Title: Play My Song

Rating: R

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Genre: Angst, character death (non-canon), fallen!Castiel

Spoilers: none

Warnings: discussion of life threatening diseases, some unpleasant descriptions, swearing, possibly ideologically sensitive.

Word count: 15.219

Summary: Three years after the world doesn't end, Dean and Castiel's life strikes tragedy once again. The ex-angel falls victim to a life threatening disease, and Dean must come to terms that a guardian angel can't always be there for you.

A/N: "To Where You Are" belongs to Josh Groban, Castiel and Dean belong to Kripke, and my own twisted story comes from me. Who'da thunk? Anyway, this is a drama, a very sad drama. Please don't kill me for this, and if you cry, please forgive me. COMMENTS ARE LOVE!

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Yeah Doc? How is he holding up?"

"We have him resting as of right now, Dean, but there is something I need to discuss with you…"

"… shoot."

"Dean, we did a full analysis of his condition, and it does not yield positive results."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Please do not get defensive with me, Mr. Winchester. We're doing the best we can."

"… fine. Then what the hell's wrong with him?"

"Our test results reveal that he is suffering from advanced stages of pancreatic carcinoma."

"…"

"Dean… Castiel has cancer of the pancreas. We do not know what has caused this occurrence; he does not fall under standard criteria for a candidate, but we did a full check and determined that he has been suffering acute signs for almost six months."

"Is it… treatable?"

"Dean… this is what we need to discuss. Acute symptoms of this disease have been prominent for the past several months, but from what we can see of the spread of the disease, he's had this for nearly three years. He's well beyond the earliest stages of the disease progression. Had we have found this when he first contracted the illness, he would have had a chance for surgery."

"So that's it? You're just gonna let him get worse without even trying?"

"Dean there is nothing we can do for him. The cancer has spread from his pancreas to many of his other organs; there isn't even a reliable way to remove the mass without damage to anything vital."

"… how long?"

"At best, we give him six months to a year. We could try sending him to a cancer clinic out of state but there are no guarantees."

"He'd never do it. Being locked up like that."

"That is the only other option I can give you. I'll let you two discuss for yourselves, but at most all we could do is make him as comfortable as possible until then."

"Fine… can I go see him now?"

"Yes, he is awake at this time."

"Yeah ok…"

"Dean… I'm sorry. I really am."

"I'm sorry too…"

It wasn't going to be any apocalyptic war that claimed him; an epic end to his life. It was probably one of the most humiliating, debilitating diseases he could contract. Dean couldn't believe that after all they had been through together; Castiel was going to die by one of nature's own curses. And it wasn't like there was any fucking thing they could do about it.

Pancreatic cancer. It wasn't any way for an ex-Angel of the Lord to die. Castiel deserved at best to die in battle, defending what he truly believed in. It was a cruel twist of fate that everything he had worked to defend, and then finally fell for, was going to kill him three years after his final sacrifice for humanity; for Dean.

Sam had mocked the two in good faith after the world didn't end, for becoming so sickeningly domestic. Of course, feelings for each other had grown noticeably between the two of them during the whole ordeal, and in the final battle with Lucifer, Castiel gave it his all, ultimately wasting away his grace and fell to humanity. But they had succeeded. They stopped the end of the world!

Of course it had taken a bit of time for Castiel to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer an angel; being cut off completely, fallen to humanity had weighed heavily on him, but the weight of the impending Apocalypse on their shoulders being gone meant that Dean could finally open up to Castiel and express his feelings; oh, what a relief it had been! The moment the words left his lips, he knew he had made the right choice, and the relief-washed kiss the ex-angel had swept him into sealed this promise in his heart.

Apocalypse averted, Lucifer sealed to the pit and the angels finally gone from their lives allowed them to breath, and with this promise of love between them, Castiel and Dean worked to make a life for themselves. They settled down together, Dean taught Cas everything he needed to know to fully assimilate into human society, they loved each other unconditionally… just as they dreamed they would.

Of course hunts were still present in their lives, but these became lesser cases that did not consume their day-to-day lives. Castiel found a job working for a library in the small town they settled in and Dean took up work at the local garage. Yes, it was sickeningly domestic, but it was everything they had wanted out of life, and they were more than pleased with this. Wake in the morning, go about their work days, reunite at home over meal, spend the evening together however they saw fit. Sometimes it was a movie, sometimes just an evening of inane conversation and idle time alone… but most of the time their evenings would end in their copulation before drifting off to sleep to await the next day.

One small aspect of interest that caught Castiel's attention was indeed music, but much to Dean's dismay, it wasn't the rock and roll of his own liking, but classical music. One day in the car found them with clear access to only one radio station; a classical mix station that had Dean seeing stars. Just as he had reached for the knob to turn off the radio, Cas' hand stayed his the moment a piano prelude caught his attention.

"Dean, wait…" he said, staring intently at the lighted face of the Impala's radio.

Dean tried his best to ignore the music at first, but the moment a young male's voice lilted from the speakers, he couldn't help but look over to his lover for confirmation. The look of utter relaxation and adoration that masked Cas' face was enough to melt even the heart of Dean, and he relaxed back into the leather seat and listened.

Who can say for certain
Maybe you're still here
I feel you all around me
your memories so clear…

Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
you're still an inspiration

Can it be?
That you are mine
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above…

It was then that Dean realized that there were tears in Castiel's eyes. The ex-angel 's eyes were glued to the road before them as he listened, trickles of sorrow running from those beautiful blue eyes that Dean loved so much.

"Cas?" He asked tentatively, turning the radio down. "Cas, what's wrong?"

Castiel responded with nothing more than a shake of his head, and he turned the knob back up, surreptitiously wiping the tears from his face with the sleeve of his hand-me-down hoodie and glancing out the side window without a word.

Dean never asked again why the song had touched Castiel so, but he had a pretty good idea. It reminded him of his old home. He had to admit, the man's voice was beautiful, nearly angelic, and he let it go without protest. On the day they dubbed as Castiel's birthday, Dean presented his lover with a brand new Josh Groban CD that song highlighted for him. Dean never forgot the look of gratitude on Castiel's face, and even grew to love that song as well as it played again and again within their home, the sounds of heaven filling the void in his heart that Dean knew he could never fully heal.

The day the symptoms began, the two had been out together, spending a Saturday afternoon at the park. Dean remembered it with bitter clarity. All the morning, Castiel had seemed a bit lethargic and not altogether his usual self. He had overslept, which was not like him at all, even on weekends, and he hardly touched a thing to eat besides a cup of lukewarm tea he had made for himself. Dean knew something was up when Cas didn't even think about playing the CD as he got ready for the day, and decided to try and cheer up his lover with a visit to the park.

"It's a nice day out, and you've been trapped indoors all week." He had replied to Cas' inquiry for their venture, smiling brightly at him. Castiel only replied with a shrug of the shoulders and resumed morning clean-up in the kitchen. After Dean finished his cup of coffee and a quick wash of the dishes, the two were on their way.

At the park, Dean and Cas spent their time simply taking a low paced stroll, watching the others around them; children at play, a man throwing a Frisbee for his dog, girls talking excitedly on their cell phones, general park behavior. But this time, Cas wasn't even paying attention. He simply stared at the ground as he walked, his fingers loosely twined with Dean's.

"Want an ice cream, Cas?" Dean asked, hoping to quell the funk his lover was in with his favorite treat. He frowned when Cas shook his head, looking up at him with dull eyes.

Dull eyes. This was entirely unusual. Cas' eyes always shone brightly, no matter the time of day. Dean had always boasted that his partner's eyes could light up the room he entered. But now they barely gleamed in the sunlight, the whites partially bloodshot. Dean finally began to get a connection. The listlessness, the blood shot eyes, the lack of appetite.

"You don't look so hot, Cas. You feeling ok?" Dean asked, pressing his fingers lightly to his forehead. The skin was slightly warm and clammy, and he bit his inner cheek worriedly. "You must be coming down with something. Let's just go home." Dean replied finally, wrapping an arm around Cas' shoulders.

Cas graciously nuzzled into his embrace, resting his fevered cheek again his shoulder as they walked. "Thank you Dean. I-I'm sorry I did not make the day as eventful as you had liked…" he apologized, looking a bit downtrodden for disappointing his lover.

"Hey, hey it's ok, Cas. You can't help when you're sick." Dean replied, kissing the top of his head as he steered him back to the car. Cas nodded slightly, wrapping his arm around Dean's waist, closing his eyes with a sigh.

Cas always hated being sick. It was one of the few human traits he despised, but then again no one liked being sick so it was understandable. Upon arrival, Dean opened the passenger door and gently deposited Cas into the seat before running his fingers through his hair and closing the door gently. He trotted over to the driver's side and climbed in, starting the car immediately.

As he drove home, he kept sending sidelong glances to Castiel, frown deepening in concern. Cas never got this sick so quickly, even in his fallen state; watching him press his forehead to the cool glass for any sort of comfort was disconcerting at best. "Don't worry, Cas we'll be home soon."

When the nausea and vomiting began, Dean played it off as a bad flu, secretly hoping it would pass soon. He would never admit it, but seeing Castiel so sick bothered him. It made him feel that there was something more he could be doing to help him. But for the moment, all he could do was be there for him and keep him as comfortable as possible to ward off the bug.

But it didn't pass. The illness stretched on for days, keeping the poor man bedridden almost around the clock. Dean called Castiel in sick from work, and he himself took off days to keep an eye on him. He tried every remedy he could think of, to no avail. Dry toast, tea, everything he made to try and keep Castiel nourished came up violently and frequently. Dean had an inane thought of Castiel sleeping in the bathroom at one point, but pushed it from his mind, annoyed with himself for such a careless thought. Cas needed him to pay attention, not joke around.

Now, Dean stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his hip resting against the frame as he watched the ex-angel toss and turn in fitful slumber. His dark hair was nearly black and ringing with sweat, plastered to his forehead as a flush ran across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Dean swallowed hard, biting his lip. If this kept up… he didn't even want to think about it. But if Cas didn't start getting better soon, he was going to have to take him to get professional help.

As Dean watched the ex-angel sleeping, a thought occurred to him. Cas hadn't listened to his song in awhile… Smiling slightly, Dean strode silently across the room to the stereo and hit the play button, turning the volume down low as the CD within whirred to life.

As the first notes left the speakers quietly, Dean turned to find Castiel settling finally, a small contented sigh escaping him as he buried himself further into the blankets. Small victory on his side, Dean smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. The hunter ran his fingers through the sweaty locks, cupping his cheek gently. The heat radiating from Cas was almost burning to the touch, but he was at least relieved to see that he was sleeping a bit more peacefully.

Cas moaned softly, nuzzling into the palm as he lay there. "Dean…" he mumbled, one cold hand reaching up to take Dean's.

The hunter smiled and threw caution to the wind, lying next to him to wrap protective arms around him. Cas drifted back to sleep, bareback pressed against Dean's chest as he settled into the warm embrace. As they lay together, Dean pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of Cas' neck, running soothing fingertips over his stomach and chest. "I got you, Cas…"

It was nearly a week before Castiel started showing any signs of recovery. Dean was a hair's breadth away from calling the hospital, when one day Cas opened his fevered eyes and sat up, albeit with some difficulty. "Dean?" he called in a rather raspy voice, the weeklong fit of nausea having rubbed his throat raw.

Within seconds, Dean was in the bedroom and by his side, running fingertips over his forehead. "Hey… h-hey you feeling any better?" he said tentatively, catching the break of worry in his voice.

Cas nodded, still looking a bit disoriented. "I think so…" he replied, trying to stand.

Dean immediately pushed him back into a sitting position. "No way, dude. You just spent a week barfing your guts up. I think you need to take a break."

"But what about work? I've been off of work for a week?" he asked, incredulous. He looked a bit ashamed at this revelation.

"Cas, I said don't worry about it. I called them and told them you were really sick. They were very understanding. I promise." Dean said firmly, wrapping his arms around Cas and cradling his head in the crook of his own neck. He smiled, feeling the tired yet satisfied kiss that Cas planted to his neck, and he threaded his fingers into the soft hairs. "Glad to see you're getting better…" he said finally, relief filling his heart. However, as he sat with Castiel, holding him gently, he couldn't help but feel a sort of nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Dean pushed it from his mind, just glad to have Castiel in his arms.

It became clear that Castiel never fully got over his weeklong plight. He never got over the lethargy, even weeks after the incident, and he still had bouts of weak nausea that caught him off guard once in awhile. But all in all, he was much more functional and went back to work a few days after his bout, although for the longest time, Dean called him on his breaks every day to check up on him.

It took almost three months for Dean to notice anything remotely different aside from Cas' lingering side effects. The first hint: Cas stopped taking a lunch with him to work. Granted, Cas didn't eat as much as the next person anyway, but he always ate at least fruit or some sort of confectionary before work and took a small sack lunch with him so he wouldn't have to spend money at the local deli. Perhaps the hunter thought the angel was on some sort of diet, but it didn't make sense to him. Cas wouldn't diet, he never had the need to, being as slight a person as he was. He made a mental note to talk to Sam about his influences on healthy eating over his boyfriend and left it at that.

Dean didn't understand why he didn't notice it before, but one day he watched Cas nearly throw up on the kitchen floor when Dean decided to make him a cup of coffee before he went to the library, and decided that maybe things weren't as well off as he thought. "Cas?" Dean yelped, wide eyed as he saw Cas gag violently at the smell of the coffee and ran from the room, a shaking hand clasped over his mouth.

Dean nearly dropped the mug in transit to placing it on the counter and dashed after him. But when no sounds of retching reached his ears, Dean slotted back into total confusion. Cas was leaning against the far way, his forehead pressed against the cool wall as he panted heavily, hand clasped over his abdomen. Dean took a tentative step forward, reaching out to touch Castiel's shoulder. "Cas? Cas are you ok?"

Castiel finally looked up, swallowing hard as he turned and looked at Dean. He gave him a weak smile, shaking his head. "I-I'm fine… I just… I won't be drinking any coffee for a long time…"

"I dunno what to tell you, man. You're just going to have to take him to the doctor and figure out what's wrong with him."

Dean looked up from the scoot board he was laying on, pulling himself out from under the Impala. He rubbed his face tiredly, subsequently wiping a smear of grease onto his cheek. "I know, Sammy. I've been trying to think of what the hell could be wrong with him, but… I dunno nothing's making sense. Its not the flu, because I highly fucking doubt a bug like that would last over five months."

Sam grinned slightly, rubbing his chin as he leaned unhelpfully against the side of the Impala. "Hey did you ever make him pee on the stick? Maybe he's pregnant." He joked, making a friendly jab at his older brother's sex life.

Dean held the wrench threateningly out at Sam, scowling. "I'll end you. I'm serious, Sam, I'll shove this wrench so far up your nose it'll kill you. Blood and death, my friend."

Sam laughed, crossing his arms. "Damn you're defensive. Alright, alright I'm sorry."

Dean sighed, sitting up to crack his spine briefly. "I know man it's just… I mean you saw him when you came in. He looks like death warmed over. I mean I walked in on him after he got out of a shower and I could see ribs. He's losing weight way too fucking fast; he doesn't eat anymore. Hell, I would have blamed you for making him try out a special diet if I didn't see him make a mad dash to the bathroom five minutes after he eats toast."

Sam sighs, nodding. "Well thanks for the vote of confidence." He shakes his head, looking down at Dean where he sat on the scoot board. "We'll figure this out, we always do." With that, Sam sat next to his older brother, resting the back of his head against the body of the Impala.

Dean turned to say something to Sam, when from inside the house, the two brothers heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Dean jumped, staring in the direction of the garage door as Sam got to his feet. "What the fuck…"

Sam never saw Dean move so fast in his life. The older Winchester was on his feet in a matter of seconds and bolting for the door. He followed quickly, dashing for the source of the breaking glass.

The two brothers found the source, alright. The kitchen floor was littered with the shattered remains of two dinner plates, the glass strewn across the tile, and amongst the debris laid a horrifying sight.

"C-Cas?" Sam gasped, staring at the motionless form lying on the floor. Castiel lay on his side, his arms completely limp, lying amongst the broken glass. He had passed out in the middle of putting the dishes away, and from what the two brothers could see, he was barely breathing.

"Cas!" Dean yelped, running over and dropping down next to him. What he saw made him gag.

Puss colored bile and stringy coagulations of blood ran from the ex-angel's mouth, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he twitched sporadically. Strangled choking sounds gurgled in the back of his throat and each slight cough brought forth another string of scarlet vitriol.

"Shit… Sammy call an ambulance NOW!" Dean yelled, reaching out to touch Cas.

"DON'T TURN HIM OVER! He'll choke on his own puke!" Sam yelled, whipping out his cell phone and punching in 911. He looked over his shoulder worriedly as he rattled off the information to the operator. "Hurry!" he yelled into the phone, hanging up and turning back to the sight before him.

Dean stared at the sight of his ill lover lying prone and semi-conscious on the floor in a puddle of vomit, wishing, God Dammit wishing there was one fucking thing he could do to help! He threaded his fingers into his hair in anxiety, panting in worry. His eyes roamed Castiel, taking in the sight.

Cas' skin had taken on a sickeningly yellow-gray tint that seemed far more horrifying in the kitchen lights, his hair was damp against his forehead yet again, the curls sticking randomly to his skin. He convulsed again in his unconsciousness, gagging on the bile. Dammit, where was the ambulance?

"Cas… Cas please…" Dean begged, palming his face in absolute terror. He rocked back, his shoulders hitting the cupboard as he leaned there, his eyes misting up as they glued to his prone lover's façade. "Cas please… stay with me, babe… please…"