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Dean knew what would happen the whole week before it did. Cas was weaker. He slept all day, waking only to smile at Dean. When the day came, Cas was more coherent than he had been in a month. He asked Dean to lie next to him. As Dean did so, his own body protesting, Cas began to speak.
"You know what I missed the most, Dean, when I fell? It wasn't reading minds, or not getting sick, not my siblings either. It was my wings."
Dean slid his hand down to Cas's, intertwining their fingers.
"I never understood just what my wings meant until I lost them. They were freedom, yes, but more than that. They made me feel safe. They were strong, and on this plane, they were soft and warm and solid. They were always there."
"Roll over," Dean said. Cas rolled onto his side, unsure, but trusting Dean. Dean wrapped himself around Cas's back. His hands came in front of Cas, gripping their hands together.
"Is this better, angel?" whispered Dean.
"Yes," breathed Castiel, "thank you Dean. My hunter."
They lay like that for hours, as Castiel's breathing got slower. Just as Castiel drew in his last breath, Dean pressed a kiss into his thin hair. "My angel," he murmured.
And just for a moment, Castiel was an angel. There were strong wings on his back as he made his final trip to heaven.