Supernatural One Shots

Take It All~A Destiel Short

No warnings here, just a cuss word or two. Enjoy!
A small whimper wakes them both from a restful sleep, cuddled close together for heat in their drafty room.
"Ugggh, please let it be your turn," Dean groans and rolls over in their bed, squeezing his eyes shut. Cas just chuckles softly and swings his feet over the edge of the matress, slowly clambering out of the warm sheets, slightly clumsy with lingering drowsiness.
Dean flopped back over on his side and slowly peeked one eye open to watch him shove on his favourite fuzzy cat slippers. Dean had gotten them for him last Christmas as bit of a joke, but of course, Cas being Cas, automatically loved em'. God he was adorable. Finally Cas shuffled out of the room, following the sound of the soft whimpering and crying right as Dean turned back over to make another weak attempt at sleep again. Just as he was about to drift off again, the whimpering stopped, just like that. Complete quite. Huh, Cas is usually never this good with her. Always takes him nearly a whole damn hour to put her back down again. Dean strained his ears for any noise at all, but there was nothing. Dead silence. It was pretty fuckin' unnerving.
After a few more minutes had passed, allowing him to grow increasingly more worried, he decided to drag himself out of bed to check on the pair down the hall. He trudged sleepily down the hall and stopped at the doorway,
"Cas? You good in here?" He cracked his bleary eyes a little farther, expecting a soft "Yeah" or "Uh-huh" as an answer, only to find that there was no one there to give him that answer he wanted. The room was empty.
Oh he did NOT like this, but he was wide awake now. "Cas?" He dashed into the room, standing in the center on the soft lilac rug, spinning frantically in circles, eyes searching for wherever his husband could be hiding. "C'mon Cas this isn't funny!" Suddenly, he felt a drop of cold liquid slide down his left shoulder. No. No. Nonononono. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening. Oh god no. Let this be a dream, a trick, a leaky pipe, anything. He ever so slowly craned his neck upwards, eyes wide, terrified of what he'd find.

Turns out, he had a right to be petrified.

Glassy, horror-stricken ocean-blue eyes stared right back at him. The last thing he remembered was screaming "CAS!" over and over again before his throat gave up on him and went hoarse, before the ceiling above burst into the same searing heat and flames he remembered from so long ago, and he found himself collapsed on the floor of their 6 month-old daughter's nursery, who of course, was nowhere to be seen.
Oh god why. Why. WHY?!?! There was just nothing left for him to give. The blood-soaked life of his past had finally caught up to him. They had just taken and taken and taken until he couldn't give anymore. Until there was nothing left to give.

So why not him next?

He thought as he kneeled, collapsed on the floor, watching the flames slowly creep closer toward him, engulfing everything in their path. They took it all. The two very reasons for his existence were gone so, why not him too? At least he might have a slim chance of getting to see those beautiful blue eyes alive and happy again, if those winged-dickheads would even let him through those stupid pearly gates. They'd probably just toss him right back down to hell again. But he didn't care, he'd just have to take that gamble, just for the tiny chance of maybe seeing his beautiful precious baby-girl Mary once again.

So go ahead and take it all.

I've got nothin' left to give.