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It happens during the only moment of lucidity in—fuck, since this whole shit stared.
Yeah. Of course it fucking does.
The universe is still out to get one last laugh at Dean Winchester, because why not? What has his whole life been but for one lousy, cosmic joke?
And still, he doesn’t expect it. How could he, after all that's happened, after the last thread of his hope was snapped?
“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean’s shovel falls from his numb hands. His eyes are clear for the first time since it happened, squinting right up at him. “What are you doing?”
Dean sobs. He doesn’t expect it, he can’t—can’t even think past his heart smashing into even smaller pieces. He thought it’d already been ground to dust, but evidently he was wrong.
Once you get to the bottom, you can always start digging.
“Cas—” he says, stops. His voice can’t continue. He can’t—He can’t breathe.
He only wanted to see him one last time, even if it meant—even if it meant seeing shining blue-black eyes, a perpetual snarl on his face.
Even if it meant that Dean had to see him all tied up, all chained up, he had to see him one last time, before—
Before.
One last time is all he’ll get, and now Cas is lucid, and he’s talking to Dean, and Dean—
Dean cries.
Everything swells up in his chest, every heartache, every look, every thought, everything.
He can’t do this to Cas.
He has to do this.
“Dean?” Cas says again. His voice is his own, the one that’s deep and rumbling and always confused by human oddities. “Why are you crying?”
Dean can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He can’t even cry, but that’s all he’s able to do now, in the face of—
Fuck.
Why him? Why did he—Why—
But he knows why. He couldn’t let Sam do this, just like he couldn’t let Sam build the box, just like he couldn’t—couldn’t—
There’s a lot of things he couldn’t do, and he’s crying for all of them. He’s crying for all that, for all the chances they’ve lost, for all the chances they won’t have, for—
Cas is still looking up at him.
“I’m sorry,” Dean manages to croak out. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, and he can’t stop repeating, can’t stop until it’s just an endless stream, until the words have no more meaning, until Cas—
Cas is still trying to comfort him. He’s the one tied up in a box, angel- and demon-trapping sigils etched onto every surface, onto every ring of his chains, and he’s still trying to comfort Dean.
Dean, who’s burying him, who built the box, who etched every last one of those sigils.
Dean who’s abandoning him to an eternity of loneliness and endless torments.
Why, why didn’t he—-Why didn’t—Why—
“Oh.” It’s just a soft sound, barely more than a breath.
Dean looks at Cas, and Cas isn’t looking back.
“I understand,” Cas says, but damn him no, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t see how this is tearing Dean in two, how this is killing him just as efficiently as whatever will get the drop on him tomorrow will. “This is the right decision.”
And that? Dean knows that it is. God knows that Sam’s already talked him to death about it, how he himself has accepted it, at last, after too much fucking time.
Hope is the worst thing in the world.
“Fuck you,” he spits at Cas. “Fuck you, you can’t—You don’t—don’t know what it was like. You don’t know anything.”
“Dean,” Cas says, and he’s so gentle, so fucking gentle, like Dean isn’t the one who’s about to bury him. “This is the right decision.”
“Fuck you!” Dean screams. He’s still crying, but that—Anger is easier. Anger is comforting. “You don’t get to tell me that! You don’t get to—to—to tell me that abandoning you it’s the right thing to do! You don’t!”
Cas’ smile is sad. It only gets sadder when he realizes that he can’t move his hand to touch Dean. “It’s alright,” he says, soft and gentle and fuck him. Just—Just fuck him. “It’s alright, Dean. I forgive you.”
Dean doesn’t punch him, but it’s a near thing. He’s just so angry, so—
No. He’s not angry. He’s heartbroken. He’s leaving Cas to spend the whole of eternity in a hole in the ground, slowly going insane.
He’s leaving Cas to die, only he won’t die. This is worse than death, much worse than death could ever be.
There are many things he could say, but there’s just one he wants, needs to. The “I love you” never makes it past his throat.
“I’ll find a way,” he whispers instead. “I’ll get you back.”
Cas’ smile is sad, knowing. They’ve already looked for everything when it was Dean’s turn, and this—
There’s no coming back from this.
Just a moment of lucidity that’s the worst fucking joke the universe could lob at Dean.
Just shutting the Ma’lak box on Cas’ clear eyes, on his sad smile.
Just shovelling dirt inside the hole, until nothing remains of Cas but a little mound of earth.
Just dropping the last ingredient in a spell to repair the grass over Cas’ eternal grave, to mask it from anything and anyone.
Just going back to where Sam is waiting with the blindfold, so Dean will never know where he buried Cas.
So Dean can never come back to dig him out.