Chapter 11:
As the Winchester brothers exited the shop for the night at around 7:30, it did not escape their notice that Castiel was acting strangely. He had forced them out of the shop half an hour early because of "reasons" and had locked them out with trembling hands. Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Do you think he could have overheard us talking about the sphinx?" Sam asked as they slid into the Impala. "I doubt it." Dean replied, turning the key in the ignition. He was lying. Dean thought it very likely that Castiel had overheard their conversation, it made perfect sense. Nevertheless, Dean sincerely hoped that Cas had not heard their discussion. Dean had only met Cas two days ago, and he didn't know him very well, but Cas seemed to express genuine concern for the well-being of his brother and himself, and that was not something you could find everyday.
Growing up the way he did, he wasn't accustomed to being around someone so inherently caring and altruistic. As Dean drove back to the motel they were staying at, he allowed his mind to wander, and naturally, his mind became consumed with thoughts of Castiel. What kind of music did he like? What kind of cars does he like? How old is he? Is he a virgin? All these questions and more, burbling in Dean's mind and burning on his lips. He fully expected to receive an answer to each and everyone of these questions, eventually. One question in particular he could not stop pondering. He was dying to know. What was Castiel doing right now? In this exact moment, this precise instance, this insignifigant, tiny, fleeting nanosecond what was he doing?, what was he thinking?, and why, oh why, was Dean not with him?
After locking the door with shaking hands, Castiel watched out the window until the black muscle car had driven away, and was out of sight. He then allowed himself to sink to the floor, next to the door he had just locked. He braced his shoulders against the wall and put his head in his hands and let the tears flow freely. Crying wouldn't fix anything, but he couldn't stop himself. He wasn't ready. Castiel believed that every living thing had its time. They were given, by God, a limited time on the Earth, and when your time was up - it was up. No takebacks, no redos. But now, as he sat in a heap on the floor of his bookshop, he could not face it. He was not strong enough to accept his emminent fate. He was alone, so alone, and yet he felt like the sphinx was here already, and he could almost feel its jaws closing around his throat.
It was not the prospect of death that sent the tears rolling down his face. Castiel had no fear of pain, or of a gruesome death. The only thing that was distressing him, was the fact that he would be dying for nothing. He didn't want to be rich, or famous, but the story of his life was reaching its final chapter - and for what? All he'd ever done is open a bookstore, granted, he had only ever wanted to open a bookstore, but to what end? He had no real ambition, no real purpose. He had, through pure luck, or perhaps the will of God, met the man he believed to be the love of his life, his soulmate, if you will, and did it matter? Did it matter that Castiel had finally found something truly worth living, and dying, for? No. It did not. Life isn't fair. He needed to pull himself together, but he was unsure if he could. Was there even time? How long had it been since the Winchesters left? He had no way of knowing when the creature would come for him, but he assumed it to be soon. Very soon. 'Regain your composure!' He ordered himself. He had just finished drying his tears when he heard the sound of something pounding vociferously on the door. 'It's time.' He took several deep breaths. After a few more seconds of the incessant banging, there was a brief pause, followed by the glass of the door violently shattering. Castiel closed his eyes and