Author's Note:

*is sobbing* Oh god…this episode killed me. I'm inconsolable. I know this is the second majorly angst-y Cas fic I've written, but it happens every time the episode has angst, and I was reduced to a crying mess by the end of The Man Who Would Be King. This isn't my usual slash, it's brotherly, and after Dean's "brother" speech, I don't even know how to write Destiel slash. My mind just can't wrap around it right now. I was listening to Kate Voegele's cover of Hallelujah and crying while writing this, so I'm sorry if it's depressing. No quote could possibly fit this, so it's just a one-shot and a whiny A/N.

Perhaps if I had lived long enough to look back on this night, I would have regretted not spending more time on my goodbyes. But I wouldn't. This long existence, these years of knowledge packed into my brain, all of it would soon come to an end. So many times in the recent past I had been wrongfully prideful, but at least now I could say I died me. Died Castiel, the angel, the guardian of the Winchesters. Maybe Dean would find it within himself to forgive my memory.

To start the night, I had once more visited the Singer home. I glanced upon Sam and Bobby's sleeping forms, silently saying my goodbyes. The hardest part had yet to happen. Closing my eyes for a moment, I gathered my bearings and appeared in the living room, standing at Dean's feet for the second time in one night. Being naturally alert, he was awoken by the quiet rustling of my wings.

"You've got some nerve coming back here," he snarled, moving to rise to his feet.

I gently laid a hand on his chest and eased him back down. My movements were not challenging nor were they aggressive. I sat on the edge of the couch next to him and gazed down into his jade green eyes affectionately. It was my one desire for my last moments with Dean to be free of animosity, to be like they were while we fought the apocalypse together. Odd how I counted the days leading up to the supposed end of days as good memories, but that was yet another fact I wouldn't live long enough to dwell over.

"You needn't say anything, Dean. I only wish for you to listen."

"If this is another Raphael speech, I don't-"

"No. I merely have some things I would like for you to know." He stared at me apprehensively. I continued. "Earlier, I should have said this, but I didn't. And now after all these centuries, after watching this world be constructed and then nearly torn apart by Lucifer, after fighting the apocalypse with three unlikely human heroes, I am finally running out of time. I'm sorry I didn't come to you when I needed help, I'm sorry I lied to you. Whatever it was that we had; family, as you put it, is probably long since vanished from your mind, but I want you to know that I never looked at you as family."

Hurt passed over his eyes, but he masked the emotion quickly. Knowing he'd misunderstood, I proceeded to say, "To an angel, family is a weak term. When we love…it's lethal to us. We love until it kills us, love until the day we die. I suppose there are no words for how I feel towards you, but the only comparison I know is one. Brother. When everyone had left me behind and given up on me…there you were. Earlier, when Sam and Bobby were making accusations, you stood up for me. Though it was misplaced in a liar like myself, you showed me more trust than I ever could have asked for." By this point, tears were in my eyes.

"Cas, stop, just dump your demon boyfriend and we'll do this together, okay? No need for the speech," Dean whispered, trying not to reveal how moved he was by my words.

I saw right through the façade. He was worried for me. After all I'd done to him, all the lies I'd fed him, he still felt concern for me. A tear slid down my face. Words he had once spoken to me rang out in my head. If there's anything worth dying for, this is it. Perhaps it had been a different situation at the time that had been worth dying for, but the words were still true. This was worth dying for. He was worth dying for.

"It's too late, Dean," I choked, my throat tightening with emotion. "As you said, I made the wrong choice. And now it's time to make it right."

"Don't talk like that. You're scaring me."

I reached down and ran my knuckles down the side of his face. "Oh, my brother, you give me so much more of yourself than I deserve. No angel in Heaven, not a single member of my brethren could ever hope to be more of a brother to me than you have been. I touched your soul in Hell, Dean. You don't realize how beautiful it is. So much loyalty, so much love…"

"Castiel," and it was the first time in awhile he'd used my full name besides in prayer, "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't do it. Please. We can still fix this."

"No. I told you earlier that it's too late to go back. Balthazar will oversee my army once I am gone. I have veered too far off track to defeat Raphael. My Father must be disgusted at what I have become. But my only wish…is one day, maybe you can forgive my memory."

"Your memory?" Dean murmured. "You're not gonna die, man. We'll kill Crowley together, we'll help you defeat Raphael, we'll be friends again. We'll be brothers again. Like we used to be."

Brothers. The word stung. Tears were falling freely now, and I surprised us both when I leaned down and sought Dean's embrace. He froze in shock for a moment before wrapping me in his arms, whispering, "See? You're still Cas. You're still our angel. I know you can do this without Crowley, I just do."

I was silent. I'd long since come to terms with my decision, because even if somehow I could survive all of this, I would never be the same. In death, I could at least preserve what little humanity I still managed to grasp. Dean's hand was soothingly warm against my back as he gave me the familial comfort I had longed for without even realizing I desired it. We stayed like that for a very long time. I could have stayed that way, with my true brother, for forever, but I couldn't. The holy oil would be drying soon.

"Cas, where are you going?" he asked nervously as I pulled myself from his arms and stood up.

"Goodbye, Dean."

My clothes were covered in holy oil. It was odorless, so he hadn't realized it was on me and hadn't felt the dampness through his clothes. I withdrew a match from my pocket and stared at it, lighting it. Blue and orange swirled together in its depths, the only light in the dark room. Dean rose to his feet, staring at me with open fear and dread. The light hit my clothes, revealing the wetness. Realization dawned on him and his entire face fell.

"Castiel, no, no, no! You can't do this…please, Cas," he begged desperately. "I forgive you, okay? Not just your memory, not any of that crap, I forgive you. You're my brother, and I love you, and you don't have to do this, please…" he continued, his eyes filling with unshed tears.

I slowly touched the match to the sleeve of my overcoat. "I love you too, brother."

And those were my last words.