The bitter wind whips through the trees around him, a wind that whispers of a storm to come with every tear at his face and jab at his coat. Branches rustle overhead. Dry leaves crunch under his feet and turn pinwheels through the air. As he walks across the empty yard, Castiel marvels at the beauty of this world and the life he was granted, only wishing that De- Castiel stops himself before the thought can fully form. He closes his eyes for a moment, and reprimands himself for bringing up that painful subject. He forces his mind to move on another topic, such as the final exams looming just a week away. He readjusts his shoulder bag as he does, and continues walking.
When Castiel lifts his eyes to focus on his destination, the doors on the other side of the courtyard, it all stops.
The leaves cease their crunching when his feet no longer feel compelled to move forward, the howling wind fades to the background and he is lost. Lost in green, in passion, in the wild ocean that is loving Dean Winchester. And it's like the past three years have never happened. He feels the familiar rush of warmth, filling every inch of his being, a rush he has missed. He inhales deeply, feeling truly alive for the first time in three years.
Because standing just across the courtyard in front of him is Dean.
He looks exactly as he did when he disappeared all those years before, except...lighter, less burdened. He is dressed in his usual hunting jacket, one that contours broad shoulders and muscular arms. His dark jeans rest low on his hips, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Despite appearing relaxed, Castiel knows better. He knows that Dean is acutely aware of every tree branch that sways in the wind, every leaf that flies around them. The courtyard is empty, but if there were people, Dean would be monitoring their every move. It's hunters' instinct.
Because Castiel knows Dean, knows all of him: his huge heart, his desperate need to protect the ones he loves. He knows the deepest, darkest parts, parts he tries to hide: his fears, his flaws, his failures. And Castiel has healed every piece with every touch, smile, word, since the moment he held Dean's soul.
Castiel is struck by the way the watery sunlight appears richer in his presence. His eyes shine, those same eyes that seem to strip Castiel down to his grace every time they rest on him, those eyes he saw for the first time in that little gas station all those years ago. The corners of Dean's beautiful pink lips curve upward, hinting at that gorgeous smile. The smile that would always come out whenever Castiel did something endearing because of his innocent ignorance of human standards; the smile that would come out when Dean was glowing with pride because Castiel did something right for once; the smile that would make Castiel content to spend eternity in Hell if he could be the cause of that smile just one more time.
And then he is running, feet pounding the frozen ground, the dull thumping lost to the howling wind. His heart hammers in his chest, blood roars in his ears, blocking out every sound. In his mind, a deafening and repetitive Dean is his only thought. He stops abruptly when he has crossed the courtyard. Castiel stands in front of Dean, breathless. He doesn't know if the cause was the sprinting or Dean, and he doesn't care. He doesn't move, suddenly filled with doubt. He has imagined this moment so many times, in so many ways. What if it is just another daydream, and in moments he will awaken to the cruel reality of a life without Dean?
When he can't bear it a moment longer, he takes one more step and brings his hands up to Dean's face, at last bridging the void between them. Being able to touch him, prove that he is real, that, after all this time, he is here, is the most gratifying thing Castiel could ever ask for.
Dean is moving as well, his hands coming up towards Castiel as if to embrace, an embrace that Castiel aches for, an ache so deep it resonates in his soul, an embrace that is finally within Castiel's reach, and he is so ready, he was born ready, he needs it, needs it now and-
The blade pierces his abdomen, slicing skin, severing muscle, and sliding through him as if his internal organs were butter. It scrapes the side of his spinal cord and comes to a stop. To Castiel, all of these small actions blend together into a searing pain. He gasps, and suddenly his legs can no longer support him. Dean wraps one arm around Castiel's waist before he can collapse. His hands still gripping Dean tightly, one on the side of his neck, the other clutching his jacket. Castiel holds on as if Dean is the only thing keeping him from shattering into a million pieces. He glances down at his stomach to see the First Blade protruding out of his abdomen, and Dean's hand wrapped around the hilt. Breathless and gasping, the only thought echoing around Castiel's mind is why? But no sound comes from Dean's throat; no answer to Castiel's silent question, not even a goodbye. Castiel moves his eyes back up to Dean's face and his heart cracks. He wants to scream and cry and strike out all at the same time, yet he can't make his body comply with any of these options. All he can do is watch as the beautiful green eyes that he loves so much are obliterated by an inky black void.
Dean gently lays Castiel down on the ground and runs a warm hand through Castiel's hair. He watches Castiel gasp through black eyes as he pulls the blade out. Castiel chokes and sputters a few times, struggling to breathe. Dean is crouched next to him, and Castiel stares as Dean casually wipes the blade clean. Then he rises, steps over Castiel's shuddering body, and walks confidently away, without pause or falter, not sparing so much as one last glance at his beloved fallen angel.
The first snowflakes of the season caress Castiel's skin, as tender as a lover's kiss. He struggles to turn his head so that he can watch Dean walk away for the last time. He blinks several times trying to clear his vision of the tears and the snowflakes that land on his eyelashes. And as Dean disappears in a cloud of black smoke, the final fractures form in Castiel's heart. He shatters and all of his love pours out onto the ground through his blood, mixing with the grass, the dirt, and the snow.