Castiel knew he would follow Dean through any situation, the good and the bad, and he knew that this plan of his... this was suicide. Giving his opinion on the matter was normally expected, and Dean gave him his usual look, some where between annoyance and appreciation. The appreciation had been waning more and more over the months since Sam said "Yes" to Lucifer, like seeing Castiel just made Dean think of when things were, well, not easier, but better; when his brother had at least been his brother.

Though Castiel didn't blame him, he still got irritated with Dean's reckless behavior and the way he treated those who followed him. Survival was at stake, yes, but he had crossed the line between leader and dictator. Castiel chose not to address it. He could still remember the last time he had, laying back in Dean's cot after a late night rut with the man he had always called his best friend. The suggestion for Dean to go back to the more pure hearted man from before caused a nearly violent reaction, and Dean and Castiel didn't talk for days after that.

Now that he had run into Past Dean, he was reminded of who he had fallen for, his heart giving a small thud in response to the feelings that were flowing over him. He hadn't been able to reach Dean in any way, and he knew he probably never would. For a moment, he thought of perhaps confronting Past Dean, but what good would that do? He didn't know of the shared history between them from his year to now, so he'd probably just treat it with confusion and impatience.

Instead, he left the cabin without looking back, choosing instead to follow Dean's orders and prepare to leave. It wasn't long before midnight came around and he was driving, talking to Past Dean like it was normal, answering his questions when he asked, mostly due to his drug induced haze. After a while, they sat in silence, and it took everything he had to not reach out and try to run his fingers over his worn jeans, the ache in his chest causing him to take another few pills.

Castiel relied on the drugs to keep his recurring heartbreak at bay, because he knew that whatever love Dean had felt for him was now gone, eaten away by war and anger and hatred. He hated how stupid he continued to be, going to Dean's bed in the middle of the night while no one was watching, having a quick fix and then parting ways. It wasn't what he wanted, but the physical bond was more than enough for him these days. The orgies? They were nothing compared to the way Dean handled him. The feel of Dean's hands in Castiel's hair, the faint feeling of his breath on his skin and the way he would lick and bite his lip when he was concentrating on getting Castiel to say his name.

The encounters were not emotional anymore. Not on Dean's side anyway, from what Castiel could tell, and they never talked about it. He didn't want to hear the truth, or what he was afraid would be the truth. In any case, it no longer mattered. He knew that something would go wrong today, he could feel it, but he continued driving until he was informed to stop.

It wasn't until he was out of the car and walking through the abandoned Croatoan hot zone that he really understood that this wasn't what they had thought it would be. He had enough common sense to know that it was too quiet, he knew what Dean looked like when he lied... and when Dean told them that they would be walking in through the front door, he knew he wouldn't be coming back.

Time stopped momentarily in his mind as he stared at Dean, biting his own lip in thought. What was it about this man that made him want to throw away his life like this? What was it that made him realize that, no matter what it was Dean asked, Castiel would do it? He knew, he knew that going in there would be the end of him, and that any one else would be questioning their leader's judgement. Instead, Castiel began to think of all the moments when he and Dean would lie in bed together and speak in hushed whispers about things they would never get to do. He thought of the times that they would share secret glances, brush against one another discreetly.

He thought of every happy and bittersweet moment he could, all while committing every feature of Dean's face to his memory. Castiel loved the way Dean still had the crinkles at the corners of his eyes even though he hadn't laughed in years. He loved that Dean had always had a lip-licking tick and it had never really left. The fact that he still had a glimmer of youth in his eyes made his heart break, but he knew that it would go out and chose instead to remember how his eyes looked soon after being pulled from hell.

Finally, Dean moved to lead Past Dean around the back. He hadn't even given him a second glance. Castiel felt his loyalty for the man quiver within his mind, but the strength of it hadn't weakened enough over the years for it to shatter completely now. Castiel did feel his heart begin to break for good this time, and it took every fibre of his being to keep the tears away. Instead, he indulged in the last of his pills, turned to Risa and give her a kiss as if to keep them both calm. She only gave him an understanding look, as if she knew this was a one way trip as well, and then they were on the move.

It wasn't long before he could feel the blood rushing through his veins and spilling out of the wounds on his body. The croats weren't turning anyone at this point, only mindlessly tearing them apart. The screams of his comrades were faint in his ears as he closed his eyes, his breathing becoming short as he felt his human life ebbing away. It was at this point he allowed himself to cry, the tears flowing freely as sobs began to wrack is whole body. "You said you'd never leave me," he thought to himself, anger and heartbreak settling in his chest. The emotional pain and the drugs were distracting him from the searing heat of the open wounds on his body. It was as though all the pent up feelings were now being released in his final moments, and he was hoping that the link between the two men was still working so that Dean could some how understand what he had done to him.

Castiel hung onto the words like a mantra, repeating it over and over to himself, the salt of his tears stinging his sensitive skin. Finally the pain was dwindling, leaving Castiel with the words ringing out in his head. He knew that was was going to die, bitter and alone, aggravated at himself for everything he had given up to be with Dean and fight for him. He loved Dean with everything he was, and he was paying for it.

A soft warmth began to cover Castiel, as though some one was laying beside him, giving him comfort. Taking a deep breath, he let his body relax, no longer in pain, the numbness settling in to his physical body. I won't leave you. Because you never left me. Dean's voice said softly, and Castiel felt his lips twitch up in a soft smile. He couldn't be sure if this was actually Dean, or if it was just his hysteric imagination playing tricks on him, but he finally gave in and thought of a night when the two of them had been sitting in Dean's cabin, sharing a drink and speaking softly with their fingers interlaced together. Dean had turned to him and smiled that night, the first smile in a long time, and quietly whispered to him you're my reason for going on, Cas.

With that thought Castiel shed his last tears, and let his final shaking breath leave his lungs.