Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This is my first Supernatural fic! I suffer from anxiety and depression and everyday is a battle to not be anxious or something. This fic contains seriousness and sadness so have tissues ready!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural; well I own a few things Supernatural, but I don't own the rights.

Nobody Knows

Sometimes, the pain becomes too much and you're unable to fully understand or deal with it. It consumes your every thoughts and dreams. And, sometimes you find yourself sitting on the bed you never sleep in in a room you rarely use, staring down at the blade, contemplating.

Castiel, an angel of the Lord, had existed for many a millennium and he had done many things at his Father's command. He had been a loyal and faithful soldier and servant to Heaven and the Heavenly Host, but then one fateful day, his entire life had changed. He saved Dean Winchester, the Righteous man from Hell and his fall from Heaven had slowly began.

Castiel had done many regrettable things, too many to list. He could never fully forgive himself so he buried the pain, and pretended to be alright.

He buried it, hid it until finally, the dam broke. He was glad he was alone in the bunker. Sam and Dean had gone out for a hunt, and wouldn't be back for a few days. If they were here, he'd have to pretend everything was fine; that he was fine. The pain is real even if nobody knew, and he didn't want them to know. He was an angel. Angels weren't supposed to feel this way, but then again, he was a Fallen Angel, a broken angel.

Now, he sat alone, holding his angel blade. His blue eyes stared at the sharp, silver weapon. A weapon that he used against his own brothers and sisters. He felt a sharp ache in his chest, letting out a small audible gasp, tears stinging his tired eyes. He had mourned for their loss. And he never forgave himself for Balthazar's death; a needless death by his hand. Balthazar had been his best friend since they were just fledglings.

Castiel choked back a sob. The pain, so unbearable, that he was surprised that a Rit Zien hadn't found him. Perhaps this pain was a punishment for all of his transgressions against Heaven because Purgatory wasn't enough, so Heaven's healers were told to leave him be. It had to be punishment for not being able to watch over his vessel's daughter like he promised. He had failed more times than he succeeded, and each of his failures weighed heavily on him. He even failed at being human. He failed Sam and Dean so many times that, while they forgave him, he could never forgive himself for betraying them.

The ache grew more as he stared at his blade, looked around the room and stood up. He spread his wings and left. He couldn't end it in the bunker.

Castiel appeared in a field. There once stood a hotel, where several deities were killed; and where two brothers, one older and one younger faced off. The younger stood up to the older brother and was killed. Only thing there was a single grave with a cross, Enochian etched on it.

Castiel stared at it. Maybe he will be with his big brother again. Maybe there was a heaven for angels. Or even a hell. He died plenty of times before, but God always brought him back, so he never could find out.

He prayed that this time his Father leaves well enough alone and lets him be dead for all eternity. Castiel sighed deeply, held his blade up to chest level. He looked at the sky, towards Heaven, and thrusts the blade deep in his chest.

Relief filled him. For the first time in years, he felt at peace. He felt calm. He felt right. He felt free. With a final twist, he fell to the ground as a bright light cascaded through the field. When it died down, Castiel was sprawled out on the grass, a small dribble of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and his wings burnt into the ground.

Several angels stood around the Fallen Angel's body, looking down mournfully. One of them reached down and pulled the blade out, while the others prepared a grave next to the lone one. All this was done in silence. None of them spoke as they buried their brother. They erected a cross when they were finished. The angels put a simple spell on the land to protect it from humans and demons alike.

One of the angels held Castiel's angel blade. He cleaned it off and looked to the others, "the Winchesters need to know. It's only right, he was their friend."

"And look where that got Castiel!" A sister said as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Castiel's suicide isn't on them. Castiel was an angel and knew how to hid his feelings better than any human could dream of. They have the right to know," a brother told the group.

"Knowing that Castiel took his own life will devastate Dean Winchester, and if we tell him an angel did it, he'll enact war on us. If we tell him that the demons did it, then Crowley can deny it. I have a better solution." Another said, "it will be the merciful option I think."

"What option?"

"We erase any memory they have of Castiel. We inform the Demon king and tell him to keep quiet and instructs his minions to keep quiet or there will be war. Anyone who had come in contact with Castiel will have their memory erased of any knowledge of him." The angels thought about this for a while, then agreed that it was the best choice. They scattered to do their new mission.

In a hotel room, Dean laid a severely injured Sam on the bed. Sam's face was swollen and bloodied, he had multiple broken ribs and a fractured arm. He started to clean his brother up, ignoring his own injuries, when he heard the flutters of wings. "Cass! Where have you been?" He said without turning around.

"I'm not Castiel, Dean," a unfamiliar voice said and the hunter stood up quickly with his gun pointed at the angel.

The angel held up his hands, "I'm a friend of his. He sent me to help. My name is Alexriel. I am unarmed." He took a few steps towards the younger Winchester and gently placed two fingers on his forehead. The injuries were healed instantly. "He will sleep for a few hours to replenish energy. Now, let me heal you." His voice was calm, soothing and Alexriel saw that it was having the desired effect on the human when Dean put the weapon away.

Alexriel placed his fingers on Dean's forehead, but instead of feeling the familiar warmth he got when Castiel would heal him, his eyes rolled and he fell unconscious. He laid the hunter on the other bed, healed his injuries and began to do his duty.

By morning, no human alive remembered the Dark haired Angel. Alexriel adjusted the memory of Dean being pulled from hell, not by Castiel, but by an unknown angel. When morning came, the only people who would remember that Castiel existed would be God, the angels and Crowley. The angels prayed to their father for Castiel to finally have peace.

Rain fell, a lone figure stood at the two lonely gravesites. He fell to his knees and sobbed. As he cried, the rain came down harder, soaking his grey t-shirt through and dripping from his hair into his eyes.

In Heaven, for the first time in several millennium, two tiny fledglings appeared. One with dark hair and blue eyes and the other with blond hair and golden eyes. Two tiny fledglings; one with the Grace of an archangel and the other, the Grace of a Seraph. Neither with the memories of their past lives. A chance to start anew; a chance for a happy life.

The lone figure stood up and the rains stopped. He runs his hands over the crosses, smiles and then disappears.

The end.