A/N So... remember how I said I'd update this story when I could? I finally found the time! Well, I was kinda working on a different one-shot for this story, but then this one hit me over the head, so I decided to post it right now. Now, it's not at all a happy story, and it's plenty different to the last chapter, so... beware? Enjoy! :) ~Sammy

Angel blades and shadow-dances

Death reaps all demons.

There's a shadow on the wall, and it looks familiar.

It's long and sharp, and it just brushes against that line where the wall meets the ceiling.

(It looks like a sword.)

It's dark and hollow, but it's solid and unwavering.

(Just like the wings they say he doesn't have.)

It's a Thursday shadow.

(It doesn't matter that it's sometimes there on Tuesdays too, because those Tuesdays are just extra Thursdays.)

It's always there, every Thursday.

No matter the hour, no matter the presence or lack of blinding lights, it was there.

It was consistent.

Consistent, like that nice nurse (Meg?) who called him Clarence every day; even though he never failed to correct her.

Consistent, like those red and yellow capsules, and those white oval pills, and those orange circles that would land up in front of him every afternoon; that he'd swallow down, even if they didn't really help.

Consistent, like those green eyes that nobody saw, and that leather jacket that nobody felt, and that faint whisper of rock music that nobody heard; that would awaken him every morning.

Consistent, and he likes it.

He likes the regularity.

Likes the way he could count every second, and know exactly what would happen at any point of time.

It's comforting, and he revels in its consistency.

(He doesn't hear Balthazar's raised and broken voice in the hallway. It's not part of the schedule.)

Meg gives him that paper cup of pills, and he swallows them, and those green eyes laugh, but Meg doesn't react. She never does.

(He doesn't see Gabriel slumped over the foot of his bed, sobbing, or Sam, standing in the doorway, tears in his eyes. Because that's not a regularity.)

He does see Meg, and she calls him Clarence, and he corrects her, as always, but her answering smile's shaky. He doesn't know what that means.

It's Thursday, he realizes. He's screaming.

Because he's staring at the ceiling, and the shadow's gone.

And there's another shadow, in its place, but it's longer, and it's thin and curved.

(It looks like a scythe.)

He screams, and Balthazar's hands are on his shoulders, and he's saying something that he can't hear.

He screams, and Gabriel's hiding in Sam's arms, and they're crying, but he can't see their tears.

He screams, and Meg's there, and she's saying his name, not Clarence, but his name, and he wants to correct her, but he can't.

He screams, and those green eyes are scared, and he hates that fear, but he can't make it go away.

He screams, until he can't scream anymore, and still he's screaming.

It's gone. His shadow's gone.

Gone.

And he doesn't notice when Meg (still crying silently) pushes a needle into his arm, and his blue eyes slide shut.

And maybe he's fading away, but that's okay, because there are shadows.

And he can see his shadow of Thursday, right up there, where the wall meets the ceiling.

It's long and sharp.

It's dark and hollow, but it's solid and unwavering.

And there are other shadows, and they're swirling about, pulling and tugging at him, until he lets it go.

Lets go of Clarence and corrections. Lets go of green eyes and guitar riffs. Lets go of weeping brothers and wishes for a cure. Lets go of everything.

Lets go of everything but the shadows.

And in that moment, in that tiny little room, surrounded by the people he loves, Castiel is an angel.

Death reaps all angels.

A/N Okay... I would've warned you about Character Death, but that would've given away plot stuff, so... I'm sorry, I guess? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Are you majorly confused? Let me know in a review! :) ~Sammy