A/N-Finally! My muse decided to work with me again!...Changes may be done when everything is finished. Errr..tis not really canon...but it sorta is...ack! just don't bother too much wit dem timeline details..everything here happens fer a reason..^^"-

Disclaimers: Sadly, SPN and all its characters ain't mine...


"I'll hold them of. I'll hold them all off! Now GO!" Castiel yelled through the screeching myriad of wings and claws raining down upon them both as they struggled to move towards their destination.

"Don't die on me Cas!" Dean managed to shout just before the angel disappeared from his side and reappeared to where demon population was thickest,hacking, stabbing and blasting away all he could.

Dean squinted his eyes, trying to search for Sam. Well...Lucifer, actually...the sonovabitch who was wearing his brother as a fucking condom.

He scanned the area thoroughly, barely making out anything clearly amidst the blood red surroundings. The screams and roars of the Devil's creatures were enough to make anyone go mad. But he was Dean Winchester after all. He was too numb. Too used to these things. Too desperate to make all of this end.

Even if it meant having to put a bullet through Sammy's chest.

He loved Sam. He really did. But there wasn't any trace of him left in that shell. It only had the same fucking puppy-dog eyes and ridiculous haircut, but everything else was all Lucifer. He figured it would definitely hurt when he pulled the trigger, and Sa-Lucifer would fall dead, but what more could he lose now, right? He could just about die on the spot and that would be the end of it. As they say, "No pain, no gain." He muttered those words under his breath while his eyes searched the terrain for a sasquatch clad in a white suit.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon..." The deafening sounds had been drowned out by his concentration on the task at hand, and his eyes were starting to hurt when finally, he saw a glimpse of white amongst all the black. Lucifer was standing about twenty feet away, his back turned. It looked like he was talking to someone…

But hey, who cares? It was about fucking time for the colt to be put into action. He seized the gun from his holster; his breath automatically steadying itself as he stretched his arm out, aimed, and squeezed...

...just in time to see Sam's head turn to him, smiling,as the bullet hit him square on the forehead.

"That hurt-" Lucifer slowly mouthed, completing the phrase with a sad frown, eyebrows mashing together.

Dean froze.

The Colt was supposed to work. But it didn't. It wasn't even enough to graze the little shit!

His eyes remained fixed on Sam's face, chest heaving like he had just run a marathon, mouth reading the rest of what the Devil said.

"-My turn..."

Dean didn't even need to understand what Lucifer had uttered. He felt something punch him in the back, only to realize that he wasn't punched.

The hunter looked down to see a large, clawed hand sticking out from his chest, dripping crimson blood. His own damned blood.

He swallowed thickly, his mind unable to process anything else except "Shit. I'm dead for fucking good."

From the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw a blinding light explode accompanied by a deep roar that seemed somewhat familiar.

Dean felt an odd tug and noticed that the hand in his chest was gone, only to be replaced by a messy, gaping hole, with a few chunks of white (which he suspected to be a portion of his shattered sternum) showing. Torn flesh along with a few bleeding arteries hung along the wound's edges. Warm liquid trickled swiftly down his front, staining his dust-stained shirt bright red.

"Heh..." was all he managed to say before the world slowly tilted backwards; his eyes, catching sight of the atmosphere above that seemed to be ablaze with the sun; making his head greet the concrete with a rather loud thud.

His vision was swimming and he could feel numbness start to creep from his fingers and toes...he wasn't sure how he was still able to breathe, but Jesus fucking Christ did it hurt when he tried to inhale. His nostrils flared, mouth falling open as his body desperately attempted to compensate for lost oxygen. It was as if his chest had become a voodoo doll being attacked by a thousand needles stabbing and twisting repeatedly every time his ribcage expanded.

Wait. Someone was blocking his perfect view of the sky.

It was Cas. All bloody, but still alive. He was saying something but Dean could only hear slurs and he felt like his ears were underwater. Darkness was beginning to inch across his sight. And he hated it because he liked looking at Cas.

Fuck. Even until death, he was still being cockblocked.

Nevertheless, he tried to focus on Cas' worried face one last time, and smiled.

"See ya, Cas..."


"Dean. DEAN!" Castiel was desperate, shaking Dean weakly by the shoulders as he knelt on the hard ground next to the bleeding hunter. He could feel Dean's life ebbing away along with every pint of blood seeping out of him. He was losing the hunter faster than he expected.

He tried touching him with his "mojo", but he had run out of what Dean called his angel juice from the last attack he made on Lucifer's minions. He was barely keeping himself alive.

Dean's eyes were going out of focus and his face was drained of all color. His heavy, ragged breaths seemed all the more painful with the enormous cavity gaping hideously at him. It pained Castiel to see him like this. Once so full of life and energy, now this. It was only a matter of seconds before he was gone.

Hot tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. His face twisted into a grimace as he held fast to Dean's tattered shirt, voice shaking as he tried to speak properly. "Don't do this Dean. Not now. Not now when I can't even heal the simplest of your wounds..." He squinted letting more tears fall to the ground.

The pain he was feeling right now was tremendous.

Not even the deaths of his comrades…his brothers...was enough to rival the agony that was torturing him at the moment. Compared to this, all those hurtful memories were dull. Petty, even.

The sky darkened. Demons had begun to surround them, looking hungry, yet wary...as if waiting for orders...or perhaps something else.

But he could care less. All that mattered at this moment was Dean. His Dean. He searched his face once more and noticed that green eyes were focused on him.

The idiot could still smile even at this state!

He could have smiled in return, but after that split second, all was lost. Dean's mouth turned slack, and his eyes grew blank as the last of his breath escaped him.

"See ya, Cas."

Cas was only able to stare unblinkingly at the corpse before him, tears blurring his vision. He was vaguely aware that the swarm of demons were getting closer, and his keen hearing picked up word about doing something with the Winchester boy's body.

He was having none of that.

He was able to give everything up for Dean before. He was still capable of doing that now. Even at a greater cost.

Spreading his enormous wings and temporarily blinding the enemies, he tore off Dean's shirt and placed his hand right over the mark he made when he had raised Dean from perdition.

His palm started to glow, as he chanted in Enochian; The light growing larger, brighter with every word. He closed his eyes and chanted louder...the radiance threatening to spill from his eyes, his mouth, but all going straight to where his hand was connected to Dean's skin.

The last of his strength finally left him. It was his turn to smile now.

A massive burst of light exploded, illuminating and destroying everything it touched.


Dean sat bolt-right up, wide-eyed, gasping lungfuls of air.

The hunter suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings, braced himself for any kind of attack that might come at him. The memory of wings and talons clouding the sky all too vivid for him to easily forget. He mentally hit himself in the head about a second later when he realized that there was nothing to protect himself from.

Everything was all bleary. Thick clouds were hovering a little too closely above. The air seemed to be packed with dust, making his very lungs itch every time he breathed. Carcasses of demons and other creatures of darkness were strewn across the landscape, most of them looking like they were fried to a crisp.

Everywhere else seemed to be coated in dry blood. Other than that, he was the only thing that was actually moving.

Moving? He- wasn't he invalid just a while ago? The hunter thought frantically; trembling hands touching his supposedly wound caked face, but finding out that it was horribly smooth. His fingers splayed on his now crater-free chest, vaguely recalling an image of a butt-ugly hand sticking out from it.

This had to be the work of-

"Cas?" He called out, eyes picking out various shapes on the ground, then looking expectantly up, remembering that the angel was the last he saw before everything went black...

His gaze landed on something tan and disheveled a few feet away.

It was a someone. All bloody and wounded...and dead. He was on his stomach with his face to the side, scarlet pooling beneath him. Blue, blue eyes staring blankly into the horizon.

Fuck.

"CAS!"


A/N: Am I evil? I think so too...^_^'' This will be my first time writing a chaptered story, so, please comment and and keep them up so I'd be even moar powered up to do more Destiel chapters.

See ya in the next chapter!