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"You're my family. I love you." Cas isn't looking at him, but he knows this is for him. Cas looks too sheepish and afraid as he says it to mean as anything other than what it is. “I love all of you.”
That makes it real. Cas is really doing this to him. Blood rushes in his ears and all he can focus on is the blood seeping through Cas’s button up and the horrific black tracks creeping up his neck.
“Just please... please, don't make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.” He can barely speak, his breath coming in coarse, harsh gasps that grate against Dean’s ears and make his skin crawl in terror.
“Cas, no.” He wishes he could say something else, but his mind can’t move past the fact his best friend just told him he loves him as he dies. Say it back, he tells himself. Say it back. The voice pounds against the inside of his skull but his tongue is heavy with fear.
“Yes. You need to keep fighting.”
What the hell do I have to fight for if you die? That’s what he should say, but Cas wouldn’t want to hear that. He wouldn’t believe him anyway.
“We're fighting for you, Cas.”
“And like you said, you're family. And we don't leave family behind.” Those are words he can acknowledge. Those are words he’s said before, many many times. They sting the back of his throat now, though, as he uses them to skirt the truth when it’s his last chance.
Cas only stares at him, eyes painful and hard, daring him to say what he means. Dean wants to.
“Mom.” Sam says. Dean looks over briefly to see Sam nodding them over toward the other side of the barn. Their mom follows him quickly as they move. His body turns to follow but his feet stick. He can’t leave. Sam and his mom draw further and further away as he steps towards Cas and sinks down beside him on the seat.
“Cas?” He allows his voice to break a little with his family no longer nearby, his tone pitching up on the vowel.
“Dean, why are you staying? He’ll kill you.”
The angel’s voice is ragged; abused by the blood and poison raging through his lungs. Dean wishes he could tune it out, make it stop, anything. But it might be the last time he hears it, and broken is better than nothing at all.
“How could I leave, Cas? I can’t just-“
Tears infiltrate his throat and his voice chokes off abruptly. He clears it to start again, but Cas beats him.
“Is this because of what I said? Dean, I didn’t say that to make you stay.”
A tearful laugh bubbles strangely from Dean’s chest and it feels uncomfortable and entirely wrong, but he can’t stop it. Nothing makes sense any longer, most certainly not Cas’s total lack of self-worth.
"Of course that's why, Cas. How could that not be why?"
He brings his hand up to cradle Cas's cheek in his palm. His skin is rough with stubble and damp with cold sweat and the sensation of his friend shuddering beneath his touch makes him want to rear back in fear, but he stays put, unwavering.
Castiel, however, is bothered by this response, and he pulls away weakly. Frustrated reproach furrows his brow as he glares at Dean. "I don't want you to die because you're staying by me out of pity. I didn't do all that I've done all these years for you to die that way."
Dean retracts in surprise.
“Out of pity? Cas, what are you-“
“Alright, we’ve got a plan.” Sam interrupts him and Dean squeezes his eyes shut, teeth clenched in frustration. He and Cas just never have time.
~~~~
Black liquid gurgles forth from Cas’s mouth and Dean feels bile rise in his own throat as he watches. Cas is really dying. The life in his eyes is growing dimmer rapidly and Dean has no words left. Light flares from behind them and his view of Cas is obliterated by it. He turns to try and identify the new threat, but the flare fades quickly and Dean is left blinking rainbow spots from his vision.
"The magic's in the craftsmanship." Crowley sounds smug and for a moment Dean can't figure out why until it suddenly clicks.
"Cas?" He asks as he whips his head around to face his friend again. Aside from the stains on his clothes, Cas looks well and healthy once more. His gaze flits about over his body nervously, as though assessing himself. Dean feels his stomach swoop in wonderful relief before it hits him once more that Crowley may actually be a threat. Forcing himself to turn away from Cas, Dean stands with Sam to face the Demon.
"Oh, you're welcome."
And then he's gone.
Cas's hand lingers on his longer than he expects once he's finally standing and for a moment Dean thinks that maybe they're okay. That maybe Cas realized that he wasn't just staying out of pity and that his confession hadn't gone unrequited. But then his hand falls and Dean's skin feels cold where it had been for a mere scant seconds.
"So…you're good?" Mary asks hesitantly, as if she, like Dean, is afraid the answer isn't as she hopes.
"I guess so." Cas doesn't seem grateful enough for the life he still has, his movements stiff and his face in conflict. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of watching him focus on the straw around their feet, he turns his attention towards Dean. The life has returned to his bright blue eyes and Dean holds onto it desperately, refusing to let himself even blink, until their vibrancy replaces the pallor they'd held just minutes ago. "What did he- what did he mean about somebody stealing from him?"
"Who knows what that crazy man was talkin' about. Let's go home."
Dean wants Cas to share in his eagerness to return home together, but he doesn't seem to. As soon as Dean speaks those words, the angel drops his gaze, as though ashamed.
Cas leaves the barn quickly, walking ahead of them with a purpose in his steps that sets Dean’s heart pounding. He follows him out without hesitation, abandoning his brother and mom to gather the loose ends in the barn. The angel must know he’s gaining on him, because he quickens his pace with bowed head.
"Leave me be, Dean."
“Cas, stop.”
His voice is desperate and rough, damaged by the pressure if unshed tears and adrenaline. It must hold weight though, because Cas stops in his place, but he doesn’t turn. His shoulders hunch defensively.
“What?”
It comes out short and harsh and Dean knows he can’t leave things this way. Crossing the remaining distance between them, he places a hand on Cas’s shoulder and gently turns him around. He offers mild resistance, but spins slowly in the gravel, letting it crunch beneath his heels. Dean expects him to look him in the eyes, defiantly or gently it wouldn't matter, but he doesn't. His eyes are firmly fixed on the ground, his chin tucked down toward his chest. It's the most downtrodden and disheartened Dean has ever seen him and he did it to him.
He raises his arm and then drops it in an aborted plan to try and make Castiel look at him. If the angel doesn't want to, he won't try to make him that way, but there are no reasons left not to say it.
"Cas, I love you, too."
The words feel foreign on his tongue, as he's spoken them so seldom in his life. They make his teeth buzz and his lips sings. His skin feels warm and alive despite the chilled evening. Somewhere behind him he hears his family's footsteps grow quiet and then retreat.
Cas's mouth falls open in surprise, his wide eyes opening impossibly wider. He lifts his chin slowly until his face is tilted towards Dean and every ounce of emotion is visible. Primarily, there's disbelief- a torrent of impossibility raging across his features in opaque sheets. Fighting to the surface behind that storm is hope; hope that Dean is speaking the truth, hope that his deathbed words weren't for naught, hope that they could be something beautiful.
"Do you mean that?" His words are light and breathy, as though he can't quite make his voice work. It's an odd sound in contrast to his usual timbre, but Dean loves it. That sound means that he's stolen the breath from an angel who doesn't need air.
He nods fervently, overwhelmed determination set into his features as if willing Cas to believe his words are genuine. "I mean that, Cas, and I shoulda said it a long time ago."
"As should I." Cas agrees, his voice firm with conviction. His face melts quickly into something softer, though, and he peers up at Dean shyly through his lashes. "I'm glad we finally did, though."
Dean leans down and presses his lips warm and fast to the angel's cheek before pulling away with an innocent grin.
"Let's go home." He says again. They do.