An UnKindness of Crows

[reticentric]

~Part Seven~

Dean nearly tripped over his own feet as he was shoved unceremoniously through the door of a dingy warehouse with hanging light fixtures and odd stains on the cement floors by the two burly men who’d picked him up. Of course it would be some ominous warehouse, it was always an ominous warehouse with rats and creaky sounds and weird shadows on the wall. In the brightest area between large crates and a rusted conveyer belt stood the man Dean assumed was Azazel because he was wearing his yellow sunglasses. He was older than Dean figured he would be but that just meant he had more years of being a douche under his belt.

Anyway more importantly there was Sam; his gigantic body folded into a chair that looked way to small for him, his hands tied tightly behind his back. There was a bruise blooming across his left temple but he looked otherwise unharmed if completely confused as to what in the hell was going on. The fact that he’d been dragged into this bullshit made Dean see red and he sauntered closer, stopping only when he was jerked back roughly by brawny asshole number one.

“Dean Winchester.” Azazel grinned at him, sizing him up. “Owner of Winchester Investigations. Son of Mary and John Winchester-who I’ve actually met. Your daddy was a damn fine police officer in his day. Shame what happened to him…”

Dean frowned, his hands balling into fists. The back of his head was sporting a small lump and he had a headache from being knocked out. “Well you seem to know a lot about me,” He growled out. “And all I know about you is that you’re a dick.”

Azazel laughed. “Seein’ as how this ain’t exactly a friendly meeting, I thought we could skip the getting to know you portion.”

“Look whatever this is, it doesn’t concern my brother. So why not just let him go?” Dean motioned to Sam who pulled one of his trademark bitch faces. “I’m here. I’m the one you want.”

The older man folded his arms over his chest. “Is that an admission of guilt? ‘Cause you see we know your pretty little associate took pictures of a meeting she wasn’t privy to and then refused to give them back. Why is that by the way?”

Dean wet his lips slowly. “She gave them to me and I just never got around to buying a book of stamps.”

Azazel smirked. “Hm is that right? Well the pictures I can let slide seein’ as how it was just two people having a conversation. No harm done. However…” He took a step closer until he was standing right in front of Dean. “What I can’t let go is you hurting my baby girl.”

Dean blinked at him. “What? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh? I sent Meg and Gordon to have a little chat with you and that night she ends up dead. Wanna tell me why?”

“Well no offense dude but she was a handsy little slut so she probably grabbed the wrong guy’s junk and his girlfriend beat her ass.”

Azazel’s mouth twitched and Dean had no warning before a fist socked him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. “Watch your mouth. That’s my baby girl you’re talking about.”

He groaned and coughed. “I hope you two weren’t really related. Otherwise that’s just sick.”

He received another rough punch for his trouble.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, boy.” Azazel tsked him and walked over to a table covered with a dirty sheet. He ripped it off to reveal a series of sharp instruments. “Maybe I’ll cut if off and then we’ll see how smart you talk.”

“I didn’t kill Meg,” Dean replied hoarsely. “Why would I? Over some stupid ass pictures? I didn’t even know what I was looking at with them.”

“If you didn’t kill her, then who did?” Azazel inquired with his back to the room. “Cause I’m thinkin’ you know. Hell maybe you gave her up to the cops and one of them decided to take the law into their own hands. I know you’re tight with that Henriksen fella. He has a mighty pretty wife.”

“I told you whatever this is; it’s between us,” Dean grunted and pointed a finger at him. “You don’t have to involve anyone else.”

“Maybe not. Still it seems you don’t go all in until you have something to lose.” He picked up a simple looking knife with a small handle and strolled back over to where Sam sat. “So Dean, how much you puttin’ on the table to keep me from cuttin’ your brother’s throat?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Okay, okay. I-I saw Meg that morning. She was being her…charming self I guess you could say. She asked a few questions, I answered them and then she left.” Pause. “Did it ever occur to you that Gordon was probably the last person to see her alive? Guy doesn’t exactly strike me as stable. Maybe he killed her.”

Azazel pushed his sunglasses back up onto his eyes when they started to slip. “I doubt it. Gordon kills who I tell him to kill. He’d never touch my baby girl.”

Can’t say that I blame him. “Why not call him up and ask him?”

“I would but he’s not answerin’ his phone.” Brushing his thumb along the knife’s blade, he placed it under Sam’s chin. “Try again!”

“I didn’t kill Meg!” Dean shouted. He started for them when Azazel’s henchmen latched onto his arms and held him back. “I swear, man. I’ve never killed anybody in my life.”

“A virgin then? How…interesting,” Came a new scratchy voice from the shadows.

Dean arched a brow and squinted to see who it was but could only make out a tall figure. Why does everyone think I’m a virgin all of a sudden? “Whatever, it’s the truth. Even if I wanted Meg and Gordon off my case I wouldn’t have killed them. I’d have helped arrest them or something.”

“Huh. Who said Gordon was dead? I didn’t,” Azazel said and sliced a small cut into Sam’s skin, enough to send a trickle of blood down towards his t-shirt. “Seems like you know more than you’re letting on, boy.”

Sam winced and yanked on his wrists as Dean cursed and struggled against the men holding him. “Sammy!”

“Tie him up,” Azazel instructed. “I’m feeling creative.”

Another chair was scraped across the floor and brought into the area, and Dean was forced down into it. He was tied up much like his brother, the ropes pulling so tight that he could feel the muscles in his shoulders straining to accommodate the pressure.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “What the hell is going on? What are you mixed up in?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’m gonna get us out of this.” Of course he had no idea how he was going to pull that off.

“Aw how sweet,” Azazel cooed at him. He stepped into Dean’s line of vision and bent down. “But I think we both know the only way you’re leavin’ is in pieces. You know what we do-can’t let cha leave now.”

“How about if I promise to keep all of this a secret?”

“Aren’t you cute? Tell me something Dean, how come your little brother is a successful lawyer and you’re just a low life P.I. working for old men who married women they need a little blue pill to satisfy? Why not become a cop like your daddy? Couldn’t hack it?”

Dean glared at him with as much hatred as he could muster. “The uniforms made my butt look big.”

The other man snickered. “Or maybe you knew you weren’t smart enough. You make a real mockery of the Winchester name, kid. Meaningless job and you’re a fucken queer? I bet your daddy is ashamed to even call you his son.”

He’s just trying to get to you. Don’t give him the satisfaction. “Nah he’s cool with it. Not like I’m out sluttin’ it up…” Azazel back handed him so fast that it took him a moment to realize why his face was stinging, why he could taste blood from having bit his tongue. “Ooh did I hit a nerve?”

This time he was punched solidly enough that his bottom lip split open, the momentum almost knocking him sideways out of his chair. He would have crashed to the floor had one of the soundless cronies not stopped him.

Azazel shook his head in disappointment. “Nick and Meg might not have been the best people in the world, but they were our people and we look after our own. You know what that’s like.” Grinning, he dragged the knife across his cheek without enough pressure to leave a mark. “What do you think, boss?”

The figure in the shadows slowly walked over to where they were standing and Dean recognized him immediately as Alastair-the man himself. He was dressed in a simple blue button down shirt and black slacks. “Hello Dean. I’ve heard…such good things about you.”

Dean wet his lips slowly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as if to say prepared to be skeeved out. Not to mention this guy had the most irritating voice. “Um, well sorry but I haven’t heard much about you.”

Alastair grinned and clasped his fingers together, resting his hands on his stomach. “Come now, Dean, you at least know who I am. A P.I. with your detecting skills would no doubt check into me after my friends paid you a visit. Mrs. Adler and I were finalizing a business deal if you were curious. She was paying me my monthly stipend.”

“Oh,” Dean said dumbly. What else was he supposed to say?

“Don’t you wanna know what she was paying me for?” Alastair inquired as he took the knife from Azazel, examined it and then shook his head. “I’ll bet you do. You’re a nosy little kitten aren’t you?”

“Actually I think I’ve had my fill of information for tonight.” Dean’s eyes tracked Azazel to the table of sharp instruments and watched as he plucked up a dagger with a jagged blade before bringing it back to his boss.

Alastair shrugged in a suit yourself type of way and stared at him critically. “You’re in a real pickle but you know that already, don’t you? However I’m a man who’s always willing to make a good investment and I think you’d be a good investment, Dean. So here is what I’m willing to do…” He stepped behind him and put his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, massaging lightly. “I’ll let your brother go free and clear if you come and work for me.”

Dean flinched at his touch. “Work for you doing what?”

The other man hummed and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Odds and ends. You’d be my…personal assistant.”

Dean resisted the impulse to hurl but he couldn’t stop the reflex of jerking away when Alastair’s lips brushed his ear. “Heh yeah I don’t think so. My whoring days are over.”

Alastair chuckled and his reedy fingers crawled up into Dean’s hair, gripping the longer strands on top roughly. “Sure about that? You wouldn’t open up shop again to keep Sammy safe? Otherwise I might be inclined to dig his eyes out and wear them around my neck like a necklace.” He nodded to Azazel who sliced into Sam again this time on the flash of skin above his v-neck t-shirt.

Gulping down air, Dean grit his teeth. “What would I have to do?”

“Dean,” Sam warned. “Don’t.”

“For starters? I wanna see you kill someone.” Alastair craned his head back until his neck began to ache. “I wanna see you cut into some stupid bitch until she’s bleeding and screaming.”

“Why?”

“Call it a hobby. We all have our pleasures.”

“I-why can’t it be something else? Anything else? I’ll steal and I’ll beat the crap out of people for you.”

“Yes, you’d probably be doing that too. But there is just something beautiful about watching a man take his first kill. And I’d pick you a pretty one Dean. I already have a tasty little thing in mind.”

Dean knew there was no way he’d be able to kill someone in cold blood, not even to save his brother’s life. Though unsurprisingly there was a voice in the back of his head saying he should try because this was Sammy and he’d sworn to always keep him safe. “I…”

“Hey, hey!” Sam exclaimed to get his attention. “Don’t you dare do this, you son of a bitch! You think I could forgive myself if you turned into some kinda monster just to keep me safe? Hell no. You’re not that guy, Dean. You’re good.”

Alastair smirked. “For now. You get used to it; the screaming. Even come to like it after a while.” Pause. “So, what’s it going to be? Do you accept my deal?”

Sam was giving him serious puppy dog eyes and Dean sighed deeply before replying, “You let Sam go and we’ll talk.”

“Fuck that!” Sam shouted. “The moment I get free, I’m going straight to the cops and telling them everything. I won’t rest until I bring you down.”

“Dude, shut up!” His brother frowned.

“Well this is…a dilemma.” Alastair rubbed his chin and then snapped his fingers. “New idea. Sam dies and you work for me to keep me from chopping up the rest of your family. Azazel would you do the honors?”

Dean lurched in his chair, kicking out with his strong legs. “No! Hey, I’ll do it! I’ll do it, okay?” His foot connected with Azazel’s knee and the older man grunted.

Alastair brought his knife down swiftly into Dean’s thigh and Dean screamed as pain flared into his stomach and up his spine. He could already feel wetness seeping into his jeans.

“Well,” Alastair said, leaving the knife where it was. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

~*~

Blowing the excess charcoal from the picture, Castiel smiled and absently thought on how Dean would probably like this one more than the others. It was a self portrait after all. Dean. He sighed and placed the paper to the side, rubbing his blackened fingertips into the dusty sheets. Meeting Dean had been a blessing and a curse and he wasn’t sure which was better but he had a feeling it wasn’t the latter. No, even though leaving Dean would hurt he’d never regret getting to know him. How could he? How could he look ill upon the one bright spot in all of the madness?

He hoped that when he returned to Heaven he would have the memories of Dean with him. That he would be able to fantasize about what their life could have been like had things been different. Introducing Dean to Anna and then listening to her tease him mercilessly afterwards on how far gone he already was. Marriage-or at least a civil union-and maybe children and another cat. Meeting Dean’s parents. Lazy Sunday mornings in each others’ arms and Friday nights spent with Dean’s brother and his fiancé playing games or going out to dinner.

He could finally be happy in paradise if he could dream up a life with Dean.

Tilting his head to the side, he glanced to the open window as his eyes fluttered closed. The crow was flying, soaring above the city and searching. It passed over motionless cars and a train trudging steadily along its track before flying to a large dark building and into a broken window. The bird hopped along the rafters and down onto a thick crate, its wings flapping slowly as its eyes took in the scene before it.

The vision hit Castiel so brutally that he gasped aloud. Had he been standing he probably would have slumped into the first chair he came to. There was Dean-his Dean-bound to a chair and panting as Alastair and Azazel taunted him.

Castiel was running next, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

~*~

“Such a pretty face,” Alastair mused as he grasped Dean’s cheek. “Almost seems a shame to fuck it up. Maybe I’ll just carve my initials into your forehead so everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna make it hard to have an open casket but I heard makeup does wonders for some people these days.”

He snatched the knife out of Dean’s thigh and pressed the bloody tip of into Dean’s skin with a sadistic smile when the caw of a crow interrupted him. He grinned at the creature resting on a box, staring at him passively. “I do love an audience.”

Glass breaking harshly drew all of their eyes up just in time to see a body crash through the skylight panes and send shards raining down as a man fell only to land in an effortless ethereal crouch.

Castiel stood slowly and brushed off his jacket, winking at Dean. “Am I late?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Azazel demanded.

“I’d almost be offended that you don’t remember me if I cared at all,” Castiel said with a grin. “You killed me, and now I’m here to repay the favor.”

Azazel snorted. “Well ghost man or whoever you are, this is a private party and you weren’t invited so…” He whipped his knife at Castiel without warning, aiming for his chest.

Castiel caught it by letting it penetrate his palm all the way through to the other side. He looked at it curiously and then yanked it out, dropping it to the floor. “I think you missed.”

Rattled, Azazel yanked his gun from behind him and opened fired. Pop, pop, pop the bullets hit Castiel but his body absorbed them and he laughed, going so far as to throw his head back in glee. Azazel cursed and shoved his goons at him, moving to stand a little ways behind Alastair. They-along with Dean and Sam-watched as Castiel easily dodged the punches of the large men and put them down, breaking one’s neck and kicking the other so hard that he sent him into a seizure.

“I could use a man like you.” Alastair smiled at him. “You’ve really got that killer instinct.”

“Let the boys go. Now.” His voice was a deep rasp, his eyes hard as steel.

Alastair’s brows lifted. “Why? Because you said so? Who are you to say anything?”

“My name is Castiel Novak,” He murmured. “Also, you have my briefcase I was told. I’d like that back.”

“What?” Azazel growled. “We killed you. What’s dead stays dead.”

“Apparently not.” Castiel shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let. The boys. Go. I won’t say it again.”

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Alastair hissed and stabbed Dean in the shoulder, grinning when he gasped in pain. “Or what?!”

Castiel saw red and lunged at Alastair, driving him back into the wall. They traded punches and kicks while Azazel came up behind Castiel and attempted to grab his arms and restrain him so that his boss could beat him down. Dean and Sam watched the whole thing like startled deer before Dean snapped back to attention and rocked in his chair, crashing to the floor. He flailed around like a fish out of water, grunting in pain until he was in front of Sam’s massive boots.

“The knife, get it out!” He commanded. “C’mon man, hurry up! I gotta help Cas!”

Sam stretched out his long legs and caught the handle between his heels after three tries and slowly drew back, trying to make the extraction as painless as possible. “Dude, is he your mystery boyfriend? What the hell do you get up to when you’re not at work anyway?”

Dean winced and pushed with his legs, leaving a trail of blood as he maneuvered himself so that his wrists were facing his brother. “I’ll explain if we live. C’mon.” He caught the knife when Sam dropped it and started sawing through the ropes, his eyes glued to the sight of Castiel taking on two cruel bastards.

When he was finally free, he forced himself up and released Sam as well, pushing him towards a side door. “Go.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Sam frowned. “You know that.”

Dean didn’t have time to argue. He turned and hobbled over to the chair where he’d been tied down, picking it up and tossing it into Azazel’s back. The older man yelped and glared at him; charged him like an angry bull with sharp horns.

With Dean and Sam against Azazel, Castiel found himself one on one with Alastair and decided that was how he wanted it. After all the order to kill him and Anna had come from Alastair. He was the real monster. And so he held nothing back. He punched and he kicked and he felt bones break underneath the force of his hands. Saw red pour from his many abrasions. But Alastair wouldn’t go down easy of course. He somehow managed to get to his weapons table and maybe in desperation, started hurling them at Castiel, creating gashes across his cheeks and chest that healed within minutes.

And then a small silver ninja star went wide and slashed at the crow’s wing, making the bird cry out in pain. It tumbled off the crate where it was perched, wobbling to hide from the light. Castiel thought nothing of it until a crudely made shiv jabbed him in the stomach and crimson began to flow from the wound. He stumbled back in shock and pain, staring at the tinge on red on his fingertips.

Alastair was quick to notice the change and struck him brutally across the face, sending him to his knees. He kicked him in the jaw and stomped on the shiv, shoving it deeper into Castiel’s gut. “What happened to your magic? Did you really come back all this way just to die again? Huh?” Another punch, another kick and red oozed from the cut above Castiel’s eye and his nose. “Well who am I to deny you…”

He grabbed Castiel by the collar of his coat and flung him into the nearest rusty beam. Picked up what looked like a tiny sword and stalked over to him where he landed. “Oh and your briefcase? It’s in my personal safety deposit box, and it’s got all your nifty information in it. It’s my insurance policy against your dear Uncle. It’ll only be released if I die but unfortunately you won’t be here to see it.”

“Cas!” Dean yelled as he delivered the final blow to Azazel; a hit with a crow bar right to the face that shattered his skull and the sunglasses he loved so dearly. Somehow Sam had been knocked unconscious during their tussle.

Dean was fast but with his hurt leg Alastair was faster and he stabbed Castiel in the back as severely as he could. Castiel cried out and slumped forward onto his hands and knees, sweating and panting in agony, muscles trembling. Dean reached him seconds later but Alastair spun him around roughly and struck, the blade sliding into Dean’s side to the hilt.

Castiel coughed; spit out blood. “Dean!”

Alastair wheezed with laughter and held his chest as Dean sunk to the floor, struggling to stay awake. “Such a waste. I could have taught him so many things. Something tells me he would have been my star pupil.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered as his head lolled to the side. “Cas…”

Castiel was confused. This wasn’t the way things were supposed go. Where was his justice or his vengeance if he died again? If Dean died with him? If Alastair was allowed to keep hurting innocent people for kicks and naturally he would. He might as well be a demon for all of the evil inside of him.

No.

No, he couldn’t let it end this way. He couldn’t let his beautiful Dean die on a cold damp floor all alone. Just the thought-just the thought made a white hot rage swell up inside of him so intensely that he fought off the dizziness and made himself stand. He shoved Alastair as hard as he could and the other man lurched into the conveyer belt with a clang-y thud.

Castiel ran up behind him and bashed his head on the metal, pushed him onto the rolling spools as he was out of it. “James Baldwin once said ‘I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.’ I suppose that is true because my hate has only fueled me to do what I had to do. Pain would have ended up crippling me.” Spying the controls over on the wall, he pressed the orange On button and listened as the machines whirled to life. “But I don’t need my hate anymore.”

The chick, chick of the belt filled the air as it rolled towards the big grinding saws formally used to cut large animal carcasses in half for process. He watched as Alastair groaned and slowly came around, sat up just in time for the saw to come down on his head. He screamed and blood and flesh squirted like a geyser as he was hacked straight down the middle, the two halves falling to the floor with a sickening splat.

Exhaling deeply, Castiel stumbled over to where Dean laid and pulled out the sword. He cradled him close and applied pressure to his wound. “Dean? Dean!” He was already pale from blood loss and barely breathing.

A groan from the corner sounded as Sam opened his eyes, rubbing at the bump on his head. “What…” He took one look at his brother and scrambled over to him. “Is he…”

“No,” Castiel said softly. “He’s still alive but we have to get him to the hospital.”

“What about you?” Sam inquired, gesturing to his injuries.

The crow picked that moment to show itself and Castiel smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “So you’re him. I mean the guy with the crazy face stuff; the one Dean couldn’t stop talking about.”

“Yes. I apologize for my appearance. I hear anything resembling a clown upsets you.” He smoothed a hand across Dean’s cheek. “Now we must hurry. As much as I want Dean with me, I know this isn’t the way.”

Sam stared at him for a minute and stood. “I-they took my phone but I’m sure they have a car outside. C’mon, I’ll help you get him inside.”

~*~

“Dean? Dean? Sweetheart can you hear me?”

The voice was familiar and soft, and bit by bit it pulled Dean from under deep dreary waters and back to the surface. He opened his eyes with great difficultly but managed, blinking at the hazy glob leaning over him until it turned into his beautiful blonde mother. She smiled at the sight of him and rubbed his jaw; there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Dean,” She breathed out in relief. “Are you okay? If you weren’t in that bed right now I would kick your butt. You scared the hell out of us!”

“Sorry,” He said, his voice completely wrecked. “Wh-what happened? Where’s Sam?”

“He’s fine, sweetie. He went to get us some coffee,” She replied. “You’d been unconscious for a while now.”

“Hey buddy.” John Winchester joined in. He reached out and squeezed his son’s hand. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Drugged up to all hell I think but, yeah. Anythin’ broken?”

His father shook his head. “No. The doctors said you came close to losing a lung but they were able to fix it. You’re a lucky s.o.b. and a hero if what Sam says is true. That you saved his life from some mobster mad at him over a trial gone wrong.”

“I-maybe.” He frowned, his head fuzzy. “Where’s Cas?”

Mary Winchester cocked her head. “Who’s Cas, sweetie??”

Dean wet his lips and decided to let that conversation die. Castiel was probably already back in Heaven now that his job was done. Well good for him; he deserved it after all that he’d been through. I hope he’s happy. His eyes drifted up to the television mounted to the wall and he chuckled. “Henriksen is on tv.”

Mary turned up the volume so that they could hear what was going on as the Detective in question was shown leading a bald man out of an expensive house while cameras flashed.

“Zachariah Adler has been arrested on several serious counts of fraud and embezzlement, but perhaps the most sickening part of this story is the fact that he has been dumping illegal toxic waste all around the city,” The reporter explained. “Sources say that several articles of proof were sent to the police and the District Attorney who then decided to press immediate charges against the Pharmaceutical mogul. If convicted Adler could spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“And here everyone thought he was such a good man.” Mary shrugged. “I hope the families of those he made sick sue him too.”

Dean could hear his parents talking but whatever drugs the doctors had him on made it hard to really listen. He could feel himself dozing off though he tried to fight it, but with his mother gently rubbing his chest like she used to do when he was little and sick, it was a losing battle.

When he woke up again he was alone in his room and the lights were dim but a pretty nurse was checking his vitals. She informed that his family was down in the cafeteria getting breakfast before they planned to go home, shower and return to the hospital. He thanked her and she exited the room with a kind smile.

He was so sore, probably bruised as well but he was alive so that mattered for something. Still he hoped they gave him amazing pain killers later on.

Yawning, he fiddled with the bed until the back raised and he was laying more at an angle. He closed his eyes for a brief second and when he opened them, he jerked in surprise at the person sitting on the edge of his bed. “Jesus, Cas. I-I thought you were gone.”

Castiel smiled a little and traced his cheekbone. “Not yet. I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye. Are you alright?”

“Could be better,” Dean admitted. “But hey, Alastair’s dead and the streets are safer. And you’re…you’ve got justice. Do you feel any different?”

“In a way. There was a weight on my shoulders knowing that Alastair and his people were allowed to roam free after what they did to me and Anna. Now that they are gone and Zachariah shall pay for his crimes, the anger has gone as well.” Castiel turned his gaze to the ceiling. “I am sorry however that you were dragged into my war. I would have never forgiven myself if something horrible happened to you.”

“No worries. I’m actually glad I could help-the little I did. Kinda makes me feel good.” Dean sighed gazing at him. “Cas I-fuck. Meeting you has been the most insane experience of my life, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’re odd and you wear makeup, but I dig it. I dig it all. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone else like you and frankly I don’t want to.”

Castiel carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, the gesture strangely personal. “Probably not. It has been an honor to know you, Dean Winchester. I wish fate had seemed fit to give us more time together.”

Dean could feel tears prick the corners of his eyes but he held them back. “Yeah well, fate’s never been on my side,” He said roughly. “But I wish that too.”

“You’ll be fine, Dean. You’ll live a long life and have many happy years. And one day we shall meet again.” Castiel leaned over and kissed his forehead, his lips lingering. “I’ll wait for you.”

Fuck. Dean released a shuddering breath and a few traitorous tears escaped, cascading down towards his chin. “See ya later, Cas. Say hi to God for me.”

Castiel grinned, kissed his mouth and then brushed his lips to his ear as he whispered, “Close your eyes.”

Dean did. When he opened them again, Castiel was gone.

Part Eight