Title; Never a Happy Ending
Summary; Sam thought he'd be happy once the Apocalypse was over, when Lucifer and Michael were trapped in the cage and unable to break free. He thought wrong.
Warnings/Spoilers; Character death, some angst. No spoilers.
Authors Notes; I was in a really shit mood when I wrote this. I'm feeling a lot better now. Um, sorry if this is crap, by the way. I understand that this would be unlikely to happen, but I needed to just write it.
Never a Happy Ending
Sam thought he'd be happy once the Apocalypse was over, when Lucifer and Michael were trapped in the cage and unable to break free. He thought wrong.
“Cas? Cas, look at me. Open your eyes.” Dean bent down over Cas's prone form, gripping the front of Cas's trench coat and pulling him up, supporting him with his arms. Blood pooled on the ground from the wound in Cas's side which Sam could see, even from as far away as he stood, came from his ruined side. “Cas? Cas!”
But Sam knew there was no saving Cas from this; Cas was human, and therefore he could die like one. He was dying like one. On the ground, dirt clinging to his body, bleeding from a wound that could never be repaired without angelic assistance. A creature who had been so powerful, so angelic, had taken on a mind of his own and paid the price for it.
“Don't you fucking die on me, Cas,” Dean said roughly, pressing his hand over the wound, flinching when Cas let out a strangled howl of pain. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We've got to … stop the bleeding somehow. Then we'll get you patched up, yeah?”
Sam started to make his way over, slowly. He was a hundred yards from them, and he could tell that Cas was fading fast. If Sam was lucky, he might be quick enough to say goodbye to Cas before he died.
“Listen to me, it's going to be alright,” said Dean, starting to panic as Cas's eyes fluttered shut and didn't open for a good five seconds. “I'm not going to let you die.”
Please let Cas go back to heaven, Sam thought. He's done so much for the world, he should at least be able to return home … as a human.
“No, Cas—keep your eyes open.” Dean tapped the side of Cas's face. “Cas! Fucking come on, Cas. You can't go like this.”
Sam stopped in his tracks as Cas shakily lifted a hand, looking as though it took all his strength to do just that, and pressed it to the side of Dean's face. Sam didn't catch what Cas said to his brother—his soft words lost on the wind, heard only by Dean—but whatever it was it pushed Dean over the edge. Sam had never seen his brother cry like this, and he'd been hoping that he'd never had to.
Cas's hand fell from Dean's cheek, dropping onto his own chest.
Just like that, Sam knew Cas had died.
Dean gently deposited Cas's body on the ground and, with a strangled cry of misery, pressed his face into Cas's chest, grabbing his friend's hand and pressing it to his face.
Eventually Dean would get up, carrying Cas's body, and put him in the backseat of the Impala, dirt and grime be damned. Eventually Dean would go and check on the survivors, a dead look in his eyes, then he would drive away and Sam would hitch a ride with Bobby.
Eventually, Sam would find his brother dead on the floor in their rented motel, lying next to Cas's body, face buried in his chest, looking at peace. Later on, Sam would find that the cause of death was drug overdose.
I'm sorry Sam,
I just couldn't do it. Didn't want to do it.
Sam didn't forgive Dean until his death bed, forty years later. Dying of cancer, of all things. Then he appreciated the art of dying slowly, because since he was four years old, Dean had been doing just that. Except Dean's death, just like his life, had ended in agony. He understood what it was like, wanting for it to just be over.
The world would get on without him and Dean to save it.