A/N: I am really sorry about this. I broke my own heart while writing it. I just... I thought this was how season 9 would end, but luckily this was not how it ended. Soo, instead I wrote all my feelings into an alternate ending. It is kind of Destiel here as well. Major character death warning. Sorry, again.

"You draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what? He's dead, too." -Metatron

Castiel thought that Dean Winchester looked peaceful in death. Lying on the bed in the bunker, he looked as if he was in a deep and quiet sleep, finally free of the rage that had plagued him since the Mark of Cain, and the endless burdens he had always carried with him. However, Castiel knew that this was not the case; he knew the man before him was no longer alive, as much as he would like to deny the fact. Even so, the angel crept carefully towards the side of the bed, as if afraid to wake the hunter. As Castiel looked upon his face, the illusion of sleep was suddenly broken by the large wound in the middle of Dean's chest, where the angel blade had been forced clean through his body. Dried blood clotted around the fabric of his plaid shirt, and Castiel was momentarily surprised as he felt a tear roll down his right cheek, unsure of the foreign human reaction.

A world without Dean Winchester, Castiel thought suddenly. Such a world was now one that he lived in, Castiel realized. Dean would never again call upon Castiel for help. Castiel would never press his hand to the man's face to heal his wounds again. Dean would never pray to Castiel again, in times of desperation. He would never again get a chance to show the angel what it meant to be human; to guide him in understanding the complexity of free will. Castiel would never again stand by Dean Winchester at the end of the world, when all hope was lost, only to hear him crack a joke about some vague television reference. Dean Winchester would never again look proudly into the face of his younger brother that he cared so deeply about. Castiel could never again stare into the bright green eyes of the human he had grown to care so much for, and tell the stubborn man all the good that he had done in the world, and all the good that he could continue to bring to the world.

Cas's hand involuntarily pulled up the dead man's sleeve, revealing the Mark of Cain, and above it the dark imprint of Castiel's hand from when he first met Dean Winchester and saved him from the depths of Hell, his angelic grace leaving a mark on the shoulder that he had touched. The mark was slightly faded, but a scar such as that would never truly fade completely. Cas felt his hand move to rest gently upon the handprint that he had left, the skin jarringly cold to his touch. Cas was vaguely aware that a stray tear of his fell upon the plaid fabric of the hunter's shirt.

All Castiel had wanted was to save Dean Winchester. It was as if his sole purpose in life was to protect the man now lying dead in front of him. Everything that he had done had been to save him. So, the angel knew he only had one choice; Dean Winchester had taught him that there was always a choice. And, just as he always had, Castiel would choose Dean Winchester.

The angel's hands met the cold sides of the dead hunter's face, the bright light emanating from his fingertips draining the power of Castiel's stolen grace. Cas could feel the life draining from deep inside him, and flowing through his fingertips into Dean Winchester. Slowly, the dead man's eyes opened to meet Castiel's gaze, and angel found himself surprised by the depth of the warm green color of the man's eyes, despite the many other times he had met his gaze before.

"Cas..." Dean managed to whisper quietly.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel responded, his voice surprisingly steady in spite of the energy draining from his vessel.

Dean's brows furrowed slightly, as his hand grasped at the angel's trench coat tightly. "Cas...what—what are you..." Dean was attempting to sit up, his muscles barely responding his actions.

"No, Dean, lie down," the angel soothed, "I'm healing you. You must lie down."

Dean's hands continued to cling to Castiel's trench coat, pulling the angel closer to him. "No..." he said quietly, "You can't... they said... you don't have enough juice, Cas..."

"I can save you, Dean."

Dean frowned, and Castiel felt his stomach lurch at the man's sad expression. He wished Dean would smile again; Dean had the most wonderful smile. "But, I—you... what if you don't—" Dean stuttered.

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel interrupted, as he began to hear Dean's voice wavering, "Don't worry about me. I have to save you, Dean—"

The angel covered Dean's mouth as he began to protest.

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester." Castiel could hear his voice finally breaking, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the life slowly leaving his body, or the course of emotion he felt suddenly flowing through him. "I have lived for a very long time, and I have never met a man like you, as selfless as you. I know you don't believe it, but you are a good man, Dean Winchester; the best man I have ever known, and I have known so many. You—you have saved more lives than you could ever know, mine among them, and the world is a better place with you in it..." The tears rolled freely down the now dying angel's face, and fear that he would be unable to get the words that needed to be said out before he died gripped him violently. "You have saved your brother's life, Dean, and Sam needs you. And you have saved me from myself, Dean, and shown me what it means to be human. I—I have made more mistakes in my life than I can count, but saving you was never of them. Please Dean…I—I never knew I was capable of such emotions before I met you, Dean..."

It took a surprising amount of strength for Castiel to touch the hand print he had left on Dean's shoulder, his fingers matching their imprints exactly, as the angel attempted to communicate the emotions that he had a difficultly forming words to express. "So now you must—you have to understand why I need to save you..."

"Cas..." the hunter's strength was returning now, and his hand reached out and gently grabbed the sides Castiel's face, his now watery green eyes meeting the blue of the angel's. "Please, Cas, no...you can't...I—I need you..." Dean could barely form a coherent sentence, and he pulled the angel's face desperately closer to his own.

"I love you, Dean Winchester," Castiel whispered quietly, as his forehead dropped against the hunter's, and the angel felt relieved to finally speak the words that he had meant to speak for so long, relieved that words for what he had felt could be formed, relief that he knew what he felt now, relief that he could tell this to Dean. Because, that was truth, Castiel knew then; he loved Dean Winchester with all that he had, and now he could save him. Briefly, without a loss of eye contact, their lips met as the last of Castiel's grace drained into Dean's body, healing him completely.

The angel fell limp into Dean's arms. "I—I love you, too, Cas." Dean's words came out as barely a whimper, and he hugged the trench-coated figure tightly, shaking him almost violently. "Cas..." he choked out. "Cas, please... don't—don't leave me..."

Sam Winchester stumbled into Dean's room quickly, after hearing a soft sobbing noise, which he assumed to be Castiel returning to the bunker. Sam blinked rapidly through his tear-stained and alcohol-impaired vision, unable to comprehend the sight before him.

"Dean..." Sam breathed. His brother was alive. He saw Dean Winchester clung to the lifeless body of Castiel, tears pouring down his face.

"Dean!" Sam called out desperately, running over to his brother's side. He grabbed at his brother's shoulders, their solid form proving Dean's existence. "Cas..."

"Sammy..." Dean sobbed, unwilling to let go of the angel, despite Sam's efforts at pulling him away. "He's gone... I couldn't... he brought me back... he shouldn't have done it, Sammy."

"Dean..." Sam stated, dumbly, uncomprehending of the conflicting emotions overpowering him, his face still wet with tears. He managed to wrestle his brother free of Castiel, and Dean immediately clung to Sam, enveloping him in a desperate embrace.

"Sammy," Dean said again, pressing his tear-soaked face into his younger brother's shoulder, "He shouldn't be dead... I should be—I should be dead, Sammy. Not—not him..."

"No, Dean," Sam told his older brother, his voice firm, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Dean. "You shouldn't be dead. Cas—he wanted you to live. He wanted to save you, and... you have to accept that. You have to live for him, Dean, because even if you think you don't want to be saved... you just have to. Believe me, I know, and you know, too. You tried to convince me, and you were right. It's worth it, Dean. For you; for Cas; for me, Dean..."

Sam felt Dean clench his hand into the back of his shirt, and took it as acceptance of his words.

Suddenly, Sam chuckled slightly, although it came out as more of a quiet sob.

"What?..." Dean questioned, quietly.

"It's such a Winchester thing to do, Dean. To sacrifice yourself to save the other..."

Dean Winchester held on to his younger brother's embrace more tightly. "Yeah, it is, Sammy."