The Fallen Star
The descent wasn't at all what he thought it would feel like. He expected a cold and terrifying plunge into darkness. Instead it didn't feel at all different from when he first took Jimmy as his vessel – only this time there would be no such destination for him.
He felt the air and clouds rush past him – through him. He felt the pain and anguish from the past months lift away as though his body was being cleansed of them. He opened himself up at the feeling, knowing that he would never need to feel such things again – or at least, if he did it would be in a new life – one in which the new him, he hoped, would fare much better then he ever did.
He wondered only briefly if this was, as Bobby had said, giving up. He pushed it from his mind. He had been honest when he had promised the he would try – and he had tried. Days, weeks, months of tears were proof enough in his mind that he had tried.
He broke through the cloud cover, the lights of countless cities spread out beneath him. He wondered what he looked like to the thousands of humans who where busy moving from one place to another within their own busy lives. He thought that he would look like nothing more than what they called a shooting star. How many of the naive were going to look up to see him and make some kind of trifling wish?
He thought that it was about time and wondered if it was going to hurt as much as he thought, or if it would be but a pinprick compared to the pain that loosing him had caused. He had once survived without his grace for what he was surprised to find was only several days. He was certain that the actual act of tearing it out would feel much different.
A twinge of fear gripped him but he once again forced it back. This was necessary, he once again told himself. Regardless of what Dean and Bobby had told him, falling was not the same as suicide – it was merely a rebirth and, more importantly, a way to forget.
He had gotten the idea from Anna. When she had fallen she had initially forgotten everything from when she had been an angel. If he hadn't dragged Dean out of Hell and if Uriel and he hadn't afterward tried to kill her, then he had no doubt that Anna would have lived a long life – in human standards at the very least – without ever knowing the truth.
He longed for such ignorance.
Steeling himself, he once again prepared for what he was about to do when something caught his attention – a smokey black mass.
It came from the Earth's surface, toward him with a purpose and he felt himself panic as, without warning, it surrounded him. His grace flared, for what he knew would be the final time, as he readied to dispel this demon – that is, until he felt the old familiar warmth radiating from it. It wrapped itself around him as they continued their descent – holding him together.
"Don't you do it, Cas," he could feel his voice radiate through him, and Castiel could not hold back the sobs that racked even his incorporeal form. He opened himself up, allowing this demon, no, this soul, whom he loved so much, to fill every inch of him – to become one with him.
Together they fell and Castiel no longer worried where it was that he would land, or even what the future would hold. He didn't even allow himself to think about the implications of his loves new form, or the complication that would no doubt arise from it.
All that mattered to him was that now he knew, he would no longer be alone.