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He is walking in the woods. The sound and the smell of life around him. Soft sunlight. Pure.
A blink, and he is sitting on a bench – worn, wooden, bowing beneath his weight.
Behind him is the wood. In front of him stretches a vast lake, the surface broken only by the fish leaping up to catch the flies. A soothing rhythm. Plip-plop.
In the middle of the lake sits a small island, on which there is a small wooden house, one-story tall.
Dean likes it here. It is peaceful. Plenty of things to kill, to hunt.
His stupor is disturbed by movement to his left. A gruff voice.
‘Hello, Dean.’
On the left side of the bench sits his friend, a foot of space between them.
‘Cas, man, where have you – ‘
‘I’m sorry. I have been unable to manifest myself physically. All my attempts have failed.’
Dean nods his understanding. His mind brims with questions. It is so much harder to communicate in dreams – his body refuses to cooperate.
‘I have come to warn you, Dean. Soon, I will try to kill you.’
Silence.
‘She wants me to kill you. She will stop at nothing.’
‘Who is she?’
‘Naomi.’
‘The one who has been controlling you.’
It is not a question, but he receives a nod in answer.
‘Why doesn’t she kill me herself?
Dean watches a sad smile flit across Castiel’s face. The first smile he’s seen in a long time.
‘She despises me. For all I have done, for all I want to do. She could easily destroy you. But she wants to punish me. She wants me to stand before that which I love most, and kill it. And then, once I have held your corpse in my arms, she will imprison me in Heaven. In solitude, in emptiness, and there I will remain for all eternity, with nothing to do, but remember.
‘Jesus,’ a croak. Dean is choked by all that he wants to say. He throat burns.
‘There is an angel tablet. A companion to the demon one. It gives instructions on how to close the gates of Heaven. You are about to find it. She knows you’re close.’
‘She wants it.’
‘Yes. She wants to take it to Heaven so that it may never be used. When you find it you need to keep it safe. You must use it to close the gates – stop any of them from ever interfering in the mortal world again.’
A dry chuckle escapes Dean’s throat.
‘“Them.” You never refer to yourself as one of them anymore.’
‘No. I may have the powers of one, but I haven’t been one in a very long time.’
‘No. I guess not.’
They share a small smile. For a brief moment, all feels normal.
‘You will need to kill me, Dean.’
Numbness envelops Dean’s body, save for a small centre of pain deep within his chest. The fish have stopped swimming.
‘When I attach you, I need you to fight back. Carry one of the angel blades I gave you on you at all times. You must kill me – incapacitation will not do. There is no other way you will be able to escape with the tablet and get it to Kevin before she finds you. If you leave me any way alive, I will just find you again.’
‘Cas... I can’t kill you.’
A hand rests itself on top of his, rough and dry. His head roars.
‘Yes, you can. You are the Righteous Man. You are my best friend, and you are my whole world. To die at your hands would be an honour.’
‘But I need you. I can’t kill you. You can’t die – not again. What will I do?’
His mind is screaming at him, but his body is sluggish – he is pinned to the bench. The hand on his anchors him.
‘You do what you always do, Dean – you carry on.’
‘But what if I can’t?’
A smile, small and genuine, sits on Castiel’s lips.
‘Of course you can.’
‘What if I don’t want to?’
The hand on his tightens, and lifts his own into the air, where it is met by the press of lips, before being released and falling gracelessly, slowly to the bench.
‘You will have to.’
This dream is cold.
‘Goodbye, Dean.’
Dean wakes to the taste of tears and the spectre of touch lingering on the back of his hand.