"Cas?", Dean pulled away from his friend. His friend, who now lay dead in his arms. Castiel's chest was unmoving under his blood-stained button-down. His beautiful, diamond blue eyes stared up at Dean, not seeing him. They would never see him or anything again. His eyes had lost the light they had had in life. As if that light had escaped from the blue orbs and left behind an empty shell.
"Cas?",Dean repeated,"Cas, please wake up. I love you, Cas. Please, come back to me."
The only thing that Dean wanted was Castiel. All he wanted was for his angel to perform one more miracle for him, to wake up and tell him everything's alright. To kiss and kiss him over and over again until the light of day flooded the room. But there was no miracle, no revival. This was the last time.
This is the part of a movie where an orchestra would play a sad, slow melody. Castiel would stand up and wipe faux blood off on his trench coat and smile at Dean. And everything would have been okay. But this wasn't a movie. Dean and Castiel weren't actors. And the only sounds were Dean's empty pleas and ragged sobs.
"I'm sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault and I'm sorry. Please, just wake up, Cas. I need you, please. I love you, Castiel."
Dean looked past Castiel's limp body.
"No.", he whispered
Dean knew this death was real and irreversible. As real as the burnt angel wings spread out across his body. A scar to always remind him of what he couldn't do, who he couldn't save. the friend that died in his arms.