***SPOILER ALERT*** death in this chapter. if you're worried about it, message me and i'll tell you what happens. it'll be more fun to read, though ***SPOILER ALERT***

They had woken up, Dean had taken Castiel's hand, and they showered together before going down to Viktor to discuss the events of the days before.

"We need to attack," he said bluntly, unabashed by the fact that his son had almost been murdered. It's as if he had expected him to come out of it unscathed.

"What you mean?"

"I mean get rid of those assholes for good."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You mean… murder them?"

"Not murder if you not get caught."

"I don't think it works like that."

Viktor glared at him, and Dean sucked his lips between his teeth, resigning to silence while Castiel and Viktor deuced it out.

"How we supposed to do that? We try to attack them before, and we never get far."

"I have idea."

Castiel continued to stare at his father, waiting for some a response, his eyes burning him for some sort of explanation. "You going to say something?"

Viktor slid a card across his desk. "Remember guy you kill at restaurant? Access card."

Castiel's eyes enlarged and he reached forward, grabbing the plastic card with a bar to be scanned or swiped, a photograph, and his name. "Won't it be expired? De.. Dis…"

"Deactivated?" Dean supplied, and Castiel reached out to hold his hand.

"Yes. Deactivated."

"That why we need to move fast. Tonight."

Castiel froze, his hand stiffening in Dean's. "Tonight?"

"Yes."

"But this so dangerous. I can't say goodbye or do all I ever want to or-"

"-You not going to die," Viktor interjected.

"You not know that."

"You have Dean to protect you."

Dean was watching Castiel, the terror he tried to hide, and did so miraculously well. His eyes grew but he watched his father with a solid and hard stare. Stoic. Like a soldier. He wanted to loosen him up, take off his uniform once and for all.

"I not want Dean hurt."

Viktor said nothing, just looked at his son. "We leave tonight. Midnight."

They were set free, and Castiel immediately led them up to Dean's room, slamming the door before moving to his closet, taking his clothes out and throwing them on his bed in a frantic rush. Dean watched him as he dove back in, coming out with a duffle bag. He began shoving clothes into the bag. "You need go. You need go now. If you leave soon, you not have to come. You go home and be safe."

Dean stepped to him, gently putting his hands on his hips. "Castiel?"

"What?" He was still shoving clothes haphazardly into the bag.

"Castiel," he repeated, moving to press his body flat behind Castiel, sliding his hands from his hips to his arms, down to his wrists where he crossed his arms, hugging Castiel and barring him back from moving.

"Dean," Castiel whined, pushing away from Dean, whirling around on him. "You not understand. You need to go."

"Why?"

Castiel shoved passed him to get to the closet, grabbing another stack of shirts that he dropped on Dean's bed. "Because I not let you get hurt."

"That's not your choice to make."

"Yes it is." Dean reached out to touch Castiel, who whipped around with a shirt still in his hand. "You need to go."

Dean was staring at the shirt in Castiel's hand, formulating his words. He stepped forward after a moment, reaching for Castiel's hand, grasping it and raising it, forcing Castiel to look at the shirt.

Castiel's lips parted open. "This has blood."

Dean nodded. "It's the first shirt I ever saw you in."

"You saved it?"

"The maid put it in with my clothes by accident, and I kept it because I'll never forget how you looked that day, when you walked me upstairs to my room, and just looked at me, and I knew that I had never seen someone I was so attracted to, even when I was terrified that I would be stuck here forever. But you know what, it doesn't bother me anymore."

Dean took the shirt from Castiel, reaching for his hand again as he held the shirt close to him. "I slept with this when we first started having sex. I… I wanted you with me, but this was all I could have. Cas, You think that me loving you is the most idiotic thing I've ever done, and you're probably right, but it goes so much deeper than just thinking you're hot."

"So what this about?"

Dean stepped in, cupping Castiel's cheek. "It goes so deep that I can't bear the thought of you dying while I did nothing about it. I can't bear the thought of being away from you. So I'm coming with you." Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder. "Or you're coming with me." He kissed him, and Castiel reached up to grab Dean's face, refusing to let him pull away as they kissed. He pressed himself closer to Dean, whimpering until he pulled away.

"You sure? You sure you want stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

Castiel kissed him. He pressed close, and when it became not enough, he jumped up, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist. Dean caught him, his hands going under his ass to keep him up while Castiel rolled his tongue into Dean's mouth.

Dean moaned and realized that he wanted Castiel more than anything, and that right now could possibly be their last time together. He moved to his bed, lowering Castiel to it without breaking their lips apart. Castiel kicked the duffle bag off the bed, and Dean knew their thoughts were the same.

He rolled their bodies over, so that Castiel was on the top, and they finally broke apart. Dean's pupils were blown and his lips were bruised. "One last time?"

Castiel nodded and kissed him.

They were slow, for once. They took their time, kissing over every inch of each other's bodies, savoring the soft and smooth skin, and every little knick or scratch or bump, every breathy call of their name and soft moans.

They didn't want it to end. It couldn't end, because once it was over, that was it.

When they finally finished, Castiel fell down on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around his ribs, resting his head in the curve of Dean's neck.

"I love you," Dean said, and Castiel could feel his throat moving and his vocal chords vibrating and the warm tone of his voice resonating through him, giving him goosebumps as Dean rubbed his arm. "I love you so much."

"I know."

Dean was surprised that Castiel didn't fight it, that he didn't stiffen in his arms or reject the idea right away. He watched Castiel until he moved his head away to look at Dean, their eyes locking.

Castiel's eyes were soft and scared and he looked so utterly human. He wasn't stoic, he wasn't hiding his feelings, and Dean knew that he only had two more hours of him like this until he hardened again, turning into the soldier his father moulded him to be.

The time passed too fast, and soon they were pulling apart to get dressed. Castiel put on the shirt Dean had kept, bloodstains on the soft grey. Once Dean was clothed, they went to Castiel's room, where he put on jeans and his favorite shoes before grabbing the jewelry he had on the first day they had met.

"Why the rings?"

"They deserve to know who killing them."

"And the rings show that?"

"Family rings. Everyone know our rings."

Castiel looked like a teenager again. He was nearly irresistible, but Dean knew there was nothing he could do to him besides taking his face in his hands, kissing him softly. And he did just that.

He pulled away with lidded eyes, watching Castiel who watched him back. They stood there in silence, sharing unspoken words until they couldn't stay any longer, and had to leave."

Dean kept his arm wrapped around Castiel, who refused to leave Dean's side.

They held hands in the car while Viktor ran the through the plan. Dean wanted to ignore him and just focus on Castiel, but he knew that if he did then the chances of them dying was even higher than it already was. There were guns piled high in the back of the car, along with another SUV following behind them, filled with allies of the Novak family who volunteered to fight.

When they pulled up outside of the Matveev's mansion, bordered by a giant fence, Mychalla ran the stolen card through the card reader, praying that it would still work, that the family hadn't deactivated the dean man's ID.

The green light beeped and the gates parted open. The two SUVs drove through fast to ensure they both got in.

Dean looked back to watch the gates shut, and realized that there was no going back.

He squeezed Castiel's hand.

The road up to their house was long, and they had to get ready to jump out of the cars immediately. They had distributed guns and ammo, and sat quietly as they followed the darkened road.

Viktor turned around, looking at his son. "Castiel."

Castiel looked up. "Yes?"

"I love you, son." He swallowed, contemplating what to say. "You know, when you born, you the most gorgeous baby. I held you and you stare at me with your eyes as bright and big as the sky, and I've loved you ever since."

"I love you too, father." It appeared that the severity of this situation was dawning on Castiel, and Dean reached over, squeezing his hand.

Castiel squeezed back hard.

When the house was in sight, Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel. Viktor saw, but didn't say anything. Dean tried to get out all of his emotions and feelings and let Castiel know before it was too late.

They broke away when the car stoped, and shared a lingering glance before hopping out of opposite sides of the car.

Mychalla popped the trunk to allow the SUV behind them to have their share of weapons, and then they were running to the front of the house, up the stairway. The large maple double doors were unlocked and they ran in to be faced with a large foyer. It was huge with sweeping stairways up either side of it.

Two men came out of a hallway, running down it. They looked like guards. Dean assumed the Novak's had some too, but he had never seen them.

They began to shoot, and Dean knew the game was on.

The two men were taken out easily, one of the men from the other SUV shot one, and Mychalla had the other while following behind Viktor, who was moving to scout out the other hallways. Dean followed Castiel, and the other men split into groups. They each took their own hallway, roaming down them, checking each room and nook for others who could attack them.

There was a man at the end of the hallway who Castiel shot while Dean busted into one of the side rooms. It was a bedroom, and there was a body in the bed. He aimed his gun at it, but Castiel beat him to shooting it.

"There no time to hesitate," Castiel said, working his way back up the hallway. Dean looked at the mass on the bed, hoping that whoever it was died painlessly before he followed after his boyfriend.

There were more dead bodies in the foyer, one of a man from the other SUV, the rest from the guards trying to defend the enemy.

The eight of them congregated in the center, standing in pooled blood and dead bodies. "We lost Mish," one of the nameless men said.

"He died fighting," Viktor concluded. He pointed at groups, sending them off to different locations until he was down to Castiel. He hugged him tight, kissed his cheek, and sent him and Dean off to a back room while he and Mychalla went upstairs.

The room they went into directly under the stairs was lit with dim lights, as if they'd walked into a restaurant set up for a romantic night out. There wasn't much in the room, but it looked like Viktor's office where he worked. They searched through every nook and toppled dressers and organizers looking for anything or anyone.

They found nothing.

Castiel grabbed a handful of papers and brought them up, then took a lighter out of his back pocket.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Castiel moved the lighter to the base of the pages and flicked the wheel. "Burning this place to the ground." The papers ignited, and he waited until they were burning bright to throw them back over his shoulder onto the flipped-over desk and spilled papers.

The pile began to burn and Castiel walked out of the room. Dean followed after him, still in shock at what he had done, but it was nothing compared to what was going on in the main area.

The Matveev's had half as many kids as the Novak's, and two of them were dead, one at the base of the stairs with a snapped neck, and the other in the middle, bleeding, creating waterfall down the steps. Two more of their own men had been killed as well.

Viktor and Mychalla were at the top of the arching stairwell, fighting two men. One was a guard, and the other looked to be a father himself. Dean wondered if he was the master of the house, Viktor's main rival. This was like a shitty and predictable horror movie, but it was real life.

The guard had been kicked by Mychalla so that he could help Viktor fight the other, but the man had slid over to the dead body on the stairs, and was able to grab his gun.

He got up and ran toward the duo, aiming to shoot Viktor. Mychalla saw and jumped in front of him, taking the bullet right through his neck. He yelled for a second then his eyes went black and he stumbled back, flipping over the edge of the bannister, falling to the ground as dead as he could be.

Viktor shouted and charged the man with the gun after kicking the father of the family to the ground, and knocked the gun out of his hand while the other stood in a stupor. He grabbed his head and snapped his neck and tossed him over the bannister. He shot the father the moment he stood.

Dean couldn't believe what he saw, how Viktor was so remorseless, but when he saw Mychalla's dead body, he realized the pain he must have been feeling. There was blood pooling around the man who had taught him how to fight and run and be a warrior. That dead man had given him so much, and probably so much more to Viktor. Dean had no idea how he could remain so stoic and steady.

A guard came rushing out of the side room, one that had been in the SUV behind them. "Mother is dead."

"Good," Viktor replied, beginning to walk to the set of double doors upstairs. "I think that all, but we going to check it out."

Castiel and Dean nodded as they watched Viktor and the other man walk away, and turned to each other immediately once they were gone. Dean pulled Castiel into a hug, and kissed his neck. "We made it."

"I know."

Dean pulled away and smiled, and Castiel smiled back. Dean watched him with joyous eyes because they had both made it, had both survived. All of the hype before had been for nothing because they'd walk out of this house hand in hand and Dean would continue to love Castiel for as long as he could and it'd be perfect, and they'd be happy.

Castiel's eyes began to widen and Dean knew something was wrong. Time slowed down and everything moved slowly. Castiel's hand moved forward to grasp Dean's bicep, and Dean could feel a gentle squeeze before he was thrown to the side and down to the ground where he slid across the room over the blood slicked floor.

There was a shot and within a second Castiel was falling backwards, dropping his gun to the ground. Dean screamed and tried to scramble to his knees, sliding on the floor until he got to Castiel's gun, immediately pointing it at the perpetrator and shooting. He shot once, twice, three, four times, shooting twice more once the man was on the ground. It was Ivan Matveev. The last one. He looked over his body, watching the blood leak out from under him. He deserved it. Castiel didn't.

Dean's legs went numb when he remembered Castiel and he tossed the gun to the floor and rushed to Castiel dropping to his knees beside him. "Cas? Castiel? Cas!" Castiel coughed, and Dean reached out to grab his hand. "Cas, oh god."

Castiel's eyes were dull, so much more dull than Dean had ever seen him, and he wished he had never seen them this way, wanting to remember his prefect and bright blues. "I not feel anything."

Dean squeezed his hand, trying not to think the worst, trying to remain strong for him. "It's okay, just keep your eyes open. Focus on me. Focus on my hand."

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, obviously trying to hold something back. "Dean," he breathed. "I going to die."

Dean didn't want to hear it. He couldn't hear it. He wouldn't hear it. He felt the pressure behind his eyes build at just the thought and how sure Castiel seemed. He swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. "No, Cas. No you're not."

"Don't lie to me."

Castiel's breathing was growing sharp and raspy and his skin was pasty instead of tanned and the grey shirt covering his body now had a hole torn through it and was soaked with blood. Dean put his hand over the wound, pressing down. "I'm not lying." He could barely hold back tears now and his voice cracked when he spoke. "I'm not."

Viktor and Mychalla came out of the back room. "There no one lef-" Viktor froze. "Castiel!?" He seemed to find his legs again and was sprinting down the stairs. He was within ten feet when Castiel weakly held up his hand, letting it quiver in the air for a few seconds before it fell back down. Viktor stopped. He understood.

"Dean. Give me father."

Viktor heard and approached the two of them cautiously, not even bothering to hide his emotions. He collapsed to his knees. "My son," he whispered, reaching forward to cup his cheek, feeling his blood-damp hair. "My boy."

Castiel reached up to cover his father's hand. "Father."

Tears rolled from Viktor's eyes. "I love you, son. More than anything."

Castiel blinked and he showed the first sign of any fear. "I love you too."

Viktor seemed to try and resign himself and accept what was happening, but he snapped out of it. "Come on. We can get you to hospital. Save you. We ca-"

"No."

Viktor swallowed. "Why?"

"Give me Dean."

His father's hand wavered on his cheek and in his hair, trying to absorb each and every thing about his son while he was alive and breathing, knowing that he'd never see his eyes again or feel his presence in his office while he worked.

He flashed back to all of those days when Castiel, just a few years old, would run into his office and hide beneath his desk, climb on his lap, and shuffle his papers around. He'd crawl on the floor and play with toy cars in the room with him, just to be around his father, and when he got older he worked along side him, just to never loose contact. He'd never have one of those days again, he'd never have those memories come flashing back to him by just looking at his son and seeing those devilish eyes and that knowing smirk.

His tears began to roll freely and he refused to hold it back. "Goodbye, Castiel." He removed his hand, and Dean shifted closer to Castiel, who looked more pale than he had before. This was the end. He was coming close. Even if they rushed him to the hospital, he'd never make it.

Dean breathed deeply, shakily. "Hey Cas."

"Dean." He reached for Dean's hand, which was given willingly. His skin was cold. He brought their linked hands up to his cheek, feeling Dean's skin against his own. He closed his eyes and leaned into his warm touch. "Dean…"

Dean shifted closer, and Castiel rolled a bit towards him. Dean understood, and he reached over Castiel, pulling him closer and then up on his lap. Castiel whined and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but he was where he wanted to be.

"I love you, Castiel," Dean said, trying not to whisper, but not wanting his voice to crack again. He wanted to be strong for Castiel. "I do. So much. I wish I would have told you sooner."

"I know. I…" Castiel coughed and whined and writhed in Dean's arms, trying to get closer to him. Dean moved to have one arm around his waist and one hand on his cheek.

"It's okay, Cas. It's okay."

Dean's voice was dampened and his eyes were filled with tears, and he couldn't hold all of them back. A few ran down his cheeks, and Castiel reached up to wipe a few away. "Please don't cry."

"How can you expect me not to?" He rolled his eyes up to try and stop his tears, but it just made them fall faster.

"If you love m-" he coughed. "Me, you won't."

Dean exhaled shakily. "You were right. I'm a goddamn idiot. I shouldn't have fallen in love with you. The pain…" He took a deep breath, cut off by a sob. "I'm an idiot."

"I guess that make me idiot too."

Dean snapped his eyes to Castiel's, who's dull shade were looking right back at him. "Wait. You…"

Castiel nodded. "I do." He breathed in and it was garbled. "I do."

Dean bit the inside of his lip, unable to believe what he was hearing. He whined when Castiel pulled his hand away, but watched curiously as he reached for one of the rings on his hand, struggling to pull it off. He grabbed Dean's hand when it was off, and pushed it onto his fourth finger.

"I'm ready," he said. "To die. I'm ready to go."

Castiel was shaking as if he'd just bathed in ice and Dean knew he didn't have much longer. He leaned in pressing their lips together gently. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you all you ever wanted. I'm sorry I never sang to you as we fell asleep. I'm… I'm sorry." He kissed him again. "I love you."

He kissed him one last time, leaving his lips on Castiel's until he felt the weak pressure from the other slowly diminish until his lips were dead beneath him, and his lungs no longer filled with air and his eyes were shut and the blue would never shine again.

Dean broke down. He began to sob as tears streamed down his face and his body shook and it felt like he couldn't even breathe.

No one moved. No one said anything. Dean's world faded to nothing and he was terrified that the color would never come back and that his lungs would never fill again. He had lost him. Castiel was gone, his shirt was soaked in blood, and Dean couldn't feel.

"What smells like smoke."

"Cas lit the room on fire," Dean muttered, then realized they had to go. He tried to get up but his knees were weak and he wouldn't let go of Castiel's body. His body was still wracked with sobs and he hiccuped every few seconds. Viktor helped him to his feet, and Dean kept Castiel in his arms bridal style, refusing to put him down, even once they were in the car. He had his arms wrapped around him and his head bowed down, their foreheads touching as Dean cried, as if he thought his tears would bring life back to Castiel.

"It should have been me," Dean squeaked out. "It should have been me."

One more chapter, hopefully within the next few days or this week