spainkitty-mishassweetestkittles:

merlinisahuntingdetective:

ticklememisha:

hollyoakhill:

freckledbuttchester:

what if cas died in dean’s arms and he had scorched wing marks on his skin for the rest of his life

#you know what the worst part is #cas would probably be trying to push him away with the last strength he had#because he would see this coming #and couldn’t bear leaving such a painful scar on dean

Blood was pouring from his mouth even as light streamed from the large, dark wound on his abdomen. Everything hurt. Pain beyond anything he’d ever percieved. Before, death had been quick. A flash of blinding angelic light. A snap of fingers. The steady throb of claws tearing inside his vessel and Grace, easily ignored thanks to the power rippling among the talons.

But now death was creeping into his body and his Grace was pouring out like water from a sprout.

It was worthit. They were worth it. His family. His friends. The Winchesters.

Dean.

“Cas!”

His mouth twisted up, amused amidst the pain as the man’s voice seemed to answer his silent thought.

Roughly arms wrapped around him, pulling him upright and he groaned and cried out, pressing his hands harder over his stomach. It was burning. Burning until his Grace became ash.

“Cas, Cas, c’mon, you stupid son of bitch. Heal up. You can’t die on me. After all this, come on, Cas, look at me,” Dean’s voice was babbling thickly and Castiel felt anxiety fill him. Dean only sounded like that when Sam was in trouble, when Bobby had died- Sam- was Sam okay?

He forced his eyes to open, Grace shimmering brightly behind the irises, so bright he almost couldn’t see the familiar face hovering over his own. A face covered in freckles and blood and sweat. Green eyes over a perfect mouth. He remembered putting that face together, stroking his essence over every inch of flesh, binding the even more glorious, righteous soul into its core.

“Dean- S-Sam-” Castiel stammered, voice rougher and lower than it had ever been. He winced and hissed in pain, fingers clutching at the tattered remains of a bloodied trench coat.

“Sam’s okay. ‘M okay. C’mon, Cas, you’re leaking out light like a fuckin’ disco party. Pull yourself together, damn it,” Dean murmured, pressing a hand over Cas’ where he was trying to keep blood and Grace inside.

“I don’t- I don’t think I can-” Castiel doubled over, choking and coughing as blood splattered thickly over Dean’s chest and dribbled down his chin. “It’s- fine… worth it…”

“Damn it, Cas. I’m tired of watching you die!” Dean snapped. He didn’t seem to notice tears falling down his face, or the burst of blood vessels in his eyes, or the shaking in his hands as he pushed down harder on the wound that wouldn’t stop shining. “Don’t do this, man. Cas, you gotta stay with me this time,” the hunter whispered brokenly.

“No…where… I’d… rather be,” Cas gasped, trying to smile.

It didn’t last. Pain laced through him and the burning was like quicksilver. Holy oil in his body that burned without stopping. He was going to burn away and Dean was too close. “g-GO! Dean- Go-“

“I’m not leaving you, Cas!”

Blue met and held green.

“Clo- … eyes…” Castiel panted. And then he screamed.

Light flooded out of broken bleeding body that had once housed an Angel. The screaming went on and on- but it was two voices for a moment. Agony blending with agony until only one voice remained. The thin, hoarse scream broke off into a moan as the beautiful blue-white light flashed out of existence.

“DEAN!” Sam was yelling and scrambling towards the small huddled forms on the ground. One body was rocking slightly, shoulders shuddering as sobs racked the man. The other was still and sprawled over cement, dark head resting on Dean’s collarbone.

The outlines of two great wings were burned into ground, except where Dean’s body had interfered. The clothing, once bloodied, were now in scorched tatters. Livid red burns covered his entire torso. Dean looked up into Sam’s eyes, face white and drained and eyes raw and red.

“He’s gonna come back, right, Sammy? Like he always does. He always comes back. Team Free Will, we always come back,” Dean murmured. A smirk jagged around the edges twisted his mouth. Sam reached out hesitantly, but Dean slumped over and passed out in a heap, arms stills clutching tightly to the empty body on his lap.

He didn’t come back.