Screaming of ambulance sirens drowned out Dean's thoughts and filled his soul with panic. His heart pounded in his chest, sending blood rushing painfully through his aching body. Several cuts on his face and neck were bleeding profusely, but that wasn't the real problem. The ambulance wasn't for him. God, he wished it was, because the alternative made him sick with depression. But the crumpled form on the gurney wasn't him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't help that. Even if he'd die to fix it, he couldn't.
Pausing a moment to rest against the brick wall of a building, Dean watched the ambulance speed away. Nausea hit him like a punch to the gut, and he dug his nails into the wall to keep himself from falling. There were so many things he should have told that damned angel, but it was too late now. He cursed himself with a heavy heart and closed his eyes tightly, wanting to forget everything about Castiel. His loyalty, his beauty, his selflessness, his love- Dean wanted it all gone. He wanted to be back in Hell with the demons and the devils, because at least he wouldn't be alone.
Night eventually set in as the sun fell, illuminating the trees in a spectrum of oranges and pinks. The beauty of it all made Dean want to puke. Or, better yet, tear his eyes out. For God's sake, he didn't want to watch the sunset alone. Who did? But he guessed his idea of romance was too old-fashioned if it didn't include death.