Castiel should have figured it would end like this. Dean stood meters away in shock as Castiel's grace ate through his vessel like acid. His chest began to burn, and blood began to fill his lungs; making him cough through his crushed windpipe. His brother finally released his throat and allowed his body to drop to the ground unceremoniously in a crumpled pile of Cas. He fell on his face, blood pooling below his mouth as his lungs tried to expel themselves from his body. Uriel chuckled to himself, crouching down beside the dying angel.
"Look around, Castiel," he began in that serpentine voice. Castiel wondered momentarily if it was actually this man before him that had tricked Adam and Eve into taking a bite of that damned fruit. He dismissed that thought with a pained scowl; Uriel had no kindness in his voice enough to seduce anybody into doing anything. The wounded angel tried to block out the other's voice with the memory of Dean. The smell of rusted metal from when he worked on his beloved car, the deep cracked leather from his father's leather jacket, the scent of the plain soap left over on his skin after his morning showers, and the musk, sweat, and something so purely Dean that resonated through Castiel's being like a brand.
Castiel recalled he image of Dean standing behind a shower curtain, a soapy mess spread across his chest and pooling at his feet while his sinful hands rubbed the soap in circles across his broad chest. Uriel obviously didn't appreciate being ignored, and plunged his thumb into the deep wound in his shoulder from where an angel blade skewered him. He whimpered, a noise so weak, he was surprised a weapon of heaven could make such a noise.
"It's impolite to ignore people, Castiel," the larger angel growled through ground teeth.
"Go to hell, you dirty fuck," Castiel rasped. His voice sounded gurgled and weak through his mostly crushed wind pipe.
Uriel's face contorted into one of rage and he drove his thumb deeper into Castiel's flesh. Castiel would have shouted out in pain if he could, but his vocal cords strained and pulled, leaving his mouth open in a silent scream.
"Listen to me you insignificant stain, you are worthless. You are going to die in the middle of Nowhere, and nobody is going to care." Castiel took a ragged breath in to respond, but Uriel beat him to it.
"Don't you dare say 'Dean would' because we both know the truth. He left you, Castiel." Cas couldn't see Dean where he lay on the ground, caught in between writhing in agony or laying still to stifle the pain, but he heard the muffled grunts that must have been Dean struggling against his brothers posed on each side of the hunter, holding him still to view Castiel's imminent demise.
"He left you for dead," Uriel continued in that voice that made Castiel sick.
"Shut up," he said, shutting his good eye tight, trying to block out his brother.
"Very well, Castiel," he sneered, "little good denial will do you when you're dead."
Uriel stood up to his full height, removing his hand from Castiel's shoulder, earning a low groan from the pain of movement.
"Was it worth it, Castiel?" His cold voice rang out through the warehouse, ricocheting off the walls and coming back to the angel lying prostate on the cold concrete.
Castiel took barely a moment to ponder it. All the memories of being cuddled up in Dean's arms and the sweet kisses they shared, the passionate nights and pleasant mornings after. He couldn't help but marvel at how different an angel he was just a year earlier.
He murmured through his garbled speech in the affirmative.
"What was that?" Uriel leaned in closer, "I didn't quite catch that."
As if on cue a white-hot pain erupted from his core as his grace ate through its self. He couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears and didn't know whether he answered or not before the darkness took him.