Screams, blood, lights. The battle was infuriating. Corpses were scattered on the battlefield.
Angels, their vessels, demons, every creature of Heaven and Hell had their part in the battle.
One last battle to save humanity from a greater danger, one last time. God and his angels, still so devotedly worshiped by humankind, were now more than eager to kill each other and sin.
A bruised angel in a dirty trench coat was kneeling in a pool of blood, the silver blade still locked in his hand, as he watched the scene before him. Muffled sounds came to his ears,
images blurred, slowed down. A silver blade in the throat of another angel, his grace vanishing, another brother lost. Even if at that point Angels were no better than the evil they were fighting.
“Cas... Cas!” A desperate, deep voice urged the angel in the trench coat to regain his senses. He stood up, he could not resist to that voice, he could not give up yet. That voice moved something inside him, and he had to move past the pain, the weakness, past the broken souls, to reach him. He could not let him down. That voice, that human voice, meant family for him more than every angel on Earth and Heaven. And family don't end with blood.
Dean Winchester, a brave hunter, was trying to do what he spent his entire life doing: save his brother Sam while fighting evil. He punched a demon in the stomach while killing another one with his knife. Sam, behind him, was struggling hard to defend himself from the attacks; he was already severely injured, with a deep wound on his forehead, that made blood pour over his eyes, stitching his long hair on the face and compromising his view. Suddenly he felt the cold blade entering his stomach. He was hardly able to breathe, and heard Dean killing the demon who hit him, shouting “Not my Sammy, you son of a bitch!” Dean. After all that time,
after everything they had been through, Dean was still calling him “my Sammy”, as though not even a day had passed from the night of the fire, and they still were little Dean and his baby brother Sammy. From that moment on, Dean had never thought of anything but continue to keep his brother safe, at all costs. But now, could they really survive, one more time? There were no more demonic deals to make, no resurrections, no trickster tricks to play. It was a war of everyone against everyone. No mid-terms, just destruction, an apocalypse of souls.
The battle was still fierce. Dean refused to give up, fighting with all his remaining strength.
Sam was weak, but did not abandon his brother side either. It was not in the Winchester's nature. If they were gonna die on that battlefield, surely they were not going down easily and without fighting. They had silently decided to face the unknown together, like they always had, one last time.
Castiel reached them and quickly, with a light pressure of the fingers on their forehead, took them away from the battlefield.
Silence.
Dean and Sam were reversed on the ground, the angel gently touching their faces to wipe out the blood. Dean winched as he opened his eyes, holding on to life. “Hey Cas..” Cas stroked his cheek, his voice shaking. “I--I'm sorry Dean...” He touched his own face, something warm and
salty was wetting his skin: tears. He could feel pain, not the physical one, but the wrecking emotion that humans feel, and makes them weak. Castiel had learned to feel, to recognize his emotions. And now he felt despair mixed with something else, a warm and strong sensation: ...love. Oh, how deeply had Dean's simple human soul changed him, from the moment he first touched him to raise him from perdition. And now the strength of that human body was vanishing.
“It's about time we get our ass out of this world for real, uh?” Dean was a master in using humor to cover fear.
Sam's hand moved closer to Dean's and he whispered softly: “Jerk”. His brother smiled widely and said back
“Bitch”. Then Sam's last smile faded out, Dean still staring at it, wanting his last glance of this world to be filled with Sammy's smiling image. He managed to place a hand on Sam's forehead, and whispered “'night, Sammy”. He used to say so every evening before going to sleep as a child. It was back when Sam was still in the crib, their parents alive and all was well.
Then also Dean's hand fell limply on the ground, his life abandoning this world.
Castiel stood up silently, a last tear rolling down his vessel's cheek. A black feather fell in his hand, and he bent down to place it on Dean Winchester's motionless chest.
As he watched the two reapers approach, the blue eyed angel turned, and, followed by the falling black feathers of his fading wings, he headed back toward the battle.
