Title: Sing Me To Sleep

Author: Indigo Night

Feedback: Yes please

Summary: Finally, it came to an end.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters

Spoilers: Not really.

Pairing: Non-explict.

Warnings: Angst/melancholy, character death.

Author's Note: Inspired by the song Asleep, I don't know who originally sang it, but I listened to the Emily Browning version from the movie Sucker Punch, because it's really, really beautiful. Read, Review,

Enjoy!

The world was quiet, peaceful. It was dark outside, lit by the soft glow of street lights reflected through a little drizzling of rain.

Things were brighter inside the hospital, but equally quiet up on the fourth floor far from the emergency room. The faint buzz of florescent lights hummed through the air as the night nurse click-clacked away at the end of the hall.

His shoes made no sound on the linoleum floor, his stride long and purposeful, but unhurried. His clothes, slightly rumpled as usual, made ever so soft swishing noises as he moved, the only sound to announce his presence.

He didn't falter or pause, knowing exactly where he was going, though his pace did slow slightly as he approached the door. Entering quietly he surveyed the room.

It was standard issue, not a single flower bouquet or balloon, or any other personal knick-knack to describe its resident, but that didn't matter. What mattered where the people in the room.

One sat in an old, threadbare arm chair in the corner, head resting limply on his chest as he snored. He looked so much smaller than he should be, years of constant hunching, attempting to fade into the background leading to a permanent stoop, like a turtle half retreated into his shell; hair that had once framed his face so gracefully now gray and receding; hard, muscled limbs now softened. But nevertheless, inside of him resided the same gentle soul.

The other man, lying prone on the bed, no longer resembled his former glory either. Deep wrinkles lined his face, nearly as many as he had scars; once sharp eyes dulled and drooping; a body once so vital he'd seemed to vibrate with life now withered down, so fragile looking it was almost childlike.

It was to the bed Castiel went, taking one of those wizened old hands in his own. For his part, he looked no different, his vessel un-aged, but inside he felt old, old in a way he'd never expected to.

He wasn't really sure how long he stood there, just watching Dean. He was in no rush, they had waited over eighty years for this moment, they could wait a few minutes more.

Rub shoes squeak-squeaked down the hallway to each room in turn as the nurse made her nightly rounds.

He paused for a moment in surprise when she entered theirs. "Sir," she said cautiously, "Visiting hours are long over."

"I know," Castiel replied, "We will be gone shortly."

The nurse could never explain it, but she left it at that, and calmly continued on her way. Somehow she just knew that the strange man in the trench coat belonged there.

As her shoes squeak-squeaked away Dean stirred, dulled green eyes blinking open and very slowly focusing on the angel standing over him. A slow smile spread across his wrinkled lips, "Hey Cas."

Castiel smiled in return. "Hello Dean."

"Is it time?" he asked, unafraid.

Cas nodded, "I came to bring you myself."

Dean's face, which had experienced so much pain and fear and anger and loss and so much more, smoothed out into a look of peace. "Thanks, Cas," he whispered, "For everything… everything you did for us."

"I would do it all again," Castiel told him seriously, though there was humor in his eyes.

"Let's not," Dean retorted in kind.

"Fair enough."

Silence fell between them for a moment, but it was comfortable and unhurried. Dean glanced over to the corner where his brother snored softly.

"You'll come back for Sammy, when it's his turn?" he asked softly.

"Of course," Castiel assured.

"Good," Dean nodded, relaxing, "And you'll come visit us? You know… when you can."

"Every chance I get."

"Okay then, I'm ready."

Cas leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to the old man's forehead. Then wedging his hands beneath the frail body he lifted Dean Winchester into his arms, the real Dean, the beautiful, unbreakable soul he had given everything for, leaving behind the empty, now useless husk.

Dean rested limply in his arms, eyes closed, at peace. His head fell against Castiel's chest and stayed the, nestled in his arms.

Castiel smiled down at him, though there were tears in his eyes. For a long time he had believed they would never reach this moment, and now that they had it was bittersweet. In truth, he knew it was not truly sad, rather joyous, Dean deserved an eternity of peace, and so much. And yet, his heart still ached in a way that was all too human, despite his restored Grace.

But he had delayed long enough. With one more glance at Sam, he held Dean a little tighter and flew away.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~

In the morning Sam woke to find his brother's body cold. He wasn't surprised.

Less than a week later Castiel returned to earth once more to retrieve the last Winchester.

The nurse would tell the story of the night she saw an angel until her dying day.

Hunters would exchange legends of the Winchester brothers, who conquered both heaven and hell, for centuries to come.

And in their own little corner of heaven Sam and Dean spent the rest of eternity surrounded by those they had loved.