Farther to Fall

Cas wasn't stupid.  Even after all the drugs, all the alcohol, he was nowhere near stupid.  He knew Dean meant for him and the others to be nothing more than a distraction.  He knew Dean didn't expect any of them, including himself, to live.  That's not to say knowing made him feel any better about it, but feeling was something he tried to avoid in general.

He watched as the inexplicable past version of Dean realized the same thing he'd already come to terms with.  Future Dean was sending them up the creek without a paddle.  He looked around, taking stock of the people with him.  In less than an hour's time they'd all be nothing less than empty corpses.  It should be a pity, but really, death in the apocalypse was more like a blessing.

Cas sighed and checked his gun again.  He'd at least be able to take some Croats down with him.  The Dean of the present came back without the Dean of the past and Cas knew he'd objected to his plan and had been subdued.  Dean gave them their final instructions although Cas was barely listening.  He was too busy studying his features, trying to find a similarity between the two Deans, but he saw none.

He stood when everyone else stood, clutching his gun tightly as he prepared to run towards certain death.  They moved, but he stopped in front of Dean.  He looked into his hard, green eyes.  "Goodbye Fearless Leader," he said with a soft smile.  He took note of the shocked expression on Dean's face - he hadn't expected Cas to know - before taking off.

His stop put him behind the others but he could hear gunfire from all over the building.  He managed to slip past everyone, human and Croat alike on the bottom floor, running up the stairs with his gun at the ready.

A Croat ran towards him when he reached the landing but he shot her down before one jumped him from behind, grabbing him and throwing him into the wall.  He felt his left wrist snap on impact and his gun skittered away from him, but he bit down the cry of pain that threatened to escape his lips.

Numbly he remembered he had a handgun tucked into the small of his back, but before he could reach for it, the Croat was on him.  The Croat slammed his shoulders against the wall, effectively pinning the gun behind him.  A knife flashed in a ray of sunlight and Cas felt a sharp pain on his chest.  Before he could react the Croat had slapped her open palm against the wound, and Cas knew there was a similar cut on her hand.

With a surge of anger and fear he slammed his head into her face, sending her backwards.  Her weight shifted off him enough for him to be able to grab the gun out of his waistband.  She snarled and made to come after him again but he brought his arm around and fired.  She crumpled to the ground in front of him.

He lowered his gun and let his head thunk back against the wall for a moment, breathing unsteadily.  Once he caught his breath he turned his attention to the cut on his chest.  It wasn't deep, but that wasn't his worry.  There was blood smeared all over the skin around it, but he couldn't be sure if it was all his.  Pulling himself forward with his uninjured arm he grabbed the dead Croat's hand.  He turned it over to see her palm, and let out a soft groan as he sat back against the wall.  Underneath his blood was a fresh cut.

He'd been infected.

He rested his head against the wall and took a deep breath.  The Croat's blood had entered his bloodstream.  He could imagine the virus moving through his veins, bonding with his cells, changing everything that he was.

But hadn't he already changed?  Hadn't he been an angel once, a warrior of God, the one who gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from perdition?

And then he hadn't been anymore.  Sure, it was more gradual than that, but it all amounted to one long fall and a single jarring impact at the bottom.

Well, it seems the bottom's fallen out on him and he has farther still to fall.

He wondered if he'd go to heaven.  Or if he was bound for an eternity in hell.  He smiled mirthlessly as he toyed with his gun, there would be no savoir for Cas, no one was going to pull him from the hellfire if that's where he was destined.

He laughed out loud as the word 'destined' went through his mind.  Hadn't Dean always been the one urging him to fuck destiny?  It looks like destiny had fucked him, leaving him here infected.

He looked down at the gun in his hand.  It was simple, really, he wasn't going to become a Croat.  Besides, his only reason for living was about to get himself killed by Lucifer, the ultimate suicide-by-cop.

He tilted his head back and placed the gun against the underside of his chin.  He closed his eyes and visions hellfire and angels wings danced on his eyelids as he pulls the trigger, committing his last act of free will.