but i'm singing like a bird about it now [ch: one]

"Because it is."

This is gonna be it. The final time Cas would look into all that love. The forever split streams of love that spilled out of Dean's eyes damn near every minute of every day in big and little ways. He could see it at the levee of the bottom of Dean's eyes right now.

"Don't do this, Cas."

Dean's head shakes a little, whether it be in disbelief or confusion he doesn't know. Yet, Cas does not feel forsaken. So this will be it then. Over the last two years it was never clear when the deal would even end up on a timeline in Cas' life. He truly believed that in the end he would watch Dean grow old and die. With hope, Dean would do so in his sleep. He hadn't considered whether any of his actions would eventually bar him from the gates he felt Dean deserved but Cas supposes Heaven wasn't ever truly his home.

"I love you."

Soon darkness will take him and he will be sure not to make it loud. Right now, there's a banging at the door that holds Cas’ last blood sigil. He marked his love in blood. Much like he did when he banished Zachariah. That had been a love letter to Dean too. Not that it matters now. He can only hope wherever Dean ends up that today is not his end.

Cas takes a step forward, determined; no, today can't take Dean. Billie will go where he will go and that will be the end of it. He looks at Dean now. There's a pleading look that makes Cas reach his hand out to touch his face but falter. Cas feels reverent in his last moments, as he always does. But he knows that nothing, not even his long and lost love, can get in his way...

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"Why does this sound like a goodbye?"

Dean thought he had said that in his head. He would have said it out loud anyway. He wanted to know — hell, he needed to know. He wanted to hear anything Cas had to say at the end of their road. But he heard a god awful horrible answer. Just his fucking luck.

Love, returned, what a fucking curse, Dean thought.

He was so sure that he could muster up the guts for one last good feeling-bleed before Billie busts through the barrier like a bat out of hell. He was going to make it count, tell Cas how he feels. Everyday. For damn near a decade. He felt them, all those tightly-packed confessions along the years breaking their own seals, breaking past his rib cage and up his throat. It was bound to come up outta him one day; Dean figured he owed Cas this one big truth that he was too big of a coward not to keep from him. Cas, his best, his one, his only.

Last thing I see, it's gotta be him, Dean thought right before Cas opened his beautiful fucking heart. Now Dean's throat was too tight to choke out what he meant to say before Cas got to talkin’. Fucked up his one good chance to be sincerely honest and direct about what was now threatening to strangle him before Billie does. Believe it or not, maybe hands around his neck would help. If not to keep the words — all the words from Purgatory to today at bay — maybe to squeeze them out like honey from a bottle. Because the way he's hearing it from Cas, the Empty could come any second now so if he acts fast maybe, just maybe, they're maybe not gonna die. But if they do, Cas has to know. He's gotta know what to do, Dean’s gotta know somehow. Dean shifts his feet as he hears that god-awful gurgling. The wall behind looks like black blood and Leviathan slime. Ugly, awful — Cas doesn't deserve shit like that.

He's an angel, my angel, He thinks.

Dean's gotta act fast or he'll lose Cas to it either way, whether he speaks up or not. Now's not the time to fawn or freeze. He turns back around to glistening eyes. And tears that shoulda never fallen, his head thinks. The way Cas is looking at him has Dean feeling like a baby chick under a heat lamp. Adored, precious, vulnerable. Scared. There's a type of overwhelming fondness in Cas' face that is in no way something he deserves, not today. Not for the type of sacrifice Cas thinks he has any right to make right now to save him.

A deal to leave with the friggin' Empty, no way out. Dean seethes internally for a flash, careful to keep what can still be contained in his chest. He doesn't know if Cas can see what’s playing out on his face right now but his eyes don't leave Dean's face, not once. What can still make Cas so sure Dean Winchester deserves to be saved?

With no fucking way for him to escape or save him, Cas, lost forever. Dean, all at once, feels delirious.

Suddenly there’s a heat that overtakes him as he locks onto Cas' face. He feels like his skin is burning off and there's not enough time to shed a layer or two. Dean doesn't know when his fingers curled into fists. Maybe it's when Cas brought up the quip about him being a blunt instrument. Cas, always the earth-side angel who saw too much of him and felt too much of him and yet doesn't believe that's what he is. After Purgatory he'd have given up a shot at ever escaping Lucifer's personal corner of Hell to see Cas look at him the way he's staring at him now. But today, Cas' loving gaze leaves him feeling singed like an egg thrown on a cast iron to fry.

He can't go, not like this, Dean's head rings with panic.

He can't ever leave, not when just two minutes ago Dean was gonna break his rib cage open with any words he could find in the moment and bare his whole heart to Cas. Now he's looking at Dean like he's memorizing his genetic make-up, the stuff he literally stitched back together 12 years ago from atoms to bones to skin. It's been so long Dean had almost forgotten. On another day he'd love to have had a shot at seeing this look on his face. Not after today, he might not get that after today. Not now or ever again.

Dean's not sure he'd have the brain power for any lore on the Empty if he watches Cas get ripped away. Not without a guarantee that Cas can stay by his side for the rest of his life. Something deep in Dean’s chest goes off like a pipe bomb when a tear falls down his angel's face. His heart is about ready to fry. Cas reaches for him and Dean can't be sure that he can bare to let go if Cas makes a connection. Especially knowing right after that he'll be gone, he'll disappear for good. No take backs, no reaching Cas. Not with a shout or prayer like in Purgatory. He'd stay gone forever this time if The Empty takes him.

Dean shakes his head a little to clear it. All that's too far ahead for what he's dealing with right now, and at most, the next minute. And all he really wants to do is hold him. Cas. If this is really all he gets, he just wants to hold him. The Cas who knows him, the Cas who rebuilt him and got him out of more real and personal hells than he can count right now.

Something fires off in Dean's head. Hope. Maybe a bit of Michael's angel energy is somewhere still in him. Right? Maybe his sword composition is still active. Maybe he is still a sword, just one only he can take a blunting belt to sharpen and wield for himself. That could be enough. It's gotta be. All the work to shape our bloodline has to count for something…The Empty doesn't know each individual angel, right? Cas couldn't have been with it for long enough to know, and although Dean doesn't have all the details of Cas' deal, the Empty just can't really know Cas enough to really catalogue him, Dean's decided. This is too much thought for the mere inches Cas is from reaching him. Dean's about to burst out of his skin. So he moves.

Dean's hands are vice grips on either side of Cas' face in an instant. He's never seen the angel's facial expression transform so quickly but in a moment he's too close to see the expressions on it. Dean's body seems to actually be working as an instrument in this moment. He takes Cas' bottom lip in between his own and he inhales the rushed breath Cas exhales right up into him. The exchange is divine, his eyes shutter close. He can feel Cas fighting between relaxing and resisting.

And then the door behind them sounds like it's bursting open like a sound grenade and hitting something behind it.

This could have been a better moment, gentler maybe. Dean can admit that. He feels the angel's right hand grip his shoulder, shifting quickly in intensity between the same kind of gentle and firm strength Cas has always shown him. But just as unsure as he had looked in Purgatory. It feels like...wavering. It feels like panic.

Well, buddy, that'd make two of us, he thinks to himself. Because Cas' lips feel like stone between his. And then he feels it, the vibration building up in Cas. He doesn't even know where it's coming from. Cas feels like a gong that just rang.

Fuck, Dean squeezes his eyes shut and braces for whatever could happen next. There's too much going on around him to know for sure if pulling away will make a difference, he just knows that even as the last thing he does, Dean'll try and save Cas. He can't save anyone else. In this moment, all he has is Cas. But Cas isn't making it easy. The one part of the angel that is moving towards him--the only part--is his hand on Dean's shoulder which is closing like a fist around the rough dyed cotton of his jacket, staining it blood-red. Dean tenses as he remembers the first time Cas' hand was there.

It's not an actual memory, more like an inner knowing that lives in his bones. Despite the cotton layers it'll bruise if they make it out of this alive. Their only option. Cas might not be into this but there's time for apologies later. Maybe this just isn't what angels do when they love. Maybe Dean’s fucking with a code of conduct Cas still keeps. Dean is not Meg, and he's no angel either. He doesn't fucking know. Three minutes ago he thought these feelings only went one way. This ache and reaching between him and Cas doesn't feel returned at the moment.

Fuck, What the hell is he gonna do when this is over? Dean's not so focused on making it good for Cas, he just wants to blanket him. Can't be a sword; maybe I can be a shield. Though he doesn't know how long until it may come down to damn near wrestling the angel he's hellbent on shielding. Something threatens to pop in his shoulder. Cas may be an angel but if the ripping he hears from tears in the back of Dean's jacket are any indication, this is either hurting Cas or it’s too intense of a moment for him. Or he's pissed. He's probably pissed. But Dean can't let him go. Not when he's unsure if what he hears behind them is gliding past them or about to swallow Cas whole. He had already trapped them in the bunker with Billie, if Cas is going to leave him then he's gonna leave with Dean wrapped around him. Flesh against stone. End of story.

Except this isn't the end; there's a cold chill that runs down his left side that shocks him so fast that he snaps his eyes open just as the black ooze leaves his field of vision and travels back towards the wall it came from. He can only think that if angel radio was still a thing and anyone had their ears on, they would maybe hear his heart yell out as loud as it could.

Castiel is saved.

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These fucking gremlins, again. And this time, a tag team effort. What a cruel and bothersome bait and switch.

The Empty is not known for kindness. It's not built for rage either. It's built to contain. But it senses it. Of all the reapers and demons and angels and vampires and otherworldly fools it has collected, none have irritated The Empty more than ones with personal connections to Castiel and Dean Winchester.

Jack's noise was one thing, this over-pour of love and sadness is quite...Other. That's what brought the Empty here to begin with. Sensing Castiel's spike in elation. The Empty had been willing to wait for the eons Cas had offered but the speed of the peak should have sealed the deal. This should have been quick and easy. Open up, face a bright light, find a happy angel, take a happy angel and leave.

But...here is Billie and that happiness is gone, replaced instantly with something closer to grief. It's nervous, angry, miserable.

It sounds like it feels...disgusting.

The Empty can't be bothered to care about the flavor of it or question the plummet because Billie is enough for The Empty for now. Once it consumes Billie it wants out of the bright and back into sleep (Cas be damned.) Clearly, if the joy is gone before The Empty could even arrive if it wasn't enough to enjoy, register or really qualify. What a fickle thing, emotions. Maybe this deal with the insufferable celestial annoyance wasn't worth the trouble. Castiel is too...the circumstances...are too fleeting. He would require more alertness than he's worth. The Empty can't think of a single reason to stay awake long enough to monitor if the trip is worth another push.

And then there's the matter of Dean. Weirdly relevant, always in the way. Just like a Winchester. Currently panicked out of his body and if Cas was happy, The Empty might have enjoyed putting that very panic into turbo mode. But no, Billie will do and The Empty will have had enough. Besides, their band of gremlins would simply be too...eventful. Castiel is just too much work; too much to keep track of, too much to take, too much to keep.

The Empty starts to consider a cosmic barring order...time to contact Amara.