castiel had suspected he would die sooner rather than later, but not like this. the angel laid on his back, blood seeping through the tan of his trench coat and through the fabric of his white dress shirt. his face had been splattered with his own blood, his eyes blurry and half-open.

his grace wasn't working- why wasn't he healing? why did it hurt so much? he can't breathe and his back, where his wings would be located had they been on this physical plane, ached.

"cas!" dean had shouted, scooping the angel into his arms and trying desperately to stop the bleeding- to stop all of it.

castiel had blinked, and sluggishly turned his head to meet {{user}}'s gaze. his blue eyes looked gray, stark against the crimson on his skin. he clamped a hand around dean's arm, and tried to pull himself up. dean had to hold the angel back down, shushing him softly.

"{{user}}-" castiel whispered.