He could only stare in disbelief at the lifeless body that lie before him, his eyes wide and his mouth open in pure, unfiltered shock. Dean Winchester was never a man of many words. When he had a problem or the nights got extra long, and he was just too tired, it was nothing a bottle couldn't fix. But, as he sit on his knees and stared at the shell of a man... angel... he had spent the last nine years of his life with, laughing, living, and saving the world with... he knew deep down there wasn't any way to drown this out.

Dean raised a shaky hand and hovered his hands over Castiel's face, pausing. This body... this vessel... without Castiel inside of it, this was not his best friend. This was Jimmy Novak, but Dean couldn't help but associate this face with the angel. He could almost hear Castiel's rough voice correcting him about his true form and how Dean shouldn't be so naive to think his true form could be so simple. How Dean could be so naive to think that any second now Castiel was going to open his eyes and things would be normal again. Or as normal as they could be. As they needed to be.

He moved his fingertips along the side of Castiel's face, taking his cheek in his hand. Dean felt almost scared to touch him. He was cold. Now that Castiel was gone, this body was just... wrong. He didn't need to check the pulse. One look and he knew.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he could see Castiel's blue eyes as he went through the rip. They met eyes, and Dean could feel the unimaginable relief flood through him. Sam had held him back as Castiel went at Lucifer with his angel blade in hand, his face determined with the look of someone who was not afraid to die to protect the people he loved. Once Dean saw that look, he knew what was going to happen. He called for him, reached for him, but his little brother held him back. He would never forgive Sam for that. Castiel laid eyes on him, and suddenly someone else went through the rip, and Castiel's eyes went from blue to white. His heart stopped. His heart broke.

Dean opened his eyes. He raised his hand to his eyes and felt them, surprised at the fact that they were dry. Why wasn't he crying? He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and feel so badly. But something was different. Something new. He looked back at the body of his best friend. He took a moment to look at the angel's closed eyes and reflected on why he wasn't crying. He missed him. He missed him so badly. He wanted nothing more for Cass to open his eyes and say everything was going to be okay. To wrap Dean in a hug that he never felt enough and to press his lips against...

What?

Dean paused. His eyes went wide again and he scanned the body of his best friend once more. He placed a hand in the dirt where Castiel's broken wings were charred into the very earth. Dean selfishly thought this was fitting. That it proved Castiel was real. This was his mark.

He thought about the handprint that was once on his arm, but pushed the thought away quickly.

But why wasn't he crying? Castiel was everything to him. He was...

He was...

Then everything became so clear.

The experiences they shared. The long nights. The hugs. The fear.

Dean Winchester was in love with Castiel.

He had always felt so connected to Castiel, so close, almost like they were made for the purpose of sticking together and saving the world, but now he realizes too late.. that all he ever wanted was the angel close, so that he couldn't save the world, but so that he could save Dean Winchester.

Tears finally came, but in a huge wave that took Dean so suddenly his heaved and he couldn't breathe anymore. He desperately grabbed for breath and his lungs seemed to collapse and his stomache clenched hard as he fell. He desperately grabbed at Castiel's trenchcoat, bundling it into his fists and burying his face into his chest. He cried. He cried for what he would never have again, and he cried for all the things he would never have. He drew his knees closer to Castiel and now after being afraid to touch him, he simply could not get close enough. This body was cold, this body was wrong but nothing mattered. He could not have Castiel, so he would have the next closest thing. Dean's mind was blank but his heart was overflowing with such grief Dean couldn't believe he was still alive. He couldn't believe how the wind was still blowing and the clocks were still ticking when the world just suffered such a loss. Dean was mad the world wasn't crumbling with him. Dean was mad sam has run off, and that he wasn't broken as well. The world needed to understand what it lost today. Everything needed to understand.

Castiel needed to understand.

This carried on for a long period of time. Dean couldn't even begin to guess how long he had just lied there, lost in his own grief. He watched the clouds that hung high in the night sky slowly breeze past with his head resting on Castiel's chest. He had been to hell, killed countless monsters, and sacrificed everything he was for the world, but now none of it seemed worth it. None of it was worth it if it meant he couldn't share this new and better world with his best fri-... with his everything.

Dean hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Castiel. He never did. But today, that was going to change. He sat up and turned around slowly, his face caked with drying tears. He cast his eyes on the body of the angel he had come to love one last time. Despite his aching soul, he gave Castiel a small smile. He leaned down slowly and placed a soft and slow kiss on Castiel's cold lips. As he did so, his body was wracked with another wave of sorrow that he had to pull away. The tears started again and Dean just placed a hand over Castiel's heart and used his free hand to cover his mouth. He closed his eyes and gathered himself for a moment before opening them again and returning his hand to Castiel's cheek. He remembered not long ago when Castiel had confessed his love for all of them, but he remembers specifically Castiel meeting Dean's eyes when he said it, looking away before it was all out. Dean had known even then that it was for him. It was for everyone, but mostly, it was for him. Dean whispered so softly that even dead this would be only for his and Castiel's ears.

"Goodbye, Cass. I love you too."

And slowly Dean stood. Castiel had healed him before Lucifer had shown, and secretly Dean wished he hadn't so he could feel something. On shaky legs, Dean turned to the house when his brother and a nephilim were waiting for him. Before beginning the first few steps away from an angel who would never know how much he meant to the world, he couldn't help but think that he could really use a drink.