"God,… I… God, help them."
Castiel stood in front of a wall with the sigil painted in the blood. Everything was ready, all he had to do was say the spell. He looked down at the words scribbled onto the piece of paper. It was so simple, just a few words and he would save the world. but he knew that this was the end. He knew that when he said the last word, everything would come crashing down.
He thought back, to when everything seemed a little better. When all he cared about was Sam and Dean. When all he was trying to so was God's word. What had happened? What changed? Oh, yes, I did, he thought. He sighed and sat down. Even now, he felt laden with the weight of the world. With the memory of all the friends he'd lost. Anna, Balthazar, Gabriel and scores of comrades and allies. All lost to something that seemed so trivial right now. All lost to a simple argument. How had he cut the thread without even knowing it?
He didn't have much time, but he didn't care. All the time on the world could pass, but he wouldn't be able to correct the wrong he'd done. Be it with Sam, Dean, or Bobby, he knew he could never go back to them, and that realization cut him to his very soul. Huh, soul. What a lovely grave he dug because of that one simple word. Pure energy that he had craved for with such good intention, now, he just craved for.
He sighed and stood up, turning to the wall. Now was the time he supposed. He begun chanting the spell and as he finished, the wall begun to crack and a hole appeared. He was bathed in a soft light and what he saw amazed him for a moment.
He stood at the precipice of a cliff, staring out onto what seemed to be an ocean, but he knew that they were a mass of souls. The souls of Purgatory.
He tried not to lose his demeanor of calmness, but even he felt a gut-wrenching swirl of fear as they came for him, searching for a vessel.
Just before they touched him, a single tear left him and…
Dean, im sorry.