Prologue

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The word was burning.

Not literally. Not yet.

Maybe it wouldn't. Not this time. Not if Cas managed to go through with this.

Of course he had known what Dean was planning. When they'd been told there was a way out of this that required nothing more than the sacrifice of a single willing life, Cas had instantly been sure what would be going through Dean's head. When he'd looked at him, it had simply confirmed what he already knew.

Of course Dean would plan to make that sacrifice. No hesitation, no questions asked.

No thoughts of himself, no thoughts of those around him.

No selfishness, no faith that someone would miss him, would even care.

Of course, Dean hadn't told any of them that he would do it, but he didn't need to. Cas knew.

He also knew he'd rather die than let that happen. It seemed almost convenient that that was exactly what he could do - die to keep Dean from doing it himself.

The choice had been easy. It hadn't even been a choice, really.

There had never been anything more important to Cas than Dean's life.

He didn't tell Dean. For the same reason Dean hadn't told any of them. He knew they'd just try to talk each other out of it, claiming they should be the one making that sacrifice so the other could live.

Dean would never understand that to Cas, giving his life to save Dean wasn't a sacrifice at all. That he'd also be saving the rest of humanity in the same stroke seemed more like a convenient side-effect.

He just needed to act quicker than Dean.

He had everything planned out in his head, the materials he'd need, the words he had to learn, the silent goodbyes he had to say.

He knew Dean would be furious with him, would rage and curse and grieve. But it didn't matter. It would be too late by then.

And Dean would live. He'd live and move on eventually. He'd forgive and forget and find peace. Maybe even happiness.

At least that was what Cas kept telling himself.

~oOo~

Everything had gone according to plan, the candles placed in a circle throwing their flickering light on the walls of his room at the bunker, illuminating the marks that had appeared on his body as he recited the words, marking him as a soul worthy and willing to sacrifice its light for the life of many.

He didn't linger long studying the tattoo-like markings littering his chest though -it was of no consequence anyway- simply pulling his shirt back on and buttoning it with practised, swift fingers, the cut on his palm already healed.

The familiar weight of his trenchcoat felt comforting as it settled on his shoulders, his hand feeling in its pocket for the square shape of the mixtape, closing around it like a lifeline.

He didn't even need to check to know that his angel blade was there, ready to be of service one last time.

He had everything he needed, just as he'd planned.

His mind was made up, his prayers spoken, his goodbye letters written and securely placed in the drawer of his bedside table.

Just as he'd planned.

He had not planned for the door to suddenly burst open, pushed so forcefully it slammed against the wall, the rush of air blowing out some of the nearer candles and bathing the corners in darkness.

He hadn't planned for Dean to stand in the doorway, his expression a mixture of worry, disbelief and anger.

He hadn't planned for his heart to constrict quite so painfully at the sight of those green eyes staring at him, so hurt as they took in Cas' surroundings, so desperate and accusatory as they met Cas' own.

"You did it, didn't you?"

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