Dean blinked away the black static-like dots that clouded his vision from the blinding lights that were expelled by Castiel. The dungeon was darkened now, lit only by the lights flooding through from the hallway outside. The door that previously separated the two had been fractured, blown off it's hinges by the might and potency of Castiel's demise.

Dean's face was burning. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It felt surreal. He looked down, eyeing the First Blade that he gripped so tightly in his hand. It was clad in blood. His pulse accelerated.

Underneath the weight of the Blade, before him lay the still and bloody form of Castiel. His eyes were devoid of life and soul, and Dean knew that he was gone. His eyes widened in horror and disbelief, and dropped the First Blade as if it scared heart was pounding in his chest, and his head was throbbing.

All that Dean could hear was the sound of his own breath, and the 'drip, drop...drip, drop', of Castiel's blood, now cold as it flowed toward the circular drain in the floor, trickling into it. Hissing a breath through clenched teeth, he felt his throat dry and tighten with panic.

Dean knew whatever rage-filled state he'd been in caused him to remembered the pounding in his head, the Mark of Cain's burning wrath in his arm, then losing remembered being angry, furious.

He remembered Cas pouring his heart out to him, and only saying terrible things back.

But Dean didn't remember killing him.

Making things worse, Dean noticed that his nose was over powered by the light fragrance of singed feathers, and the sweet metallic pungency of the Angel's blood. There was a black residue that outlined Castiel's wings on the floor. The grotesque reminder that an Angel died in the bunker's dungeon would be etched on the concrete forever. Cas's wings had been greater and more beautiful than he'd remembered. He stopped short at admiring them, due to the sick feeling he felt in his stomach at the reality that he caused all of this. He killed his best fucking friend...and they could've been more.

"What the hell have I done?!" He cried out, but no one heard him. It felt like a bad dream. No, it felt like a god damned nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

"CAS!" He cried out, holding the deceased Angel's cold face in his hands. His hair disheveled by the mayhem, his eyes closed, mouth frozen and expressionless.

"C'mon, Cas, wake up damn it! Wake up!" Nothing. "No no no, no no no...!" Dean held onto Castiel's tan trenchcoat for dear life. That very coat had been through so much with them, seen so many hard times, but always pulled through. He remembered how he'd purposefully saved it a few years back, after watching Cas wade into the river, possessed by the Leviathan. He had pulled it out of the water, folded and carefully placed it in the trunk of the Impala. Dean remembered the loss he felt, the hole in his life while Cas was gone.

How the hell could he do this without him?

As the things he'd done began to sink in, a tear broke free, followed by the unbroken flow of many others to come.

"Damnit, Cas," He sobbed. "I-I didn't mean to. I didn't know what I was doing..." Dean cleared the tears from his eyes.

"I hope wherever you are you can hear me. I would've followed you anywhere, Cas. Jesus, I would've dropped everything," Dean shifted Cas closer to himself, needing to bear the burden of his broken vessel.

"I can't fix this, I don't know how-" Another sob broke Dean's voice. "I love you...I should've told you that-SO many times..."

"But we'll get a chance to say it to each other. Face to face. I swear to God, we will. If I have to set the fucking world on fire, I'll do it. You're just-you're all I have,"

He paused, bringing Castiel's face closer to his own. Closing the gap, he placed a soft, but consequential kiss on his lips. The muscles in his chin trembled, wishing that Cas were able to reciprocate their very first embrace.

...I love you."

Dean sat on the floor for what seemed like forever-Castiel's head in his lap, holding one of his blood-stained lifeless hands in his own. Then, as if he thought he'd shatter like a china doll, he placed Cas softly back on the ground, finding the strength to stand himself.

Brought out of his daze, Dean heard his phone ringing in his pocket. He reached down and without pulling it out, he silenced it. He knew it was his brother. He couldn't face Sam. Not now-not after what he'd done. The eldest Winchester also knew he couldn't keep his promise to Cas to see him again if he kept the Mark of Cain. Dean only knew of one thing that might- or might not -make it go away.

His eyes found the First Blade where he'd dropped it next to Cas. He cautiously approached it, then picked it up. The weight of it in his hand's calmed him, surprisingly. An ease creeped across Dean's face.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

Staring down at Cas with love, he smiled. It'd been one hell of a ride...but he knew he'd keep his promise. He'd see him again.

"'Till then, Angel." Dean nodded down to him once more, then drove the First Blade through his own heart. It was a welcomed pain; whisking him away from this hell that was his reality.

"It's over," Dean's eyes closed. "It's finally over."

"Emotional pain has a biological purpose, to teach, to educate us away from unhealthy patterns and relationships. I've been pushing back against pain for so long, medicating with friendship, with romantic notions, yet it returns in my weaker moments, devastating my mind. To keep repeating this pattern will only prolong it, keep the pain underneath when in truth it must rise. Today I make a new choice, one to welcome it as a friend, to let it teach me what it must. Though I will be weaker in the moment, I will be stronger afterward. I will let it in through my doors, sit at my table, talk until I am wiser even though each word is a silver blade. They say only the strongest of warriors choose their battles. This is mine, let me earn my name." -Unknown