"I will not let you die. I won't let any of you die. And I won't let you

sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me. To everything."

Castiel 12x09

The dark wood seemed like an insurmountable barrier, something that disconnected and shielded at the same time. The number 11 was emblazoned under the symbol of the Men of Letters. His hand hovered over the brass handle, like a judge's gavel that was certain to have to fall. If he walked through that door, everything would change. In his chest, his heart felt uncomfortably heavy. Too little for fear, too much for mere tension. Castiel took a deep breath and entered the room.

The sight that was presented to him stung him somewhere between throat and stomach. The human sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He was tired, so tired. And it wasn't that kind of fatigue that sleep could cure. Life had exhausted him. They had always known that hunting would come at a high price, but maybe the price was too high this time. The bond between them flickered unsteadily, as if preparing for its imminent end. Like a fading light whose powers dwindled.

Castiel wished he could take the burden off him or at least transfer his own strength to him. The wounds on Dean's soul were deeper than ever before. If there was a way to heal him, he would go it. With all the consequences. Whatever it takes.

"Hello, Dean."

He stood up and backed away from him. He should have known. He could have guessed that Cas wouldn't leave him alone. It didn't surprise him. The angel had followed him on every potential suicide mission. But not today. Today he wouldn't be able to follow him. "Go away, I have no grip on myself."

The rejection hurt, in spite of everything. Castiel had stopped. He saw his inner struggle and understood. Maybe he was the only one who had ever truly seen Dean. The realization made him sad. You don't think you deserve to be saved. Where he otherwise could not interpret social language and interactions, he had already seen through Dean at their first meeting, as if he could see into his soul. And that had frightened the hunter. Also now Dean was afraid, but not of the angel, but of himself.

That fever again. Dean felt how it slowly rose and spread in him inexorably, eating its way into his veins. His nerves strained to the breaking point. His patience was hanging by a thread. It was happening again... It was happening again... It was happening again... No! It must never happen again! It would never happen again, he would make sure of that. Even if his self-control was getting worse and worse.

But that was not the only reason he wished Castiel wouldn't be here. He couldn't bear his presence, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve their concern (1). He didn't even deserve to be looked at. Not with that expression in the eyes. But how should the angel understand that? "You don't know how it's like..."

Dean wanted to look away, but the angel caught his gaze. "How it's like to hurt a person while having no control over yourself? A person who you should actually protect? When the guilt weighs so heavily that you want to keep bees in a forest or lock yourself up in a bunker?"

Filled with consternation, Dean turned away. This here, this was Cas. Castiel, who had been no longer himself after the souls of Purgatory. Castiel, who had been under Naomi's control. Castiel, who had been cursed by Rowena. Castiel, who had never wanted to leave the bunker again because he had considered hemself dangerous.

Carefully Castiel put a hand on his left shoulder and turned him back to face him. "I can understand that you don't want to harm anyhuman in order to keep yourself alive. But I'm not human."

The otherwise familiar touch suddenly weighed so heavily. Dean shook off the angel's hand as if it had burned him. "What do you mean to tell me by that, Cas?" His piercing green gaze met that of his counterpart and yet he could not hold it. Cas wore wild oceans in his eyes and Dean was afraid to swim.

"For me, wounds heal after a short time. There would be no permanent damage." Castiel looked at the floor. "I mean, you... you couldn't do me lasting harm." At least not physically. But nothing of all Dean could do would be worse than losing him. Nothing could destroy the angel like the death of this one human.

Lingering a premonition crept up in the hunter's awareness, constricting his bowels and making it difficult for him to breathe. Briefly he closed his eyelids to collect himself and for a moment to exclude the dismaying reality. But that was how the memory of the young woman would return. Fear of closing your eyes and fear of keeping them open. Dean swallowed hardly. So much did he hope he had misunderstood the man in the trench coat. "Cas...?"

He raised his head. The serious expression on his face gave no indication of what was going on in his head. With a steadfast gaze Castiel looked straight into his eyes. "I want you to sleep with me, Dean."

For a moment the hunter was paralyzed. He stared at him, his best friend. Silence. No sound broke from his lips, as if he first had to process the words that had fallen. Only slowly did they seep into his consciousness. Heat flooded his body in a devastating wave and fanned the fever in him even more, reinforced this urge... Castiel had to go. Immediately. His very presence almost drove him mad. Desperately, Dean dug his fingernails into the heels of his hands, hoping the pain would distract him. Yet it was as if all his senses were focused only on his counterpart. Like a predator fixating its prey.

God, not Cas, please, not Cas! He couldn't lose control. The curse must never dominate him again. With everything he had, with all his strength, Dean fought the fire in himself and forced it back, all the desire, the longing and this hunger. For Cas.

After Dean had collected himself again, his voice and his vehemence returned: "No way. That's out of the question!"

"Because my vessel is male?" How should he find a female body in a hurry now? Apart from that, he had somehow grown fond of this one. It was like it was his own. But for Dean he would give it up.

"It's not about that. I could never... No." Emphatically Dean shook his head. The very thought of hurting the angel made him sick. After the Mark of Cain, he had vowed never to do such a thing again, at any cost.

"You're going to die, Dean."

They looked each other in the eye. The green hit the angel like a blow. It let him look deep into the human soul, open and vulnerable it lay in front of him: his fear and his determination, his grief and his guilt. The unsaid of all these years soaked the air around them, almost taking their breath away. Intently they looked at each other and recognized so much in the eyes of the other one. Much that was never expressed and never would and yet was so clear at that moment.

"Yes." Yes, he was going to die, his time had come and he was ready. Everything had come just as Dorothy had prophesied him. It will soon become apparent what kind of person you are. Oh, and how it had turned out. He was a person for whom there was no longer any place in this world. Your time will come someday too, Dean Winchester. She had been right. He didn't want to be saved, not this time. And nonetheless, he couldn't help but be grateful to see Castiel one last time. This here was a farewell.

Castiel wanted to say something else, but Dean cut him off: "Go now please. I want to be alone." Urgently he looked at his counterpart and expected him to comply with his request immediately. How much he wished the angel would be the last he saw. But that was not possible. He would never ask for that. (2)

Never, the hunter had thought it would end like this. He was scared, terrified. He didn't want to be alone, to die alone, but even less did he want someone to see him like this, writhing under the curse. How had the eyewitness described it? Suddenly he started to tremble, then he fell over on the floor, twisted himself and screamed, it was horrible! As much as the fear of what was coming paralyzed him, he couldn't do this sight neither to his brother nor to his best friend. He would go this last way, alone, painful as it might be, he would endure it.

Knowing about the gun in his nightstand was enticing. Originally intended for defense, it now offered a way out. But he wouldn't use it, no matter what would come, he didn't deserve it any other way. Perhaps he should move the weapon out of his reach so that he would not be tempted when the agony became unbearable. Because it would and he deserved it.

"How is it that you lost Dean?

I thought the two of you were joined at the... everything."

Kipling to Castiel 14x01

1) "You're worried about me after everything I've done?" Dean to Castiel 11x01

2) Dean: "I know the feeling." Cas: "Oh, no. No, please don't compare this with your suicidal plan. Just stop." Dean: "Why don't we talk about that later?" Cas: "Because, according to your plan, there won't be a later." Dean: "Cas... if you are a friend of mine, then you will understand that I have to do this and you won't try to stop me. You think this is easy on me? It has to be done." Cas: "So, then, this is goodbye?" 14x12

(song to this chapter: One More Light - Linkin Park)