Castiel was dying.

He was dying, and he knew it. The demon, whatever weapon he had stabbed him with… It was killing Cas. Slowly. Agonizingly. But it was killing him. He knew it.

She was there, in his mind.

Kylie.

She was there, shouting for him to hold on, for him to live. It was like she was speaking from so many different times, all at once, in his mind.

"Are you really an angel?"

"Promise me you'll visit?"

"Find me when you are, wherever I end up. Don't try to save me. I'm not worth saving. I just want to see you one more time."

"Yeah, well, I can always go get more food. I can't just run out to the gas station and buy a new Castiel. So eat. It'll help you feel better."

"Do you want to... Stay, for a little bit? If you don't, I understand completely, but I've found it easier to deal with hardship when you're... Not alone, you know? You can keep listening and doing your thing even, but… You look like it's killing you inside, as did Dean, and it's doing the same thing to me. Dean's going to do whatever he does to figure this out, because he needs his brother for this one, and most people tend to turn to family in times like this... If you want company, I'm here for you. If you don't, that's alright as well."

"Nice punch. You OK?"

"Don't leave until I get back."

"I'm here because I fell in love, Hannah. I'm here because my existence in this fight stopped being convenient for him, because you angels are such self-righteous and racist beings that you think it's bad for an angel to love a human, humans that you were charged to protect and guide and love like you loved your father, correct? My point is that you know Castiel is a good angel, a good man."

"I don't want a life without you either."

"I can't imagine a world without you, so don't even try to make me ok with one, alright? I will not lose you. I absolutely will not lose you."

"I almost lost you."

"I love you."

"Come on, DAMMIT! Just LIVE! Take everything from me, please, but just LIVE DAMMIT! STAY ALIVE!" That one, he'd never actually heard from her before, not in person. But when he was dying before, when the grace was failing him and the rogue angel, Adina, had tried to kill him… He had heard her voice, in the back of his mind, shouting those words.

Just like he could hear her now. But he wasn't making it out alive this time. He could feel it. This was the end for Castiel. "Dean," he coughed, trying to focus on the elder hunter. He had to focus his mind. He had to tell them. But he could still see her, in the back of his mind. He could still hear her voice as he spoke. "Something's wrong. I…" He grunted in pain, taking a few breaths. "I can't heal myself. I think the… I think the demon's spear was poisoned." He could feel it coursing through his veins, feel the poison and absolute agony roaring through him. "I don't…" He wasn't going to make it. He knew it. "I think I'm dying."

Kylie would've cut him off before he could say it, would've told him that they'll figure something out, would've been near tears. She would've been holding his hand, shaking her head. Her hair would've scattered about with the movement.

It would've caught the light beautifully, too. His own angel, perfect in every way.

"No." Dean said, and for a moment it sounded like her. No matter how much Castiel was thankful that she wasn't here, he still couldn't help but wish she was a in a selfish way. He just wanted her to be alive again. "No, you just need some time, OK? You'll heal up the old fashioned way." Sam turned to his mother for a moment to speak with her, but Castiel couldn't quite understand them. It took too much focus to do that, too much focus to distract himself from the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.

"You idiots. You're all going to die." He could just barely hear Crowley, but it was enough to help distract him a little. Dean turned, clearly unhappy at the appearance. They spoke, but Castiel didn't pay too much attention. He tried, but he couldn't. He still remembered what he hadn't said.

He never told her how short his time actually was, when his grace was running low. Nor had he told her how painfully aware of that fact he was, and how desperate he had been to spend as much time with her as he could before it ate him up completely. This time, with the grace destroying itself within him, when it was gone it would destroy him as well, and he would be dead.

He had tried to, once, after a bad hunt with Sam. Nobody had liked it. Nobody was satisfied with it. Castiel had been fed up with Kylie and Sam bickering, and had paid the consequence of utilizing his failing grace. In turn, Kylie had done what she could to lessen his pain.

He hated that, hated seeing her do that for him. He tried to talk with her about what had then been an inevitability, to him, but she had refused. So he didn't. He wished he had. She would've been more prepared for when he almost did die, and wouldn't have tried to save him. She wouldn't have risked her life, almost dying herself, to save him. He couldn't imagine how much pain she had been in, but the thought of it hurt him more than anything else.

It was that thought that made him fearful of when she kept up with magic and witchcraft. He had seen her use it to save him at a cost to herself, and would do anything to get her to stop causing pain to her person. Her trying to sacrifice herself for him only made him feel worse, feel worthless and helpless and hopeless and completely undeserving of such a woman like her. She was willing to do so much to protect him and the Winchesters. Just learning that she had made that choice…

It had terrified him, because he couldn't stop her. It had absolutely terrified him to be painfully aware of how much she had given so that he could live just a little longer. He had never understood both why the Winchesters worked endlessly hard to protect each other, yet at the same time hated it when one did that for the other. Now he knew. Now he understood why they always asked to not be saved, for one of them to just stop.

If Kylie had stopped, he wouldn't be here. But she would also be alive, more than likely. She wouldn't have had to worry about witchcraft. She would have been fine without him.

But at the same time, when he thought of the wonderful things that came after – the apartment, the plan for Hawaii that never happened (no matter how much he wished he had done that with her), the engagement – it made him feel so immeasurably grateful that she had done that, that she had helped him stay on long enough for him to be given new grace and, later on, find his own and destroy the vampiric link that she had created between them.

He never told her because he didn't think there was a good way TO tell her without it sounding rude or crass.

Castiel was pulled from his reverie upon the mention of the name Ramiel. "Yes." Castiel said, focusing on the conversation again. Sam turned to him, confused.

"What?" He asked.

"Ramiel," Cas explained. "Prince of Hell."

"Ramiel, Prince of Hell." Crowley mimicked. "It's catchy. It rhymes." The demon looked from Cas to Dean to Sam to Mary. "And he's going to kill each and every one of you."

"No." Castiel shook his head. "The Princes are all dead."

"That's what we told people to stop them looking. But in reality," Crowley corrected. "Not so much."

"What," Dean started to ask. "What the hell is a Prince of… Hell?" Dean Winchester, always so literate when he spoke. Kylie would've laughed at that statement. She would've given him some sort of hell for it later.

"The oldest of the old demons." Crowley explained. "The first generation after Lilith. Lucifer turned them himself, before the oceans drank Atlantis."

"They were trained to be generals," Castiel added. "To lead demonic armies in the war against Heaven."

"Like Azazel." Mary commented. Crowley nodded.

"They even have his eyes." He agreed. As Crowley explained how he came to know Ramiel and, in turn, become the King of Hell, Castiel fell back in to remembering what he had never told Kylie.

He never told her how much it scared him to see her injured or in pain or held captive or in general to witness her not by his side or near him, in absolutely perfect health.

No, scared wasn't the right word. He felt absolute dread at the thought, as though a weight had dropped so low in to his gut that he couldn't move until he knew she was perfectly alright. Every single time he felt as though he could die himself, if only to trade places with her and have her be healthy, have her be alright, have her be safe. He felt it when he watched her die in his arms. He felt it when Bartholomew's men had held an angel blade to her throat. He felt it when he watched her put his pain on to herself. He felt it when she had collapsed after getting the backlash of his returning grace. He felt it when he watched Dean throw her aside like a rag doll.

And he felt it most when he saw the aftermath of his own fists on her body. Seeing her in the hospital… He never told her how he almost, ALMOST, turned and left. He almost couldn't see her, and see the result of what he had done. He almost couldn't bear it. He almost left her, distanced himself so that he wouldn't have to see that look that she never stopped giving him, that hope and belief and faith and LOVE that she felt for him and expressed every day through the most beautiful and vibrant eyes he had ever witnessed in his millennia of being alive…

He couldn't have said at the time what would have been worse, walking in and seeing that look gone, or walking in and seeing it still there.

But he couldn't leave her. He couldn't do it. A life without her, a life in which he abandoned her after something that terrible… That was infinitely worse than a life where he tried to atone for his mistakes and just prayed, prayed to a father he had given up hope for long ago, that she would someday forgive him.

That look in her eyes had never faded. He had been privileged enough to wake up to it every day for a while, to see it whenever he came back to their home, be it at the Bunker or in their apartment. He could have fallen in love with her just for her eyes, just for the way they always expressed her emotions most.

He was glad she wasn't here, though. Her eyes… the sorrow in them would've been enough to break his heart. He let out a groan, imagining the look in her eyes.

"Cas," Dean said, bringing him back to the present again. He focused on Dean, determined to hear what he was saying. "How bad is it?" Once he focused fully in the present again, all of his pain hit him like a freight train. He groaned, moving in hopes of alleviating even a small modicum of the pain. Kylie had loosened his tie at one point, when he was dying. Cas did the same, hoping it would help out any. From the way Dean fixated on his chest, Castiel knew that the poison had visibly spread.

"Crowley's right." Cas muttered. Ramiel wouldn't just let him be. He would come for Cas, and he would kill everyone else as well. "You should go."

"Cas, come on," Dean tried to plead. Castiel wasn't having it, though. He was determined to save them.

"No, you listen to me." Cas ordered. "You… Look," He had to get the words out. He had to tell them how much they meant to him, how important they were and how thankful he was that they had been in his life. "Thank you. Thank you." He looked at each Winchester in turn. "Knowing you, it… It's been the best part of my life. And the things we," another burst of pain. He inhaled sharply for a moment, fighting back another groan before he continued. "The things we shared together, they have changed me." Castiel's mind turned from Kylie for just a moment, to seeing different moments with the Winchesters. Talking with Mary late at night. Laughing with Dean. Embracing Sam in a hug. "You are my family."

He saw her. He saw her, behind them, for just a moment. She looked just as she had before Lucifer had killed her. Smiling. Bright. She smiled at him, a figment of his imagination, giving him the strength to keep going. "I love you." He whispered, watching as the mirage shimmered away. He meant it towards those in front of him, but he couldn't help but mean it for her too. He missed her so much.

He had been certain she was alive, but at this point he couldn't care as much. If she was alive, she was alive and doing well. If she was dead, he would see her again. He'd be re-united with her in Heaven.

Sometimes, special people are allowed to share Heavens, when their love is great enough for the other. It did not happen often, but when it did Castiel always went to look and see who they were. A peasant couple from the 15th century, millers, forever living in the memory of a day out in the field with their daughter. A homosexual couple from the 1960's, in the apartment that they had shared together for forty years. A couple from the 1800's, on the small boat that they made together with their own two hands. A few couples every century, spending eternity with each other and enjoying every moment of it.

He knew, in his own human heart, that he and Kylie would share a Heaven when they were both dead.

"I love all of you." Castiel choked the words out, making sure they knew. They had to understand. He closed his eyes, still seeing her behind his eyelids. "Just please, please…" He could almost feel her next to him. He wouldn't want her to stay. He would want her to go. He would want her to be safe. If she was here, then, they'd do it. They'd pull her away to make sure she lived, and they'd leave him because of her, because he wouldn't want her to see him die and the Winchesters would respect that. He could almost see her, kicking and screaming and arguing that she wouldn't leave. She would never leave him.

As long as she was in his heart, he wouldn't be alone when he died.

"Just go." He begged. "Don't let my last moments be spent watching you die. I can't do that again. I can't watch the people I care about die in front of me again. Just run, please." He gritted his teeth, determined. They had to go. They had to leave. They had to be safe. They were going to make it. They were going to live. He was finally going to do something right again, and save the people he cared about. He was going to save someone again, he wasn't going to die for nothing. "Save yourselves." He urged, seeing that they weren't moving. "I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can."

"Cas, no." Dean said.

"Yes," he insisted, but Dean just shook his head again.

"Kylie wouldn't leave." Sam stated. "She'd stay and," he laughed a little, shaking his head. "If we tried to pull her away I think she would stab us." Cas let out a choked laugh, then grimaced. "But she wouldn't leave. She would stay with you until the end, and do everything she could. She would raise Heaven and Hell and everything in between to save you, would charge right out of here to go kill Ramiel or..." Sam didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Or die trying herself.

"We're not leaving you either." Dean summed up.

"You need to keep fighting!" Cas would've shouted the words if he'd had the strength. They had to keep going, had to keep doing something for the world. It was doomed without them.

"We are fighting." Sam said, determination in his own eyes. "We're fighting for you Cas."

"And like you said, we're family." Dean added. "And we don't leave family behind."

"I'm not leaving you, Cas." He could hear her voice, in his head. He couldn't remember the specific instance, but he could still hear it loud and clear. "I love you."

Castiel leaned his head back, closing his eyes. She was still there, still smiling. They were out in a park. It was when his grace had been failing him. He'd insisted on doing a few more things together, on spending more time with her so that it wasn't wasted.

That was it. That was where it had happened.

She looked beautiful in the sunlight. Simple shirt, jeans, flannel, and a Gas n Sip bag of food behind them. Cas didn't want it between them. He wanted his arm around her, and her head on his chest as they laid back and looked up at how the sun filtered through the trees.

They had been asking each other questions, just avoiding the issue as a whole. "What would you have done if we had never met?" Castiel asked. "If life had not turned for you as it had?"

"I always thought I'd go to college." She mused. "Get a degree in psychology. Be a therapist."

"Why a therapist?"

"I like helping people, I guess." She shrugged. "I don't know. It seemed like something I could do. What about you?" She challenged. "What do you think you would do if you were human still?"

"I'd be with you." He answered. She dipped her head in the slightest way, causing Castiel to look up, curious. She was blushing, just slightly.

"And if we had never met?"

"I'd be…" He thought for the appropriate word, one that she and Dean and Sam used. "Screwed, I think is the correct term." She let out a snort of laughter before it became full-forced, if only for a moment. "You saw me try as a human." Castiel said. "I was admittedly awful at it. I honestly don't think I would have done well without you." Her laughter died down, and he could just barely see her content smile out of the corner of his eye. "If you could go back," he started his new question, curious. "What would you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you could go back to before your involvement with the Winchesters," he explained. "And before me, before anything had happened to your family, and live out a normal life as you originally imagined for yourself, what do you think you would have ended up doing right now?"

"I wouldn't go back." She stated. "I wouldn't change any of this, not even to have my family back."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I'm happy with how my life is now." She answered. "It's strange, but… I don't want to change much of this. I'd rather you be… healthy," she admitted. "But I… I'm not leaving you, Cas. I love you."

He was crying, just a little bit, and he knew it. He couldn't help it. It wasn't just the pain, it was her. He could see her, more and more prominently every single time he closed his eyes. He missed her so much. He couldn't help now but want her to be there so much, selfishly, for his own comfort.

That was the last thing that he would never tell her. No matter how much he knew she would want him to fight, he couldn't do it anymore. The weight of his sins, of his mistakes and failures and of HER and her death… He wasn't certain if she was alive or dead anymore. He just wanted it to be over for him, so he didn't have to live in that uncertainty anymore. He wanted to be free, and to see her again.

He couldn't help it. He just wanted to die.

He closed his eyes, hoping for one last good memory of her. One last thing he never told her.

Their first date. He never told how nervous he had felt to go on a first date with her. He had put effort in to trying to surprise her with the date, disguising it as a case, and it had almost worked. He had almost been successful in doing this.

Until she'd asked if the clothes were akin to those of "date clothes." His voice had faltered, just a little bit, when she asked. He was certain that she knew. She hadn't, though. Not until she heard the change in how he spoke. She'd told him later on, and he'd laughed about it.

But when he saw her, standing there in a black skirt and simple shirt… He could still see her, in the back of his mind. She looked beautiful no matter what, Castiel would attest to that whole heartedly, but when she opened the door he just… He couldn't help himself. She was beautiful. Radiant. Exquisite. Enchanting. Awe-Inspiring.

He'd had words planned. He had practiced them in his mind. "Good afternoon. You look lovely. As you've probably already learned, this is in fact a date. I'm sorry if I did not ask you out for it properly, but I wished to surprise you. Are you ready to leave?"

Instead, what had happened was exactly what he HAD told her shortly afterwards. He was quite honestly swept away with how beautiful she looked; his emotions surging up inside of him in a surprisingly human way, ordering him to act, act now, and kiss her.

So he had. She made him feel more alive and human when he was with her, more of a person instead of an angel or a protector. He was thankful for every moment of that date he spent with her. That was when he felt the most human; the most like a normal man, without the burden of truth and knowledge as to what was happening outside the view of everyone else around them. He could've listened to her speak for hours, and in turn gladly told her the truth as to everything she had asked. There was no fear or worry or doubt in his mind, then. He felt freed.

He was glad that he'd told her why he kept the plan for them that he had concocted with her so long ago. He was glad he'd told her that he was surprised at the amount of good that had actually come from Metatron's actions. He was glad that they'd spent that night laughing, watching movies he knew she loved and enjoying popped corn and soda in their pajamas.

He hadn't told her the rest because he just hadn't had the time to. And now… Now he wouldn't ever get to tell her.

"Castiel…" He could hear her voice, it sounded so real. He almost smiled. Auditory hallucinations weren't a good sign, but if it was her voice, he didn't mind as much. "Cas," he opened his eyes a little, just enough. Maybe he could see her again as well.

That was how he knew he was having visual hallucinations as well.