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“Please help. I’m begging you.”
Looking back on what he had said to Cas, Dean wanted to kick himself. He and Sam would've been fine on their own; they didn't need Castiel’s help. And yet here they were: Sam fighting off demons outside, Cas drawing symbols on the wall in blood, and Dean at the angel’s back, protecting him. As always.
A loud splintering sound filled the air as Cas completed the last sigil, Dean jerking on reflex. The symbols light up with a crackling defiance, and Dean ducked as a shard of slate missed his eye by a hair. Castiel started chanting something in Enochian – Dean didn't know what he was saying, he’d never bothered to learn the language. That was what Cas was for. But from the way the angel reverently muttered the words, they sounded less like a spell, and more like…praying.
A hole ripped through the wall, and the jagged maw yawned open with a snap. Dean looked up from where he’d shielded his face from the flying debris. Castiel was standing close to the hole – far too close, actually. He looked ready to…wait; this wasn't part of the plan!
“Cas, what are you doing?” Dean yelled over the roar of the gateway and the raging battle outside.
Cas turned back to Dean and said a word, a phrase to him in Enochian. Dean, not having a clue what Cas had just said, gave a joyless smile in return, tears springing unbidden to his eyes as debris whipped too close. He was still blessedly innocent of Cas’s fate.
Then Cas stepped through the portal, and the wall sealed up behind him.
A wordless howl cut clearly through the victory-quietened air as the last demon collapsed.
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Dean sat, uncaring, at a table in the Bunker, a mug of cold coffee cradled in his hands. It had been two days since they had defeated all those demons. Two days since the portal closed.
It had been two days since Cas had died.
Sam had kicked him into the shower, shoved plates of food into his hands and forced him bodily into bed, but Dean still felt tainted. He could feel the blood and grime from the battle seeping through his skin like oil, a constant reminder of what had happened.
He was alone in the Bunker; Sam had gone out to buy stuff. He’d actually specifically told Dean what he was getting, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered anymore.
He thought back to Cas’s last moments. He’d been doing that a lot recently. Why had Cas done that? Sacrificed himself? Dean supposed it was part of the spell, but he wished…well, he wished that Cas hadn't done it.
Then there were his last words. What did they mean? Why would Cas bother to say something in a language that he knew Dean couldn't speak? Unless it was a code…unless there was something he didn't want getting into the wrong hands. Unless…unless…
Oh.
Oh.
What if…they were an escape hatch?
Dean sprang up with the most energy he’d had in two days. His coffee cup fell to the floor unheeded, splashing cold brown liquid over the tiles. He ran to a side table, frantically searching for his laptop. There.
He logged on and immediately brought up Google, typing in a command.
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Sam found Dean lying unconscious in the centre of the room when he got back, tears streaking his exhausted face. His laptop was running beside him, with an Enochian translator up on the screen. There were words typed in the box, complete with a translation.
Olani hoath ol.
I love you.