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In the seconds before his head went under, before his vessel was purged of its filth and filled with water, he remembered thinking: what a good way to go. Washed into tides flowing back as far as the beginning of time; how pure and right it seemed. Washing away his sins, as it went. And somewhere in the remainder of his own conscience, among the black leashes tainting his grace, he was thankful.
He wouldn’t have to face the terrible reality of the crusade he’d led against his home, angels he’d considered his brothers, Heavens he’d destroyed without thought. Every day, laid out in front of his eyes was his Heaven, unsoiled in its perfection. And each blink brought into it the corpse of an angel, with the harrowing darkness of wings charred into the grass.
A welcome peace washed over him as he felt the Leviathans leaving his body. He’d always wondered what total vessel submersion meant for angels. Now he was taking a gamble and, win or lose, he’d locked in his decision. If the water wouldn’t kill him, he would have to do it himself; he felt the point of the angel blade in his pocket brushing against his side. The lake lapped around his deadened vessel; the ripples stood still as he eased himself onto his back; there. It’s simple, he said to himself. It was just as if he was lying down, taking a break, and never getting up again – and deeper into the water he went. He was almost sleeping.
Something was still missing, though, he reflected in a muddied state of half-consciousness. He began to feel sad, the kind of sad that latched on and numbed and didn’t let go unless the cause was resolved. It was a roadblock he’d have to overcome but couldn’t, because he was scared.
Dean. He’d left things so badly with Dean. The pain in the hunter’s brow had been there for a long time and Cas knew it was his fault it didn’t go away. Everything he did to try to make it better had only made it worse. And now, he was taking the coward’s way out. Escape, from people that mattered to him and people he mattered to. He was angry at himself; had things panned out differently, this wouldn’t be happening. Crowley would be long dead and Cas himself would have made it up to Dean a thousand times over.
He had to show Dean, show him right now, that he was gone and there would be no return. No Castiel 2.0 if he could help it. It was the only way Dean would stop trying to look for someone who had never been there. He had to stop him worrying. Moving his arms behind his back, he peeled off the waterlogged beige thing he had worn since he came down from Heaven. He held it in his hand for a brief moment before releasing it back in the direction of the bank.
“Find him.”