The broken son

1. Death

Dean was running, not trying to cover up his sobs. His too big leather jacket flying behind him, his shoes almost torn apart. His beautiful face and strong hands were covered in blood-his own and the dead leviathan's, who he ganked in Purgatory, after it was too late. The cold wind was blowing in his face, drying the unceasing tears from his now reddish-green eyes. He entered a dark and cold forest, no light or living thing, except a few horrific crows, to be seen around. He didn't stop. It started raining, but the hunter was still running. He brushed the tears away from his eyes and took a glimpse of his almost broken hand watch-just 5 more minutes till sunset. He was going to make it. He always does. He's a freaking Winchester, Chuck be damned. Suddenly, a little girl, clutching her blood stained teddy bear, appeared out of nowhere, but Dean couldn't see her face-she was wearing an antigas mask.

'Are you my mummy?', she asked.

But the Winchester didn't stop for a second, he just ran through the ghost, which disappeared. This was a test, he knew, he had to pass it. For Sam. For Bobby. For Cas.

Cas.

Dean looked at his broken watch once again. One minute. He silently cursed under his breath, not daring to halt. He had to reach the cliff before sunset. If he didn't...

He would.

30 seconds. Dean could already see the place. Just 100 more meters, he could make it!

But his vision was too blurry because of the tears and he tripped, causing himself to fall again and tear his jeans apart.

When he looked up again, the sun was gone. The sky was as black as pitch, no stars or moon to be seen. Just the silent sad raindrops were keeping him company. Dean felt on his knees, not caring for anything anymore. He was gone, he'd never return again-that was the deal, the hunter lost. Fair enough.

Dean looked at the sky, tears dripping from his handsome face, as he let out a terrible, heart breaking scream, which was heard from all angels, demons and other supernatural sons of bitches. Now they all knew it, now he knew it. There was no turning back.

Castiel was dead.