Work Text:
The water burned in his chest. He could feel the Leviathans, the poison, seeping out of him. Then suddenly he was alone again, waterlogged at the bottom of the lake. He could’ve sworn he heard them laughing as they left, and it was like a knife being buried in further his chest to think whatever they did next was going to be his fault. He had meant so well, but things got out of hand far to quickly. He should’ve listened, should’ve asked for advice. Now he knew everything was going to go to pieces because of him and the choices he had made. Sam and Dean would fight, he knew that. They wouldn’t take anything sitting down. This time he had been the one to break things though, and he couldn’t even help make it right. He felt himself slowing down, the darkness around him closing in. Would he stay gone this time? Or would he be brought back again, just to do more damage. A part of him hoped he would just stay gone. However, he was startled to find that the idea scared him. What happened to them? What happened to Angels when they died? Sure, Castiel had died before, but every time he somehow came back, and he could never remember what happened when he was gone. Would he be sent to the Cage with Lucifer, to be punished for his misdeeds and rebellion? Maybe he would just simply not exist anymore. Maybe there was a place for the Angels when they died, their own kind of Heaven and Hell. Either way, he didn’t really want to go. He wanted to stay here, out of the way. He wanted to know the Winchesters were safe. He wanted to see them laughing over things he didn’t understand, and he wanted to see them driving around in the Impala, hunting monsters and protecting people. Like they had before the Angels and Demons came and complicated things. More than anything he wanted them happy, and he knew that that wouldn’t happen as long as he kept messing up. So he didn’t fight the darkness as it finally overtook him, but he manages to mouth two words before he was gone. “I’m sorry.”