Until We Meet Again, A Destiel Oneshot

Until We Meet Again

His death wasn't violent, bloody, and tragic like everyone had expected it to be. It wasn't falling in battle or sacrificing himself to save an innocent. No, it was something completely unexpected, something so normal that it shook Dean Winchester to the core.

One day, he just didn't wake up. It was as normal of a day as any; Sam waking up early and leaving the bunker for a jog after making a quick breakfast, not expecting anyone to be up yet. Dean had gotten a surprising amount of sleep that night, able to reach a total of six hours instead of his average four. That was some of the many pluses that came with having a home, or at least making the bunker into one.

Dean had gotten up around ten in the morning, showering before eating whatever breakfast Sam had left him and thumbing through some old files. Twelve o'clock creeped up on him, and still, the bunker was silent. Unnerving.

That's when he began feeling like something was very, very wrong. And he was right.

Castiel was usually up by now, or as up as he was able to be. The past few days he had gotten sleepier, weaker. More human. Of course, he never complained about it, hardly letting even a yawn escape his mouth in front of the Winchesters. It was just like him, not wanting to worry anyone. Dean now wish that he had; that he'd pressed the matter of losing his grace just a little more.

Cas would never get his grace back. That was clear. Lately, he'd been surviving off of borrowed grace. Dean wished the angel had told him just how fast it was fading; and what would occur when it finally disappeared.

"Hey, Cas! You awake?" Dean had finally decided to check on Castiel, at least make him eat something. He hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday..

The hunter was met with silence. His stomach clenched.

"Cas!... Okay, man, I'm coming in.." Dean announced before pushing the heavy door open and striding into the bedroom. The sight he saw caused a small grin to work its way on his lips, Dean instantly lowering his voice. Sleeping.. Or so he assumed.

Cas had buried himself in the thick, feather-filled blankets Dean had given him not even a week before when he had moved in, just the top of his head poking out of the bundle. Messy, dark hair that stuck up in all directions. Cas.

Dean slowly strode over to the side of the bed, tugging at the blankets a little. "Hey, bud, wake up. It's past twelve." Dean shook him a little, waiting for some sort of reaction. A groan, a yawn, a movement of limbs, anything.

Nothing.

A lump formed in his throat.

"Cas.. Cas, hey, get up..!" Dean said louder, now yanking the blankets off the angel.

His expression was so peaceful; lips parted just slightly, eyelids relaxed and closed, no creases in his brow that he so often wore when he was awake.

It would have made Dean grin if his lips hadn't been tinted blue and his skin an unnatural pale.

Panic. Dean began to panic.

"Cas, you son of a bitch, up!" Dean yelled, eyes wide as he shook the angel. No, no, no. No!

"CAS!" Dean shouted, pulling the angel desperately as terror filled his expression. No, this couldn't be happening, it wasn't. It couldn't. Castiel wouldn't leave him like this.

"Cas, please, PLEASE!" The Winchester wailed as he grabbed the angel and tried tugging him upwards, clinging to him. "God dammit no, no." It came out as a growled whisper, the voice of broken disbelief.

He was gone. His grace had just... Faded away. Faded away until there was nothing there but an empty, lifeless vessel.

Castiel couldn't come to Dean now, to comfort him as broken sobs and angered screams filled the empty bunker and echoed uncomfortably down the halls. The eldest Winchester clung to the body, as if he could somehow squeeze the life back into it, could somehow will Castiel to return to him.