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They drive to Illinois, Dean insists. He has a right to, Cas supposes.
You don’t strap a man to a bomb, knowing what he’s getting ready to do is for the greatest good, and not fulfill his last request. He only wants every son on a suicide mission does: one last chance to see his mother. To promise her that it will all be worth it.
Long ago, Castiel promised God that he would love humanity more than he loved his Father. It’s a job he’s done remarkably well, considering. He has always been certain of things, it’s part of his programming. And in this moment, watching Dean say goodbye to a stone bearing his mother’s name, he’s certain that losing Dean isn’t worth it.
Dean turns, crossing to them with a lazy, forced stride, pretending it’s just another day. He speaks to Chuck, Rowena gazes demurely anywhere but at Dean. Cas knows the bomb’s fuse is burning, their time running out, even as Dean pauses to make sure Chuck is still on board with the plan.
He speaks Dean’s name, and Dean turns to him. The looks that play on his face, just at the edge of his false machismo, they fill Castiel with a grief that isn’t to be spoken. He hugs Dean before he can stop himself.
For that one brief moment, time stops.
He lives the last few years again in fast forward; from the moment his hands grasped Dean from the maw of Hell, the two of them rising like a comet from the heat and stench of damnation, until this moment, his hands grasping the warm denim of Dean’s jacket. Dean’s hands on the twill of Cas’s trenchcoat bunch the fabric slightly, and he reassures the angel… Castiel fears this is the last time he will hear Dean speak his name.
Dean’s body language is different this time. Not like when he’d come for Cas in Purgatory. There’s a defeat to the set of his shoulders, the way he lets himself slump almost imperceptibly into the embrace. He doesn’t even attempt to make a bad joke.
Neither of them doubts that Dean isn’t coming back this time.
Blossoms fall from the trees around them, wafting in gentle eddies on the breeze.
Cas thinks of Eden.
Then the image is gone, and time returns to its march toward the inevitable.
He offers to go with Dean, as his backup. Like countless times before, protecting the Righteous Man.
Only this time, Dean turns him away. He asks Cas to stay with Sam, to keep him afloat in the aftermath. Although he doesn’t want to, he promises. Just as he promised God to love the humans, he promises Dean that he will watch over Sam in the hard days to come.
Dean places his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and centers himself, The moment is over, the bad jokes finally putting in an appearance. His voice is rough, though, betraying his fear. No one laughs. Dean stops when he gets a reaction from Sam.
Pain is written so clearly on the younger Winchester’s body, in his face. In both of their faces. Even though they’re trying not to let this break them. Sam is so close to tears, burying his head in Dean’s shoulder. Cas doesn’t want to see, but he must.
They go through familiar motions, halfheartedly teasing, wholeheartedly saying goodbye.
In truth, Cas doesn’t believe Sam’s plan will work. And even if it does, he doesn’t want to go back to Heaven, if his brothers would ever trust him again to let him in. It’s been thousands of years. He’s tired. The only time he doesn’t feel lost in his weariness, he’s been with the Winchesters. In the bunker, in the Impala… in countless dingy motels across the United States.
Dean turns to Chuck. For the briefest of instants, he meets Castiel’s gaze, eyes crimping at the edges in acknowledgment, the goodbye unspoken.
Dean doesn’t let himself think, he simply steels himself. They are such fragile, flawed, beautiful creatures, these humans.
“OK. Let’s do this.” And he is gone.
The silence in his wake remains unbroken. Even Crowley bows his head.
Castiel’s heart, if that’s what one could even call it, breaks.
He decides the worst thing God ever created for his children is love.