Work Text:
Sam fell first.
Faced with the endless hoard of monsters, they were all struggling, but the shoulder wound from Chuck’s thrice-be-damned cosmic balance gun set Sam at a distinct disadvantage.
It took a few moments for either of the two other men to notice, preoccupied as they were with their own battles. Dean noticed first, crying out his brother’s name in anguish. Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he fought through the monsters with renewed vigor to reach where his brother had fallen. Surely that couldn’t be it. They had gotten through everything together - the apocalypse, the Darkness, Michael - and the freaking league of the undead attacking them is what finally gets him?
“Sammy,” he cries again, falling to his knees beside his brother.
“Dammit, Sammy.”
Angry this time, he shakes Sam’s shoulder to no avail. Hardly aware of the mob still surrounding them, he realises that his brother is gone.
“Dean”
The grunt of his name is swiftly followed by a hand grasping at his clothes to drag him upwards.
“Cas, do something,” came the plea.
“It may have escaped your notice,” the angel ground out, “but I’m already doing the best I can.”
“Mojo?”
“Gone.”
Dean shook his head. “That bastard.”
Putting speech aside, the two men continue to fight. There seems to be no end in sight - each creature that falls only reveals more behind to take its place.
Eventually Dean falls too. The iron rod he had claimed as a weapon having been wrenched from his grasp, he improvises as he always does. There is only so long he can hold out, however, and he succumbs to the unending tide opposing them.
Cas hears him fall, a sharp pang in his stomach. He knows that he will not last much longer. Stripped of the powers of heaven, he is, he supposes, human once again. There had been no siphoning of his grace, it was simply there one moment and gone the next.
He continues to fight. Though he knows he cannot win, he cannot do anything but fight so long as he is able - to give up would be preposterous. So he fights until he can fight no more, brought down at last by the unending tide. He thinks, briefly, of the Winchesters, hoping they might have at last found peace, and then he thinks no more as his world turns black around him.
——~~——~~——~~——~~——~~——~~——~~——
Castiel awakes disoriented, the colors of the world around him slowly sharpening into recognizable images, though he does not understand how he can be back at the bunker. He peers around in confusion, and is about to start wandering to see if he can figure all of this out when he catches movement at the other end of the room out of his periphery. Turning to face the source of the movement, Cas lets a small smile grace his lips when he sees the all too familiar figure standing opposite him.
“Hello, Dean.”