The title comes from the Mumford And Sons song 'Timshel'. I do not own the characters.

Dean felt numb, as if he was watching television on a muted, black and white, static-filled T. V. set instead of sitting in a bar with Cas. It was always him, he realized, that Cas chose. He'd check in with Dean, not Sam. Talk to him about his feelings. Show up when he prayed. And now, on what was possibly his last night on Earth, he was calmly ordering a couple of beers.

He couldn't believe that the angel was leaving. Sealing up Heaven, locking it up and throwing out the key. Cutting himself off from humanity. Cutting himself off from Dean.

It hurt more than he had expected. He was an angel of the Lord, after all, a mighty warrior built to serve Heaven. It was selfish of Dean to think that maybe, just maybe, he had been a friend.

"So, this is it, huh?" Dean sighed. "E. T. goes home."

Cas looked at him, regret etched into his blue eyes.

The rest of the evening crawled by in a blur, dragging out endlessly yet far too short. Dean wanted to scream at Cas, tell him that this was suicide, that he was taunting death, inviting it plainly to his doorstep.

Where was that innocent, eager young angel Dean had met all those years ago? Full of 'I do not understand' and tilted heads? When had he learned to order a couple of beers with a simple hand motion?

It was selfish and stupid, But Dean didn't want him to leave.

After collecting the Cupid's bow, Dean was filled with panic.

"Cas. Please. Don't do this," he begged as they sat on the back of the Impala, gazing up at the stars and just existing.

"I have to, Dean."

"But... Cas, you're going to die," Dean stubbornly insisted.

"And it shall be what I deserve."

Dean was filled with a hollow, dull sadness.

"It's going to be one hell of a lonely place here with you gone," he said, sighing.

"Dean, do you remember a night sort of like this one? Years ago, when I thought I wouldn't see morning?" Cas asked quietly, his voice trembling. "I said I chose to sit there and think, and you wanted me to live a little before I died?"

Dean smiled mournfully. Of course he remembered.

"But back then, Cas, you were going to be killed. This, this is suicide," Dean said softly. "What do you want me to do? Give you my blessing?"

"I wish..." Cas bit his lip. "I wish circumstances were different."

"Story of my life," Dean agreed quietly.

They sat in silence for a while, too sad to consider this goodbye.

"I keep asking myself," Cas said eventually, looking Dean straight in the eye. "I keep wondering, is there anything that I've never done that I want to do before I die?" Dean swallowed. "Wrongs I should right? Olive branches to hold out?"

"I'll help you, Cas, whatever you need," Dean offered. He felt as if he'd been dropped right in the center of a World War II drama where the family of the drafted soldier tries to reassure themselves that everything will work out just fine. But the audience knows, and somewhere in their hearts the characters know, that he's not coming home and everything has to be said before it's too late.

"Anything?" Cas mused softly, considering.

"Call me the Make-A-Wish foundation," Dean joked, but the notes fell flat and his attempt at levity had no effect.

"I'm going to miss you, Dean," he said, quietly.

It's not fair, thought the hunter. You don't get to miss me, this is your choice. What about me? How am I supposed to cope with falling back to Sam-and-Dean? What happens if I wand Sam-and-Dean-and-Cas back?"

"You'd think I'd be better at goodbyes by now," Dean said.

"You don't have to say anything," Cas assured him. "Just..." The angel trailed off. "Just be here. With me. Be my last memory of this world."

Dean reached his hand out, offering it to Cas. The angel took it without hesitation, and Dean noticed that he was trembling.

"Stay," he pleaded softly, although he knew nothing would change his mind. "Don't leave me here alone," he begged, his voice catching on the word alone.

A tear escaped Cas's eye and slid down his face. He closed his eyes, head falling to his chest, looking so utterly defeated, so broken, that Dean wanted to scream.

"I have to make things right," he finally said. He held on to Dean's hand, gripping it as firmly as if it was his only lifeline.

"No," Dean said.

"I just wish..." Cas took their hands and placed them on his leg, where he held Dean's hand in both of his own, warm hands, rubbing his thumbs across the pronounced lines and cracks of the hunter's calloused palm. "I wish that didn't mean losing you."

The angel's raw, unabated grief broke Dean's heart, and he found himself crying silently as well.

"Stay," he asked again, his throat tight from rough emotion. "I need you, Cas," he added with a choked sob.

"I-" Cas said, his voice breaking. "Dean, you need to stop. I need you to stop needing me." He took Dean's hand and brought it to his face.

"Cas, I can't-"

"Because I- I- I need you too," he stuttered. "All this time, I thought that I rescued you, pulling you from Hell."

Dean tilted his head back. He lost everyone. Everyone. And he couldn't lose Cas.

"But you-" Cas smiled weakly. "You rescued me. You taught me how to stand up. Encouraged me to take that leap." He kissed Dean's palm. "You are my savior, and that's more than I ever deserved."

"No," Dean whimpered. "You can't leave me. Not after everything. I will not let you."

There was no more oxygen left in the air, and Dean felt suffocated with raw sorrow. It filled the spaces around them, the empty hollows pooling up with aching melt-water.

"I just need you to remember-"

"No, Cas..." He didn't have to remember anything if Cas just stuck around to tell him.

"I need you to remember that you are- that you have always been- that you will always be loved."

"Will I ever see you again?" Dean asked quietly.

Cas just looked at him sadly, and that told Dean all he needed to know.

Dean broke free of Cas's hold on his hands, and ran his thumb along the angel's cheekbone. His heart was thumping dully in his chest, and the world was too dark. His last candle was down to its last hour.

"You will always be with me, Dean Winchester," Cas assured him, his voice shaking with emotion. "No matter what. I will carry you in my heart through whatever tomorrow may hold."

Dean reached his other hand up to Cas's face, keeping his blue gaze trained on him. He covered the angel's chapped lips with his thumb, unable to take any more words and the pain that they brought. Cas closed his eyes, and placed his hand atop Dean's, needing the warmth and the companionship and the last little stretch of time to linger in their bond.

He looked back up at Dean when the hunter removed his hands, letting them fall into his lap. He looked so lonely, so small, so scared.

"Dean, I-"

"Just stop," the hunter interrupted roughly. "You've made your decision."

"Please, Dean-"

"You die tomorrow, Cas, but I have the rest of eternity to miss you. To think about what I should have-"

"Dean. There's something I have to do," Cas insisted quietly.

"I'm not stopping you," Dean responded.

"A... loose end to tie up, as it were," Cas said, suddenly confident. "My final olive branch."

"Knock yourself out. Don't mind me, just an insignificant human who was too fucking dumb to let you-"

Dean's words were cut off abruptly when the angel slid off of the car and stood facing him. Cas put his index finger on Dean's mouth, eyes pleading.

"Dean," he said quietly. "Let me make peace."

Dean hesitated, but finally looked away in agreement.

"Last night to live, right?" Cas continued weakly. "There's something I need to let you know."

"Say it," Dean breathed.

"It's not something that can be said," the angel replied. He held the back of Dean's neck in one hand and moved the other to rest on the small of his back. He took one last, long, look at the hunter's face before leaning closer, unsure of himself.

Dean went stock-still in his arms, suddenly aware of what the angel was getting at. His heart pounded and he expected himself to flee, but he found himself grasping the angel's lithe body tightly in his arms and pulling him closer.

Then, Cas's lips were on his, such a light touch that Dean barely felt it. The angel, suddenly shy, broke off the kiss before it had started and instead rested his forehead against Dean's, a gesture so intimate that Dean felt dizzy and lightheaded. They stood there silently for what felt like eons, every emotion crushing them like an avalanche all at once.

Love.

Fear.

Regret.

Longing.

Sorrow.

And through it all, their bond.

Dean was crying again, unable to process how much he wanted Cas. How much he wished he'd realized. How much he wanted to make the angel stay.

Cas kissed his cheek, trying to send away the pain with the brush of lips against skin.

"I'm so, so sorry, Dean," he said.

"I..." Dean pulled Cas closer into a fierce embrace, burying his head in the spot where the angel's neck met his shoulder. He smelled like aftershave, and Dean's head spun.

"I love you," Cas said quietly, cradling Dean against his shoulder. He gently pulled away from the embrace, wanting to memorize the color of Dean's eyes to take with him in the morning. Dean blinked rapidly, eyes darting across the angel's face.

"You can't just- you- you can't just- just tell me this- and- and leave me," Dean cried.

"Then let me have tonight."

Cas recaptured Dean's mouth before he could speak again. He gently bit Dean's lower lip, soft and gentle yet overflowing with passion.

I love you, Dean Winchester.

The stars continued to glitter unfeelingly as they breathed their goodbyes in the cold of the spring morning.