Sometimes, he just had to ask himself, how would it be? If things had been different, if the people he had lost were still here, if he had acted another way, if he had done the things he had to do, how would it be? Better, he supposed. The pain would have switched away.
Simply and slowly, it would have all come back to normal. What was normality anyway? A bunch of rules we set up to fit in? An illusion of the simpliest things in life? He was so done asking himself those questions over and over again. He knew there was no point in rehashing the past, but he just couldn't help himself. He had hoped circumstances could have been different. Yet, here he was, waiting for his time to come, lying on the ground, biting the dust.
His body was in an immeasurable pain, but his mind was far worse. He had so many remorses, so many things he wish he could have done, so many words he wish he could have said... His biggest regret was him. Or the things he hadn't been able to give him. This man had saved him when he was drowning in an ocean of doubts, he had found him when he thought he was lost, had caught him when he fell. He had taught him how to feel, had taught him how to sin, had taught him how to love.
And yet, he couldn't do anything to soothe this man's pain, he couldn't go to him and tell him how sorry he was, tell him how much he owed him. He couldn't thank him, for everything.
"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." That's what he had told him, and that wasn't entirely true. Because the man had been the one who saved him. He had been the one who rescued him from his own doom. He owed him everything.
The angel, face against the ground couldn't even remember is own name. He was too far gone. He could only feel a warm liquid spreading underneath his body, going out of his stomach. He could feel his power, his grace, his life, flying away. He didn't remember who he was, he wasn't able to think properly. One name remained though. The man's name. Dean.
He wished he could have been here with him, holding him, telling him it was over, but it was okay. He was here and he wouldn't go anywhere, he would stay with him until the end. Until all the pain goes away, until the angel can finally rest in peace.
For a moment, he almost believed it was real, he could almost feel the hunter's strong arms tightening him. But it was all an illusion, once again. He would die alone, in silence without a word being said, freezing in a cold night of an approaching winter. A tear fell from his eye and he clenched his teeth. He couldn't even tell him how he felt. He couldn't even tell him how much he loved him. Of an easy, simple and rightful love. He couldn't tell him because it would mean nothing to the man who meant everything. Dean wasn't here, and there wasn't a soul to hear.
The angel pushed his last sigh this night, creating a white little cloud of smoke in the dark. He passed away alone, finally resting from a painful life full of unspoken love.