Author's note: *Dodges Chainsaw and 3 different types of blades* *Hides behind bullet-proof and nuclear bomb-proof shield*

It's been a month. Maybe more? Holy crap, I've been really far behind... Please don't kill me?

Here it is, be happy! Or sad... I cried in the writing...

AnYwAyS... Tell me if you want 1 more chapter as a clean up. Otherwise, I might end the story here (It would be cute, and leave the ending up to your imagination)

By the way, I have a tumblr now: Superwholocked-on-fandoms

Have fun!

"Sir, wait!"
The sound of footsteps trailed softly behind him, but he didn't stop. Questions burned his mind, pounding at his head, and the urge to have them answered drew him forward, as if there was a titanium rope wrapped tightly around him, pulling him closer and closer to the hospital room.
The medical staff behind him had given up the chase, and now Dean opened the door without knocking, but certainly with haste and caution.
Dean had been cleaned up nicely by the doctors. He hadn't needed any stitches, though he did have to have peroxide poured over the open cuts, and it had burned like hell.
Now he stood in the entry way to Castiel's treatment room. Cas' eyes were shut tightly, though he was screaming, and Dean was surprised he hadn't heard it before making his way in here. He stood in the doorway in utter shock and horror, medical team members fleeting about the small room, trying to get Castiel to open his mouth and cooperate for a breathing tube to go down his throat.
The boy on the bed didn't look anything like Cas.
He was pale, almost bleached white, and the usual pink tint to his cheeks was gone, replaced with a sickly white. His chin and some of his chest was covered in blood, and he was still coughing up more and more of the thick crimson liquid.
He was jerking around wildly, writhing in the sheets, and they couldn't seem to strap him down or contain him. Dean had only seen him a little while ago, and yet he seemed to have lost a lot of his weight in that time. It was as if touching the skin would break it and lead to bone and veins.
"He's entering a coma!" One doctor shouted, rushing to speak to the patient; to try to keep him awake.
"Cas." Dean said it in a voice just above a whisper, but when shaky and terrified blue eyes met green, he knew that the boy had heard, even through all the commotion in the room.
It was as if time had stopped in that one moment. As if the doctors were paralyzed in a frantic position, their arms, heads and legs, unable to move.
The only thing that mattered in those few seconds of peace were themselves. Dean had no idea what to do. He tried to take that moment to think up a plan, but there was nothing but those blue eyes, pleading for him to come closer and take his hand, to take the pain away. He was scared; he was terrified.
"What happened? What is he looking at?" Somebody shouted, and the moment was over. Pain beat against his chest once more like someone attacking a drum set, and he moved to Castiel's side, the doctors parting like the Red Sea for the visitor.
Of course it was unorthodox, but it had been proven that he was suffering from shock. Whoever this boy was, maybe a brother or friend or cousin, they seemed to help soothe the patient.
While he was distracted, the doctors strapped him down, though there was no point any more. He was calm.
Dean was handed a damp wash cloth, and with it, he wiped away the blood that pooled on Castiel's lips, chin, and neck. The blood on his chest had already soaked into the fabric of the hospital night gown, so there was no helping him there.
Dean leaned down then, and Castiel cringed away, apparently not wanting to disgust Dean. After all, he had just been barfing and bleeding all over himself. Now as Dean's lips came to rest against his, he accepted it, though he seemed too weak to put much effort into the kiss.
His eyes shut, and a hand came to wrap around Dean's. "I love you." He mouthed, unable to force air from his lungs. Dean smiled down at him.
"I know."
The doctors now pushed around him, and one pulled Dean off to the side. She seemed to be non accepting of his relationship, and slightly disgusted by it.
"Any information you can give me on what caused this?" She said, not looking at his face, but down at her clip board. Dean ignored her disliking of their relationship. Instead he looked over to Castiel as he reported to her.
"He already had the malaria. The doctors said he was making a healthy recovery." Tears flooded Dean's eyes as he recalled the good news, now seeing a hopeless cause lying on the bed before him.
But that was his hopeless cause.
"Then he was being attacked at a party. Choked." Ironically, Dean was choking back tears as he said the word 'choked'. He remembered the look of pleading on Castiel's face. Then he had been saved, only to be coughing up blood and whatever was in his stomach at the time.
"Delicious." Lucifer had smirked, holding Dean by the hair on the back of his head, turning him, to the point where he was stuck watching Castiel, wrenching and writhing on the ground, and it was the choked out "dean" that made him lose control.
He allowed that hatred for himself to fill him. He hadn't even fought back. He let Lucifer beat his ass into the ground. So what if he died? Cas was dead, Sam was dead, Jess was dead.
He was alone. His Dad was gone, and he hadn't heard from his 'Uncle' Bobby in ages. Everyone at school shunned him, and on any given occasion, would ruin his life forever. After all, in a town of devout Christians, no one would accept their sexuality, and the entire town already knew.
They wouldn't be able to get a job or a house or have any future at all. He knew he was ruining Castiel's life from the moment he pulled him into a kiss. Cas used to trust god for everything, but now he had committed more sins for Dean than anyone would have thought possible.
Now he stood in the hospital room, his hands shaking violently as he signed off that he was a guest on the woman's clip board.
"One more question." She prodded. "Was it just the fact that he had suddenly been choked that set off the shock? Because he's completely gone... He's pre-comatose."
Dean watched Castiel, his breathing even, and it seemed strange to see the tube down his throat, helping him breathe.
"The one who was choking him wasn't any one he cared about... But... His brother had watched it happen. He was laughing." Dean clenched his fists. "He had planned for it to happen, and for my brother to jump off that roof."
The nurse looked up at him in either sympathy or pity for a moment, then down at her clipboard.
"Oi! Winchester? Brother of Sam Winchester in room 201?" She tapped the pen on the clip board, signifying that she had his papers with her. "He fell off a roof, too."
Dean nodded solemnly. Why hadn't he forced himself to get up and save Cas and Sam? He could have done both, but instead he let the pain get the better of him.
"He's fine, you know." She told him, trying to sympathize with him, although she wasn't comfortable being around a gay man.
She left in a hurry, and one of the doctors who were tending to Castiel looked over to him.
"Mr. Winchester, was it?" At Dean's nod, he continued, fiddling with his stethoscope. His inexperience in a medical emergency like this one definitely showed through his nervous habits. "You might want to sit down..."
Dean shook his head, his mind swarming with thoughts. Was he dying? Falling into the coma? Was he going to discuss Sam's condition?
The doctor sighed regrettably. "We don't know if Castiel will make it." He said, studying Dean's face, wincing already, as if he expected to be lashed out at.
It was kind of funny. The doctor had said the words, but it was a joke about Cas dying. It was kind of funny.
Dean laughed, bursting into laughter and doubling over. "Damn you almost had me there, doc." He said in hysterics. His mind was blanketed. Laugh and hide… Laugh and hide…
The doctor approached the topic seriously, and deep in Dean's mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to deny this for long.

What was that one song lyric? Conceal, don't feel…
Dean's laughter subsided immediately. "You said it yourself. You don't know if he'll make it. If you don't know, then he could live. So fuck waiting around for him to die! Where's the Hallmark card that says 'not sorry for your not loss'? I'm gonna celebrate! You don't know!" He said, and he knew that he sounded insane, that he was thinking too much about a small statement, but he could be optimistic for once, right? Especially if it would make him happy for the last few hours that Castiel had... He pumped his fists into the air, but they fell, along woth his expression and optimism almost immediately.
"How long?" Dean asked, cocking his head to the side as he watched Castiel breathe on the bed.
The doctor seemed surprised at the bipolar craziness that Dean was now, and seemed shaken by the sudden mood swings, opinion swaps, and sudden topic changes, but he recovered quickly and responded, "until around noon tomorrow. If you waited an hour, we could give you down to the minute."
Dean nodded, looking towards the tile. He studied the perfectly polished linoleum. "I hate the smell in here." He complained in a quiet voice, and the doctor ignored him, leaving the room to test the blood samples collected from Castiel's veins. Had he actually had enough blood to give?
As soon as the doctor left, Dean sat on the side of Castiel's bed, in a small armed sofa-chair.
He put his head in his hands, and broke down into tears. His entire body shook with each shaky breath that he took.
How long was this going to continue? Would he have to suffer like this forever? Would Cas and Sam both die, and leave Dean alone with nobody but his dad?
He shut his eyes, taking Castiel's hand in his own.
"Cas. If you need blood, or a kidney, or my liver, or my freaking brain or left lung or something, you know that I'd give it to you. But what am I supposed to do if I can't even do that? If they won't let me, or if there's nothing I can do, then what should I do?"
He sat in silence, not expecting an answer, but he looked up as his hand was squeezed in periodic lengths and pauses, along with a few shorter squeezes. What was he doing?

Morse code… he realized, backtracking. S…T…A…Y…W…I…T…H…M…E…
Dean looked up to see Castiel smiling weakly down at him, his eyes halfway open, his lips almost the same color of his parchment skin. He was surprised that he had managed to hear Dean's question and respond. Of course it hadn't been an oral response, but he had most definitely given him an answer…

Did he really want Dean to stay after all the shit that they went through? Maybe he should just ditch him while he slept. Cas would wake up and it would all have been a wild ass dream…

N…O…D…O…N…T…G…O…

He felt the morse code squeezed into his left hand, and found that Cas had most likely read his fallen and doubtful expression.
"Cas..." Dean said in doubt. He then considered, nodding, and then choosing to remain silent as Castiel laid his head back down, letting out a crackled sigh.
He looked exhausted. The only color on his face was the deep shiny purple of the bags under his eyes.
He made a sort of grunting sound, as if he had tried to speak, and Dean could just barely make out Castiel calling out his name, though maybe it was his imagination and hopeful thinking.
"Cas?" Dean confirmed that he had heard, and he looked over to Castiel, who took a deep breath with a smile before falling into sleep.

Dean smiled, his hand tightening around the small and delicate hand that he held. He looked so fragile…
"Mr. Winchester?"
Dean looked up, surprised at the sudden voice. He wasn't aware that anyone had entered the room.
"Your brother is awake, and wants to see you."
Dean's muscles locked. He couldn't. He couldn't go see Sam. Sure, he wanted to know he was okay, and he damn sure needed to apologize, but he just couldn't. Sam had fallen to save Dean's ass, and Dean hadn't had the energy to save him, or to even call out to him.
He had sat there with a blank stare, watching as Sam fell down, bringing Michael with him. Sure, he had been hurt, but he could have at least done something to stop it.
He looked up at the nurse, shaking his head, but the sound of slowly moving sheets to his left made him turn he head.
"Castiel! You can't get up, sir!" The nurse protested, and he watched as the patient sat up anyways. It took a while, and was quite the struggle, but he eventually pushed himself up to atleast his elbows. He looked to Dean with a pleading stare, his eyes full of hope and pleading. Dean understood. If Cas could sit up, than Dean could see Sam again, no matter the struggle that it was.
Dean looked to the nurse, then back to Castiel. He sighed, standing. "You're lucky I like you..." He grumbled on his way out the room door, hearing Castiel falling back into the sheets after he left.
He walked down the hall with slow steps, and he spotted someone he recognized down the hall. He squinted, ensuring it was them, and quickened his pace, arms outstretched when he was close to them.
He hugged them, patting his back. "Bobby." He said, pulling back and smiling at the man he called his uncle.
"How are ya, Dean?"
Dean looked up at the older man, and his eyes traveled over to the door marked 'Sam Winchester'.
"Better than Sam, I hope." He patted Bobby's shoulder on his way into the hospital ward. His hand closed around the silver doorknob, and twisted, pushing in the heavy door.
"Sammy?" He muttered breathlessly as he looked at the bandaged thing on the bed. Was this really his brother?
"Dean?" He heard a sort of croaked, and exhausted laughter rose from his brother.
Dean approached slowly, taking the time to examine his brother's form on the bed. Both of his legs were broken, along with his right arm. Dean wasn't sure if he had broken his neck or collarbone or something, but he had a cervical collar around his neck.
"Morphine... It's... One of hell of a drug, huh?" He asked the older Winchester, seeming to allow his shoulders to relax into the cushion of the bed. Dean smirked, realizing that his brother was probably looking at a painless world, the drug removing any pain that he'd ordinarily be feeling.

"So how soon are we gonna see you in a wheelchair?" Bobby asked, and Dean turned towards his brother expectantly.

"Hmmm... Two days? One?" He guessed. "Why, are you guys planning on rolling me down a hill?"
They shared a small chuckle, and he was glad that some of the harsh tension had been alleviated. He looked up at the TV, an image of the Swastika posted on it. He guessed it was some sort of holocaust documentary. Sam, always the nerd.
They sat in a serene silence, and soon the only break in it was a nurse coming in. "Mr. Winchester? We need you."
Dean looked over to Sam, guessing she was talking to his brother, but he noticed that all eyes were on him. He nodded, stepping forward. Bobby and Sam both looked over to him confused, though seemingly accepting of his sudden departure.
"Boy, am I popular today or what?" He mumbled, following the nurse with quick steps down the way he had just moved through the hallway. Something must be happening with Cas.
He stopped in his tracks. There was screaming. A dry throated, pained, inhuman screeching, carrying down the hall.

"Help me!"

It was Cas.

He bolted, ignoring the nurse's warning to slow down. He heard and felt every landing of his feet on the floor, and his arms pumped along his side, moving him towards the room. "Cas!" He called out. People were staring at him, and nosily peeking into Castiel's room, wondering what the commotion was all about.
"Get away from me!"
"Cas!" He called out again. His feet made him slide past the door as he tried to stop, and he backtracked to the room.
The tube had been taken out of his throat, as he wasn't coughing up blood anymore, but now he was struggling against someone holding a syringe.
He was pushing against him with all the strength he had left in him.
"Cas! Cas, baby, please stop!" Dean cried out, rushing to the bedside and wrapping his arms around him. "Please!" He felt Castiel clawing at him violently, screaming, slapping and scratching at his arms.
"Dean, run! Go!" He said, tearing at the hair on his scalp and pulling on his arms, attempting to force him off the bed, and far away from him.
He clung on tighter, not paying attention. Cas' eyes were locked on the person with the needle.
"N-no! No, no, no, no, no! Stop! Dean! No!" He was screaming louder, yanking on Dean wherever he could grab hold. He was definitely weakened by the medicine, as he was barely able to continue the screaming and keep his eyes open. He looked exhausted, and his skin was clammy. He looked as if he hadn't eaten in days, though Dean had watched him eat just that morning.
He fell, exhausted, into Dean's arms, simply collapsing. Dean looked back to the doctor, who had out down the syringe and stepped away.
"I thought... I saw... Lucifer." Castiel shuddered in his arms, barely getting the words out before he shut his eyes, leaning into Dean's hold.
"Shhhh..." He soothed. "It's alright, baby." He rubbed Castiel back in a calming manner. Had he been hallucinating to replace the doctor's face with Joey's?
He glanced back at the medical assistant, and realized they were most likely an intern. Their eyes shook, and their pupils were highly dilated, out of fear of having done something wrong. They had planned to work at a hospital, not a mental institute.
No... He couldn't admit that Cas was going crazy. The intern had hair and eyes that were similar to Lucifer's, but they weren't quite there. It wasn't Joey…

He stayed by Castiel's side, sleeping beside him in the hospital bed that night. At first, he was iffy, as Castiel could begin emptying his guts in the middle of the night, but he remained anyways. He couldn't leave Cas alone. After all, today was the day that he died.
"There's still a chance of survival." The doctor reminded him.
"You forgot to say a 'small' chance." He protested. He was broken. Castiel... He was dying...
"Albeit, it's a small chance," the doctor confided. "But…it could very well be the thing that keeps him alive."
He wanted more than anything to keep him alive and well. He'd do anything to make Cas smile every day.
Was it really possible? That he'd live?
"We'd have to hope for a miracle, and miracles don't exist." That's what Cas had told him, and he trusted him far more than any doctor. After all, he was right. Things like that don't happen. Besides, if Cas was alive, there'd be nothing but pain and tormenting memories in this town. He'd want to leave if he could. To just... Disappear. But wasn't that what dying was in the end? Had he really been telling Dean that he'd wanted to die in order to escape this place where they once held hands and called home?
Lawrence, Kansas... Was it really that much of a hell hole?
Dean glanced up at the clock on the wall. It ticked, but it didn't tock, in the sense that it continued to make a constant ticking noise, but didn't move at all. The only way to check the time was his cell phone.
The only problem with that was that he was talking to Cas, and to check the time would ruin their cheery mood. It had to be close to noon by now, but how could he remind Cas, "hey, by the way, you're dying soon"?
He took Castiel's hand, listening to him talk on and on about the kind staff at the hospital, and the disgusting meals he was given. They had had this exact conversation before, but now it seemed to matter the most. Castiel had gone through everything, his final statement filled out and such... He wanted to be cremated.
"I don't want to rot in the ground!" He had said angrily to his mother, who had been dead set on a proper burial at the single time that she had visited. Instead, they decided that they'd have a viewing, and then he'd go through the cremation process afterwards.
Castiel cut his long rant (on some of the noisy neighbors in the hospital) short. "Dean." He said, taking his hand. "Is it... Really that time?"
Dean hadn't seen Castiel check the time at all, but maybe it was an instinct as to when the body would die. Would you be able to tell exactly when it was coming? "Dean, please get me out of here." He pleaded, shaking violently. "I don't want to die here." His eyes scanned the hospital room. "I don't want to feel like I died sick."
Dean hesitated before nodding. He wrapped Castiel in his trench coat, holding his hand as they moved towards the stairway. People bustled in and out of the elevator, but Dean could get them both down the stairs unnoticed. He noticed Castiel falling behind, clutching the cold blue railing for dear life as he placed one foot below the other in careful and deliberate steps.
He came back up to stand beside him, kneeling so that his back was to him. Castiel understood the silent offer, climbing onto his back with a slight smile. He leaned his head into Dean's shoulder as they started down the stairs.
"I love you." He told him, fingers entwining in his hair, playing with it as he watched the concrete walls pass by.
Dean smiled, but didn't respond. If he spoke now, he'd break the careful barrier he had worked to put up. The intricate dam, blocking any emotion but happy ones.
He opened the fire exit door on the ground floor, hoping that it didn't set off an alarm. He sighed in relief as the stairway remained silent, and continued, out into the bright sun, and towards the black hard top of the impala in the distance.
Castiel shifted on his back, moving a hand to block the sun. He squinted against it, the light warm on the back of his hand and scalp. He felt like a vampire, exposed to the light for the first time in a while after being in a hospital ward. "It feels nice." He commented, and Dean nodded.
"The sun, or the breeze?" He asked, looking up at the sky and around the lot, as if he could see the wind.
"Both." Castiel sighed. "The colors are nice too." Looking through glass at the sky was nothing compared to being back under it. The wind chilled his bare arms while the sun left them warm and tingly. He smiled softly, taking a deep breath.
Sure, it smelled a lot more like pollution than open, green, natural air, but it also smelled like home.
His fingers toyed with the seams of Dean's shirt mindlessly, and he was bounced back up as he began to slide down his back.
"Cas?" Dean asked, still keeping his eyes set on the impala, his feet working in a steady pace towards it.
"Hmm?"
Dean seemed to hesitate before dropping his head, laughing. "This is crazy. I just busted you out of a hospital that could have prolonged your life."
Castiel hummed a tune from a song he almost recognized, thinking about what Dean had said. His concern was well placed, but Cas didn't want to close his eyes to the bright lights of a ceiling.
He never did respond to Dean's question, but Dean's returning silence suggested that he didn't mind. He picked at a small string hanging off the stitching of Dean's jacket, considering what he should be feeling as his head rested against the back of Dean's.
He was happy, being here with Dean, but shouldn't he dread what was coming? Shouldn't he be crying and lying down, carefully articulating his death wishes to his relatives?
He should be sad, or angry, or on denial, but instead here he was, smiling as a bee landed atop Dean's head without him noticing. He shooed it away, watching as it flew off into the sun, where he couldn't follow its progress any longer.
He felt every bump travel through his small frame as he was carried, and when he was set down against the leather seat of the passenger side of the Impala, he couldn't help but smile and lean back into it.
"It feels good to be back." He muttered, barely moving his lips. Even though he said this, he stood again, moving to sit against the hood of the impala with Dean following him silently.
"You know, I'm impressed. Most people would be jello after finding out they were dying." He commented, putting his hands against the metal, pushing himself up so that he sat, staring up at the blue skies. What was it that Cas was seeing out there, off in the distance? He felt silly to think that there was actually a light he saw besides the sun before he died.
Castiel pulled his knees up close to his chest, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder. "What do you think will happen?" He asked. At Dean's silence, he continued. "When I die? Where will I go? Who will I see?"
Dean considered for a time. Cas had been through hell, so he wished he could say he'd go up top, but would he? There were so many things to consider...
Castiel parted his lips as if to choose what he wanted to say, and then he spoke. "There's a few old lore that say you become a star when you die. I don't want to become a ball of gas, but what if it's something more? What if each star is like... A tiny world? A world that you control? I'd like that… Maybe we could become supernovas together, and clash our worlds into one big sun…"
Dean laughed breathlessly, though he did think it would be pretty radical. "You're crazy." He murmured.
Castiel huffed, elbowing him before sitting up. "Dying makes you think about life, and... Whatever comes after death."
Dean bit his lip at that. Why would he say that? "You're not dying." He said, though he didn't know why he denied it. He knew it would happen, and he had accepted it a while ago. Castiel shook his head silently beside him, knowing that Dean was lying to himself for no reason.
Dean turned as Castiel coughed beside him, glad to see that he only coughed twice before raising his head. There was no blood spotted on his hand, and he seemed content and unharmed.
Dean pulled out his phone. 12:05. Castiel was on borrowed time.
"Dean... Let's wait. I mean, wait until one o'clock. Right here. If I live until then, the doctors would have to admit that I survived, right?"
Dean shook his head. "Cas, even if you died today, you'd still have survived."
"But-"
Dean stood. "Shut up." He demanded, turning away from Castiel, his voice harsh.
"Dean!" Castiel said crossly, grabbing him by the forearm, though Dean shook him off.
"No! I'm sick and tired of sitting here like its fine, alright? I mean, people keep telling me that it's alright; that it's okay; that you'll be fine and go somewhere better, but you won't! I won't be able to be happy or stand on this stupid planet without you!"
Castiel looked at him with worried eyes. Dean had been the one talking about how he'd survive even if he died... What had gotten him worked up? "Dean, what's setting you off?" He asked in a concerned tone. His hand wanted to reach out, though he knew Dean wouldn't want to be touched.
"You! Me! Us!" He shouted, tugging at his hair with both hands, tears burning his eyes, though none had fallen yet. It burned, but he wasn't going to blink, otherwise it would allow tears to fall. "I thought about losing you! Today... All of today, it seemed so unreal! But now I'm thinking about what it would mean to actually lose you! You'd die and slide off the roof of my car, and I'd have to pick you up and carry you into the hospital!"
Castiel looked away from Dean's glare. There was sadness behind his hardened stare. He watched his fist clench tightly as he thought things through, and what to say next.
"I don't want you to die, I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to be sad or anything if you do go." He decided. "And Cas, I know that I don't say this often, but I love you, and that's something I've never said to anyone before I met you. I said to my mom, yeah. My dad? Never. Sam? Never. I need said it to any girl I ever dated. I said it to you. Because I love you Cas, and that's why I don't want to see you hurt!"
Castiel's eyes flooded with tears so suddenly that he hasn't had time to try to hold them back. "Dean, I know, it's just-"
"No." Dean said, moving to the passenger side of the impala. He pulled something out of the glove box. "No you don't, you stupid ass." He said, sitting on the hood of the impala, holding up the thing he had brought out.
It was a small box.
"D-Dean!" His face lit up a bright pink, though tears still clouded his vision. What the fuck, with the sudden emotional overload? He had just been shouting and both of them had been sobbing, but now he wanted to do this? Right now? "I- we- y- it..." He didn't know what to say. He was lost in his own mind, searching for the command word that signified that he agreed. Yes seemed too simple... He needed something that screamed yes, yes, yes!
Dean was watching his face carefully; his own cheek bones died red, and his ears colored pink. "I wasn't planning this..." He muttered out of pride. "I just... We... Yeah." He said, expecting Castiel to understand the impossible.
He fumbled with it, opening it up with a small click of metal detaching from metal on the magnetic clip.
It was a simple thing, a thin but polished silver ring, but it meant the world to them both. When Castiel looked down on it, it almost radiated new beginnings, though his story was coming to an end. He held a hand under Dean's, which held the box, and held out his left hand. He wasn't entirely sure how to do this, so it looked awkward and he felt stupid, but no matter how clumsy he felt, he knew Dean admired him all in the same.
Dean watched Castiel's hand lift, and he grinned. He felt a rush of warmth flood through his chest, and he lifted the silver circle from the position in the small black box, sliding it onto Castiel's left ring finger.
It all seemed silly, and he bet that they looked ridiculous and ignorant to someone on the other side of the lot. After all, wasn't Dean supposed to ask him something while on one knee? Was calling him a stupid ass similar to a wedding proposal?
He had his doubts, but when he looked up to see Castiel's bright blue eyes swimming with hope and happiness, he realized that all was well. After all, what could go wrong when everything was so perfect?
"Cas?" Dean said as he watched him admire the way the ring splendidly reflected the light, dazzling him.
Castiel looked up from his hand in Dean's, meeting the green eyes.
"I love you!" He said happily, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Castiel blinked once, and then another time. "Dean..."
Even though he had said those words a thousand times before, it meant more to him in that moment than it ever could have before.
He let out a small dry sob, then his breath hitched, and he dove into Dean's arms, sobbing.
Dean smiled through his tears, knowing that Castiel didn't have a smile on his face, yet he couldn't help it. He rubbed his back soothingly, and he felt the ring bite into his shoulder as Castiel's fingers dug into the muscle there.
"I love you." He whispered into his ear once more, setting off more tears and crying.
Anyone in the parking lot would have thought someone had died inside the hospital. Maybe there was someone who had just died, but it hadn't been Castiel.
But if he was going to close his eyes, it wouldn't be in the hospital.
If Cas was going to close his eyes, it would be in the arms of the one he loved.
The sky smiled down at them, the sun gently giving them the gift of sight. The breeze carried their whispered words far off into the distance of the infinite world, where they swirled and entangled until they were indistinguishable from the rest of the spoken words of love.
But these meant so much more.
Dean smiled as Castiel shuddered in his arms, crying out all the pain that he had held back. He shut his eyes, his grin pointing towards the heavens.
He had never believed in God, but now he prayed silently.

God, look down at me now. You see a smile on my face, and tears in my eyes, but I'm not crying with tears of joy…

I'm crying for him; for us.

Please save us.

Please help us.

Please… exist…