A/N: Sorry about this. I am really. Please R&R and tell me if I should go to Hell or not. I thought this up whilst listening to Goodbye Stranger by Supertramp and Hallelujah by Alexandra Burke
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Will we ever meet again?
I got off the bus in a small town in West Virginia, called New Cumberland. There was a motel a couple of metres away and I walked over, hugging the bag containing the tablet to my chest. There was a young man at the counter and he looked up as I walked in.
"Single room?" he asked. I nodded.
"For how long?" I frowned. I didn't want to stay away from the Winchesters for very long but I knew I had to hide and protect the tablet until the unrest in heaven had died down.
"Two weeks," I decided and then I realised I had no money. I checked my pockets and found a credit card in the name of Hector Masulini. I smiled sadly as I remembered Dean giving me this.
"Just in case you ever need cash," he had said. I handed the card to the man and he ran it through the machine. He nodded and handed me a key to room 12.
I walked down the corridor, quickly finding room 12, and I entered. It was small with yellowy wallpaper and a green and yellow bed. I walked over to the frankly disgusting curtains and shut them. I locked the door and proceeded to burn Enochian symbols all around the room with my Grace until it was completely protected from demons and about as protected against angels that I could make it without stopping myself from being able to enter or leave. I looked down slowly at the angel tablet that lay upon the small table in the kitchenette. It felt like a curse and I hated the thing. Stopping me from seeing the Winchesters, stopping me from being with them, I just wanted to smash it upon the floor. Ever since Naomi's control over me had broken, all I had wanted to do is make up all my mistakes to Dean. He looked at me differently now and that hurt something inside of me. I was still unsure what. Not for the first time, I wished that there was an older brother I could talk to, but all the angels I had trusted were dead. Balthazar, my dear friend; Gabriel, my reluctant yet loving big brother and Samandriel, the one I should have looked after. I knew that I directly had something to do with their deaths: Balthazar, I put on the bad side of Raphael; Gabriel, I convinced (the boys helped too) to go against Lucifer and Michael and Samandriel, I killed with my own hands. I felt terribly guilty for all of this. There was a knock on the door and a cry of housekeeping. I walked over and opened the door the slightest crack. There was a normal, ordinary woman stood there, holding a mop and wearing an apron.
"Um, no thank you," I said quietly.
"You okay, son?" she asked.
"I'm not your son." I was deeply confused.
"Oh, no no, it's just an expression, dear." Oh. That made more sense.
"I am uninjured, thank you." I closed the door and sat down on the edge of the garishly decorated bed. Closing my eyes, I, as Dean put it, tuned into angel radio. I could hear Naomi yelling about how I had escaped and her loyal ones rushing around trying to find me. But I knew they never would; I had far too many charms for that.
About 7 hours later, I heard something that wasn't on the angel radio that chilled me to the bone.
Cas? Castiel, can you hear me? It's just that Dean's been hurt. It's really bad and he won't make it. Sam's worried voice echoed in my head. I knew leaving here would leave the tablet less protected and make it very easy for Naomi to find me but I wasn't going to let Dean die. I appeared next to Sam and glanced around. We were in a disused warehouse, going by the smashed windows and breaking beams. After I accepted this information, I immediately caught sight of Dean. He was lying in a pool of his own blood about three feet away. I rushed to his side and cradled his head in my hands.
"Cas?" he asked, voice rattling. "You came."
"I will always come, Dean. I promise." Dean's olive-green eyes were clouding over and a scalding tear escaped them, mirroring my own tears. Sam was now kneeling opposite me, the monster that had done this safely removed from the running.
"Hold on, Dean," I said but I was too late. The green orbs turned to glass and the lids shut. Shaking slightly, I ran a hand through his hair as his body fell limp in my arms. Dean Winchester was dead. I hugged his cold body to my chest and rocked back and forth, weeping. They say that angels aren't meant to cry, to feel but I was consumed by sorrow and loss as I sat back. Watching as Sam said goodbye to his older brother, I silently prayed to my father to make it all stop but nothing happened because nothing ever did.
Sam and I gave Dean a proper hunter's funeral, just the two of us. I thought bitterly how nobody else was there, after all he did. All the people Dean saved and yet, at his funeral, there was only a fallen angel and his destroyed younger brother. Sam left before the flames died down, before I did.
I was still stood there, watching the ashes, two days later when I got the call to say Sam was dead. The cops had found him, bled out from a wound to the chest. I wondered why he hadn't called me but then I realised that there was a part of Sam that had wanted to die and that part had stopped him calling. Turns out that Sam had put me down as his contact should anything go wrong which only reinforced my theory. Two days previously, it had been his brother. I gave Sam a hunter's funeral, alone. As the ashes stopped smoking, I walked away to the Impala which the boys had left to me, along with all their other stuff. I climbed in behind the wheel, stroking it seat softly.
"You're all I've got left," I whispered. "All I've got left of my family." I started the engine and drove into the dark night. I knew what to do next. They wanted me to pick up where they left off; saving people, hunting things. The family business.