My Final Home as Your Guardian Angel[[AN: This is a short fanfic with a matching fan-edited video. The link for the clip is in the description.]]
I hate lying to him. I hate keeping things from him. I hate it when he looks at me, his green eyes filled with trust and love and all I can do is stand there, unable to say anything. I do it to protect him, but…it never works out. He never understands that the secrecy is my obscure way of showing my love for him. I dislike it when he discovers things I have hidden because he looks so very betrayed. Not this time. This time, I must tell him. I have to tell him I am dying.
(***)
It is noon on September 5th, and he is standing in front of me. I have been waiting for this moment, dreading it.
"I have to tell you something." I say, pretending to fiddle with my cuff. I cannot look at him. I know that if I do, I will not tell him, and he needs to know.
"Yeah, Cas?"
"Dean, I…" I glance up at him despite knowing what will happen. He is looking back at me with bright green eyes, a half-smile stretching across his face. I cannot do it.
"Never mind." I say, an over-protective coward once more.
(***)
It is now September 7th and I am standing in our kitchen. He is nearby. I cannot do this anymore. My vessel is starting to decay, with breathing now a problem for me. I have to use the counter to support myself. I cannot hide it any longer. I feel something warm on my cheek, and I wipe it away hurriedly. I have started to cry.
"Cas? Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asks of me, and I glance down again. No, I tell myself, face it. Face him. It is what he would do. I slowly look back up at him.
"I'm going home, I'm…." I look down again as he strides over to me, "dying." I tear my eyes away from the floor, and the pain and confusion written on his face is something I will never forget.
"No. You can't do that to me. This is your home." I can see the pain in his eyes as he says this, and his face scrunches up, chin quivering. I want to reply, I want to tell him it's alright, but the edges of my world have started to grow black, and his tortured face is the last thing I see before I black out.
(***)
This is it, I tell myself. I'm going home. I know I should be happy, but I can see him now. He has been told I will not survive the next hour, and I can see him through the open door. I am not conscious, but I am there. He just cannot reach me, nor I him. He walks a few more steps before the pain crushes him. This is not what dying is supposed to feel like. I feel sad now, not happy. And I feel worried, because when I finally leave, he will still be grieving, and I will have forgotten the pain. He stops and shakes his head. I can see him trying not to cry. Dean has always been the strongest of us. I don't want this to be the last thing I see, this is not nice. I focus on the better memories, my adventures with him. The times when I was stronger and I protected him. The times when I was the one he came to for guidance because he was lost and he needed help. The times when I had to tell him bad news but it was okay because we had each other. I remember every conversation with him, and I remember our first meeting. I remember his smile, and how it warms my heart. I remember how happy he can look, and how sad. I remember every time I have stood up for him, with him, and sometimes against him, just to keep him safe. I remember when he looked up at me, both physically and mentally injured, and I healed him. I remember every bright moment, every shining beacon of light that ever occurred between us. I remember when he begged me not to leave him, not to hurt him, because he didn't want to lose me. I remember my feigned indifference whenever he got angry with me. I remember regretting this when I was alone, needing him. I remember talking to the nothingness about him, wishing it were him. I remember looking up to find a God and realising that I didn't need one because of Dean. I remember changing for him, and I remember feeling alone. I also remember looking up and seeing him there and knowing that everything was okay. I remember the little things. I remember sitting in the Impala with him, simply talking. I remember being there when he didn't know. I remember his face when he was worried about me. I remember causing destruction for him. I remember being something fierce just so that he was okay. I remember how much it hurt whenever he walked away from me. I remember lying to him about things that I shouldn't have, and I remember thinking everything was okay. I remember seeing his face when he discovered I had lied, and I remember never wanting to see it again. I remember pulling things apart for him, and I remember how he reacted when I did. I remember watching him work without him knowing, and feeling the strongest surge of love and pride that I have ever felt. I remember fighting with him, and I remember his face when he looked at me, betrayed. I remember feeling as though the world was ending whenever I hurt him. I remember feeling less than human at the hands of him. I remember shying away from his accusatory stare. I remember falling in love with him, and I remember the brightness that I felt when I realised that love was not just to be shown to God, but to the one special person who you value above all else. And just as I remember this, I arrive. I am home, and I do not mind. I am not alone, for I have my memories of Dean, and that is all I need for now. I can still be his Guardian Angel, but I can reside here, in my final home.