart clenched at the idea of her heaven being those peaceful moments they shared in the field, both with awe that, in her time of dying, she thought of him, and heartache, because those moments would never happen again.

He thought about calling her name, if only to say goodbye. But he wasn't sure if he could endure walking away again, even though the Winchesters and Cas still needed his help. He couldn't live without her, but there was a large chance that he would have to.

Just get it out of the way, mate.

"Janette," he called softly, taking a hesitant step forward. She raised up on her elbows and turned, a smile gracing his face.

"Balthy," she answered, and he closed the distance between them. "I'm sorry. I was careless. I should have stayed." He smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't ever piss fate off," he countered. "It never ends well. I simply regret that I didn't get to properly say goodbye." She placed a kiss to his cheek, and he swiftly memorized how her lips felt against his skin.

"It's not really goodbye," she soothed. "You can come visit when life gets too hard or lonely. You gave me these wonderful moments. Reliving them for eternity with you is the best heaven anyone could ask for."

If he were anywhere but home, he would have been curled against her, crying all over again.

So, this was inspired by a thing I saw on ifunny. And this is the result. I hope I wasn't too cruel to you guys, but I'm sure you will still enjoy it.

Love always,

Avoline