The smell of sweat, blood, and tears invaded Castiel and nearly knocked him out. What just happened? It was all a blur- he couldn't remember anything from the past... hour, at least. His brain was muddled and his thoughts were incoherent. He remembered Sam being here, but if we was gone now, were was he?
His body was bloody and aching, and tears streaked down his face, mixing with the sweat from his palms as he wiped them away. With tremendous effort, Cas tried to gather his thoughts. Lifting his head as much as he could manage, he looked about at his surroundings. A disgusting grey sky, tall, dull green grass, and leafless trees all lined the graves poking out from the ground. A cemetery, and a familiar one, too.
With a small, whimpering noise of dismay, Cas realized what had happened. Not that he remembered, but something in him just knew. Sam was dead. His brother, the one he would always bleed for, would give anything for. As he stared weakly up to the sky, any remaining happiness he had left draining out of him, he tried to think of just what happened.
Cas remembered only the facts, not how it felt before the past few minutes that he could recall now. He knew that Lucifer had possessed Sam. He didn't know what how Sam felt about it. He knew that Sam had opened the pit, but he doesn't remember how it felt to watch him fall down into it as if he were a jumper on a building. He figured it was Lucifer that had left these marks on his soul and on his face- bruises and cuts and everything else imaginable- but he can't quite recall what was going through his head when his brother was being used in such a heinous, blasphemous way.
One thing Cas does know is the way he's feeling right now. Which is, in a word, dismal. With every second more he thinks about it, the life seems to drain out of him. He was always willing to bleed for Sam, but he'd be damned if he wanted Sam to even think of bleeding for him. And now here he was, trapped in hell with Lucifer, and Cas was just fine. He didn't mean for it to end this way.
But this had to be the end, hadn't it? There was Dean, yeah, but Dean was something different. Not a brother, or even close, and he couldn't just go hunting with a stupid semi-insane angel. Besides, angel of the Lord or not, Dean
was still too much for himself. A bit too powerful, a bit too much into the hunt for a race that isn't bred to have any emotion at all. No, Dean was more like... a companion, a constant to his life, not a brother who annoyed the shit out of him when he wasn't tearing his heart out because he died so damn much (but Sam made Cas love him anyway because that's what brothers do).
Before he can get another crushing thought in on how he can go on, and how this is all his fault, and how he never meant for it to be this way, Dean is by Castiel's side and the angel's soft fingers are gliding over his face. Cas feels the wounds and blood dissappear, and he doesn't like it, because God, Sam's in Hell, he's the one who deserves to be saved, and he'd do anything to get him back. Hell, he'd go down there himself and fight their way out. But Dean tips the hunter's chin up and makes him open his eyes and not think about any of this.
Cas is sorry, he's really truly sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, he murmurs into oblivion, but the damned angel gets in the way, won't let him take all the blame, or any of it, or something, and pleads him to stop but he's already too far gone and he wants to make himself bleed again and he curses Dean for healing him and he curses himself for letting Sam die and he curses Sam for dying in the first place, and all these thoughts are running through his head and Dean won't take any of it anymore so he shuts him up the only way he knows how to.