"Cas? Hey, Cas, man, look at me. Look at me."
The panic-stricken hunter lurched forwards in an effort to catch the angel, who collapsed onto Dean's shoulder as his bloodied up knees buckled, hitting the floor with a sickening 'crunch'.
The angel who had plunged the knife through Castiel's back moments ago had staggered over to the corner of the room, his hands smearing fresh blood onto the weather-worn brick walls as he propped himself up, panting.
Dean glanced up from his collapsed friend and gave his brother an urgent look. Sam took the hint. He strode swiftly over to the angel, a steely and slightly murderous look on his face as he reached for the angel blade hidden underneath his jacket.
Turning away from Sam and the angel, Dean focused his attention on the dying angel. He stroked back the bloody tufts of black hair from his forehead and put a steady hand on Castiel's chest to keep him upright. "Cas?"
The angel didn't reply, instead responding with a pathetic splutter, a trickle of blood making a path down his stubbled chin. The area around his eyes was purple and swollen, with one eye beaten to such a pulp that it was completely closed, but with an open, bloodshot eye he turned his gaze to Dean. His once piercing blue-eyed stare had been reduced to a pleading look that bore into Dean like a dagger.
What do you want me to do? Dean thought frantically, trying to stop his eyes wandering down to the gaping wound in the angel's abdomen from where the point of the knife had pierced the skin. The knife went straight through his back. Thank frigging God it wasn't an angel blade.
Castiel's head dropped forward suddenly, and Dean ignored the clatter of a knife and the unmistakable thump of a body from behind him to reach out and cup the angel's cheeks in his hands. "Come on Cas, heal yourself, you son of a-"
He was broken off by the rasping wheeze that came out of the angel's mouth. "This vessel is weak," Castiel hissed through gritted teeth. To Dean's dismay, Castiel pulled Dean's hand off his cheek and tried to stagger to his feet; he inhaled sharply as pain shot through his upper body, and Dean set his jaw in a grimace as he tried to hold him down. "You're not going anywhere until we get you to a hospital." He attempted to sound authoritative, but his voice cracked unexpectedly with emotion, making him suddenly aware of how desperate he sounded. Focus, goddamnit. This isn't like when Bobby-
Castiel jerked out a hand and clapped it around Dean's wrist, his teeth bared in pain. "No, Dean. I need to go."
"No, wait, Cas, let's think this through, okay?" Dean forced a smile, as if to pretend the situation wasn't as dire as it appeared. Attempting to ignore his sudden light-headedness as a result of the angel's hand on his wrist, he spoke firmly. "You're injured. Your vessel is injured. We need to get you to a human doctor and get you fixed up as soon as possible." What's he playing at? Why isn't he healing himself? Unless he's fresh out of mojo; I've never seen his vessel this battered. He felt his heart pounding in his ribcage as he came to the realisation that something was really wrong.
"Cas?"
The angel turned his gaze to the floor, deliberately avoiding the concern in Dean's eyes, and wincing as he exacerbated a wound on his shoulder. "I'm not… strong enough." He reached backwards with his other hand to Sam, who had emerged from the dark corner of the room and taken several hasty steps forward to support the angel as he struggled to his feet. He didn't let go of Dean's wrist.
"It's taking all of my energy just to keep this vessel's heart beating."
Dean felt like he was daydreaming. "You mean to say," he said slowly, clutching his head sluggishly as he rose to his feet. His vision was swimming; the floor was spinning beneath his feet, and the two figures in front of him seemed miles away. He gulped, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to order his thoughts. "You mean you're giving up on Jimmy Novak?" Was Cas's vessel really so bashed up that he needed a new one? What the hell did that mean for Jimmy?
Dean shook his head viciously. Hell no. He had an idea of where this situation might lead, and he didn't like it one bit. As his head cleared, his brother and the angel came back into focus, along with the muffled reply to Dean's question.
"…not a lot that can be done for Jimmy Novak." Castiel's good eye looked clouded over, whether with the injury or with emotion Dean couldn't tell. It was all too much. Too damn much.
"God's sake, Cas, can't you just zap yourself up to heaven and… I dunno, freshen yourself up? You've done it before, so why not now?"
"I will indeed return to heaven, but merely to see how promptly they can assign me a new vessel." Dean was deeply troubled by the lack of distress in Castiel's voice at this prospect. He stared pointedly at the angel as if willing him to explain, his own eyes narrowing in confusion.
Castiel looked directly at Dean. "If my true form escapes this broken vessel, then you will most certainly die."
As if I didn't know that already. "But- a new vessel? Seriously, Cas, is that the only choice you have?"
Castiel's face hardened. "I am hardly laden with options here, Dean. If I do not leave this vessel then it is extremely likely that it will crack and shatter." Dean's eyes fell on the stab wound. He wasn't sure if it was his bashed-up head playing tricks on him, but there was an unmistakeable blue-white glow around the wound – and not just there, either. The bloodstains – of which there were many - on the angel's white shirt, trenchcoat and trousers were tinted with an eerie blue cracks were showing.
Dean felt his face crumpling, and he didn't bother disguising the fact that there were now tears in his eyes. This is wrong. Words came to his mind, and he opened his mouth as if to talk, but no sound came out.
Castiel loosened his grip on Dean's arm, his face contorted in a determined grimace. "I'll be back, Sam and Dean." Without looking directly at Dean, he mumbled "Please don't trouble yourself with worry about me. I will be fine." He let his hand slip down Dean's arm, allowing their hands to touch for a short moment, before retracting his fingers and stepping backwards.
Dean would have laughed if he'd had the energy. Worry about Cas? That's all I ever do. He was aware of several tears escaping down his grimy cheek, but he ignored it, instead searching Castiel's face for any sign of emotion.
It was his eyes that gave it away.
"I advise you to stand back," Castiel barked gruffly, staggering backwards, his arms flailing as he broke away from the separate grips of the two hunters.
Dean was now fully aware that this was goodbye, but he was too stunned to react. Part of him wanted to reach out to the angel; tell him not to go, tell him he was sorry, tell him- what? Tell him what, jackass? That you need him? That the sight of his goddamn trenchcoat and scruffy hair is enough to make me set down my goddamn whisky bottle and get out there into the goddamn world and-
Castiel stopped in his tracks and stood bolt upright. His gaze fell upon Dean, who was fighting the urge to run over to the angel. Again, Dean opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words to describe his thoughts. He just stood there pathetically, looking on in horror as the angel was enveloped in a startlingly white light that was reminiscent of a spotlight.
"CLOSE YOUR EYES." Castiel practically shouted the command, but Sam and Dean didn't need to be reminded.
The light intensified, and with their eyes squeezed shut, Sam and Dean were knocked to the floor by what seemed to have been a small explosion. Dean was the first one to open his eyes, and when he did, the sight that greeted him rendered him incapable of speech, of thought, of breathing. With his heart caught in his mouth, it was that moment that Dean knew that things were never going to be the same again.
Where the angel had been standing, a scorched, bloody piece of clothing had been left lying on the floor.
The trenchcoat.