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15: last kiss
The rain beat down on the field heavily as Dean looked round, shouting out, voice drowning in the wind. “Cas?” he called out, lost, alone amongst a field of bodies. So much fighting. Nobody had won, not really.
When he heard a distant reply, Dean whirled round, trampling through the mud and blood in the direction of where the once-angel lay, mortally wounded, curled up and clutching his stomach.
“No, no, no,” Dean heard himself say, dropping to his knees beside Cas. “Don’t you die on me.” But it was useless, Dean knew it was useless, watching the blood soak his angel’s shirt. Dean leaned over, picking Cas up in his arms effortlessly and cradling him, head bent. In the distance, he heard Sam’s shouts, but he didn’t want to answer.
Dean found two big, blue, sparkling eyes trained on him and he bit down on his lip. “I’m so sorry,” he stuttered, feeling tears blur his vision but blinking them back angrily. “Cas, please, hold on.”
He heard a weak Dean, barely a whisper, and Dean bent his head lower, pressing his lips against Castiel’s briefly; softly. “Damnit, Cas,” he whimpered, voice cracking as he watched the sparkle leave those blue eyes.