I'm physically incapable of rewatching the love confession scene. Like I never wanna see Cas be so fucking sad again. And Dean just stands there looking like an npc. I always forget how fucking devastating Cas' death was and then some quote of his confession pops up on my dash. And I'm like oh yeah right, that wasn’t just a collective fever dream we all had, that scene actually happened. I simply can’t accept that that was the last time he was on screen.
Another thing that struck me when hearing Misha’s pont of view about Cas’s sacrifice is that he says, Cas did this of his own volition and this is a reason why it does not fit the “bury your gays” trope.
The thing is: No character does anything out of their own volition! No character makes choices themselves!
Lara Croft maybe in universe dresses like that because she likes it but that is not really her “decision”. It’s the decision of the straight, male designer/author who made her make that dressing choice.
Characters don’t make decisions! Writers, actors, producers, editors make deisions for that character. It does not matter if the character in universe says “this is my decision” because it isn’t! It’s the writer’s decision to put the character in that place.
So, the fact that Castiel “decides” to do this does not change the fact that he was murdered by the writers, producers and editors of the show!
Dean Winchester had the impeccable timing of always being a bit too late.
It seemed he had perfected this by arriving in the last moments of Castiel’s life. For a moment he almost missed the angel, although he knew the celestial being was somewhere in the storage room of the building.
He would have missed him completely if he hadn’t heard the scrape of Castiel’s mud caked shoe against the cement floor. Dean turned at the noise, eyes narrowing in the dark, hands tightening around the hilt of his gun. When he noticed familiar blue eyes and a mop of dark hair that seemed to blend in to the shadows on the wall he relaxed, sighing and dropped his weapon to his side.
“You scared me, man.” He groaned, making his way over the fallen rubble and broken shards of scattered glass. He felt the stirrings of panic when Castiel didn’t respond, only moved his head slightly to the right at an attempt of a nod. “Hey, you okay?” He questioned, clearing the last of a splintered wall and dropping to his feet to kneel beside Castiel’s bent form. When Cas didn’t respond Dean reached out, hand grasping his shoulder tightly and he stilled in a panicked shock when he felt the familiar warmth and wet consistency of blood.
“Cas?” He hissed, giving the angel’s shoulder a sharp shake, eyes wide and he swallowed down his fear; let it fall like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t deal with it right now. “Cas, I need you to focus on me, man. How badly are you hurt?” He gave the angel another jolt and Castiel’s eyes rolled over to meet his in the gloom. A twisted light shown in his blue depths and his lips twitched upwards.
Castiel removed his hand from his stomach and Dean’s eyes followed the sudden movement, watching in wary bewilderment as a blue light seeped out of a wound on Castiel’s abdomen.
“Son of a bitch…” Dean gasped, hand shooting out to cover Castiel’s glowing wound instinctively. “What the hell, Cas?” The angel shuddered, a drop of blood falling like a wilted petal from the gap in his lips. He swallowed, loud in the silence around them, and his hand reached up, landed atop of Dean’s on his stomach. Castiel was shaking. Dean couldn’t keep the fear down now; it was scraping at his insides like a demon, possessive and paranoid and wholly unhelpful.
“Cas–“
“It’s my grace, Dean.” Cas murmured, voice raspy and broken and utterly exhausted. It made Dean’s insides crawl. He wasn’t supposed to sound so shattered, so fragile. So human. Castiel’s fingers twitched over Dean’s, and the angel’s eyes fluttered in the dim. Dean looked down at their hands once more, watching in a twisted type of awe at the blue and white light that shown through the gaps in their fingers.
“What’s that mean?” Dean asked, eyes darting up again to study Castiel’s paling face. “What does that mean?” Dean snapped, loud and harsh when Cas didn’t answer right away.
“It means I’m dying, Dean.” He whispered slowly, his words strained, and it felt like all the air had been knocked from Dean’s lungs, like the whole of the world and crumbled and opened up under him. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. He smiled nervously, a broken laugh escaping his lips.
“No. No, Cas, I mean you can’t…you always come back right? You can’t die.” Castiel’s eyes met his weakly, the blue faded to a washed out grey. He looked old in that moment, old and entirely vulnerable. Dean had never seen so much emotion in Castiel’s eyes before and the angel shivered again, more violently this time, as more light began to pour like a small stream between the cracks of Dean’s hand.
Alarm swam through Dean like ice water and he used both hands this time, pressed his palms against Cas’ stomach, and maybe, maybe, if he pushed hard enough Castiel’s grace would go back into him.
“I’m afraid I can, Dean.” Castiel groaned, head rolling and hitting Dean’s shoulder with a dull thud. Dean shivered as Castiel’s eyelashes fluttered against his neck, as his breath stuttered over the skin beneath his collar.
“Hey, hey, you stay with me okay? We’ll patch you up, just wait, Sam’ll be here soon and then–“
“Dean. I’m sorry.” The words stuck in Dean’s throat, threatened to chock him and his mouth snapped shut, his eyes stinging with unshed tears in the dark.
“You always come back, Cas.” Castiel shook his head against Dean, his hair tickling the line of the oldest Winchester’s jaw. He shivered again, more violently than before and Dean, unthinking, abandoned the pressure on Castiel’s stomach and opted for wrapping his arms around the angel, pulling him in and shielding him from the sight of destruction around them. He didn’t notice the bodies lying under the rubble until now.
With nothing covering Castiel’s wound his grace swam out freely, little specks of pure light twisting through the dark. It made the air about them warm and Dean’s heart cold.
“Is this really you, Cas?” The angel nodded and Dean ducked his eyes, the grace glowing brighter than it had previously and Dean had seen first hand what it could do when released in full.
“You’re beautiful, Cas.” He felt the angel smile softly against his neck, and when Castiel spoke next his words were like fire.
“Just remember Dean…Angels are watching over you.” In that moment Dean lost his breath. His mother’s words echoed in his ears and he stared, wide eyed down at his best friend.
“Cas…how do you¬–?” Castiel shuddered once more in Dean’s arms before his grace seemed to explode from him in a piercing light and Dean had no choice but to shield his eyes although it pained him to do so. To not be able to see this. Cas’ grace was warm and comforting and peaceful, and it filled Dean with its warmth, with its light, and it made his toes curl and his tears fall. He tightened his grip on Castiel, burying his face in his friend’s hair.
He opened his eyes when he noticed Castiel had stopped breathing against him, and those wonderful blue eyes had fallen shut. Dean sat in stunned silence for a moment, not really knowing what to do because hadn’t Cas always come back, hadn’t he always found his way back again? Dean felt numb as he held the angel in his arms, and Castiel looked so small now, so empty. Now, Dean realized, it was just Jimmy Novak he was holding.
Castiel was gone.
He was gone. Dean’s eyes dropped to the ground and he spotted the burnt black feathers outlining the cement around him. A chocked sob clawed its way up his throat and he pulled Castiel closer, but it felt strange, and Cas felt cold, and this wasn’t right, this was never supposed to happen.
Because Castiel couldn’t die.
He was Cas. Dean had never felt this cold before. He didn’t even notice the tears that fell freely now; he didn’t even realize Sam coming up behind him.
The youngest Winchester stepped carefully back, his chest tight and his palms bloody. Late. He was always late. Sam’s eyes dropped to the ground, studied the outline of Castiel’s wings below his feet. They seemed to curl around Dean, shielding him and Sam had to bite his lip to keep from crying.
