He's my angel.
That was the only thought going through his head as he watched the arrows of flames shoot through the sky. Angels, plunging. Falling. After everything he'd been through it seemed he could fathom what was happening right there in front of him.
He's my angel.
It wasn't like Castiel was a pet. He was a gift. Dean never realized that before. Not until he heard someone praying a few days before, begging for heaven to send them a sign. Not until he realized not everyone had an angel, and so many wanted one.
She wanted a sign.
Well, this was one hell of a sign.
He cradled Sam's head and watched as heaven rained fire upon them.
One splashed into the water nearby. Surely he was dead. But death held little meaning for him these days. Purgatory was more frightening. Were they now living in purgatory? How would he protect Sam if he had to keep running?
And where was Cas?
"What's happening?" Sam asked again, and Dean could only pull him closer, his wide eyes fixed on the amazing sight before him.
"Cas," he whispered. "Oh, god." He always felt empty when Castiel was gone. It wasn't anything he could explain. The relief he felt every time the angel came back was disturbing. Those days after purgatory, the time he thought Cas was dead, he couldn't do that again. He couldn't let him down again.
He couldn't let Sam down again.
"Dean?"
"Angels are falling, Sam," he said quietly.
And he held his little brother.