Warning: Major character death.
Dean, Cas says to him. Tell me a story.
Dean wants to tell him no, tell him go to sleep. Dean wants to leave and never come back so he won't have to see Castiel like this, grace ripped from him and mind half gone from the pain and the isolation of it, body wasting slowly away for no medically explainable reason. It feels so wrong, looking down at Cas in a hospital bed, face pale and tinged with gray, eyes dull and vacant. Sometimes he doesn't even recognize Dean, and other times he says horrible, true things that bring the sting of tears to Dean's eyes and make him wish he had died of a damaged heart or in a car accident seven years ago, so that this might never have happened.
"I did all of it for you," Cas croaks, eyes narrowed in accusation. "I killed myself and mutilated my grace and compromised everything that I am and that I held dear for you. I wish it could have been enough."
Worst are the days when Castiel seems unaware of who he is, of what he used to be. Those are the times when Dean seriously yearns to just disappear in a cloud of road dust.
Dean only leaves when he absolutely needs to grab a change of clothes, and he will always come back. He has a lot of regrets, but leaving Castiel to die alone in a hospital will not be one of them.
Tell me a story, he asks again. Please? So Dean does.
Once there was an angel, a hammer of God who was created to follow orders, and who tried to be a good son. But who also saw beauty and worth in everything, and had questions and doubts to boot. He loved God and all his Father's creations. He even befriended a family on Earth, and for years he lived in a human body. He always came when they called. He learned a lot from them and they learned from him, too. They fought side by side, got into some tough spots a few times. They faced things no one should ever have to face. Through it all, the angel was faithful, loyal. He tried to do the right thing, always. Sometimes he failed. Sometimes he listened to bad advice from people he thought he could trust, and sometimes he made more messes than he cleaned up.
Did God punish him for his mistakes? Cas wants to know.
Some people would say so. Every time the angel made a huge mistake, God brought him back, right in the middle of another mess that needed cleaning up. At first he thought it was a sign that God approved, but over time the angel grew to believe that God was punishing him by refusing him peace in death.
What do you think, Dean? And Dean is quiet for a long moment.
I think God knew the angel's heart was in the right place and was trying to give him a chance to do things better the next time around.
Castiel likes that, heavy-lidded eyes sliding closed and a soft, serene smile gracing his lips. But it only takes a minute for him to come up with more questions. Do you think they ever forgave him? His family on Earth? When he made mistakes?
I know they did, Dean says without a moment of hesitation. Castiel's smile fades as he falls asleep.
Tell me a story, Dean.
I'm all outta stories today, Cas. Dean is tired and irritable, but his voice is gentle, always gentle for his angel. Even when Castiel frowns and presses him, voice low and wheedling.
Please? Tell me about the angel and his Earth family. What were they like? Dean sighs.
Well, they were a weird little family, for one thing, I can tell you that right now. They were two brothers, and an old man that used to be a friend of their dad's. Their parents were dead, but he looked after 'em most of the time, and they thought of him like a second father. And there was a woman and her daughter, they were like their mother and sister. None of 'em blood related but the two brothers, but they were family in all the ways that counted.
They loved each other, Cas interjects simply, and Dean has to swallow hard around the swirl of memories that claw at his throat before he can respond.
Yeah, he finally whispers. They loved each other. They took care of each other. They even died for each other, one by one, until it was just the brothers and the angel left.
Did they resent him? For surviving when their family died? The question is so unexpected that Dean doesn't know how to respond at first, but when he does, he does so with conviction.
No, he says firmly. They didn't just belong to him by then; he was theirs, too. The older brother, he...he loved his little brother more than anything in the world. It was in his DNA, he was born to love his brother...but he loved the angel too.
Did the angel know the older brother loved him?
I dunno. The older brother wasn't very good with words, and he didn't like to talk about his feelings a lot. He tried to tell the angel how he felt a few times, but he never said I love you. Still...I'd like to think the angel knew it, in the end.
I'd like to think so too, Cas says dreamily, eyes closed. I know the angel loved him, very much. More even than God...and that was his unforgiveable sin.
Dean squeezes Cas's hand gently and tells him he's going to go grab some coffee. He makes it to the men's bathroom down the hall and manages to lock himself inside before he's on his ass on the tiles, knees to his chest and his breath coming in shaky, desperate gasps that seem to bring no relief to his oxygen-starved lungs or the aching band of steel constricting his chest. He feels like he's suffocating, and for a few minutes he really does think he'll pass out.
When he pulls himself together and gets back to the room, Cas's eyes are open and fixed on the doorway. They light up when Dean appears, and that band squeezes just a little tighter. Dean fights back a gasp and returns to Castiel's side, slipping the angel's cold, pale hand into his own and rubbing gentle circles into the fragile skin. When the nurse arrives on her rounds, Dean is slumped over the edge of the bed with his head nuzzled into Cas's neck. Castiel is still awake, and he looks at the nurse with tranquil eyes as she checks over his IV and his heart monitor. She finishes as fast as she can, her own stoic, experience-hardened heart cracking open and bleeding a little in the palpable air of mingled love and death in the room.
When Death comes for an angel, there's a brilliant, blinding white light. But Castiel hasn't been an angel in a very long time. When Death comes for him he comes in softly, long features set in a permanently sorrowful expression as he gazes, unseen, on Dean Winchester's last moments with his angel.
Dean, Cas wheezes, his voice a pitiful, shredded remnant of what it once was. Whatever happened to the angel? Did he ever get it right? Did he find peace?
Yeah, Dean chokes out, tears flowing freely the way they haven't since he was a child. Yeah, he did, Cas. He did, in the end. We did.
When Castiel closes his eyes for the last time, he welcomes Death with a clear heart and a relieved sigh. When Death offers his hand, Castiel only pauses a second, his bright blue eyes fixed on Dean, full of concern.
Will he be okay? And Death smiles.
Not to worry, he says, more gently than he usually bothers to be with his charges, and then he takes Castiel's hand and leads him home.
One of these days, Death knows, a reaping will stick to Dean Winchester. When that finally happens, he has no doubt in his mind that wherever the two of them end up, they will find a way to end up there together.
Author's Note: I was in a weird place last night and wrote this. Thanks to D for beta-reading this for me.