It was the dead of the night. Almost complete silence, destroyed, by a full-size bottle of alcohol shattering to pieces. A man drunkily roamed the field with a case of hiccups. His clothes were raggedy and torn, and his hair looked like it never had the proper care in some time. Not to mention either was clean. Though drunk and dazed out of his mind, the man’s eyes showed nothing but pain.
Stumbling, his legs couldn’t take anymore weight. He collapsed, a wad of whiskey and depression. The man gasped loudly, eyes blood-shot. Like if he was remembering something. “Dean. I could have saved you…” He trembled hard, trying to swallow the lump of guilt in his throat.
"I… I can’t live like this… now that you are gone…" Negative thoughts swam in his mind, and he clutched the brittle grass in his palms. Hot tears stung his eyes, but this time, he didn’t hold back. He threw his head back, letting out huge, bellowing shrieks and gargled sobs. Tears streamed down like a waterfall, before the man finally stopped.
From the release of emotion, the helpless man was still trembling.
Yet, he spotted a shard of his bottle that was carelessly tossed onto the ground. Just moments ago. He grasped the grass so tight that the strands just ripped off. He didn’t want it to come to this… yet he had no choice.
The man snatched the shard and menacingly pointed the jagged edge to his throat. Just ghosting over his goose-bumped skin. His breathing was hoarse. He couldn’t imagine himself doing this, yet the guilt was too much. “I gripped you tight and raised you from peridition. Yet I can’t even save you this one time…” Another round of tears poured down, however, the man continued. “My name is Castiel. And I made myself home to the Winchesters…” Castiel gripped the shard tighter, not caring about it slicing into his sweaty palm.
"Dean Winchester… I’m coming."
Castiel’s corpse fell to the grassy field, spasming and choking on his own blood. The white-hot pain was unbearable, yet he prefered this than the one he had been suffering. In a few agonizing seconds, Castiel’s body went cold and limp.
"Cas!" Dean ran all around town, searching for the ex-angel. Worry and negative thoughts ran through his mind of what could have happened. Shaking his head, in order to clear his mind, Dean continued. "I have to tell him I’m alive…" With a blink, he flashed his demon eyes, pitch black with no mercy. Then with another, it went back to his normal, fanfiction-green eyes.
Hours passed, yet the Winchester never gave up. He came upon a grassy field, and scanned the landscape quickly for any signs of life. Castiel’s life. “Cas?” Dean cocked his head once his eyes landed on a body laid on the grass. Slowly walking toward it, more and more of Dean’s expectations became true. First, his trench coat. He hadn’t worn it in… forever. Then, the broken remains of the alcohol bottle. Dean swalloed hard. He was binge-drinking. It became much clearer to how much the human missed him. Finally, the blood.
That snapped Dean. He raced by Cas’ side, knowing he had been injured. “Cas!” He screamed, shaking the corpse hard. It wasn’t moving. Dean checked his pulse. There was none. “No! Don’t do this to me, Cas!” Dean caught sight of the clutched shard in his hand. The glass piece bit into Cas’ cold hand, and stuck there. Dean’s eyes widened. They became filled with salty tears in a matter of seconds, as he held his perished friend. “CASTIEL!” He threw his head back and shieked, however, never let go of his friend. Whimpering and sobbing, Dean gave his friend another squeeze.
"I’m here Cas…" Dean nuzzled his red-nose close to his ear, like if he stilll would be able to listen.
"I never left… now please don’t go…"
— Predator-In-Da-Night (via deviantart)