Dean stood nervously in the middle of the room, trying to brace himself for what was about come. He had had pain before; more times he cared to remember. He could do this. Of course, it really wasn't the pain he was worried about. It was what would follow afterwards.
"Ready to go, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked cheerfully, pulling other one of his stupid jacket sleeves up. He acted all carefree, but the look in his eyes betrayed him; archangel/trickster-whatever-the-hell was actually worried. This was going to go just fucking marvelously, Dean could tell. Absolutely no complications at all.
His eyes flickered on their own accord to the angel standing shakily behind the short-ass archangel. Castiel.
The wayward angel looked tired, ruffled and roughed up, none of these surprising considering the past hour's events. Before Dean could stop himself, his gaze strayed to the stains covering angel's overcoat. Bloodstains.
Bile rose up in his throat and he pulled his eyes and mind off them, quickly, before he could think whose blood it was.
"You gonna do it today, or are you just gonna stand there babbling?" Dean snapped back. He really, really didn't want to drag this out.
"No need to get sassy, kiddo. Geez. Here I go and show honest concern for your well-being, and this is what I get in return? Way to treat your buddies Winchester." As Gabriel rattled on his hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder, while he posed the one with a rolled up sleeve ready to strike down.
Their eyes met in a brief and a rather awkward contact, before Gabriel pushed his hand forward in a quick shove straight into Dean's abdomen.
Dean had expected it to hurt, but this… He let out an ugly choked scream, blood bubbling out of his mouth. He could feel the way Gabriel's hand pushed into him, searching, intruding his body. It hurt like the way it had hurt when Hellhounds had ripped his guts out, and he screamed equally to that. Gabriel held him up when his legs buckled under him.
Thankfully he was already starting to slip away. His eyes roamed on their own accord around the room, seeing the weapons scattered on the floor, the two unmoving, nearly unrecognizable human figures on the floor, blood covering the walls and the floor— same blood that was covering Cas' blurring form before his eyes (which was standing very close, all of sudden) — without really taking anything in.
He could feel the darkness soaring up to meet him. He felt like he was supposed to panic but the darkness was a way out of pain, wasn't it? It was, right..?
With that question in his blurring mind Dean Winchester drew in his last breath and collapsed onto the floor.