Archive of Our Own

From the serie
I SHALL BUT LOVE THEE

⁓

ACT I
BEHIND BLUE EYES

Time in Purgatory could have stretched on for millennia or passed in the blink of an eye—Dean couldn’t tell. 

It all blurred together into one endless, oppressive expanse of gray. But he didn’t have time to waste, not anymore. Then again, screw it. Who cared if the breach closed? If the world went to hell? For once, who really cared about anything? He was sick of always making the right call, of sacrificing what he wanted, needed, for others. People didn’t even know half of what he’d given up. So what did it matter? Let them all go to hell. Or worse. 

What point was there in returning to Earth from this godforsaken place if he had to do it alone?

The trees around him stretched high, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. Fog curled around their bases, thick and suffocating, like fingers trying to drag him under. But he was rooted in place. 

Dean wasn't leaving this forest. 

Not without Cas. 

No way in hell. Not this time. Not after everything that had happened.

A branch snapped somewhere off to his left. Dean ignored it, jaw tightening. 

“I'm not fucking coming back alone.” He snarled.

If that was the only option, he’d rather rot there, let Purgatory swallow him whole. The underbrush crunched beneath his boots as he pushed forward, the scent of damp earth and decay clinging to him like a shroud. 

Cas didn’t deserve to be left behind again. Not after Dean had torn him down so many times, had lashed out in anger when all Cas ever tried to do was help. Cas deserved better. 

Hell, Dean deserved better, if he had to be honest with himself.

But honesty wasn’t exactly his strong suit, was it? 

He snorted to himself, frustration gnawing at his insides. Yeah, he could stay here forever if that was what it took. Survive in this endless, twisted forest? Fine. He'd done it before. Kill monsters? Awesome. He could deal with leviathans all day long if it meant finding Cas and getting them both the hell out of this place. 

Together.

The undergrowth shifted beneath his feet, giving way to soft patches of moss and sharp stones. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, but he ignored them. The only thing on his mind was Cas. Somewhere out there in this miserable hellscape, Cas was fighting to survive too, and Dean was going to find him. They would fight their way out. Chuck and his cosmic board game could wait.

The thought of Sam crossed his mind like a flash of lightning. 

Sam was on the other side of the breach, facing God-knows-what. Dean couldn't just leave him to deal with Chuck's insanity. But... he couldn't leave Cas either. He'd done it too many times already, and every damn time it had been a mistake. His heart thudded against his ribs, every beat a reminder of what he'd lost, of what he might still lose.

He stopped, fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. 

He was so damn tired. 

Tired of the constant battles, of the questions that never seemed to have a right answer. And fuck, he should have asked Cas to stay when he had the chance. When he could have said something that mattered. But no, of course, he hadn’t. He was too stubborn, too afraid to open his mouth and let his heart do the talking.

The mist swirled around his legs, rising like a wave. Dean took a shuddering breath, eyes closing. He never prayed. Praying was for the desperate, for people with no other options. It felt like begging. And Dean Winchester didn't beg. 

He swallowed the bitterness, tasting ash on his tongue.

He was desperate. He had no other options.

Also, what was left to lose? What the hell had he been protecting himself from all these years? The only thing he'd ever managed to keep out with his bravado and his walls was the only thing he actually wanted—a chance at happiness.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves above him, sending a chill down his spine. 

Purgatory was a place where nothing good was supposed to happen, where everything was brutal and unforgiving. But somehow, in this twisted Vegas-like nightmare where what happened stayed buried, there was still something he needed to do. Something that had been clawing at his chest ever since he'd lost sight of Cas in this endless forest.

Dean looked around, the landscape blurring at the edges, his mind racing, his eyes starting to water. The trees loomed above, twisted and skeletal, their bark slick with the eternal dampness that pervaded this place. 

He was alone. 

No one else here but him, and maybe that made it easier. 

Maybe here, where the monsters were real and the rules were different, he could finally let himself be honest. 

So he dropped to his knees.

“Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I— Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know — I know that it's — i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just — it comes out. And I can't — I can't stop it. No matter how — how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And — and I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long — I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm — I’m so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.”

He was ready to stand, to brush off the dirt and keep moving, but—no. Screw it. 

He was tired of running, tired of swallowing everything down. The fear of never seeing Cas again clawed at him, and the weight of that thought nearly broke him. He stayed there, kneeling in the dirt, vulnerable, back turned to the forest. He knew it was a risk. Anything could come lunging out of the shadows at any second, teeth bared, ready to tear him apart. But none of it mattered. 

Not now.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding. 

Just do it.  

This was so much more important. More than whatever hunted him in the dark. He had to say it. To let it out, even if it killed him.

Spill it, Winchester.

“No… no, that ain't okay, alright? I’m so damn sick of this, sick of keepin’ it all bottled up. It’s freakin’ hard, man. I been feelin’ like crap for so long. I said, ‘I get angry and I don’t know why’—but that’s bullshit. I do know. I just... hell, it’s scary. And I’ve seen some scary shit in my life, but this? This is the worst, ‘cause I don’t know how to handle it. I lost so much, Cas, and the only damn thing keepin’ me goin’ is knowin’ I’d rather rot in this place than lose you again. I shoulda asked you to stay, but I didn’t. Couldn’t show that you’re my weakness. Been in denial so damn long it hurts to even think about it. Look at me— I’m not exactly a spring chicken… but I still can’t spit out the words right. But you deserve better, man, and so do I. So c’mon, just flap those wings and get your feathery ass over here. I need you... I-I have... I—just lemme find you, okay?”

He was such an idiot, dammit. 

How the hell could he not even say the L-word out loud, alone, in the middle of the damn woods? Sure, Cas could probably hear him, but wasn’t that the whole point of this praying business? He cursed himself again. 

Infantile, that’s what you are.  

With his stupid, childish behavior and all that deep-seated, internalized crap he couldn't shake off. Like anyone but himself even cared who he liked—boys, girls, or whatever else happened to breathe.

And yet, here he was, cloaked in shame like some angsty teen. 

Like he hadn’t literally gone through hell and back, heaven and back, apocalypse and back, end of the world and back, and Purgatory and back. And not just once—at least twice in every one of Chuck’s dumbass universes. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to face his own damn feelings.

Dean gritted his teeth, forcing himself up from where he knelt in the dirt. He had to keep moving. Had to keep searching. 

Millennia seemed to stretch out before him as he trudged forward, no sign of Castiel anywhere. He knew he only had a few minutes left before the breach closed for good, trapping him in this hellhole forever. But he was okay with that. Whatever, he thought. He’d die here or somewhere else eventually. At least this way, he wouldn’t be leaving Cas behind. 

Not again.

And that’s when he heard it. 

A whisper, barely there, cutting through the oppressive silence. The aching sound of a voice he would recognize anywhere, even in the most crowded place on Earth, even from miles away.

“Dean.”

He froze. He was too used to supernatural creatures messing with him, using his loved ones' voices to break him, to lure him into traps. So of course, skepticism gripped him like a vice. He didn’t move, didn’t let himself believe it, not yet. Instead, he raised his gun, heart pounding in his chest, and turned toward the sound.

And there it was. A small win, for once. Cas was sitting at the base of a tree, looking battered and bruised, but alive. Relief washed over Dean, so intense it made his knees weak.

“Cas?” His voice came out rough, choked with a mix of disbelief and hope.

“You made it.”

“I made it?” Dean echoed, still in a daze.

Before Castiel could even think about getting to his feet, Dean closed the distance between them in three long strides. He didn’t give either of them a chance to process it, to hesitate. He just pulled Cas into a hug, crushingly tight, tighter than anything they’d ever shared before. For a second, the world around them—the grim forest, the mist, the looming darkness—disappeared. 

It was just them.

His eyes scanned the forest around them, muscles coiled and ready for whatever might jump out at them next. But for this moment, just this brief, stolen moment, he had Cas back in his arms.

Parting from that moment, from that hug, was one of the most difficult things Dean had ever done.

“You okay?” Dean asked, his voice gruff.

“I'm fine.”

“What happened?”

Standing face to face, they locked eyes, invading each other’s space as they always did. Dean didn’t back off. His eyes glowed with the light of someone who had finally caught his breath after holding it for far too long. The echo of what awaited them—the mess with Chuck and everything else—still lingered, a shadow on the horizon. 

But for now, Castiel was here. 

Right in front of him. 

And in that moment, everything was okay. It had to be okay. Dean needed it to be.

“They were after me, not you. I figured it would be safest to give myself up.”

“They took you to Eve?”

“Yeah. We were en route. I waited until I... saw this.” Castiel reached into his coat and pulled out a blossom, holding it like it was nothing special. “It got a little smushed.”

Dean blinked. 

Who in their right mind would care about the damn state of a flower right now?  

Cas was standing here, alive, but Dean could already feel that ticking clock looming over them. How long until his luck ran out? Until fate decided to tear them apart once and for all?

“Once I had the blossom, I fought,” Castiel continued, voice calm as ever. “Caught them off guard. They fought back. I managed to get away.”

Dean bet Cas had smashed the hell out of them. “You did it. You did it, Cas.”

“Well, they're still after me. We should hurry.”

“Okay, Cas, I need to say something.”

“You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.”

“No. No, now you shut your damn mouth for a minute and listen to—”

“Dean, there’s no time, a-and… I heard you, there’s no need to add—”

“Cas, really, I don’t care. I’ll get stuck here with you forever if that’s what it takes for me to say it out loud. I’m so done with myself, I’m so done with all the hatred that I—I—”

“You must stop putting yourself down. You’re… you are the most caring human being that—”

“Man, stop.” Dean’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. “I don’t wanna hear you say stuff like that to me again and not be able to say anything back, okay? You always cheer me up, y-you gave up everything for me and Sammy, for the world. You betrayed your brothers and sisters, Heaven itself. You lost your grace, your wings, and you did all that for—”

“You.”

“What?”

“I did it, all of that, for you.”

Dean swallowed hard, his gaze darting left and right before landing back on Castiel. 

No, for heaven’s sake, no. I’m not that important.  

He was just a human—a broken, pointless dirtbag made of traumas and stubbornness. How could he deserve the loyalty, the faith, of an angel?

“I-I… Cas, just lemme say it, okay? I need to, I—”

“Please, Dean, don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I wanna say.”

Castiel smiled, and Dean felt a fresh wave of frustration crash over him. 

God, I'm such an idiot.  

He finally got it: Cas was an angel, and he was just... well, him. What the hell had he been thinking? He needed to swallow it all back down, shove those feelings deep where they belonged. Hadn't he been doing that his whole damn life? 

Stick to the plan, Winchester. 

Nobody really wanted to hear him pour out his feelings, anyway.

The air around them was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, a constant reminder of where they were. The gray light of Purgatory seeped through the tangled canopy above, casting long shadows over the uneven ground. It was quiet, unnaturally so, like the forest was holding its breath.

“I may not know exactly what you want to say,” Castiel began, his voice calm but strained. “But whatever it is, I-I can feel… something inside me, like joy, like... and I can’t let it happen. Not now, not like this. Not if it’s not necessary.”

“What are you talkin’ about, man?” Dean snapped.

Seriously, what the hell is he goin’ on about?  

What was the point of feeling a flicker of happiness just to snuff it out? And joy? Over what, exactly? Some dirtbag covered in dust and blood, circling around three stupid words he’d never had the guts to say to anyone before? Yeah, real cause for celebration, Cas. But even if the angel had understood what that prayer was really about, it didn’t make sense.

The tension between them was almost tangible, like a current in the air. 

Dean's heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. Around them, the forest was a sea of shadows and half-seen movement, branches creaking and leaves whispering in the wind. The world beyond their small bubble felt far away, blurred by the weight of everything unsaid.

“I’ll tell you once we’re out of here,” Castiel insisted. “I can’t let you get stuck in this place.”

Dean glanced around, eyes sweeping over the jagged landscape of Purgatory. 

The trees stretched high and skeletal around them, their twisted shapes like fingers reaching for the sky. They were boxed in on all sides, no clear path out, and every second felt like it stretched into an eternity.

“Chuck ain’t gonna let that happen,” Dean shot back, anger flaring up in his chest. “Guy’s just itchin’ to play his sick little games with us. The second he sees his dumbass plot fallin’ apart ‘cause we dared to use our freakin’ free will, he’ll boot our asses outta here anyway. So, screw it, alright?”

“There’s Sam on the other side, Dean.”

Dean gritted his teeth, feeling the bitterness surge up. 

The mention of Sam was like a knife, twisting in his gut. He knew Sam was out there, waiting, fighting his own battle. But here, in this forsaken forest, none of that mattered if he couldn’t tell Cas what was storming inside of him.

“You’re the one wastin' our time, Cas!”

“Dean.”

Fine. If Cas wanted to go back and keep up the pretense, then so be it. The canopy above them rustled as the wind picked up, carrying the damp chill of thas place right through Dean’s bones.

“Whatever.”

Dean spat the word out, turning away, his jaw tight. 

Let’s just do this.

They ran. The breach was almost closed, so they really had to haul ass. Dean would’ve been fine staying here, honestly. Purgatory had always been... their place, in a way. It was where they’d first hugged, and Dean remembered that like it was yesterday. How could he forget? 

He remembered the rush of joy seeing Castiel again, the sheer need that drove him to find him, before he reached that lake. The flush on his face, hidden under a layer of dirt, just from the sight of him. The smile he couldn’t stop from spreading across his lips, reaching his eyes. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, a drumbeat he couldn't control. 

And he remembered, too, the way his soul felt torn apart when Cas loosened his grip on his arms, giving up everything just to save him, again.

A year to find him, a moment to lose him.

And the guilt the grief the rage.

He wouldn’t let that happen again. He made sure both of them dove through the breach. They tumbled out onto the bunker’s floor, and as the opening snapped shut behind them, all Dean could think was that they did it together this time. No way he was leaving Castiel behind. Not for anything. Not even for Sam. 

Not this time.

His heart thundered against his ribcage as he lifted his eyes and met Cas’s gaze—blue, clear, like always. There was something in those eyes he’d never forget, something that had gripped him from the start. Didn’t matter how far apart they were or what those eyes were filled with—fear, force, whatever—they were Castiel’s. 

And they would always be breathtaking.

Even now, with dirt and blood smeared across his face, with the lines of time etched into his skin, with all the pain and sadness hanging around him like a shadow, he still looked... breathtaking.

Dean stared at him, really looked at him. 

Still beautiful. Still Cas.

“I love you.”

He didn’t know why he shouted it. 

Felt like it was the only way to get it out, honestly. And hell, he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

Cas’s eyes went wide, his entire face lighting up with something Dean had rarely seen there: pure, unfiltered joy. And suddenly, Dean was hit with just how powerful those three words really were, and stupidly blushed. Cas seemed to glow, almost turning into pure light, so bright it hurt to look at him—but Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

Breathtaking.

“You should not have said it.”

Castiel's answer wasn’t what Dean was hoping for. Not by a long shot. But despite that, he couldn’t help the surge of happiness that rushed through him. He’d said it. 

Finally, he was free.

“Why not? I mean, it doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same, Cas—I get it, I’m just a man, and you—”

“No, Dean. That’s not why…”

As Cas began to speak, the whole bunker shook, rattling like it was caught in the grip of an earthquake. Dean’s eyes darted around, scanning the room, trying to make sense of what was happening. The shelves clattered, the lights flickered, and for a second, everything seemed to spin out of control. 

Then, his gaze snapped back to Castiel. The look he was giving right back at him made Dean freeze in panic.

“What’s goin’ on?” Dean asked, his heart thudding against his ribs.

“That’s the reason… I’m trying to keep it in, but I can’t.”

“Keep what in?”

“Happiness.”

“Why the hell would you do that and—wait, what? Happiness? Man, I don’t—”

“When Jack was dying,” Cas cut him off, voice strained, “I made a deal to save him…”

“You did what?” Dean’s chest tightened, a flare of anger mixed with fear surging through him.

“The price was my life.” Castiel’s voice softened, a calmness there that scared the hell out of Dean. “When I experienced a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned, and it would take me. Forever.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this now?” Dean’s voice broke, eyes locked on Cas’s, searching for some way out of this nightmare.

Dean could see it now, clear as day—the tears welling in Castiel’s eyes, the raw emotion laid bare on his face. His heart pounded in his chest, a hollow drumming that threatened to drown out everything else. 

No. No. No. No. No.  

A sickening realization clawed its way up from his gut. 

No. Fucking. Way.  

He wasn’t gonna lose Cas. Not here, not like this. Not after he’d finally managed to tear down his walls and let the truth spill out, let those three impossible words escape his lips. It couldn’t end like this. There had to be a way to stop it. He had to keep Cas here, with him. He couldn't lose him. Not now.

Around them, the bunker’s war room felt like it was closing in, the walls too tight, too suffocating. The dim lights flickered, casting long shadows on the floor, while the maps and sigils lining the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, thrumming with the same energy that shook through Dean's body. The familiar surroundings—the bookshelves, the map table, the brick-lined walls—suddenly felt alien, a cruel reminder of how powerless he was in this moment.

“I always wondered,” Castiel began, his voice breaking through the tension like a knife. Dean stared at him, every nerve in his body on fire, not daring to blink, to miss a single second of this. “Ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered… what it could be. What my true happiness could even look like.”

Dean's breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully. 

No, don't say it. Don't do this, he thought, but his lips wouldn’t move to form the words.

“I never found an answer,” Castiel continued, his eyes glistening as he looked right at Dean, piercing through every wall he’d ever built. “Because the one thing I want... It's something I thought I couldn’t have. And I thought… I thought that happiness wasn't in the having; it was in just being. It was in just saying it… and I was keeping that in me, because the sole thought of leaving you in any other circumstance than a useful one— would’ve killed me twice.”

Dean’s heart stopped. 

He felt his chest seize up, like someone had wrapped a fist around his lungs and squeezed. He wanted to yell, to scream at Cas to shut up, to not say another damn word. 

But all that came out was a strangled, “What are you talking about, man?”

That wasn't what he meant to say. 

Hell, it wasn’t even close. 

He wanted to grab Cas by the shoulders, shake some sense into him, tell him Fuck no, you’re not leaving. I won’t let it happen. 

But the words jammed up in his throat, stuck there like shards of glass. 

Damn it, Winchester, say something!  

But nothing came. He wasn’t Sam; he wasn’t Rowena. He had no clue how to deal with this kind of shit. Not when it involved the one person he loved more than anything, the one person who’d thrown away everything for him.

Cas, he thought, staring at the angel in front of him, I love you so much. 

He would’ve died for Cas without a second thought. He’d have let himself rot in Purgatory, gone back to Hell, faced every monster and cosmic horror out there if it meant keeping Cas safe. 

But now? Now it was Cas who was dying for him, again.

And just like that, the reality crashed down on him. This was his fault. His goddamn fault, again. 

I did this.  

The self-hatred washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him right there on the bunker floor. His soul shattered into a thousand pieces, and the ground beneath him felt like it was slipping away.

“I know,” Castiel said softly, eyes never leaving Dean’s. “I know how you see yourself, Dean.” His voice was gentle but steady, like he was speaking directly to Dean’s heart, bypassing every layer of armor. “You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're ‘daddy's blunt instrument.’ And you think that hate and anger, that's... that's what drives you, that's who you are.”

The words hit Dean like a hammer, each one chipping away at the last defenses he had. His jaw tightened, and he could feel the sting of tears burning in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“It's not.” Cas's voice softened, like he was letting Dean in on a secret he'd kept for far too long. “And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.”

The room around them seemed to blur at the edges as Cas spoke. The air felt heavy, electric, like the moment before a lightning strike. Dean wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Those eyes—Cas’s eyes—held him there, forced him to listen.

Dean’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. 

The words from Cas hit him like a balm and a blade all at once, soothing and cutting him deeper than he thought possible. He could feel himself coming apart at the seams, every emotion he’d kept buried for so long bubbling to the surface. And yet, all he could do was stand there, helpless, as he watched the one thing he’d ever truly wanted slip through his fingers.

There was something so powerful in happiness. 

It could break you and build you up at the same time. That’s what Cas was doing—smiling even as tears welled up in his eyes. And Dean felt both heartbreak and fulfillment crash into him in a chaotic wave. He could barely breathe around the tangle of feelings that choked him: love, need, hope, grief, guilt. It all rose within him like a storm, filling every part of him, spilling out into the dimly lit bunker. 

No, he thought desperately. This can’t be real.

“You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell...” Cas’s voice was like a soft echo in the room, and Dean hung onto every word, his eyes locked on his angel’s face. “Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... but—I cared about the whole world… because of you.”

Castiel laughed then, a sound that was both sad and happy. The contradiction of it struck Dean like a lightning bolt. 

His eyes burned, and he clenched them shut, feeling the sting of tears pressing at the corners. They were like drops of molten metal, hot enough to scald him from the inside. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep himself from crying, fighting to stay in control.

“You changed me, Dean.”

That was it. He couldn’t hold back any longer. A single tear slipped down his cheek, cold against his heated skin. He didn’t wipe it away. He just let it fall, as another tear escaped from Castiel’s eye. 

It felt like a mirror, reflecting back all the pain and the love between them in that one crystallized moment.

My angel.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Dean’s voice broke, rough and strangled. 

He needed to hear Cas deny it. Needed him to say it wasn’t over.

“Because it is.”

“It can’t—”

“It must… it’s coming.”

Dean felt the room tilt, the ground shifting under his feet as if the whole world was threatening to give out from under him. He could feel the thrum of power in the air, something dark and inevitable clawing its way toward them. “I—I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said—”

He stumbled over his words, choking on regret, feeling the crushing weight of what was happening. He wanted to rewind time, take it all back, anything to keep Cas there, to keep this from turning into yet another loss that would carve out a part of his soul. All of his soul.

“No, no, Dean… you don’t get it…” Castiel's voice cracked, his eyes wide, filled with something raw, almost frantic. “You just made me the most joyful, the happiest being in the whole universe. You—you said you’re just a man. You’re not.”

Dean’s breath hitched, but Cas kept going, his words tumbling out like they’d been held back for far too long.

“I’ve lived for eons, Dean. I’ve literally seen life start on Earth... do you even know how long that is?” Castiel’s gaze bore into him, unblinking, eyes glistening with a mixture of awe and sadness. “I was only light back then, and time—it flows differently than it does in a human body. But still… millennia passed, without me feeling a single thing except respect— for who I believed to be a rightful Creator.”

Dean swallowed, his throat dry. The bunker around them felt unnaturally still, like the world had paused to hear Cas’s confession.

“But it took a few days with you,” he continued, his voice quieter now, trembling slightly. “A few days in the face of millennia, to make me doubt, to make me something different. When I say you changed me, I mean you changed an eternal creature in just a few years. You made me... human. You made me this.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, ready to argue, to fight against the weight of those words, but before he could get a single sound out, Dean froze, his heart thudding erratically against his ribs.

Cas smiled, a soft, sad smile that sent a shock of pain through Dean’s chest. “I love you.”

The feeling that burst inside Dean was so overpowering, so utterly real, it knocked the breath out of him. His legs wobbled, and for a terrifying second, he thought he might collapse right there. His face burned, lighting up with emotions he couldn’t control, while a shadow of dread darkened his gaze.

“Don't do this, Cas,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“I-I…” Dean’s words died in his throat, strangled by the rush of panic clawing its way up from his gut.

A wet, squelching noise cut through the air, echoing off the bunker walls. Dean whipped his head around, eyes going wide as he watched the black ooze of the Empty seeping through the cracks in the bricks. It crawled and slithered like a living thing, pooling on the wall as a dark, swirling portal began to form.

“No.” It came out as a strangled gasp. 

They both knew what it meant. 

He turned back to Cas, eyes burning with unshed tears, only to see the angel still smiling, tears brimming in his own eyes. There was no more time.

“Cas… No, please, no...” The words tumbled out of Dean’s mouth, raw and desperate. “I love you, I love you, I’ve never loved anybody like this before—y-you can’t go... you, I can’t let you, please!” His voice cracked, a broken plea hanging in the air between them.

“You made me feel love for the first time in millennia, Dean.” Castiel’s tone was steady, almost peaceful, even as tears streamed down his face. “You should be proud of yourself. You should love yourself. Please tell me that you will...”

“No, no, I can’t...” Dean’s voice faltered, a strangled sob tearing from his throat. “I—I... this is my fault, all of it is.” 

The self-loathing crashed over him in waves, dragging him down, filling his chest with a burning ache.

Cas shook his head, his eyes filled with a tenderness that cut through Dean like a knife. “How is there fault in being someone’s true happiness, in turning an unfeeling being into a human?”

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together. The room around them seemed to pulse with the weight of the moment, the darkness of the Empty spreading, creeping ever closer, threatening to take away the one thing he’d just managed to grasp.

He felt the weight of Castiel’s words, the finality in them, but he couldn't. No way he could let it end like this. Not when there was still so much left unsaid, so much he’d only just allowed himself to feel.

Then, Cas placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, skin still slick and bloodied from the fight with the vampires. Dean felt the touch like a brand, searing through the layers of his clothes, straight to his soul, where it used to be the scar of their first touch. 

It was as if his very essence was being torn away, ripped from his body, leaving him hollow.

The claim of Castiel’s love, long lost on his skin, back in place on his mind and heart, where it always belonged.

“Tell me you will.”

“I can’t.” His voice was ragged, barely more than a whisper.

“Please.”

“I will… try.” The words scraped out of him, bitter and raw, like shards of glass.

Cas nodded, his face settling into that calm resignation that Dean had seen too many times. He was ready to go. To go. And Dean... he just couldn’t. He felt life draining out of him, spilling away like water slipping through his fingers.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“No... I love you, don’t—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay… I love you too.”

Dean felt it then, the shift in Cas's stance, the way he braced ready to push him away, to keep him safe from the encroaching blackness of the Empty. 

Panic surged in Dean’s chest, an instinctive, desperate denial. 

No. Not now. Not like this. 

He frowned, his hand flying out to grip the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat. The rough fabric scraped against his palm as he yanked Cas in, their bodies crashing together with a force that left him breathless.

And then their lips collided.

It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t careful. It was messy, chaotic—a collision of need and fear, of love and grief. Dean threw every ounce of himself into the kiss, pouring all his emotions into it as if he could somehow fuse their souls together. 

Fuck, it was so different—so right, and yet so foreign. 

His senses overloaded. Castiel's stubble scraped against his chin, rough and electric, sending jolts down his spine. There was a faint taste of copper on Cas’s lips—blood, sweat, and something uniquely him that Dean tried to memorize in this single, fractured moment.

Cas gasped against him, and Dean felt the sound vibrate through their locked mouths, echoing in his bones. 

His hands flew up to Cas's hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling him closer, harder. He could feel the heat of his angel’s skin under his fingertips, the curve of his neck as he gripped, not gentle but frantic, desperate. The scent of earth and sweat, mingled with something that was just... Cas, filled his lungs, drowning him in it.

Their arms coiled around each other, locking them together in a crushing grip. 

There was no space, no air, nothing but the overwhelming press of bodies, lips, the ragged breaths they shared between frantic kisses. 

It wasn’t perfect. It was too much—teeth knocking awkwardly, breathless gasps, and fumbling hands. And yet, it was everything Dean hadn’t known he craved. The scratch of Castiel's scruff against his jaw, the solid weight of his body pushing back—it was an epiphany that crashed through Dean, leaving him reeling. 

So this is what it feels like.  

First and last kiss, embedded in one single moment destined to end too fast. His mind struggled to register the unfamiliar sensation, that raw need to imprint every second into his memory. It wasn’t just a kiss. 

It was them. 

It was every unspoken word, every moment they had lost, every bit of longing he never thought he could feel. And with every fierce press of their lips, every tightening of their embrace, Dean felt the ache of too much, and yet, not enough.

He tightened his hold, one hand fisting the back of Cas's trench coat, the other cupping the nape of his neck. He wanted to melt into him, to hold him there, to make time stop. He felt his soul reaching, as if trying to pour itself into Cas, to fill every space between them. There was a sting at the back of his eyes, the pain of knowing this was both the first and the last. The air around them vibrated, and in his mind, he was screaming. 

No, not yet, just a little longer.

Castiel's mouth opened against his, hesitant and fervent all at once, like he was trying to drink in everything Dean had to give. And he gave Cas all of him, letting their tongues twirl one on the other clumsily, teeth scraping, lips bruising. 

It was real. 

It was desperate. 

It was them.

And as they pulled each other impossibly closer, Dean's thoughts blurred into a whirlwind of sensation, as his heart pounded out of rhythm, almost painful in its ferocity. 

This can’t be our farewell.

He wanted it to last forever, but what the hell had ever been forever in his life? And worse, when had he ever truly had what he wanted? Not once. 

As their lips moved together, melting into each other, Dean felt a part of himself slipping away. A tiny corner of his mind registered the slimy, wet sound of the Empty’s ooze creeping closer. 

But he couldn’t lose his grip, couldn’t let go. 

He couldn’t give up. 

Not now. Not ever.

So Castiel did it for him.

With one last, desperate squeeze, almost whining into their kiss, his fingers dug into Dean’s back, holding him impossibly close. Dean felt the final warm breath from Cas’s mouth spill into his own, searing itself into his memory. 

Then, with a force that shattered him Dean, Cas pushed him back, breaking the kiss. Dean stumbled, eyes wild, and found himself staring into the angel’s eyes—those impossibly blue eyes that now looked at him with a tenderness that made him want to scream.

“I’ll never sleep,” Castiel whispered, his voice steady yet trembling. “I’ll try and find a way to watch over you.”

Dean’s heart twisted violently. 

No. No, that’s not true.  

They both knew it. The Empty wasn’t some place you could watch over anything from. It was darkness. It was annihilation. And Castiel, an angel of light and power, would be lost in that endless, empty blackness, stuck, shattered, gone forever. 

Dean felt bile rise in his throat. 

The image of Cas—an eternal being, reduced to nothing—made him want to claw at his own skin to stop the pain.

“I love you.” The words came out of Cas in a rush, raw and final.

And just like that, Dean knew. He knew he wouldn’t let this be the end. He would reunite with Sam and Jack. They’d make a plan. They’d kick Chuck’s ass, save the damn Earth, and then he’d march right into that black pit and drag Castiel out, no matter what it took. 

He had to believe that. 

Anything else would break him beyond repair.

“I’ll come to grip you tight and raise you from annihilation,” he spat out, the words tumbling out with a fierce, wild determination as they echoed Castiel’s, in the night they met.

Castiel laughed then, a sound that was both heartbreaking and beautiful, ringing through the air like the last note of a song that would never be played again. 

His tears streamed down his face, his eyes lit up, glistening with a mix of sadness and happiness that made Dean’s chest feel like it was being torn open. 

“I’ll wait for you,” Cas replied, voice soft, breaking.

And then, just like that, Cas pushed him away.

Dean crashed back against the wall, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. For a split second, everything blurred, his vision clouded with tears and pain. When he managed to look up, to focus, the sight that met his eyes tore the air from his chest. 

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please. Take me instead.

The Empty surrounded Cas, black goo spreading around him, forming shapes that almost mocked his wings.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat, the memory slamming into him so hard he almost doubled over. 

The scene mirrored the first time he had ever seen Cas, back in that barn eleven years ago. 

Only now, the light wasn’t there. There was only darkness, curling around the angel, swallowing him whole. He barely registered the moment when Cas vanished. It was over before he could even reach out again.

“I love you.” The words slipped out, a desperate whisper into the empty air, falling like a stone into a silent abyss.

But Cas was gone. 

And as the reality crashed down on him, Dean felt the world go utterly, sickeningly silent. 

Everything around him—the bunker, the echoes of battles fought, memories shared—fell away, meaningless. The emptiness was all that remained, a gaping wound that would never heal. Dean dropped to his knees, gasping for air, as the grief roared through him, deafening and hollow.

Cas was gone. 

And with him, the last flicker of light in Dean’s world.

⁓

No one knows what its like
To be mistreated, to be defeated
Behind blue eyes
An no one know how to say
That they're sorry and don't worry
I'm not telling lies

But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
(Behind Blue Eyes, Limp Bizkit)