Stop All the Clocks.

Castiel's Epilogue.

Castiel stood on the roof of the hospital as the sun broke across the horizon, spilling pinkish yellow light onto the sparkling grass, glowing through the green of the leaves. The windows of the semi-metropolitan area shining, reflecting the sun and sky. It was beautiful, he supposed.

But he couldn't entirely appreciate it.

Dean had held on for three days, but Castiel knew it was over the minute he saw the empty body being rolled into the hospital on a gurney. Maybe he would always have these smatterings of Angelic sense, but he knew, even then, that Dean's body, beautiful and broken, was entirely empty of his soul. Beautiful, but void.

He didn't have the heart to tell Sam. They'd been here so many times, Sam had grown to expect that Dean would bounce back. The poor guy had to believe that to survive.

But Castiel already knew that Dean wouldn't. And watching that strong body try to mend itself and just not be able to in time... mourning in private, while pretending for sixty two sleepless hours to have faith and hope... it was torturous.

He'd felt that today was the day Dean's heart would stop. He couldn't say why he knew, he just did. Today would be the day that Dean Winchester's ninth life would be anticlimactically cut short.

Nothing dramatic would happen, Castiel knew. The earth wouldn't crack in two.

Heaven wouldn't spill out from above.

The nurses and doctors wouldn't go home and cry into their dinner over the tragedy of it.

The News wouldn't talk about him, a hero lost.

There would be a silencing of machines, and a silencing of breath and blood.

And then he would be still.

His muscles would lose their give, and his skin, his lips, would lose their warmth and he would simply cease.

It would be quiet and unimpressive.

Castiel struggled to understand something so simple happening to someone who was so... much.

The breeze at the top of the hospital blew lightly through his clothes, gently billowing his coat, flipping his tie. He wanted to feel like he wasn't alone, but the only person he could think to go to was the reason he was here, so lost, in the first place. He went over in his mind the last time he and Dean had spoken, knowing it was rough and raw and so much didn't get said that needed to.

He wished he'd just said it himself.

He wished Dean had just said it.

He was on the precipice of overwhelming regret when suddenly - he took a metaphorical step back. Or rather, he was pulled.

He felt a warmth on his neck, like the ghost of a breath, raising the hairs there. There was no one with him, but somehow, for a split-second, he didn't feel so alone. He closed his eyes, feeling that warm breath melt down to his spine... a whisper that was felt, but never really heard.

A few moments later, it disappeared. A brief moment of intangible, inexplicable comfort, and then reality crashed back in. And Castiel opened his eyes to find that he somehow felt more alone now than ever. Because now he knew, it was over. Dean was gone.

There was a moment of nothing. Where Cas thought for a second that he himself had ceased as well. Only to find that he was in fact still alive, and was frightfully unhappy about the fact.

But then a thought crept in...

If he were to accept Raphael's offer, rejoin the Angels, return to Heaven, there would be hardly anywhere he couldn't go.

There would be hardly anyone he couldn't find...

Alive,

or dead.

I've essentially already decided there might have to be a sequel. Maybe it's a cop-out, but I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Let me know if you liked it and a continuation would be something you might want to read. And I shall make it so!

As always, thanks so much for reviews. You guys are awesome for sticking with me through the angst and unrepentant fluff.