Ash and soot. It's everywhere. In the air, the water, it's become a part of everything he sees, smells, even tastes. Castiel hasn't been so aware of taste since he was human. The air around them is quiet. Maybe even muffled. Gone are the hums of regular life; there's no longer enough people to sustain the noises of modern society.
Dean coughs, breaking the confining silence. Cas stops walking, quietly pausing to make sure he was OK. Dean had only been getting worse.
Some said the apocalypse would come in flames. Others believed it would be a virus. Most agreed it was going to be the work of the devil. They couldn't have been farther from the truth.
It had been angels, battling each other as though there would be no consequence. Cas had tried to stoop them, but the battle for Heaven was already in motion. Ironically, they hadn't made it to Heaven. They wiped each other out. And a lot of humans too.
What was leftover was devastating. Monsters roamed freely across the Earth and many of the surviving humans were no better. Cas and Dean were always on the defensive.
They'd had to abandon the Impala several months ago when she'd run out of gas for the last time. Dean had struggled not to cry, caressing the hood quietly. A final goodbye. Not just to the car, but to everyone she'd held. His parents. Garth. Kevin.
Sam.
Dean coughs again, pulling Cas back into reality. The coughs continue, Dean bent over with his hands on his knees. Instinctively, Cas moves to grasp Dean's shoulder. Dean moves away, defensive.
"I told you, man," he says hoarsely, "None of that healing mojo."
Seeing the hurt expression in Cas's eyes, Dean stands, moving in closer and trying to reestablish the camaraderie. He sets his hand softly on Castiel's shoulder. A silent apology.
"I hate to see you suffer," Cas says softly, relaxing somewhat to the pressure of Dean's warmth. "I don't want to be alone," he admits, looking away.
Dean looks away, too. "If you'd rather a bullet…"
"No."
It isn't the first time they've had a conversation like this. Ever since they'd killed Gadreel, Dean hadn't been the same. And why would he? Putting an angel blade in his brother's gut had been a high price to pay to end the bloodshed.
Cas swallows, the ash burning his dry throat. "Please."
Dean takes a shuddering breath, not looking at Cas. "Let's just keep going," he croaks, starting to walk. He drags his heavy feet down the path, ash swirling about.
Cas watches Dean's emaciated frame slog forwards, flannel shirt (which now appears several sizes too big) flapping in a breeze. It wouldn't have mattered if food was running low, Dean hadn't been eating much anyway.
Cas refuses to move, waiting, instead, for Dean to stop and call for him. Maybe they can address the issue. Maybe Cas can talk sense into him.
Dean staggers. Stumbles. Collapses to the ground.
There is a rush of air and the sound of wings; Cas is there in a heartbeat, cradling Dean's body in his arms. "Please," he whispers, tears stinging his dry eyes as he tries with all his being to keep from healing Dean.
"What did..I tell you…about…personal space?" Dean wheezes, a lopsided grin on his face. It's too much. A tortured laugh erupts from Cas's chest as tears leak down his cheeks.
Dean's grin fades as the teardrops splatter on his face. "Thank you," he whispers, coughing weakly, "I didn't want…to go…alone."
"I'm here, Dean. I'm watching over you," Cas chokes, pressing Dean closer to his chest. The breaths are getting shorter.
"Sammy…" Dean murmurs, his eyes lighting up for a second before closing. The breathing stops.
Cas sobs wildly, burying his face in Dean's chest, gripping his tattered jacket like a lifeline. "Don't leave me, Dean. You can't leave me."
He holds Dean until nightfall, clutching him until Dean's body grows cold and Cas crows stiff. He knows what he must do next.
The pyre lights up the foggy night sky, but Cas is already gone.