Falling Down
"Cruel is the strife of brothers."
—Aristotle
Springfield, Illinois, 1932 – Present Day
The clouds were dark and ominous overhead as Castiel walked down the street. How he had been roped into buying groceries at the local market, he didn't know. He held the paper bags to his chest and made his way toward the apartment while his mind drifted. The past few days had been nothing short of.. paradise. He had fallen hard for Dean all over again, having ignored his better judgment. It was as if nothing had changed from all those years ago. Once again, they had come together, had gotten lost in each other. Nothing else had mattered.
Paradise hadn't been without its tribulations, he admitted. With a sigh, Castiel stepped into the apartment building and began his ascendance up the grand staircase. Trouble had come when Castiel had confessed everything; his family's hand in Sam's murder, the death of his parents.. all of it. Dean had raged on and on about his need for revenge, his want to eradicate the entire family; his version of eye-for-an-eye. After having taken away his alcohol, and after he had sobered, Dean hadn't mentioned it again. And Castiel had never brought it up. He never wanted to think about it again. The only thing Castiel wanted to do was live in the moment. Enjoy every single second he had with Dean as if it were his last. As if their time was running out.
Castiel had spent that time fucking Dean, to play out his aggressions and frustrations. To make love to him, bleeding out every ounce of devotion and passion he had. It had left him sore, vulnerable and.. scared. Dean was dangerous, capable of completely destroying him. Everything changed when he was with Dean. Things that Castiel had thought were important had lost their value; his family, his code, and even his own appearance. Castiel looked down at himself then, to the loose tie around his neck, and to the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Had he been foolish to let Dean back into his life?
He didn't have time to answer.
At the top of the stairs, Castiel could see the apartment, door slightly ajar as if it had been left opened… or kicked in. His reaction was immediate, changing from a fool in love to what he was meant to be—an assassin, ruthless and quick, who killed first and never bothered to ask questions. Castiel carefully and quietly set the paper grocery bags on the floor and withdrew his dual .38 Colts. Ignoring the soreness in his body, Castiel moved fluidly through the hall, could feel the finger-mark bruises shiver along his skin as it prickled in anticipation. The apartment seemed unbearably quiet from this distance. Only creeping closer revealed the true gravity of the situation.
Silhouetted against the window's light stood a familiar figure… but it wasn't Dean. The physique didn't match and Castiel had studied Dean's body long enough to know the difference, down to the most miniscule of details. This intruder was too thin, hair too long and, when the man finally looked toward the door, Castiel could see that the face was too narrow, round eyes brown and intense. No, not Dean. But his brother Gabriel, smile large and amused… despite the bruises and cuts all over his face. The apartment's interior was also in disarray; furniture toppled and broken, personal belongings strewn everywhere. There was no sign of Dean.
Castiel gripped the .38s tightly and stepped inside—
"Ah, brother," Gabriel greeted cheerfully.
—before throwing out Dean's name as if to search for him, like a mother bear calling for her cub.
"Cas," Dean croaked weakly. The voice came from behind the bed's high footboard.
At this angle, Castiel couldn't seen Dean, but could hear him. Internally, Castiel was relieved, but he never relaxed his muscles, blue eyes so cold, so angry and set evenly on Gabriel. His guns were aimed directly at his brother in case he made the wrong move.
"It's been weeks, hasn't it? We've been worried about you," Gabriel oozed, all too charming and snake-like.
"What are you doing here, Gabriel?" Castiel hissed.
"Now, now. I don't feel quite comfortable talking to you while you're packing," Gabriel tilted his head to the side, eyeing him up and down. "Are you compensating for something? Maybe I should ask your little toy over here."
Castiel frowned.
"Cassie…" Gabriel drawled out the nickname, loose and long over several syllables. "Throw them over here or I'll make lover boy's brains look like momma's spaghetti."
Castiel narrowed his eyes dangerously in silent refusal.
In response, Gabriel shrugged and aimed his gun toward Dean. The Mafioso didn't hesitate in firing his own gun first, sending a bullet to sail directly over Gabriel's shoulder. It missed him narrowly and Gabriel yelped in surprise, shock written all over his face.
"You.. motherfucker," Gabriel growled, grabbing at his shoulder. He peeled his hand away to inspect for any damage. There was none. "I wasn't going to kill him, Cas. Not yet," Gabriel hissed.
"And you're not going to kill him, Gabriel."
"I will if you don't send those fucking guns over here like I told you to," Gabriel nearly grinned. "You don't wanna test me, bro. I haven't killed anything in weeks. I'm itchin' for the chance."
Castiel focused on every aspect of his brother's demeanor and body language to determine what he was truly facing here. They stared at each other, standing off in a stalemate of wills. Although Castiel had always been the better marksman, Gabriel was.. the crazier of the two. Castiel didn't want to take the risk. Reluctantly, after another second of calculation, Castiel sent the twin .38s airborne to land onto the bed. They were snatched up and deposited on the nightstand near Gabriel and far away from both himself and Dean.
"I am so glad we could all get together like this," Gabriel commented off-handedly. "So, you two. When's the wedding?"
"Why the fuck are you here?" Castiel snapped impatiently.
Gabriel twisted his face into a pout. "Am—am I not invited?" He stuck a hand deep into his pocket—
Castiel tensed.
—and pulled out a candy bar, unwrapping it before chewing on its end obscenely. "Mmeh. I had nothing to wear anyway."
Castiel rolled his eyes, "Cut the shit, Gabriel!"
Gabriel ignored him, "Cas, I didn't figure you for a fruit. The signs though—" He wiggled a finger at him. "—they were there. So neat and trim all the time. I should have known."
Castiel grit his teeth.
"I guess we should be thankful that momma and poppa died before they found out. They would have been very disappointed to learn that they had let a queer into the family."
"Fuck you," Castiel hissed.
"Now that would be awkward. Sorry to burst your bubble, Cas, but I'm not one to like cock much."
Castiel could barely keep his anger under control, fists clenched at his sides.
"Why are you so grumpy? Hasn't lover boy loosened you up? Obviously not good enough. You still have that stick lodged firmly up your ass. I thought for sure you had traded it for something else." Another Gabriel-esque shit-eating grin.
"Fuck you," Dean squawked.
Gabriel stopped his chewing long enough to look annoyed and spare Dean a corrective kick.
"Gabriel!" Castiel called out just as Dean groaned in pain.
"Then stop your dog from barking," Gabriel snapped.
Castiel tried to calm his nerves. He had no power in this situation and, as much as he hated it, had to be compliant—for Dean. He would do anything to keep him out of harm's way. Gabriel posed a threat and he couldn't bear to lose Dean… not again.
Gabriel chewed loudly, "So, to answer your question." He swallowed and licked his lips. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Your sweetheart was kind enough to let me in and we got t'talkin'. Seems we both knew the same someone. Have you heard this story, Cas? About his brother? I sure had a lot of fun killing that one."
"You fucking dick," Dean groaned brokenly.
Gabriel stopped his chewing again and motioned toward Dean, cutting Castiel a side-long glance. "You found yourself a mouthy one. I'm sure that helps with your... activities. Hopefully, he knows how to keep his lips tight for more than just your dick. I wouldn't want to cut out that pretty little tongue of his because he talked too fucking much." Gabriel finished off his candy and threw the wrapper to the ground. "Anyway. You're just in time to hear the best part, Cas."
Castiel rolled his eyes.
"Oh, don't look so bored. I promise to make my story interesting," Gabriel said, a touch annoyed. "God, you're so rude." The brother sighed with a huff, then continued.
"While that lumbering giant was dying—and you really wouldn't believe how affective slitting someone's throat is until you've tried it," Gabriel laughed at himself with the snap of his fingers. "Anywho. While he was dying, he couldn't quite whisper his brother's name like he wanted to. It came out all…" His face screwed up disgustedly. "…garbled and bloody. Like…" Gabriel began to imitate the dying Sam. "De..a..n.. Dea..an.." Amused, Gabriel chuckled before immediately growing serious and straight-faced. "Sad, really."
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Dean roared.
Gabriel leaned in and cupped his own ear, "I'm sorry. What? I can't hear you over the sound of…" And that was when Gabriel launched another devastating kick toward Dean, like punishing a puppy. He heard Dean cry out in pain.
"Gabriel!" Castiel shouted.
"What! I'm being friendly."
Castiel hissed, "What do you want from us!"
"Cas. I'm hurt. I thought you knew," Gabriel feigned a pained expression. "I'm here to kill your boyfriend. Particularly because you have a conflict of interest and can't fucking do it." He sighed dramatically. "Look. Because I'm the better brother here, I'll offer you a deal—"
"I don't want your—"
"Cas. Please. Hear me out. For your brother?" He feigned another pout.
Castiel didn't respond.
"All you have to do is kill this piece of shit and all will be forgiven. We'll all forget that you're a pansy and you can come home and live a normal life. Sound fair?" His next look to Castiel was level and pointed. "For the family."
Castiel didn't have the heart to respond.
"Well? What do you say?"
Emotional pain flickered over Castiel's face, "Gabriel. Please."
"Is it really that difficult? It's not like you love him."
Castiel cast his eyes downward.
"Do—do you love him, Cas?" Gabriel asked, angling his head as if he wanted to catch those downcast eyes.
Castiel sighed heavily, "Gabriel."
Gabriel clucked his tongue. "Well, shit. You're farther gone than I thought. How disappointing." He shook his head sadly. "All right. Then there's really only one other way to solve this." He raised the gun in line with Dean. "Let me do the honors—"
There was a sudden commotion and Dean must have moved, tackled him—something. In that second, Gabriel called out and lunged backward, away from him, completely distracted. Castiel had started moving immediately, launching himself cleanly on and then off the bed. Gabriel hadn't truly recovered from Dean's attack, tried to aim the gun at Castiel—but it was too late. His brother never had the chance to squeeze off the shot. Gabriel was tackled immediately, slammed against the wall, and dragged into a heap of struggling limbs and egos for control of the gun. Castiel proved to be the stronger of the two, wrenching the weapon away before pistol-whipping Gabriel into unconsciousness.
"Cas," Dean whispered weakly behind him.
Castiel shoved the handgun into the waistband of his pants and withdrew from his prone brother. Rushed steps brought him to Dean's side and he took the utmost care in grabbing him and hoisting him to his feet. His beautiful face was bloody and bruised.
"Dean," Castiel brushed a finger over a cheekbone. "I'm so sorry."
Dean tensed and averted his face from the touch. "You didn't do this, Cas."
Castiel didn't have a chance to respond. Dean went for the gun, surprisingly quick for someone so badly beaten. Quicker, Castiel grabbed his hand and Dean struggled against the vice-like hold on his wrist.
"Dean."
"Cas," he breathed heavily. "You know I have to do this."
Castiel tightened his jaw, "You're asking me to let you murder my brother."
Dean tried to jerk his wrist free. He was unsuccessful. "No. I'm just asking you to look the other way."
"Dean," Castiel pleaded.
"Cas," Dean said weakly. Their eyes locked and Castiel could see the pain there. "Sammy," he whispered as if that was all the explanation Castiel ever needed. In truth, Sam meant nothing to him. If it were only about Sam… but it wasn't. To Castiel, it was all about Dean. Castiel knew how much Dean loved his brother, how brightly his need for revenged burned. If anyone had killed Dean, wouldn't he want the same type of justice? Still..
"I—I can't let you kill him," Castiel said, voice broken. "Please, Dean."
"Just.. let go of the gun, Cas."
Castiel stared into those green eyes for a long time. It would be so easy to let go, to let Dean have what he wanted. To have the revenge he thought he needed. Castiel didn't have to make that choice. With considerable strength, Dean successfully wrenched the gun away from him and turned toward Gabriel. Castiel should have fought back, should have gripped the gun harder—
"Dean!"
The shot rang out.
His heart ached as he spun around abruptly, turning his back to the aftermath of the cruel... needless murder. Castiel felt like the executioner without holding the gun; the orchestrator to Gabriel's death without having actually killed him. A tidal wave of guilt washed over him.
"Let's finish this," he heard Dean say.
Castiel turned slowly, fixing Dean with a confused look. He backed away from the sea of blood that oozed toward him. "W—what? Finish this? Finish what? This is the resolution you were looking for."
"Not all of it," Dean brushed past him.
"Dean," Castiel caught his wrist again, whirled him around with more force than intended. Dean winced and tried to pull away. "Dean. What are you planning to do?" Revelation struck his face. "Are you—"
"Goddamn it, Cas. Those fucking pigs killed my entire family! Destroyed my fucking life! Destroyed ours. They ripped us apart! Doesn't that piss you off? Doesn't it make you angry to think that, if they hadn't done this to us, that we'd be in a different place? That we'd be happy? I can't just go on with my life, knowing that they're out there, living their fucked up, perfect lives. I won't."
"Dean. I—"
"Cas! For fuck's sake," Dean jerked his hand free. "You're either with me or you're not. It's that fucking simple."
Castiel flinched, "And… if I'm not?"
Dean clenched his jaw, "I can't let you stand in my way."
The response hit him like a truck, rocking him back a step. Would Dean..? He couldn't keep his thought in check. "You'd just—"
Kill me?
Dean didn't respond and turned away from him instead. Castiel stared at him for a long time, frozen in his shock. He didn't know what to do or what to say. After everything they had been in the last few days—and he'd just.. throw it all away? Still stunned, he barely registered that Dean had started dressing himself, pulling on his six-buttoned vest and suit jacket. Castiel barely had any time at all to realize that.. Dean was leaving.
"Dean..?"
Dean grabbed his gun and moved toward the door, never once responding to him. Castiel tried to grab at him, to touch him as if it were the last time. To try and somehow stop Dean from walking out of his life. Dean shrugged him off, refused to even look at him. He flinched when the door slammed shut.
Numb.. didn't even begin to describe how he felt.
End of Time
"Our time is running out... How did it come to this?"
—Muse, Time is Running Out
Aurora, Illinois, 1932 – Present Day
Castiel thought he had time. Time to mourn his brother's death, to deal with the guilt. He didn't think that Dean would act so irrationally or so.. quickly. He thought he had time to stop Dean, to calm him down.
Clearly, time had run out.
Back in Springfield, Castiel had done as much as he could have for Gabriel. No funeral. He had no choice but to quickly bless the body and hide it where it couldn't be found—at the bottom of a lake; a proper send-off among made men. Afterward, he had prepared himself for the worst before hopping a train to Aurora. Castiel had known that Dean would act stupidly and recklessly in the name of revenge. And because he was a day's travel ahead of him, Castiel knew that Dean would be in deep shit by the time he had gotten there. He couldn't have been more right.
Fucking Dean.
The gentle hum of his car died as he switched off the ignition. From across the street, the ristorante seemed darker than the night's sky, curtains drawn over the large glass window to prevent anyone from seeing inside. He knew Dean was in there. Dead or alive though, he didn't know.
Anxiety and dread left him dizzy. Regret and a preemptive sense of loss kept him cold. Castiel lit a cigarette and inhaled the dark, rich smoke, savoring it in his lungs as if it were the last breath he'd ever take. Nothing could settle his nerves yet he found some solace knowing he wasn't alone. The quiet fidgeting in the backseat broke the silence in the car's cabin.
"How do I keep getting myself in fucked up situations like this," Balthazar whispered. "I blame you entirely."
Balthazar sat in the backseat of the car, armed with one of Castiel's precious .38 Colts. Castiel didn't acknowledge him and instead exhaled another puff of smoke.
"What are we doing here, Cas?" Balthazar asked.
"Don't ask questions. Your only priority is to get him out of there." Because, for Castiel, it wasn't a question of 'if' Dean was alive. It was simply that he 'was'. "Don't stop for anything or anyone else. Not even me. Do you understand?"
"Cassie—"
"Do I have your word!"
"Yes, for God's sake," Balthazar snapped.
Satisfied, Castiel opened the car door, stopped only by how quickly and tightly Balthazar grabbed his arm.
"You're going to negotiate, right Cas?"
Castiel didn't respond and exited the car out onto the street, shutting the door behind him. He could hear Balthazar call out his name. It sounded frantic, full of doubt and fear, but Castiel ignored him. Truthfully, he didn't expect negotiation to be a part of the package. Castiel expected something else entirely; for his whole world to come crashing down on him. Maybe even die. Suddenly, he wondered if he'd welcome death or if he cared at all. To finally be away from the pain of this world..
None of that translated into the fluidity of his movements as Castiel crossed the street. He flicked his spent cigarette aside just as the wind blew, the updraft fanning wide his black pea coat in a sort of winged mockery. Castiel dipped his head low and held onto the black borsalino hat as he stepped into the family's establishment.
As soon as Castiel cleared the threshold—
"Ah. Castiel. How good of you to finally join us," Castiel heard Lucifer say.
—he was rushed by two figures, hands grabbing his arms tight. Castiel didn't put up a struggle or care to acknowledge them. He immediately searched for Dean and couldn't help but notice all the destruction—broken tables and chairs, Virgil gripping his shoulder as if he'd been shot. Dean had been badly beaten and was bound in a chair, barely conscious.
"Dean!" Castiel called out.
Dazed, Dean somehow had the wherewithal to look up at him. His face was still beautiful despite all the bruises. His lip was split open and blood was.. everywhere. It looked as if his family had spent hours beating him. Fottuti bastardi.
Castiel growled and struggled against.. whoever the fuck was holding him. On the one side of him, Alastair gripped tighter and grinned. "This'll be so much fun." Azazel was on Castiel's left side, sly smile on his lips. "Long time no see."
Castiel glared at Azazel while they hastily frisked him, searching for weapons. They found two. Crowley's Colt was the only gun carelessly thrown onto the bar. His precious .38 had been pocketed, no doubt, by either Alistair or Azazel. Castiel mentally marked the Colt's location before looking over to Dean. He looked so.. tired and worn, and it was devastating. Castiel just wanted this to be over. For Dean to be safe.
Castiel didn't have time to worry now. He strategically marked all the particulars; the proposed enemies, their locations, weapons and demeanor. Lucifer stood several feet in front of him, smug and dapper, with Michael on his left side. Michael appeared forlorn and incredibly tense. Castiel didn't have time to consider the potential ally. On Lucifer's right side, the twosome of Zachariah and Virgil mulled around Dean. Castiel weighed his options in the span of seconds, calculating distance, time and flow of events. The realization that he was outnumbered didn't deter or faze him.
"You have me," Castiel tilted his head toward Dean. "Let him go."
"No," Lucifer eased. "That isn't even an option." He glanced over at the gun taken from Castiel. "Packing light, I see. You really didn't plan on succeeding in rescuing him, did you. Barely tried. How disappointing. You seem almost... ready to die. You'd follow him blindly anywhere, wouldn't you? Even into the flames of Hell."
Castiel said nothing and didn't move.
"How admirable. So much loyalty. Sadly, it's misplaced. Your loyalty should lie with family."
"He is my family," Castiel shot back.
"Oh? And what are we? Meaningless? We took you in when you had nothing."
"I still have nothing. You destroyed everything that I loved. Jimmy—"
"That was an accident," Lucifer quickly interjected.
"It doesn't matter. My entire life has been a lie. I was nothing but a tool to this family. There's no love here. It's just a means to an end."
"We loved—"
"Bullshit!" Castiel snapped. "I was 'loved'…" He raised his hands as much as he could to air quote. "…when I did what you wanted me to do. Now I'm going to do what I want to do. And I want to be free. I choose freedom. Free will. Away from the oppression of this family."
Lucifer sighed, "There seems to be no room for arguing. No hopes of changing your mind. A pity. I had so many plans for you. It's unfortunate that it has to end like this."
Castiel struggled wildly when Lucifer raised the gun. But it wasn't toward Dean. Instead, it was to his left, gun's muzzle aimed toward Michael's head. Michael was too slow to react and fell over dead as soon as the sound of the bullet made it to Castiel's ears. He tensed immediately, bright blue eyes blown wide in shock.
Lucifer shrugged. "He would have been the first to betray me." He switched the gun to the other hand and aimed it toward Dean. "And now, we get rid of our little problem."
"Lucifer!" Castiel yelled.
To his horror, Lucifer smirked and took careful aim at Dean and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and sounded more like a funeral pyre than anything else to Castiel. The bullet ripped a hole in Dean's chest and the front of him ran red. The way Dean slumped so.. lifelessly made something in Castiel snap. He became what he always should have been.
A cold, heartless killer.
With an unearthly growl, Castiel let slip the twin blades he had hidden in the sleeves of his pea coat. He palmed them comfortably and drove them downward. The knives sunk deeply into Alastair and Azazel, at their thighs, and Castiel twisted, fully opening the blood flow in his two victims. They stumbled away, holding their wounds and crying out. Castiel knew they'd bleed out in a matter of minutes. And by then, everything would be over.
Not a second wasted, Castiel threw those same blades into the awaiting throats of both his brothers Zachariah and Virgil, neither one of them quick enough to react before falling over. Shots from Lucifer began to pepper him, missing, while his brothers lay dying and choking on the floor. Castiel dove forward into a roll and scrambled to right himself, to grab the Colt from the countertop before slipping behind the bar—the perfect cover. He could already hear a second series of shots, cast off by Balthazar who had come in blazing. It was the perfect distraction.
Behind the bar, Castiel breathed evenly and spun open Colt's chamber to find four out of five bullets inside. Fuck. Perfect aim would be essential and there was no room for error. He spun it closed and turned to pass a brief glance toward Dean. Or where he should have been. The trail of blood indicated that he had been moved and that Balthazar had been successful.
If Castiel wanted Dean to have the chance to live, he would need to act now. Castiel stepped out into the open and was immediately met by a gunshot from his right side. The shot was impossibly wide and missed. Castiel could see the dying Azazel peripherally and didn't even need to look to squeeze off a shot. There was a sound of the gunshot and a dying groan—another threat extinguished.
Time was of the essence and he had nothing more to lose. With his guns held high and aimed to where Lucifer had taken cover, Castiel squeezed the trigger once. The bullet whizzed by and blasted a hole in the wood of the overturned table. Lucifer had no choice to stand up and out from behind his cover, discharging his own two bullets.
Unfortunately, Lucifer's hit their marks. And while Lucifer needed two bullets to slow him down, Castiel only needed one.
"I'll see you in Hell," came the weak whisper from Castiel's lips.
Crowley's Colt rang out and Lucifer fell over dead from the headshot, ending an era that should have never started—years that had added more suffering. Right then, it was almost as if Castiel could feel the pain of his entire life mounting inside of him. His chest ached with it, so real in its intense growth. Weakly, Castiel lifted a hand, searched beneath many layers of clothing to find the source of that agony… the bullets. Both of them had gone through his padded vest… and he was bleeding. Significantly bleeding. But it was a profound concern that had to wait. Castiel willed all of the pain and fear of his own well-being away in favor of Dean. His concern for him increased tenfold when he remembered that Dean too had been hurt. Gravely wounded, in fact.
He didn't want to think about it, any of it, and turned away from Lucifer's dead body instead. There was no time to bless the fallen. No time to mourn or even spare a thought for anything other than Dean. He was on the forefront of Castiel's mind and he would move Heaven and Hell just to save him.
"Dean…" Castiel whispered hoarsely into the dead air.
He spoke the name as if it would save his life, as if that alone could pull his weak body toward the only person he had ever truly loved. On unsure legs, Castiel followed the trail of blood that led him to the huddled forms. Balthazar was sitting on his knees with Dean draped over him, and his gun—
Pointed at Dean's head.
"Balthazar," Castiel hissed with concern.
Balthazar looked up at him, tears staining his eyes, expression torn with despair. Castiel's first response should have been to shoot him, to destroy anything and everything that threatened Dean and their happiness together. But this was Balthazar, his dear brother, the only one who had taken young Castiel under his wing. Balthazar had shown him the world, had helped him when he needed it the most. Balthazar had never failed him.
Until now..
"Is this what you would have me do? Watch idly as you lay waste to our family?"
"Balthazar…" Castiel whispered.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Balthazar looked down at Dean for a second's worth of contemplation before returning his eyes to Castiel. In that second, his dear brother had grown more in his sadness.
"Is he worth all of this? All of this… death?"
"Yes," Castiel said without missing a beat. "Yes. He's worth it. All of it. Death… heartache. All the years I've been in pain. My life… my soul. I did all of it. All of it... for him. To protect him. To ensure that he was happy and safe."
Balthazar stared at him for a long time, locked down tight with a clenched jaw. The tear that slid down his face said everything and nothing at all.
"I can't—" Balthazar began, struggling with his words. "You can't just get away with this. I won't let you. There has to be consequence for… destroying everything."
"Balthazar, please."
"We were brothers once. Family."
"We still are. Please. It doesn't have to end this way," Castiel pleaded.
"What choice do I have? There's nothing left. You destroyed everything because of this.. sick obsession you have for him."
Castiel didn't respond.
"Cassie, you killed your family for—for him. How do you not see how wrong that is? How can you not see how broken that is?"
"It's not broken," Castiel stated evenly with no room for argument. It was with reluctance that Castiel lifted the gun, to line it up with Balthazar's head. There was simply no time left.
"I can't care about any of this right now, Balthazar. Not when he's dying. Not when he needs me." Castiel swallowed hard, voice ragged and cracking. "He deserves to be saved because he saved me."
Balthazar couldn't say anything in response. What argument did he have?
There's no time for this.
Castiel cocked the hammer. The sound was deafening, final. "Please. Put down the gun and let me help him."
"You know I can't do that."
Balthazar stared him down… and cocked his gun. Castiel wasn't prepared for how fiercely his heart started pumping, wasn't prepared for any of it. The adrenaline started to course through his system and his head swam with dizziness. But it was nothing compared to the sadness that plagued his soul, to the realization that he would have to defend his right to happiness again. To kill another family member… this time Balthazar. It was far too painful to even think about—so, he didn't. He turned off all feeling, everything, for Dean.
"Then you leave me no choice." His voice had come out far colder than he had intended, far more ruthless than he had ever wanted. Balthazar deserved more than that. "Forgive me," Castiel whispered softly.
Balthazar nodded, entirely too accepting. "Good bye, brother."
His dear brother could barely make another move before Castiel pulled the trigger. The gun rang out as the bullet was dispersed, laying Balthazar out dead on the floor with a shot to the head. To shield himself from the shock, to prevent him from seeing his brother's blood from spilling out onto the floor, Castiel closed his eyes. But closing his eyes didn't stop his heart from breaking, didn't stop his soul from dying just a little bit more. Moments like this were spent trying to keep himself from falling apart, from giving up and collapsing from the sheer weight of his despair. The thought of Dean, of losing him again, brought him back down to earth and away from his want to simply die.
Castiel opened his eyes and ignored the blood, moving quickly to Dean's side to check on his wound. It had been a close-quarter shot to the chest and had left a hole deep and wide. For anyone else, it would have been fatal, but for Dean Winchester… he held on with shallow breaths, clung to life just to cheat Death out of another soul. It was Dean's way of saying 'fuck you' to the world. It was clear, however, that Dean had little time left.
"I'm not going to let you die, Dean."
Castiel shifted his attention to Balthazar then and spent a quick blessing over him, mumbling words thickly and rapidly yet with more meaning and sincerity than he ever had for anyone else. He closed Balthazar's eyes with the brush of fingers before gathering Dean up in his arms, summoning up all the strength he could from his already-weak body. There was no room for failure here. And Dean's death? It wasn't even an option.
It took a lot of effort and struggle to get Dean out of the building and into the car. It was draining and left Castiel weak, nearly falling to the pavement after he had closed the backseat's car door. With Dean nestled in the back, Castiel had almost felt relieved.
"Just a little bit more," he told himself.
With a haggard cough, Castiel slipped into the front seat of the car, shut the door, and turned the ignition. The car sprang to life and shot down the road with a growl, leaving the devastation behind in a cloud of smoke. Castiel drove like a bat out of Hell down the back streets in an effort to avoid anything that would slow him down. His destination was a beacon of hope that he followed. He had to get there in time.
"Stay with me, Dean. Do you hear me?"
Castiel didn't expect an answer. But then…
"Cas..?" came Dean's quiet voice.
"Dean?" Castiel answered, shocked. "Dean?"
"What happ—"
"Shh. Don't talk. You're going to be okay. Stay with me."
Castiel zoomed through the streets with abandon, couldn't spare anymore thought to the dread the crept into his soul. He had to keep talking, just to hear Dean's voice, just to keep himself from giving up all hope.
"Dean..?"
"Cas," Dean answered back, barely above a whisper.
"I'm going to take care of you. You're going to be all right. Remember when you were sick with the flu? Right after you had come back from the vacation with your family? Do you remember, Dean..?"
"Yes…"
"I took care of you then, didn't I? And you got better. This isn't anything different, amore mio. I'll take care of you and you're going to be okay. And we'll be happy together."
"Cas…" Dean's voice was even weaker.
"Yes, Dean..?"
"I.." Dean began quietly. "I lo—"
"I know, Dean. I know." Castiel inhaled deeply and tried to keep the tears away. "Stay with me, Dean."
Silence.
"Dean..?"
No answer.
"Dean!"
And when Castiel didn't hear Dean respond, he completely fell apart. Tears fell onto cheeks as dread, and sadness and despair seized his chest with anxiety.
"Dean. Don't you dare fucking leave me here alone. I can't do this without you. I just... can't. Not again."
Castiel was almost there, almost at Doctor Robert's place, his salvation, the place where Dean would be patched up, nursed back to health and brought back to him.
"God… please." Castiel pleaded. "Please help me. Please don't take him away from me. I beg you.."
Castiel abandoned his prayer for concentration, to pull into the driveway of the doctor's home; he who would save Castiel's entire world. He parked and turned the ignition off, opened the door with the little strength he had left. It took everything he had in him to walk up to the home's door, to bang on it with a fervor he didn't know he had. A few seconds went by before the door opened to a familiar, smiling face.
"Castiel! What brings—" Doctor Robert began cheerfully.
"He's in the car…"
"Who—"
"Just fucking help him. He's been shot… doesn't have much time left."
"But you're—"
"I don't matter. Do you hear me?" Castiel rasped. "If he dies, you die. Am I clear?"
"Cas—"
"Am I clear!" Castiel growled. "Please… save him."
"Yes—"
And that was all Castiel needed to hear; a confirmation that his order, that his last wish would be honored. With it, Castiel felt relieved and fell to his knees—
"Jo! Ellen! I need some goddamn help out here!"
—before his world fell away to darkness.
The large oak sprawled above them, boughs long and wide, shielding them from the heat of the sun. Through the leaves, rays of light gently touched their skin and faces, filling them with a sense of warmth… and hope. They were lying there together, hands intertwined, looking up through the foliage to find patches of blue sky. They were children again—the happiest time of their lives.
Castiel inhaled the fresh air and turned to look at Dean. He looked incredibly beautiful. Because of the sun, his pale freckles were darker than they usually were and his eyes.. were an absolutely stunning shade of green. He could stay here and stare at Dean all day long, forever, and hoped that he could. Dean turned to look at him, tossed him a wink, and threw a piece of grass at him. Castiel couldn't help but giggle and then melt when Dean's bare foot started to rub against his own. Everything was.. perfect.
"Can we just stay here together? Happy.. away from all the pain and sadness?" Castiel asked.
Dean smiled at him. It was deep and genuine. "Yeah."
Castiel smiled back at him, "I'd like that."
Dean switched to lie on his side and brushed a finger down Castiel's nose. "Me too."
Castiel held his breath, closing his eyes in anticipation as Dean leaned in. He expected to feel Dean's lips on his own, expected them to embrace and fall into each other. But.. it never came.
Castiel opened his eyes to the sky, tree limbs and leaves. The sunlight had been replaced with stormy clouds and a cold breeze that brought a sense of foreboding. And Dean was.. simply gone.
"Dean..?"
…
Because of Him
"But instead, we become this. The only thing I think we have left, Dean and me, is each other."
—Castiel, "The End" (production draft only)
Aurora, Illinois, 1932 – Present Day
"Dean!"
Castiel woke from the dream with a start, shooting upright into a sitting position. He was alive and the pain had dulled. It was all he could process before gentle hands tried to push him back down, before a voice tried to soothe him.
"Sir, please. Lie back down."
"No," he growled, struggling against the petite, pretty blonde girl who tried to tend to him. His vision was blurry. He was drugged.
"When my daughter says to lie back down, she means it, mister," came a more forceful voice from an older woman.
Both nurses struggled with him, tried to make him lay back down, but he wouldn't have it. He swatted at their hands rudely and pushed the younger blonde away from him. He had to get to Dean. He had to see if he was alive.
With another growl, and an odd surge of strength, Castiel jerked himself out of bed and nearly fell to the floor. He felt unsure on his feet, unstable, but he pushed through it and moved to the door with purpose. The two nurses scrambled after him, missed grabbing him when he stepped out into the hall.
"Goddamit. Get your skinny ass back here!" called the older nurse.
Castiel frantically searched each and every room to find Dean, each and every step growing more unsteady. When he finally did find Dean, Castiel nearly fell over from relief, catching himself on the doorframe to keep himself upright.
"Dean…" Castiel whispered gently.
He settled next to Dean ungracefully, pawed at him desperately to make sure that this wasn't a dream, that he was still alive. Dean's breathing was shallow, but he was alive.
"Dean. I'm here."
Castiel touched his face, brushed fingers against his clammy brow in sheer appreciation that Dean was still here, still with him.
"I'll never leave you."
And he never would. Not until Castiel saw those beautiful, green eyes again. All he wanted was to see those eyes, that smile, the way Dean threw a wink at him or touched him. Castiel had fought hard for those things, had sacrificed… everything just to make sure that he'd have a future with those things.
Sacrificed everything…
The memory of his butchered family brought nothing but regret and tears to stain his eyes, to bring down the ice he had built around his heart. Now, here, he could mourn the loss of those he loved. Away from prying eyes, from the danger, from keeping Dean safe, he could properly.. grieve. All of it had been for Dean. He did all of it because of Dean. And he was left to pick up the fragile pieces with no hope of putting them back together again.
Castiel leaned forward with the ounce of strength he had left and placed a kiss on Dean's lips. It was chaste, said everything in all of its simplicity.
"I'm not going to let you fight this on your own," Castiel whispered. "You're going to make it. You're Dean Winchester.."
He settled back into the chair beside Dean's bed and held his hand. He would watch over him until he saw those eyes again. No matter how long it took.
"I've got you. I promise."
[End]