Dean was heavily leaning against the wall, hand still closed around the silver loaded handgun. At first glance, he didn't look too bad. A little bit of blood in the corner of his mouth. Cas at first might have figured he bit his lip in the fight. But Dean's shirt was rucked up on the side, and beneath the debris there was a rapidly deepening purple that told a different story. Cas bit back a reaction as he stared.

"If you're gonna-" Dean coughed. "undress me like that… buy me dinner first." He spit off to the side, ignoring the bright red splatter he left behind. He breezed past Cas' confused head tilt, still trying to deflect attention. "Are they dead?"

"Yes." Cas assured him. "All of them."

"I got four." Dean unsuccessfully tried to push himself to sit up further. "You got-?"

Cas spared a glance around the room, confirming his earlier count. "Eighteen."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So just about even then." He wheezed, lifting one hand to try to wipe the blood trickling over his bottom lip, but the motion threw him off balance and he slid down the wall.

Cas reached out, catching him before he could sink all the way to the ground.

"Thought… thought your grace was too weak to pull s'mthing like that off."

"It's all I could do." Cas said softly, wincing at the way Dean's speech seemed to waver and begin to run together. "I can't-"

"Don't need your healing." Dean dismissed, trying to push Cas off of him. He only succeeded in falling further, his head resting awkwardly against Cas' shoulder, almost in his arms.

"You do." Cas said softly.

"Well, I'll wait."

Cas didn't waste his breath reminding Dean that his grace could take days to replenish enough to heal him. He was aware Dean knew. "We called Sam for backup thirty eight minutes ago."

"The calvary sucks." Dean closed his eyes. "Slowest rescue ever."

"He said it'd be almost an hour before he got here." Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket, not expecting it to have any signal, but feeling the fresh sting of disappointment when it didn't. "I don't know where the nearest hospital is."

"We're in the ass end 'f nowhere." Dean tried one more time to get up, but it didn't work any better. "Faster to wait for a car."

"If the truck-"

"You can't fix those tires." The hunter said, a note of sympathy in his voice. When a wolf had slashed Cas' truck tires, he had made a joke that at least it wasn't the impala. Of course, it had immediately turned their simple recon into a dangerous confrontation that neither of them were prepared for. "Won't get far with you carrying me."

"Sam will be here soon."

Dean scoffed which only resulted in another coughing fit and another splatter of red, this time across Cas' chest. He tried to take a deep breath but the gurgled wheeze only made it worse. His vision whited out for a moment, the pain of his broken ribs scraping over themselves overwhelming his nerves.

Cas let himself half fall against the wall, using his position to leverage himself down into a sit. He readjusted his grip on Dean, guiding the hunter to be leaning fully against his chest. He gently placed two fingers on Dean's head, trying and failing to use the ghost of his grace to see just how badly he was hurt.

Dean finally breathed through the latest wave of agony, his eyes half focusing again on a room that now seemed entirely too dark. He took a shaky breath, this one managing not to end in hacking up a lung, and he let himself go boneless in Cas' arms.

Cas listened to Dean's wet wheezing breath, hoping that Sam was wrong. That somehow he was going to get here sooner than he'd said. That any second he'd bust in through the door with a first aid kit and a fast ride to medical help. But the moments stretched onward and no rescue arrived. He felt the hunter in his arms shift slightly and he turned his attention back to him.

Dean blinked heavily, looking up at Cas. "Your tie… s'nice."

"Yeah." He said quietly, feeling a fresh wave of guilt for his inability to do anything.

Dean's face tightened into a slight scowl. "Better before the blood."

"Dean-"

The hunter raised a shaky hand and touched the bottom of the blue fabric, only succeeding in adding more blood to the mess. "Sorry." He slurred.

"Forget about the tie." Cas insisted. He held Dean closer. "Just keep breathing."

"M' trying." Dean protested.

"Keep trying."

Dean let his hand drop, his face sliding to rest more firmly against the angel's shirt, head just slightly pushing back the tan overcoat. "Don't leave…"

"I'm not." Cas said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good…"

Cas wrapped his arm around Dean's head, absently running his fingers through his hair.

"Cas…" Dean struggled to move, pushing away from him again.

Cas straightened, helping Dean to rest up against the wall, taking the time to try and get him into a position where he could support himself. He almost succeeded.

Dean met his eyes, easier to do from his new position. "I got s'mthing to say." He coughed again, the red on his lips replenishing itself. "It's time-"

"No, Dean."

"Cas… I…" He let his gaze rest back on the ground, aware of the pressure building up in his chest. "Dunno if I'll get the chance again…"

"Sam will be here soon." Cas stressed, refusing to acknowledge any alternative.

"Cas… please."

Cas wasn't too surprised to feel hot tears wash down his face, a knot of dread settling deep in his stomach. Whenever his grace was exhausted like this, he found it far harder to mask any emotions. He was far too close to human. "Dean-"

"Cas, I love you."

Cas closed his eyes, the dread strengthening and threatening to choke him. "You don't have to-"

"Yeah… I do." Dean insisted, trying to sort out his words. "You… If I… you deserved t' hear it before…"

"Sam will be here soon."

"If he's not in time… I… Cas I should've said it sooner."

"You can say it later. After we get you to the hospital."

Dean gave a weak smile. "You're giving me an out." He accused.

"I think you wouldn't be saying it if you weren't so badly hurt." Cas replied truthfully.

"Well good thing 'm hurt."

Cas managed a brief pained laugh in spite of everything. "Dean…"

"I mean it."

"I know."

Dean lost his last bit of strength, accepting Cas' assistance in settling him once more against the angel's chest. "Sorry." He muttered again.

"It's okay." Cas whispered back, leaning his head down until his chin was almost buried in Dean's hair.

Dean let out his breath. "This wasn't how I thought this would go." He felt Cas' hand run up and down his shoulder, taking comfort from it. "I 'magined sayin' it sometimes."

"Oh?" Cas asked, quietly, trying to encourage Dean to keep talking. If he was talking, he was breathing. If he was breathing, he was alive.

"I always thought I'd be more…"

"Eloquent?"

"Conscious." Dean finished. He tried to pull his head back to get a read on what Cas was feeling, but his neck didn't want to cooperate with his wishes. He felt his eyes flutter shut for a moment, the world slowing down.

"Dean." Cas said sharply, giving him a brief shake to wake him back up. "Stay with me."

" 'M not goin' anywhere." Dean said, blinking a few times to try and focus again. "I'm here."

"Keep breathing."

" 'M not just saying it because I'm dying…"

"You're not dying."

"I love you." Dean repeated.

Cas reached down, cupping Dean's cheek in his hand, blood smearing beneath his fingers. He looked into Dean's eyes, waiting the long moment until they finally focused on his. "I love you, Dean Winchester." He tilted Dean's head up slightly, pressing their lips together briefly, trying to ignore the sharp tang of iron on his mouth when he pulled away.

Dean gave a small sigh, pain canceled out with a sort of warm relief for just a moment. "Thank you…"

"Shut up." Cas replied, sounding like Dean for a moment.

"I hope…" Dean took a moment to catch his breath, even talking starting to exhaust him now. "I want to do that again…"

"We will."

"M'ybe without the blood."

"I'd like that."

Dean closed his eyes, this time leaning into the angel's chest on purpose. "Sam will be… soon." He whispered, feeling his grip on consciousness loosen. "How long?" He managed, words almost impossible to make out.

Just as he was trying to calculate, Cas heard the rumble of the impala at the end of the drive. "I can hear him now. Just keep breathing."

"I am. 'M breathing."

Louis had been fifteen when he was told he had a year to live. At nineteen, he knew it was time to make peace with himself and with whatever limited days he has left. 

Louis walked into the city’s rec center where ten folding chairs were placed around the basketball court in a circle. The pamphlet in his hand mentioned something about mutual aid and helper therapy. But in reality, Louis had found that dying was lonely, and maybe having someone else to do it with would make it hurt less. 

“I was in a band, before this. We called ourselves Dream Child,” A slow and soft manchester accent said just as Louis took the last empty chair, ten minutes late. “Because my mum used to say I was her dream child, after I defied all of the doctor’s thoughts that I would die before I turned one.”