Left. He had moved left.

Castiel gripped his gun and gulped as he moved along the wall, staring off into the darkness and sharping his ears to any movement in front of him. This was a hunt he had looked forward to, because he finally got to hunt down some bigger creatures than werewolves and ghosts. Dean had been very hesitant about it, because he was scared something would happen to Castiel. He had no wings after all, and no powers, which made it hard for them to let him wander off alone.. But this time he went left.

Dean had ordered him to go left.

The former angel moved silently, knowing that somewhere else in the building above him, walked the younger Winchester, obviously just as silent as him, and somewhere on the other side, Dean was walking. They had all gone in different directions, because the demon they were hunting was smart. Not like other demons who attacked as soon as possible, no, he ha lurked around and tried to twist them around his finger, but the man had sensed it. Not in any angelic way, he had simply just known that something was up, so here they were, in a building that had been shut down years ago. An asylum? Dean said these places used to be haunted, but it seemed quiet. All of the three hunters had gone with some salt just in case a ghost would pop up and destroy it all. Sam had been saying that they had to make sure it was no trick that the demon had planned, because it could be that he knew that they knew about the place, and he had simply planned this to become a double hunt.

So far there was nothing, and as Castiel turned the corner, he aimed into the darkness. A sigh in relief left him as nothing stood there, and nothing was behind him. The only thing he saw now was the flickering light that came from a broken bulb in one of the asylum's bathrooms, and he moved slowly inside.

The bathtubs were all dirtied. No point in trying to clean yourself up in it… The showers didn't work, and the light became so annoying that Castiel turned it off and switched to his flashlight instead. He looked over the walls, corners, anything, but there was nothing. Then—

As he was about to turn and leave, he noticed something. On one of the mirrors, half broken, there was something written in red, blood perhaps? Castiel squinted his eyes and walked closer, the beam from the flashlight focused on the words. The blood was fresh, still trailing down against the mirror, and Castiel muttered the words under his breath as he read;

"Guess who's blood this belongs to, Cas?"

Castiel's eyes widened, and he spun around, almost falling when he ran out of the room. He had long forgotten about being careful, his legs carrying him all the way to the main hall where Sam had gone up the stairs and Dean had gone right instead of left.

"Sam!"

Castiel called.

And he called.

And called.

After too much time, he made his way up the stairs as fast as he could, continuing to switch between soft mutters and calls of the younger Winchester's name. He found him nowhere on the left side, so he ran back, passed the stairs, and went right instead. Sam was nowhere to be found. The last room Castiel searched was just as empty as the other ones, and frantically, he gripped his flashlight and gulped, looking around himself, but there was really no sign of Sam. Not that he had been there at all, and Castiel made his way back downstairs, this time running where Dean had decided to go.

The hallway was full of doors, all of them open after Dean had probably investigated them. All of them were nothing but rooms for the people who stayed there, empty beds and other furniture could be found. Some where knocked over, some were perfectly placed on the floor against the wall. Castiel got to another door at the end of the hallway, pulling it open just to be blinded by the strong beam from another flashlight.

He groaned, trying to cover the light enough to see who it was, and he realized it was Sam. Castiel gulped and sighed softly before he shook his head and almost glared at the other one.

"Sam, I was looking for you upstairs, but you were nowhere to be found and I— Sam?"

The tall man didn't reply. Castiel reached out to lower the flashlight so he could get a better look on the other one, and he frowned slightly when he saw the tears streaming down his friend's cheek, lip trembling. He sniffled and reached a hand up to wipe some away, but new ones came, and his eyes never looked directly at the former angel. Castiel placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, shaking lightly.

"Sam, what happened? Where's Dean?"

— No.

Sam never got as much as a chance to reply. Castiel pushed his way past him and ran into the hallway, which lead him to another set of rooms. He checked every single one of them, no sign of Dean.

— No.

Another door at the end of the hallway said something, probably a name of someone working there, and Castiel pushed it open, running inside — only to freeze completely.

There, in the middle of his own blood pouring from his wounds, was Dean Winchester. Eyes were closed, but somehow, Castiel knew they had been open in horror. Sam had probably closed them. The red liquid was dripping from his mouth, and as Castiel managed to step closer, he saw that all the other blood came from deep wounds in the man's body. Everywhere. Someone had tortured him until he couldn't take it anymore, and then they had finished him off by cutting his neck.

— No.

Castiel fell to his knees, a shaking hand reaching out to touch the dead man's cheek, and he felt tears sting his eyes.

"Dean.. Wake up.."

He swung his leg over so he was now placed on top of the hunter, both of his hands now gripping the Winchester's head tightly.

"You have to wake up! Dean!"

He never replied, eyes never opened, and Castiel hoped.. Oh, how he hoped, that Dean's wounds would suddenly be gone from his touch. That he would look as good as new, and he would groan, rub his eyes, he would look at Castiel, and he'd mutter the shortened version of his name.. Cas, and he'd be all okay.

But of course it never happened.

Castiel was too lost in his thoughts to realize that Sam had appeared behind him, now sniffling and crying again now that he had to see his brother like this again. The former angel let out a loud sob and gripped Dean's bloody jacket, starting to shake him more violently now as he leaned down, shouting at the dead man to wake up, and Sam placed his big hands on his shoulders, trying to make him stop, but Castiel - with all his strength - pushed the younger Winchester away before he leaned down and pressed his trembling lips against the pale, dead ones of the man beneath him, trying to breathe life into him.

He repeated the action.

Over..

And over..

And over again..

Dean was gone.

"I can't save you this time, Dean.."

Castiel's voice was barely a whisper, shaking and lost into the silence of the room. Sam had gone out, left Castiel with his big brother to let him get some time, and Castiel realized that the blood of the man was on him now. On his trench coat, on his hands..

Once again, Castiel tried, ever so slowly, to press his lips against Dean's, but the man never moved. And as Castiel slowly started to realize nothing would work, he looked up at the ceiling, sobbing silently. He was wondering if praying to God would help, but then again, God never cared… So.. the former angel's head dropped, and he slowly crawled next to Dean, curling up in the thick blood that soaked him quickly. He placed Dean's lifeless arm around him and closed his eyes before he let out a shaky, humming voice that soon turned into silent singing —

"Leaves are falling all around…"

He gripped Dean's jacket and sobbed into his side as he tried to continue on the song that Dean had said was one of his favorites. Castiel had heard it so many times now, he had memorized the lyrics in his head.

"It's time I was on my way.. Thanks to you.. I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.."

His voice echoed slightly in the silent room, and Castiel heard the soft sound of the Impala starting outside. Sam was waiting for him, but Castiel took no action to move. Instead, he only tried to get closer to Dean, trying to feel any warmth from the dead man.

"But now.. it's time for.. me to go… The autumn moon lights my.. way.. For now I smell the rain, and with it pain…—"

"I'm so sorry, Dean.."

Somewhere along those lines, Castiel drifted off to sleep. In the dead arms of the man that showed him so much he never thought he'd see. In the arms of the man who took care of him no matter how many times he'd let him down.

"Goodbye, Dean."