A/N: I meant to write a dark fic for another fandom, but then I started hurting, so this angst happened. Enjoy your tears. I hate this.
WARNING: This fic contains major character death, and suicidal thoughts.
The world closed in on Dean. Everything came down to this single moment. With God having consumed Amara, and Jack dea—
Well, Dean just couldn't handle it. He couldn't fucking handle it.
And here was yet another punch to the gut. No, it was more than a punch to the gut. This realization and fear and pain was like getting run through with a thick broadsword that was then twisted in him before the merciless steel hacked and mutilated his insides.
Billie was coming to set things "right."
Oh, god. Oh fucking god.
Except god had never been his god. He'd only made sure that Dean wasn't real.
So maybe this wasn't real — this waiting in the armory with Castiel, the door barricaded with every sigil imaginable against Death. She banged at the door, relentless. Her blows against the power they'd infused into their home sounded like war drums, or a funeral march. The drums that sounded before death, during, after… This was it.
Dean reached out for Cas, but found he couldn't hold him. He was trembling, hands shaking. And Cas looked as if he could barely stand, weak where he stood, crying.
"Cas, I—I want you to know something," Dean said.
BOOM!
A shaky inhale.
"Dean, I already know."
Hot, salty tears ran down Dean's cheeks, and he tasted them on his lips.
"I—I don't know how to say it."
"After everything we've been through, I'm not sure I do either. But we know. We. Know. And that's what matters."
BOOM!
Dean managed to close the distance between them, holding Castiel's shoulders as he rested his forehead against him. Cas. His angel. And he breathed him in. His smell, his essence, his life. Castiel was doing the same, breathing heavy. Their tears dripped from their faces, even trailing down their chins and necks to soak into their shirts.
BOOM!
"Cas, you're my best friend."
BOOM!
"The only friend I've ever cared for till it hurt. And you're more than that. So much more."
BOOM!
"You're the human I gave up everything for," Castiel said. "And I'm ready to give it all up again. I promise, I will fight. I will save you, protect you."
Dean gave a sad laugh. "You gotta protect yourself."
"I… I can't do that. It's Billie."
Dean nearly sobbed and then pressed a desperate kiss to Castiel's lips. It wasn't anything passionate. The kiss was for simple validation, knowing a person was there, knowing Castiel was still there. Dean hadn't realized how much he'd needed it.
Castiel pressed forward, and then they were panting against each other.
"Just pretend," Dean told him. "I need you to pretend."
BOOM!
Castiel sobbed now, and he held Dean close, hands in his hair. He was squeezed so tight he felt like he was going to wheeze. But Dean loved it, because this was Castiel he was with. This was the angel he needed. The one person he needed. More than anything.
"Well, we're going to save the world—"
"Obviously."
"—and then I'm thinking we head to a bar, and do shots of tequila—"
"Sounds good."
BOOM!
"—and maybe we get smashed as all hell—"
"Strange word choice."
"—and we— and we realize what we are to each other."
Dean nuzzled into Castiel, hands fisting in his clothes. Maybe if he held on tight enough he'd never be taken away.
"Man, I already realize that. Just can't believe it took me so long."
"Even in my long lifetime, the moments stretching between us — the arguments, the unspoken words — I felt as though I was living a thousand lives, and in all those lives I was aching, empty, waiting for you."
BOOM!
"Stop, you're gonna make me blush."
But Dean didn't blush. He couldn't blush at this moment. They cried.
And maybe they'd never stop.
"This is how it ends!" Billie's strong, otherworldly voice rang from the other side of the door. "Balance will be restored. You are fighting against what must be. Do your duty to existence, Dean Winchester, Castiel! It's over."
Dean wanted to scream at her, but he knew his moments were precious. So he pulled back to look at Cas. Oh, god, was his angel crying even more than him? Fuck, he wasn't allowed to cry like that. He just fucking wasn't. And Dean didn't know how to make it better. Most of him knew he couldn't. There was no making it better, no fix for this, no afterwards.
The end.
"Cas, you gotta promise me something," Dean began.
"Dean—"
"No. Listen. Whe— If you go, you gotta think of me. I know it might hurt, it'll be damn terrifying. But I'm here. Think of me."
"I will. And Dean—"
"Yeah?"
"I need you, too."
And then the desperation and panic took hold of Dean. He started pacing, and then he stood before Cas, running his hands through his hair.
"Fuck it. You know what? Fuck it! I'm fighting for you. I will. I don't give a damn who Billie is. I know who you are. You're my family."
Castiel was still crying, looking as if he was about to sob.
"Dean, you fought for this whole world. You don't have to fight for me."
"Like hell I—"
BOOM!
Dean turned back, primal fear stealing away his need to look at Castiel.
The door burst in.
Billie strode through the wreckage wrought by her own power, and into the armory. She was all powerful, dressed in black, holding her scythe, so clearly inhuman that it hurt Dean's stomach.
The fight began.
Somehow Dean and Castiel ended up in one of the bunker hallways, hurt, holding each other up, trying to escape fate.
Dean collapsed, unable to keep standing. But Castiel was worse. And Dean didn't know how he'd kept going.
Billie had left them alone. This was inevitable. Her work was done. It had only to play out.
Castiel pressed against Dean, and placed a bloody palm on his shoulder.
He was breathing heavy, blood leaking out of him like a god damn hose. "I'm glad… to have… known you." Castiel slumped against him, and for a horrible moment Dean thought he was gone. He was gone, he was gone, he was gone! Then he spoke, his last words: "Dean Winchester."
His hand slid off his shoulder, body limp, his last breath leaving him, beautiful blue eyes empty and staring at nothing.
And Dean ran.
He ran from Castiel's body. He ran from all of it. He found a room, and slid down against the far wall, sobbing, pulling at his hair. God, he wanted to hit himself, maybe smash his head against the brick. The bloody handprint burned. It seeped into whatever was left of his broken soul.
Castiel was gone. And The End had come.
There Dean was, alone, thinking over and over again in a shattered, hurting mind, Cas, I need you. We're family.
Yet the dead aren't family. They're dead, empty, devoid of the person you loved. And it didn't matter where they went because they were GONE.
And so was Dean.
A/N: Please help. I'm not ready for the next episode.