«Cas.»
It takes me a moment to realize the voice calling to me is Dean's. It takes me much longer to open my eyes; it's so hard, so, so hard. I just want to drift off, back to where I was a moment ago.
«Cas!»
"Yes, Dean." I doubt I even said anything. I'm very probably just imagining the whole thing anyway. Must be a dream. It's been a month since I've fallen, but I doubt dreams will ever be anything ordinary to me. «Yes...» I say it again, forcing myself to part my lips, to breathe, «Yes, Dean.» But my voice is broken.
Dying is nothing like I expected it to be; it's sweet. Pleasant.
«How are you holding up, Cas?»
«I'm fine.» Unfortunately, my voice cracks in the middle. Dean's brows furrow ever so slightly and I realize my head is resting on his lap. Really, Dean?
The wound is nothing but a low burn, now; it won't take long before I can feel nothing at all.
«You're gonna make it.»
He can't be so naive. He can't.
My hand falls to my side and I feel the asphalt underneath me; it's sticky. I don't have to look to know it's blood. My blood.
My first instinct is to get up, tell Dean to leave. I don't want him to be kneeling in my blood, cradling me like an infant.
But I can't feel my legs anymore and I come to the conclusion that the bullet has hit my spinal cord, or something vital, anyway. So I just lay here, hating myself.
"I just wanted to be a hunter, Dean." Is what I think.
«I'm sorry.» Is what I say.
I can't hear what the answer is, but I can imagine it. A lie, probably. You're a great hunter, Cas. You're gonna get better. Practice makes perfect.
Of course Dean knows I'm never going to get up. It's physically impossible for me to survive this.
«You're going to Heaven, Cas.» I think he adds something that sounds like «Going home,» but I really can't be positive about that.
«Yes, Dean.» Lie. That's how you become president. How can I possibly tell him it's Hell, for me? How can I smite his hopes when he's holding me and hearing my last, heavy words?
Lie.
«I-» I honestly don't know what to tell him. We say so much just by looking at each other, and I think he understands, now. We don't need words. «Be careful.»
But that's not what I meant.
I meant to tell him so much more. I meant to say thank you. For saving me.
Thank you.
Thank-