After the Storm, a supernatural fanfic

After the Storm

"And now I cling to what I knew

I saw exactly what was true

But oh no more.

That's why I hold,

That's why I hold with all I have.

That's why I hold"

-Mumford and Sons

Castiel

Cas could not believe how purely and wholesomely unlucky he was. His mom's voice, telling him that every opportunity was one he should accept and enjoy, suddenly rang in his ears. Well mom, you were never presented with the blackmail-laced "opportunity" to go out and write a story about the salt of the earth, the nation's hard-working backbone that has no plumbing, no WiFi, no normal transportation besides whatever they ride around out there; perhaps cows? I, however, was, and I'm on the road at six in the morning to go write about the never-ending excitement of fertilizer and tractors. Cas heaved an exasperated sigh and began fiddling with a dial on the ancient radio, not really expecting much, seeing as how the comforting skyline of the city, his home, had melted into the sun-kissed horizon behind him. The fluorescent lights on the dashboard screamed to him that it was almost seven, and the golden rays of light just beginning to permeate the sleek leather interior of his car did much to support that pixelated number. Cas, however, still felt as if it was five, and he was just sliding out of bed and enjoying the sight of the sleeping city enclosed in the comforting blanket of the night-time through the wall-sized window next to his bed. The apartment itself was small and the kitchen could barely fit a pan, let alone a full grown man who couldn't cook anyway, but he had bought it for the view and the view alone. His mom would never have liked it, she would have insisted on cooking him a good sit-down meal, but he would so much rather just go out and allow people to do it for him. Cas gently fingered the delicate gold ring that had once encircled his mom's delicate and pale hands that had once depicted a happy family of two, then an even happier family of three. Now the tiny diamond embedded at the center caught the rays of light and reflected instead one man, full of guilt.

The snow had been falling all day. Two parents pull out of their driveway, both smiling and talking and bundled up against the cold chill. The mom is beautiful, with a shock of red hair falling softly in her blue-green eyes. The dad has long auburn hair that falls about his neck, and almost golden eyes. He is looking at his wife with so much love in his eyes as she attempts to read the address written in a messy scrawl along a small piece of paper. She looks up, in the middle of a sentence, and catches his gaze. She flashes a soft smile and leans over to brush her lips ever so softly against his. Everyone they know can tell that they where made for each other, they had one of those loves that a person reads in a book; childhood friends that finally admitted their feelings in high school, and had been inseparable ever since. They married and had a beautiful child and where, by every definition, happy.

Cas shook his head, as if that action alone could relieve him of a scar in his mind, burned permanently into the part of his brain that had once loved, and had not since. As if on cue, that song came on the radio. It was electrical impulse, an echo caused by a series of other electrical impulse that played an echo of sound waves, that was the crack in the wall he had put up around that night in his mind. He was only ten, just a whisper of who he was to become, young, bright, happy in the way that only children can be.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

The boy, now back in the car after a seemingly long writing lesson, was heading toward the promise of warm soup and television before bed. He watched the snow swirl about the window, futilely trying to gain entrance into the fatal warmth of the car.

Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Cas was trying as hard as he could to both drive and keep his mind from collapsing in on itself. This was one of the worst episodes he had had in many months, and the only he had had in a car. If he wasn't slowly malfunctioning, he would have been worried, but instead his grip on the steering wheel alternately tightened and loosened and his head whipped back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut, defending themselves from seeing what was already playing before him.

The screech of tires was loud enough for no one to hear, even though there were houses brightening the roads across from them, for they where safely snuggled up with their families. They would never know that a family similar to theirs would be cut short by an old tree that almost seemed to have spent its entire life waiting for them to be driving back from the lesson when it was just a little too dark, and little to slippery, and they were going just a little too fast.

Cas no longer had any control of his limbs, and if asked wouldn't be able to state where he was going or where he was or who he was. Cas wasn't Cas. Cas was a broken man who was currently re-living the night where the glass displaying his picture-perfect life shattered.

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,

I can hear them say

When you are about to die, there's a very quiet and wonderful place you go. The boy would not hear the screams of his parents, nor the choked sound coming from his own throat. He would not feel his arm breaking, or the feeling of warm blood spilling from the many points on his lacerated body. He was in a place of perfect calm that he would never remember. The very last place he would go before he had to hear and feel exactly what happened. The snap of his dad's neck as the car wrenched of the slim highway and down the steep embankment sounded through the idyllic air.

"MOM PLEASE I'M HERE PLEASE MOM DON'T LEAVE!"

The screams of his mother, calling his name for a moment before she joined his father. Then silence. Silence that mirrored that of the boy's calm mind. He was in agony, but unaware. There were hands on him, people around him. He was screaming. Crying. Dying. But if you where to ask him what had occurred, he would be unable to tell you why he was doing this, just that he felt that something was horribly wrong. That he just wanted his mom to hold him and his dad to take him home so they could eat the soup she had made. He just wanted to watch tv and then have his mom tuck him in and kiss his head. He wanted his dad to read him one of his books and then check his closet for monsters.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

"Gabriel and Anna Peterson, deceased at about 6:04 pm on August 25th. Castiel Peterson, showing weak vital signs. Will be put on life support and transported to a hospital ASAP."

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man,

Well, it surely means that I don't know

"Castiel Peterson showing signs of reactivity. Will be monitored closely, but chances of waking are optimal."

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune,

But I hear the voices say

"Castiel Peterson woke up at exactly 4:13 pm on September 3rd. First recorded response is as follows: "My mom. I- I need to say hi. I forgot to say hi. Where is my mom?"

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more no!

"Castiel Peterson now almost fully recovered physically. He has regained function of his legs and has been walking in longer and longer intervals each day to get his strength back. He is mentally stable, but in a position of denial. He makes the staff keep his door open for when his parents visit and has been demanding two meals in addition to his in case they are hungry. He continues to ask the staff if they would go find his mom and dad so they can go eat their soup. Custody arrangements have been made. His aunt Ellen Singer and uncle Bobby Singer have no children of their own and have volunteered to be his guardians. Extensive therapy and continued medical observation will be necessary to ensure a smooth recovery."

Carry on,

You will always remember

Carry on,

Nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

Cas remembers everything after that.

Bobby and Charlie leading him into their modern apartment overlooking the city. Sitting in his room, looking at the stuffy, crowded city full of pointless people with pointless lives. Wishing for the small suburban house that spent nine months covered in snow and the other three rain-soaked. He missed the silence, the white picket fence, the big snow jacket his mom would put on. He missed the hot chocolate, the songs of the winter birds, the biting cold of a new morning, the way the sun made a pile of snow into a mound of crystal that glittered and shone. He missed the kind neighbors, the long walks they took, but mostly he missed his parents. The way they smiled at him, at each other. The warm plate of bacon and eggs always waiting for him, always arranged in a smiley face. The days he spent in the yard with his dad, playing whatever sport he was into that week. Helping his dad chop firewood, then going inside to help his mom cook. He missed watching shows with his parents, holding their hands, listening to their voices as they read Where the Sidewalk Ends, his favorite book. He missed everything about his old life.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry,

Don't you cry no more,

The guilt cut through him until he could no longer think straight. Therapist after therapist passed, each trying in some new and modern way to convince him that it wasn't his fault. Cas wished he could somehow explain that deep down he knew it wasn't his fault, but a ten year old boy who jut lost his family needs to blame someone, and the only person Cas could find was himself. It was his fault. He had killed his mom and dad.

No more!

Cas had been sitting in his car for about a minute, watching the new day's light catch on the glass shards and spread bloody rainbows on the walls and roof of his car. His hands twitched nervously in his lap, his fingers intertwined and trembling. Something warm and red was pouring into his eyes, but Cas simply ignored it and allowed a rivulet of tears to join in its descent. A man wearing an obscene amount of leather suddenly materialized at the window of the car. He looked at Cas, large green eyes reflecting the sight of a man who has been truly broken. A deep voice with a hint of a southern drawl permeated the deafening silence, "Sir? SIR? Are you ok? Son of a bitch," he rubbed his hair and looked around for help that would not be offered. He turned back Cas and said, "Ok I'm not trying to pull anything, I'm gonna get you out of your car and take you inside ok? You crashed into a tree and you are bleedin' pretty bad…" He waved his hand in front of Cas' blank face. Cas' head turned slowly, and for a moment, a deep blue rested on light green. "I want to go home." With that, Cas broke into a fresh set of tears that carried the blood down his face. The man just shook his head and then reached into the car and slowly extracted Cas, who wrapped his arms around his neck and held him as if he was his last hold on humanity itself. The man turned and began to walk towards the large, red and white house silhouetted against the forgiving warmth of the new day. Why do I get involved? the man thought, shaking his head yet again.

Dean

Dean worked his way back up the stairs, timing the sound of boots on wood with the swish of the screen door as it brushed the rotting doorframe. He tentatively moved his rough hands up to his throbbing ear, feeling the warm blood he knew would be there. He clicked down the hallway, looking at the pictures on the wall that left a facade of a happy family. Well we were a happy family once, but now one fire, one fight and countless bottles of Jim Beam's Famous Cheap Whiskey later, me and my dad are left, and we aren't happy. As if on cue, the backfire of his father's truck broke the quiet country stillness, and Dean sighed. He would not see him for a few weeks, and when he a cloud of debt and broken laws would follow him, which would end up on him. Dean washed his face with the blessedly chilled water that flowed from the rusty sink. Come on Dean he stared at the mirror, trying to intimidate his reflection, you got a cute guy in there lying in your bed. Pull yourself together and go help him. His reflection did not break under the intense glare of his emerald eyes. Instead, it mockingly displayed the image of a man who's tough and powerful semblance was only deep as the dirty and calloused layer of skin over it, and underneath boiled the uncertainty and deep-rooted anger that romance novelists seem to love bestowing upon their characters. These unfortunate characters will eventually meet the man or woman of their dreams who holds the key to sudden and improbable recovery from everything, and will most definitely be contained in a cover bearing a title written in elusive, floating cursive and depicts the idealized couple standing together in the sunset. Ya right, Dean scoffed to no one, I would be more likely to shoot someone before I was healed by them. That guy in there is probably better off then me, although it doesn't seem like it, but my crazy is just locked up in here. Dean tapped the side of his head that had not been subjected to domestic violence, emphasizing the location of his insanity to the invisible audience who where currently captivated by his tale of woe and strength. A true diamond in the rough. Dean laughed.

Dean sorted through his stack of CD's and finally settled on one of his personal favorites, Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet." The opening notes to "Livin' on a Prayer" faded into the room and created the rich, marinated feeling of a man with nothing left embracing his situation and just learning to carry on. Dean closed his eyes and mentally followed the soothing bass notes and flowing strum of guitar in his mind. He pictured the notes in a concrete form, swishing about the small space in the form of brilliantly-colored butterflies that shimmered in the noonday sun, fragile and beautiful and full of hope. He stood there, just breathing in and enjoying the thought of having redemption, gaining freedom from the hell of his own mind. But the final notes fluttered through the air and dissolved in a perfect reverberation of sound, and Dean was back to the beaten-down man with a dead-beat daddy and a long history that haunted him in the shadows. "Dead or Alive" slipped perfectly in after it, and filled the air with it's comforting melody. Dean sighed, slicked back his hair, and headed back into his room.

The man was still out, fast asleep on the bed. Dean sat in the chair, watching the calm of his face as he slept, wishing he had a similar opportunity. He dipped the bloody cloth back into the cool, clear water and slowly ran it across the man's currently relaxed, yet worry-shadowed face and gently caressed the clotted lacerations on his arm, not quite sure what he was doing or if it was helping, but just wanting some excuse to touch him. You are so lucky you are cute Dean said, smiling down at the sleeping figure. If I didn't love blue eyes, you would be out in the barn sharing hay with the cows. Dean smoothed the hair back from his head and kissed his forehead. It's truly amazing, spend many years isolated from society and any peers, and the first boy who comes along and crashes into your tree and cries on your shoulder has you falling over yourself to please him. With a loud sigh, he straightened up and padded down to the kitchen and began to assemble the necessary ingredients (beef, butter, and other various redneck things) to make dinner for the man who might not even wake up. Dean would bring him the food and eat his, watching the man and hoping that he would wake and give him company.

Because although he would never admit it, Dean was undeniable and indescribably lonely.

Castiel

What you feel when you open your eyes in the morning basically determines the way the rest of your day goes. Cas was going to have a horrible day. Waking up felt like being burned, punched, knifed, and forced to watch the Nature Channel marathon all at once. His arms felt as if they where on fire, but also strangely wet… Who the fuck got water all over me? Jesus christ they're lucky I didn't bleed out. I mean, all two people that know I exist might get slightly agitated. Cas smiled humorlessly, waiting for the tortured laugh track to suddenly rip through the air. Of course it didn't, and instead Cas laid there and continued to feel sorry for himself. Suddenly, a strident jingling approached the bedroom, and Cas had only a few seconds to decide if he should play dead or not before a man wearing the most garish boots he had ever seen burst dramatically in, leather jacket swaying heroically in the sticky afternoon breeze. Crazy visions of the "Redneck Superman" swam through Cas' head, but he dismissed them agitatedly. The man smiled at Cas.

"How are you feelin'?"

Cas smirked in response, "Peachy."

Whether the man disregarded the sarcasm or missed it completely Cas would never know, but either way his next words came without a hitch.

"I made some breakfast if you are feeling up to it," the man said, gesturing to the door, "The name's Dean, by the way."

"Castiel," Cas could feel his guard building itself, beginning to shield everything that hid within its protective walls. Cas slowly slid out of bed, watching Dean, but his eyes were torn from him by a sudden and unexpectedly cold breeze on his chest.

"Where is my shirt?" Cas spared a fleeting glance under the sheets to make sure he had not been unconsentedly undressed any further. Dean watched this process, feigning disinterest, but truly enjoying the way his whole upper body glowed in the forgiving sunlight.

"Drying on a clothesline, I thought you might want a little help getting the… stains… out. I did my best, there's still a few spots, but I figured since the shirt was the same color you wouldn't mind too much…" Dean trailed off as he registered the sudden change of mood in the room. Cas, although physically the same, was now in full defense mode, his walls completely up and his heart switched off. The way Dean talked a little too fast, the way he fidgeted, the eagerness to please, all of these where red flags in his mind.

"That is fine. You can keep it." Cas' voice was hard and emotionless. Dean cleared his throat and fiddled with whatever weird farmer charm he was wearing on his neck.

"I'll be downstairs." In comparison to Cas', Dean's voice was saturated in emotion, sadness, loneliness, anger. Even three simple words can weave a complex tale. Cas waited until the now dejected jingling rounded the corner again before he released the breath he didn't think he had been holding.

"God dammit."

Cas finally did go downstairs, finding his way through the labyrinth of narrow hallways into the kitchen, where he slid into one of the wooden chairs surrounding the printed tablecloth. Dean greeted him with an annoyingly warm smile, and Cas smiled back, exercising his skills in fake smiles. Dean stood and grabbed a plate off the lime green counter, then set it in front of Cas, following it up with a glass of orange juice and a silver fork. Cas stared down at the plate, and the bacon and eggs stared mockingly back. Cas looked up at Dean.

"May I use your phone?"

For a split second, Dean's face fell, but snapped back to a passive disinterest in the next.

"In the living room."

Cas stood and adventured back into the hallway maze. Unbeknowst to him, the second he was out of earshot Dean would angrily grab the plate and unite it with the dinner he had cooked last night, which had been alone in the garbage after waiting alongside Dean for multiple hours, holding onto the false hope that Cas would suddenly awake and keep them both company.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean would yell at the trashcan, "why do I always have to mess everything up?"

"Please sir, I'm stranded in cowboy wonderland. There was an… accident with the car and I-"

"There was a WHAT?"

"An.. accident. I fully accept responsibility and will pay for repairs, but I'm currently miles away from where I need to go and I need the jet to bring me back to the city and then-"

"I can't do that Mr. Peterson. I may be the boss, but there's been a bad storm system over us, and it's far too dangerous to even send out a bush plane. I'm sorry, but you are just gonna have to make it work."

"Make what work? I'm in the middle of nowhere, I have no WiFi, and am surrounded by hospitable country folk. I can't even do the story on the other farm-"

"Forget the story. This could be good for you, taking a break."

"But sir-"

"You will thank me later."

Click.

You have got to be kidding me.

By the time Cas made his way back to the kitchen, Dean had grabbed a newspaper and was leaning against the counter, pretending to be enthralled by stock exchanges, though in actuality he had no idea what they where. Cas sat and looked up.

"Well?"

Dean looked surprised. "Well what?"

"Where did my food go?"

Dean's cheeks suddenly bloomed red, and Cas heaved an exasperated sigh.

"That's it, I'm walking ho-"

Cas turned suddenly, tuning into the background sounds. He bypassed Dean's confused and still embarrassed face to the old CD player.

"This song-"

Do you love me?

(I can really move)

Do you love me?

(I'm in the groove)

Ah, do you love?

(Do you love me)

Now that I can dance

(Dance)

Cas sat back at the table, his mouth open, staring at Dean with a new appreciation.

"Do you like it?"

Cas laughed, closing his eyes and humming to the familiar lyrics. In his thick defense walls appeared a tiny fissure, just big enough to let out the warm glow of a favorite memory.

Watch me now, oh

(Work, work)

Ah, work it all baby

(Work, work)

Well, you're drivin' me crazy

(Work, work)

With a little bit of soul now

(Work)

"Do You Love Me by The Contours? Yah, I love this song. My mom and dad used to play it and dance around in the living room with me. My mom was a great dancer, always knowing exactly where to put her feet. My dad wasn't very good, he would always trip and run into stuff, but he would be laughing the whole time. We…" Cas stopped.

I can mash-potatoe

(I can mash-potatoe)

And I can do the twist

(I can do the twist)

Now tell me baby

(Tell me baby)

Mmm, do you like it like this

(Do you like it like this)

Tell me

(Tell me)

Tell me

Dean crossed the room to Cas, not trying to hide his interest.

"What happened?"

Cas sniffled, facing away from Dean and trying to get himself under control.

"Nothing."

Dean would not give up. "Why don't you want to tell me? I mean honestly, we are all crazy here, so why not help each other?"

Cas whirled around and glared at Dean. His voice was low and dangerous.

"You have not known me very long, but I can tell you here and now that I am not worth your help. I am crazy, unstable, and unlovable. I have never been loved the way I was before my parents…" A brief pause, "…before my parents died. I'm broken Dean. I can't love, and even if I could, I highly doubt the man who was left be worth the effort. I'm not worth saving, Dean. So don't start."

Cas turned and pushed through the screen door and marched out towards the barn. Dean was left alone.

Do you love me?

(Do you love me)

Now, do you love me?

(Do you love me)

Now, do you love me?

(Do you love me)

Now that I can dance

(Dance)

Dance

Dean

Dean finally decided to go and check on Cas when he heard a friendly 'moo' intertwined with a high-pitched scream. He had been sitting at the table, tracing the stitched pattern with his eyes, following the lines with the same precision his mom always had whenever she was thinking about something. His mom had been a strong woman, supporting the family in a way that would never be replicated again once she passed. She balanced checkbooks, made important phone calls, struggled with the little income the family farm brought in. She jumped from job to job, going wherever money was best, sometimes waking at five and not dragging herself through the door until midnight. What she always had to look forward to, no matter how long or how trying the day, was that Dean would be sitting at the table across from her usual spot that seemed the most important wooden chair ever to exist. The first night this occurred, Dean refused to comply with being lifted out of his high chair until his mom came back and ate with them together. John, having already put Sam to bed, smiled at him, ruffled his hair, and sat at his chair. Together, they waited through the night until her car pulled up and she came through the door, exhausted, with makeup running down her face and her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She took one look at them and smiled. This was what she was working for. Her happy family. Their happy family. Dean never stopped waiting after that. He would sit at his spot and read or play video games until he heard the backfire of her car and the click of her heels up the cracked driveway, sometimes muffled by a layer of snow. She would smile and kiss his head, and Dean would say, "I see you mom," as he had since he was a child. No one in his family ever outright said "I love you," so this was Dean and his mother's exchange, which, for them, meant even more than "I love you." She would run her fingers through his hair and say, "I see you too." They would sit, sometimes for hours, just quietly staring down at the tablecloth, lost in their own worlds but united by the pure love that is only shared by mother and child. When she died, Dean continued this ritual for a year, always sitting at the table, staring at the most important yet the most lonely chair in human history, waiting, with an extra place setting waiting for her. John hated it. He beat Dean, yelled at Dean, once even drove the chair to the dump. That night, there where many reports of an unidentified child without a parent walking his way through one of the worst storms that year, dragging a wooden chair behind him. Dean did not do it every night now, but simply whenever he was feeling like he was lost or scared or had simply lost sight of her. He felt closest to his mom where they had spent most of their time together, but also the furthest away, for while he sat in this seat, on the other side of town, at the Supernatural Publishing Co. where he mom had taken a secretary job, there was a janitor who had just broken up with his girlfriend. This janitor would have a drink as he was cleaning to cope, and because of this, he would forget to switch off a desk lamp. This desk lamp was due for a new bulb, but that manager at the company's wife who shipped the bulbs had just had a baby and had to delay shipping until he could run inspections the next day. As a result, the old bulb would spark just slightly, and this spark would hit a pile of unfilled paperwork that would have been filed if the person in charge did not have a first date to be flustered about, accidentally forgetting it on her desk. This small flame would spread to many other sets of papers, each with a story of its own, until it became a fire. And one woman, who had been at her car before realizing she had forgotten her phone on her desk, which would not have occurred if the coffee-deliverer had not bought new shoes the other day that where one size too big, for the store did not carry his size. He had tripped and spilled coffee on the woman, and in her haste to clean up, she had taken her phone out and left it on the desk and gone to the bathroom, and upon coming out had been slammed with meetings and filing until the very end of the day, but when she went to her desk, there was a pile of forms that had been accidentally placed over her phone by a man who had accidentally burned his cornea with some hot oil as he was making breakfast. This woman's death was a result of a complexly woven series of coincidences; if any of these had not occurred, four people would not have died, a car would pull into a cracked driveway and the woman would click into the house and sit with her son, who would say "I see you," upon which she would reply "I see you too." But they did happen. Four people did die. No car pulled into the driveway, no heels graced the house with their delicate clicking, and one child sat alone, through the night, waiting. And there he sat now, tracing the lines she did, tracing the faults in the fabric that she did. With a sigh, he got up and went to check on Cas.

What he saw almost immediately cheered him up. Cas was laying on the ground, struggling into a sitting position and shooting Garth the cow one of the dirtiest looks possibly ever created in all of time.

"What happened here?" Dean asked, swallowing a smile.

"It attacked me,"

Dean couldn't help himself.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Cas began to storm off in the other direction, but lost track of his footing and fell in a defeated heap. Dean wiped tears off his cheeks and ran over to him.

"Watch out, they can smell fear."

Cas rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile tugged his lips, and when Dean began to chuckle, Cas could no longer hold his pretenses of irritation. Soon they where both laughing together, Cas' gravelly chuckle mixed with Dean's musical giggle. Dean managed to get a hold of himself and offered his hand to Cas, who hesitantly took it and stood. There was a brief moment where they both pondered what had just happened.

I made him laugh.

Holy fuck he made me laugh.

Dean cleared his throat.

"I wanna show you something."

They walked so that they where not quite together, not quite separate. The crisp green grass folded underneath their feet, butterflies flitted from inviting wildflower to sage bushes, hungrily accepting their nectar. Bees hummed their song as they went about their business, hummingbirds followed suit. Thousands of different bird call rang out through the clear blue sky lit by the unobstructed sun that left this place as colorful and lively as it was. Each one was so uniquely different, and together they created a natural and complex melody that the best orchestra struggles to achieve. The occasional tree provided cool and inviting shelter from the sun, and many deer and squirrels gathered there to reap its rewards. Dean and Cas walked for a few moment before they reached a white fence enclosing a section of land that was occupied by-

"Horses?" Cas' eyes where comically wide, fascinated by the array of these beautiful animals. Dean enjoyed the look on his face for only a brief moment before answering.

"I thought that they where an easy starting point, seeing as cows didn't go over so well," Dean flashed a sideways smile at Cas before gesturing for him to follow.

"They are all nice, unlike the death machine cows, I promise."

Dean made his way through the field, occasionally patting horses as they passed, cooing to them. Eventually, they came up to one of Dean's favorites, a tall, sleek bay mare named Honey with a golden coat and all the white streaks that bays are famous for. Dean patted her lovingly, then looped a finger into the harness and lead her to one of the posts at the main stable where the tack was.

"Cas come here."

Cas shuffled forward the way you would walk up to the principal's office if you knew you where in trouble. Dean gently reached for his hand, but Cas moved it away. Dean looked up at Cas, and for a moment, there where no words, just the meeting of their eyes. Cas broke it off and then slowly surrendered his hand. Dean took it, splayed it, and then very slowly placed it on the horses' abdomen. When skin touched fur, Cas' whole body jolted and fear radiated off of him, but after a moment, Cas was stroking the horse and cooing her into her ears. Horse charms were ays-acting and could be avoided by no one. Dean left Cas with the horse, which he doubted Cas even noticed, to go and his, a dark brown male with a jet-black mane and tail named Brownie. He lead it to another post and quickly brushed and tacked it, then had to unsuction Cas from his horse so he could do the same.

"Are we-"

"Riding them?" Dean snapped the girth into place, then checked for bloat. "Of course."

Cas' eyes where round and blue and filled with unbridled wonder. Dean stood and turned to him.

"Ok now, what you are going to do is-"

It took a solid fifteen minutes and a large amount of encouragement, but Cas got on his horse and Dean swung his leg onto his. Dean moved ahead and opened the gate, but had to gallop back and do a quick lesson in horse steering. Another fifteen minutes passed, and they where finally on the trail, Dean leading and Cas finding his own rhythm behind walked for miles, not talking, just looking. Dean would occasionally look back, watching Cas' eyes as Cas watched the beautiful procession of colors. They passed by redwood forests that flowed into grassy fields, trotting through dry chaparral and around shinning ponds that teemed with pastel-colored life. Dean could almost see it reflecting in his blue eyes. Dean, in that moment, was completely sure that there was no one even remotely like Cas, nor would there ever be. He was so observant, reserved yet picking up every detail. Dean watched as Cas slowed down just a bit as a butterfly dipped and circled the horse in lazy, floating circles. Dean, the man who swore to never fall in love, fell, just a little bit. It was not like he could help it. Cas was the one man he couldn't help but fall for.

They rode a short distance more before reaching Dean's ultimate destination. He swung off his horse gracefully, then walked back to help Cas do his, and was surprised to see that he had already done so, perhaps not so gracefully, but had landed on his feet, and was now walking, his face completely awestruck, toward the vast expanse of shimmering ocean that lay ahead of them. Outlined against the water, lit by the sun, Cas looked almost angelic. There was no noise but the soft song of the waves as they caressed the sand. Dean slowly reached in his pocket and pulled out a camera. He snapped a picture, examined it, and then smiled and tucked it back into his pocket. He was going to keep that one.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

Dean did not respond right away, not quite sure what to say. Cas didn't seem to notice.

"Do you… Like it?"

Cas suddenly opened his eyes and turned to him, smiling almost ear to ear.

"I forgot that places so beautiful even existed anymore."

Cas closed his eyes and breathed in the deep air, then opened his eyes and swept the landscape. The path behind them was a rolling expanse of field split by rivers that followed their path to the ocean. Eventually, the green grass filtered into fine, white sand that had clearly not been regularly walked on. It was a small cove, blocked on both sides by tall beach cliffs, one of which held a shinning lighthouse.

"I want to live in one someday."

Dean was caught off-guard.

"In what?"

Cas pointed at it, and Dean smiled.

"For you, lighthouse it is."

Dean could see that that had been too far by the slight stiffening of Cas' body. Dean sighed. It was now or never.

"Cas…"

Cas closed his eyes again, and turned to face the sea.

"You said something… about…. not being worth saving. Riding the horses down here, Cas," Dean fingered his necklace, as he always did when he got nervous, "was to prove a point. You had never ridden anything besides cars before, but by the end you could do it Cas. You know why? Because you are amazing… because uhg… son of a bitch I'm not good with being philosophical. What I'm trying to get across besides shitty metaphors is the fact that we are both broken, Cas. In different ways, but both broken. I have never felt so attached to someone I have known for so little time, and… Cas I am willing to spend years and years putting the pieces back together in your mind. I am willing to deal with the bruised soul under all those barricades you put up. Because that soul, no matter how bruised, is your soul, and from what I have seen, it is truly beautiful and unique. You will have to deal with mine as well, but I promise, there is still a little Dean somewhere in there, we just have to find him."

Cas was looking at Dean. Seeing him, it seemed, for the first time. A soft breeze kicked up, and Cas closed his eyes and smiled softly.

"Dean I… I am afraid. I have no idea what is in here, but… I trust you. I know that sounds crazy, but I just trust you that you will take my heart and keep it safe, and in return, I will do the same. But…" Cas smiled suddenly and sashayed up the beach.

"You are going to have to woo me first, my fine sir."

Dean smiled softly and shook his head. He felt unmeasurably happy. He strolled over to a wild rose bush and plucked one of the blood-red buds, ignoring the sting of the thorns as they pierced his thumb. He straightened, picked off the thorns, and then strolled to where Cas was leaning against a rock. He bowed dramatically, sweeping the floor with an imaginary hat, then bent to one knee.

"May my first act of wooing be the offering of a fine wild rose, drenched in the blood of my thumb."

Cas looked worriedly at his thumb, but Dean waved him off. He didn't mind the cut.

"You look dashing."

Cas swallowed his smile and in a breathy English accent said,

"As do you, good sir." He stood and offered his arm, "would you mind escorting me to the water's edge?"

Dean did as told, but could not resist kicking a little water.

"Minus ten points for Dean…. my my, your stocks are in the toilet."

Dean laughed and pushed him playfully. They walked over to one of the big rock and lay against it, looking up at the sky.

"So why a lighthouse?"

There was a long pause, and Dean was beginning to think Cas wasn't going to answer at all.

"There is just something about them. They are like beacon of hope, overlooking the strongest storms and the deepest fog and helping those that are lost, just being able to be a part of that hope sounds so nice, doesn't it?"

Cas didn't wait for an answer.

"And my… my mom… would always uh… read me a story about a boy who lived in a lighthouse, and whenever I was sad she promised that one day we would live in one, and we could make warm fires and have good dinners and read books while we listened to the waves. I mean, to a kid, there was nothing that wasn't appealing about that. It sounds crazy I know, like no one wants to live in a stupid cylinder-"

"Cas."

Cas fell silent.

"I you want to live in a lighthouse, you are going to live in a lighthouse. Whether or not I'm with you, you have to promise to do whatever makes you happy. And Cas, I don't care how crazy or different or weird a dream is, if it will make you happy, it will happen. That is a promise."

They where so close. Dean could smell him, see each ring on his blue irises, see each droplet of sweat in a way HD could never capture. They could have kissed. So easily. But instead, Dean pulled out his camera and began documenting the scenery, the birds, the ocean, Cas.

They left broken men.

They came back as broken men with new hope.

And in each of them.

The tiniest piece fixed.

A slight softening of bruise.

Healing.

Castiel

And thus began a war. Both where aiming to make the other fall in love. They both knew that it was useless, they where both hopelessly in love already, but the challenge was too fun to pass up. Cas started by sneaking down to a flower stand and getting a boque roses and leaving them by Dean's bedside table while he was sleeping, then woke up to breakfast in bed. Cas wrote Dean a short story about a lighthouse. Dean drew a picture of himself as a knight and Cas as a princess. It was awful, and Cas loved it. He was in the middle of trying to figure out what to do next when Dean suddenly called him downstairs.

"Tornado warning."

Cas had noticed the ominous clouds that had plagued the morning, but failed to actually recognize them.

He could now see the twist in them and hear the strident song of the alarms that had just kicked on. Dean extended his arm and escorted Cas through the screen and locked it behind them. They walked together across the lawn, listening to the song of the wind that distorted the alarms. There seemed to be no sound. Cas was not frightened, even though the only weather he had ever really encountered was a snowstorm. He just felt could not put into words nor even comprehend it, he just felt safe. Dean unhinged his arm and pulled up a small trapdoor, pulling it open and bowing for Cas as he gracefully descended (fell) down the steep ladder leading down into a warmly lit cellar. It took Cas' eyes a second to adjust.

And another second to comprehend.

The small room was lit by a surrounding circle of candles that looked more like they where about to perform a ritualistic sacrifice than wait out a storm. In the center was a box with a white tablecloth on it, bearing another candle in the shape of a cow, a bottle of wine, and two plates of apple pie. Next to the table was a cassette player and a choice selection of cassettes. Dean was suddenly behind him.

"I think I win this round."

Cas managed to force down his surprise and fierce joy and replace it with a sarcastic smirk.

"Wine and pie?"

Dean smiled, seeing through Cas' thin facade.

"No greater combination."

Dean, for the first time, gently twined his finger's into Cas'. Cas, because of the pie, allowed it. He was lead to a beach chair, and sat as he watched Dean move to the cassette player. It's funny how the mind finds the weirdest times to remind a person of what seemed, at one point, to be a rather important thing to remember. Was Cas gay? He had never allowed himself to love, so he supposed it didn't matter. He already felt a strong attraction to Dean mentally, but now watching him move around in the warm candle light, his hair fluttering with his movement, the outline of his shoulders against the leather he wore, not to mention the supple curve of his butt against the faded denim of his jeans that was starting to make his heart beat. He had fallen in love with the personality, and the sexual attraction followed suite. Cas concluded that there was a part of him that was gay; perhaps a toe or one of his fingers that reduced him to the level of a young schoolgirl with a crush. He suddenly was very aware of his own appearance, and pointlessly attempted to smooth back his brown hair and fix the hem of his shirt. He looked up and met Dean's eyes. "Do You Love Me?" suddenly permeated the small room. Dean began to tap his foot and beckoned to Cas to join him. Cas smiled and shook his head.

"I'm an awful dancer."

"So am I. To hell with judgement. It's just you and me."

Cas decided that if he was going to embarrass himself, it might as well be now. He stood and took Dean's hand.

They where awful.

But neither cared.

Dean swung Cas around what little room they had, then pulled him back into an uncoordinated sort of square dance. Both laughed until they could barely stand. Dean spun Cas under his arm, then pulled him back until he was right against his chest. Cas was so close he could perfectly pick out every scent in the cologne he was wearing. Their eyes fixed for a moment, then Dean dipped Cas so low that they both ended up on the floor, crying with laughter. Dean crawled over to where Cas was and buried his head in his shoulder. They lay there for awhile, listening as the song faded and another old-fashioned dance song took its place. Outside, the wind howled, but neither noticed. Finally, the smell of pie beckoned them over and they moved to the dining box.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Let's both agree to never try out for Dancing With the Stars."

Cas laughed.

"Deal."

They finished the pie in silence and had a glass of wine between the two of them. Dean suddenly stood.

"You have to promise not to laugh, but I have an obligation I need to fulfill."

Cas' eyebrows lifted in confusion as Dean moved to the stack of cassettes, selecting one and placing it in the drive. A sudden piano filled the room, and Dean offered his hand. Cas knew the song before the lyrics began.

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

I don't have much money but boy if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

"Elton John?"

"I promised my mom that whenever I found someone I really liked, I would slow dance with them to this song, because this is the song she and my dad danced to when the first met. She may be dead, but she would probably slap me upside the head if I didn't."

Dean smiled sadly, and that was all the convincing Cas needed. He stood, crossed the small basement in about two steps, and folded himself into Dean's arms.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it's not much but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one's for you

Cas rested his chin on Dean's shoulder and pretended that the rest of the world had melted away and all that was left was he and Dean and Elton's voice filling the empty space.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Cas locked this moment away in his brain. He wanted to remember that there is a man who helped him, who was healing him, and had handed him the key to, for the first time, experience true bliss.

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Cas was suddenly aware of Dean humming along in his ear. He swore he had never heard anything more beautiful than when Dean got to the final line in that verse and whispered it into his ear.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Dean pulled away slightly.

"This is our song."

Those words where said in such a soft and loving manner that Cas melted, just a little. Dean saw his opportunity and took it. Two men, alone in a cellar, lit by candle light and swaying to the very last lines of "Your Song" shared the most brief yet powerful kiss in all of human history. Just the brush of lips. A soft sensation. A sudden warmth. Flowers bloomed in Cas' eyes. And he was in love. It had taken all of two days for Dean to break him, but once he did, Cas was broken. Cas leaned in and pressed his lips against Dean's, only adding a little bit of force. They stayed like that awhile. Dean finally broke off and looked at Cas with slightly dizzy yet completely warm eyes.

"I see you"

And Cas, without any background of what this meant, or why he said this, responded.

"I see you too."

And together, they waited out the storm.

Two of the loneliest men finally found each other.

And where no longer alone.

Castiel

Three relatively normal days had passed. Dean and Cas had not left each other's side, their hands where constantly tangled. They stole kisses whenever possible, and Cas had replaced the bouquet of roses of Dean's nightstand with a fresh one whenever he could. Since the tornado (which had not messed up any of the farm) had passed, Dean had renewed Cas' liking of farming. They did chores together, and Dean introduced him to all of the animals that occupied the farm. Cas even came to like the cows, with the help of Dean's confidence in them not to commit murder. On the third evening, Cas was sitting on a fence, watching as the sun made its slow descent to the horizon when Dean came behind him and wound his arms around his waist.

"I want to show you something."

Dean lead Cas into the barn and up a ladder that Cas had never noticed before. They came into a small loft, which featured a comfy looking bed and a wall-sized picture window that had a clear view of the ocean reflecting the setting sun. Cas turned and teasingly shoved Dean.

"So how many people have you taken up here Mr. Maneater?"

Dean laughed.

"None you pervert. This is where I would come if I just needed to escape."

Cas smiled and sat on the bed. Dean sat behind him and put an arm over his shoulder. And that was all the convincing Cas needed. He turned and pressed his mouth against Dean's, who had fittingly quick reflexes. His hands traced up Cas' back and tangled into his hair. Cas, as gently as he could with what felt like two thousand bolts of electricity being pumped through his body, pushed his hands under Dean's shirt, which took an annoying amount of effort because of the constricting layers he wore. Dean laughed breathlessly.

"Need some help?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dean shed his jacket and shirt with graceful ease and then pulled Cas back to him. Cas reciprocated quickly and Dean began to brush his lips along the contours of his neck and shoulders. Cas' eager hands explored the new area of skin and memorized every blemish, every flaw on his back and chest, everything that made him so uniquely Dean. Dean kissed back up his neck and smashed his mouth against Cas'. His stubble raked his chin, but his lips where soft and warm'. Cas began to fiddle with the garish buckle on Dean's belt, but with his shaky and sweaty hands it suddenly became harder that a Rubik's Cube. Dean laughed again and extracted his hands from Cas' hair and hipbone to aid him. Luckily for him, it took Dean a few moments as well, so Cas didn't look like a total dork. Dean wigged out of his pants in one of the hottest not hot dances Cas had ever seen. Once off, he flung them across the room and came back to Cas. This time, Cas found himself falling into the plush bed, followed by the delicious weight of Dean's body on top of him. He wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, feeling the tight muscles that worked there, and the other tangled in his soft brown hair. Dean began to slowly slide their bodies together, and Cas let out a half strangled groaning noise that accurately summed up both of their minds currently. He slid his hand down to Dean's ass and dragged it across the curve.

"Cute butt." He breathed into Deans ear.

"Uhng," Dean responded

Cas slowly broke the rhythm and, in a few moments, had removed his pants and underwear with a speed only known to twenty-year-old virgins. Deans eyes swept over him approvingly before he slid off the elastic waistband of his own boxers. There was a moment where neither moved, not really wanting to ruin the moment of how beautiful the other looked illuminated by the setting sun. The moment was over rather quickly. Cas took the bottom role and Dean once again fell upon him. The feeling of the wet heat of their body as well as the sudden contact between their extremely sensitive lower regions drew strangled moans from both members. Dean managed to resume the same motion as before, and both where soon groaning each other's names and various profanity.

"Fuckkkkk Dean… if you are planning on anything else tonight, you better stop cause I am… ahhhhh…. dangerously close."

Dean nodded and ended the slow grind he had been so proud of being able to coordinate. He slowly kissed down Cas' strong stomach that was slick with sweat. He kissed both of his inner thighs and on the line of muscle that lead to his ultimate destination. He moved painfully slow, slowly kissing up his shaft as he massaged both legs with his strong thumbs. Upon reaching the top, Dean traced the tip in a slow circle, making Cas moan and grip the sheets in his fists. He could sense how close he was, and tried to move slowly, but with just a couple strokes of his tongue he felt the premeditated convulsions in his body and a loud cry from Cas. The sound alone was one of the hottest things Dean had ever heard. In one instant, Cas' whole world went white and he thought he had gone blind. Then he turned and registered Dean looking at him lovingly.

"Your turn."

Dean scooted up and planted both knees on either side of Cas' shoulders, sensing he would not want to get up. Cas kissed the tip, swirling his tongue almost professionally against it. He then took him in his mouth, sliding slowly down and drawing a long line of jumbled profanity from Dean. He twirled his tongue and his hands came up and gripped his butt. Cas made two more long passes, then finished him in two short movements of his head. Dean came on Cas' chest and flopped on top of him. They lay there for a moment, both trying to regain control of their limbs. Finally, Dean rolled off the bed and grabbed the two pairs of boxers, putting one on and throwing the other to Cas. Dean crawled back in and pulled back the covers so they could go underneath. Dean curled along Cas' back and stroked his hair.

"Do you want to know why I say 'I see you' instead of I love you?"

"Of course."

Dean told him everything, his mother, his father, the brother that left, and when Cas heard his voice crack, he turned to face him and wiped the tears from his face with his thumb. Dean wrapped his arms around him and hugged him.

"I felt like the loneliest man in the world until you came along."

Cas smiled softly and fingered the amulet he was wearing.

"You didn't take this off, so I imagine it has some importance?"

Dean looked down at it and sighed.

"My bother, Sammy, gave this to me as a Christmas present one year dad didn't come and spend it with us. He had been at the bar most of the time, and neither of us where surprised. His drinking problem was stable when he was with mom, but once she died he couldn't control himself. I keep this with me to remember him before he ran off to go become a big shot lawyer and marry Jess. I keep this because some part of me hopes that he still thinks of me sometimes. I think about him almost every day." Dean sighed and looked down at the similar jewelry Cas wore.

"I imagine this is important to you?"

Cas did not want to talk about his crappy life. Not to therapists, not to anyone. But to Dean…

"It belonged to my mother. She and my father were married for a long time before the accident. The police sent it to me, thought it may help to have a reminder of her. I haven't taken it off since, because every time I look at it I remember that happy family that was bound by this ring."

Dean and Cas lay in silence, listening to each other's breathing and gradually slowing heartbeats.

Cas was on the verge of sleep.

"I love you."

A soft response.

"I love you too."

Castiel

"Cas-"

"Dean."

"Dammit Cas…"

Cas kissed Dean to shut him up, but knew that as soon as he broke away the always stubborn Dean would continue talking. He brushed his lips over the tip of Dean's nose and stretch up to his tiptoes to kiss his forehead. He could hear the sigh stirring before Dean even exhaled it, knowing full well that it would cut the air with its irritation and hurt, just like the many before it. He turned and began to fix the bouquet of roses he had gone out and bought after getting the inevitable call that seemed like it wasn't ever going to come; as if he and Dean where safe together, the outside world had just ceased to exist. But the outside world was still there, still tearing at young love like starving dogs upon being offered a steak. Cas had returned from his excursion to get the perfumed red roses that now gave Dean's room a slightly retirement home-ish look to find Dean dancing around the kitchen to "Goodbye Stranger" and waving two spatulas around like he was trying to flag down a plane after taking LSD. Dean turned, but it was too late.

"You son of a bitch!"

Dean chased Cas around the table, trying to get the phone that now held blackmail that could easily topple a small country.

"It's not going anywhere baby. I'm not evil, just want to make sure I always have this to look back on when you pull out your 'tough guy' shit." Cas smiled scandalously and tucked his phone in his pocket. Dean pursed his lips and sashayed back to the counter to grab breakfast. Cas looked down at the plate that he had been handed. Two eggs. Bacon. Smiley face. Almost exactly as his mother would lay it out. Dean put an arm over him and kissed his hair.

"Did I do it right?"

Cas stood and kissed him with such a passion that they collided the counter behind them. Dean managed to break it, gasping like a fish pulled from the water.

"I guess I did then, didn't I?"

Cas stood there, leaning his head onto Dean's chest as he stroked his hair. He breathed in the scent, trying to memorize it. He committed the sound of his jacket when his shifted his arms to memory. The way Dean's hair shone in the sun, the way he always had one sleeve up higher than the other, the way he held him at night, the sound of his breathing when he finally drifted asleep, all of these things Cas knew would be what woke him up in the night, crying because he could not remember. The little things. The devil in the details. Cas already knew, because that was what happened with his parents.

Jolting up in bed, drenched in a pool of sweat, a small child buries his face in his hands, crying over the damp front of his batman pajamas. A man runs in, sees the little boy. "Balls" he utters as he sits next to him. This would be the fourth time this week. Time to change therapists. The man holds the boy and rocks him until the boy is exhausted from his tears. "I can't remember the color of her eyes." The man looked at the boy and leaned down, whispering conspiratorially in his ear. "You want to know a secret? You will never forget the color of your mom's eyes, 'cause they are right there in your head. Just as big and beautiful and blue as your mother's. If that is all you remember of her, you are golden, you know why? Your mom lives right here, with you, in the greatest legacy she could have left you. A couple of observant, intelligent, wise blue eyes." The boy smiles, drifts back to sleep. He will wake up the next night, everyone knows, but no one addresses. For all they had right then was a smile from the boy who barely ever did so. And that was an accomplishment.

"Dean I…. have to go. Back. To the city."

The most deafening silence ensued, Cas could feel the tension coursing through Dean's body. The hand stroking his hair had stopped and was now buried under a layer of his unbrushed chestnut mop.

"Well you aren't going right? I mean, you can't just leave Cas. I need you… I love you."

Those words drove through his heart like frozen blade. It was the first time he had said them first.

"I have to, Dean."

Dean gripped Cas to him.

"Baby no. Please don't do this to me. Not now. Not ever. You make me happy. Hell, I can't remember that last time I danced in the kitchen. Cassy… please…. stay."

Dean's voice, so full of desperation and fear, saying his most intimate name for him, was like a direct kick to the stomach in cleats.

"Dean, I have so much love for you. I feel my heart swell when I see you, when I hear you say that you see me. I can't imagine going to bed without you pushing me to the corner of the mattress, or waking up to your arms sprawled over me. I can't imagine not laughing with you, dancing with you, making love with you, or just being able to see you everyday. But I can't stay Dean. I have a job… an apartment… Bobby and Ellen, I just can't. I have to go back."

Cas gently took Dean's free hand out of his hair and gently placed one of the roses, the most prominently red rose, in it. He wrapped his arms around Dean and stared into his eyes.

They are green, like the sun streaming through the jungle.

"I see you."

Never. I will never forget. Dean I promise I will forever remember the color of your eyes.

"I see you too Cassy."

I swear to remember you. All of you. Even the littlest things.

And so there they where. Cas was packed and fixing Dean's roses, Dean was sighing behind him. Cas decided it was safe to say they where both shit at goodbyes.

"I promise, I will text you. As soon as I get home. Or sooner. When I get around the corner. I'll text you then."

Cas shouldered his backpack, picked up his suitcase like it was the heaviest burden he had ever had to transport. Cas kissed Dean soflty, but Dean didn't react. He just stood there, staring straight ahead.

"Baby? I have to go. I love you. I see you. I will text you. We will see each other again. I promise."

Dean was silent.

Cas felt tears gather at his eyes, and he turned out of the room without looking back. He feared that if he turned around, he was in for a full breakdown. He made his way to the bored-looking cab driver who was to take him to the small airport.

"Took you long enough."

"Sorry I was just stowing away a dead body."

The cab driver seemed only slightly surprised.

"No I'm kidding. I just had to say goodbye to my boyfriend."

The cab driver looked like he preferred the first answer. Cas put his bag in the trunk, and the driver gave him a wide berth, obviously trying to avoid the highly contagious virus commonly known as homosexuality. Cas was suddenly aware of a presence behind him, and was suddenly turned around to face into a pair of emerald colored eyes.

"I love you too."

In his hand was a rose. Dean had brought Cas the same rose he had just left with him. Cas smiled through a misty curtain of tears and placed a final, warm, slightly damp kiss on Dean's lips, nose, and forehead. A series of gagging noises came from the direction of the driver, but neither could be bothered. Cas slid into the leather seat, and Dean held his hand until the cabbie came around the car and shut the door with a slight excess of force. The cab started, drove down the road, and turned the corner.

Cas pulled out his phone and scrolled to the "d's" in contacts.

His eyes are green.

Sent at 12:35 pm.

Dean?

Cas?

I miss you.

It's been ten minutes.

So? I still miss you.

So do I.

I love you.

I love you too.

Sent at 2:45 pm.

How was the plane ride?

Fine. Thought about you.

What have you been doing?

Thinking about you.

And?

Mucking the stalls.

You flatter me.

I'm just that charming.

I love you.

I love you too.

Sent at 4:20 pm.

I'm almost home.

I am home.

It's just not the same without you though.

It's so empty.

Garth sends his regards.

I bet he's all broken up with grief.

No. He moos a lot though.

Well fuck him.

I love you.

I love you too.

Sent at 6:17 pm.

Dean. I can't cook. My house is tiny. I am lonely. It's really cold. My jacket has a stain on it. My goldfish died.

I need you.

Ok.

Ok what?

I'm coming.

What? No. Baby. How?

I don't know, but I am.

Tomorrow I will find some way to get to you. That's a promise.

Are you sure? What about your dad? What about the farm?

I don't know, but right now the only thing I really care about is being with you. Especially if you managed to kill a fucking goldfish.

I mean, all you have to do is just drop a pellet in now and again.

Dean?

Cas?

I love you.

Of course.

I'm irresistible.

And I love you too.

Received at 2:25 am.

Cas, my dad came home. You are probably asleep, and if you aren't, then you should be. But it wasn't pretty. I'm on my way. I''l be there in six hours. I love you.

I'm at the Ashton Apartment Complex. Apartment 221. Top floor. I will be waiting.

Dammit Cas I thought you where sleeping.

I thought the same about you.

Well then.

I love you.

I love you too Cassy.

Received at 8:30 am.

I'm here.

I'm waiting.

Dean

Dean stepped into the the tiny elevator. He had only been in the city once when he was very young. It was a miracle he had been able to make it here, he had spent hours following the flow of traffic until he finally located the financial district, then sat in traffic until he had found the right building. Now he was expected to know how to operate the elevator? This had been a day of many mysteries for Dean. A man with a professional-looking briefcase and a tie got into the elevator, pressed a button, and Dean watched in amazement as the doors slid closed and the elevator began its ascent. Dean, because he was quick, figured that that was how to use an elevator, and found the button that marked the top floor. He tried to ignore the looks the man was giving him, but it was hard. He could feel his eyes burning into his own, analyzing the marks on his face. The elevator rose, and Dean tried to comprehend that he was going to see Cas again, but he had already had to come to terms with the idea that he would never see him again. To him, it just seemed to be a dream, as if the ding of the elevator would mark a jolt upward in bed, and he would look over and have to see the empty compression that was once filled with Cas' warm and sleeping body. He would have to understand that Cas would not rouse with him in the middle of the night and hold his hand and tell him that he was there, that he would never leave him. And Dean would finally have to lay back in bed, facing the absence of Cas' comforting arms winding around him and the soft sound of his soothing humming as they both drifted into sleep. He had not noticed, but tears had begun to run down his face. It was like his whole life was one never-ending sob story. The man was gone. It was Dean alone. As usual. Alone with his thoughts, his fears, his doubts. A soft ding reverberated through the confines of the elevator, and Dean breathed in sync with the swish of the doors sliding open. He stepped out of the brief comfort of the elevator, bracing himself for the jolt of waking to the surrounding darkness of his cold and unforgiving aura of his room. When the hallway remained intact, stretching almost infinitely, it seemed, and lit by bright fluorescent lights, he continued forward. Walking as if in a dream, Dean padded down the thin carpet, watching the ascent of the numbers, feeling the growing curtain of tears shroud his eyes and creep down his face.

214, 215, 216, 217

Dean wasn't sure of anything anymore. How much of this was real? How much was an idea his mind created to help him cope with his own heartbreak? He did not know, and that scared him. Dean hated not knowing. Dean loved his routine, the uniformness of the farm. Now he found he could not remember why he was here. Why had he left? He should be home, with the cows, trying to take care of his dad.

218, 219, 220…

221

The door was already open. Cas was already there. And in that moment, Dean knew he was ok. He knew why he was there. He felt familiar warmth bloom within his chest. He was home. With Cas.

Cas gasped slightly when he saw just how not pretty things had been. Dean knew that he didn't look good. He could already picture his injuries by the various points of dull ache under his skin. His left eye, from what he could feel with gentle strokes of his calloused hands, was swollen completely shut, and he could envision the deep blue-purple it was displaying. Tears welled from it, carrying the maroon blood he could feel pulsing and swirling under the fleshy covering of his bruised eyelids down his dirty cheeks. His lips where swollen and stinging, and he could taste the crusted blood that almost served as crappy lipstick. He could feel the throb of multiple lacerations along his cheekbones and jawline. Cas reached up a hand, and gently wiped the tears that he had forgotten were there with the soft surface of his thumb. Cas slowly wrapped his arms around Dean, then lost all pretenses of control and pulled him up against him, and Dean rested his chin on his head, feeling his tears drip down his face and wet Cas' hair. Cas gently rubbed Dean's back and began to hum a familiar melody. Their song. They stood there together, swaying in the early morning light, not caring who saw. Eventually, Cas lead Dean into the bathroom and sat him gently on the seat of the toilet, then went to get something. Dean sat alone, but yet not alone in the confines of the bathroom. He swept his eyes over the small room, analyzing the tiny shower, sink, and toilet surrounded by diluted, sea foam-blue tile walls and charcoal grey flooring. The toilet lay closest to the door, with the sink adjacent to it and a small, rectangular bathtub filling the end of the room. The door separating it from the main room was a simple eggshell white and was pushed along a track, and was currently closed. Cas suddenly pushed it open, and it caught on the tracks and had to be gently manipulated in order to allow entrance. Cas eventually made it in and squeezed past Dean, moving toward the side of him closest to the bathtub. There, he, with almost a doctor's precision and care, removed his bloodstained shirt and immersed it in the sink, which was filled with cold water. He then skimmed over the contents of a cabinet built into the wall, picking out a few bottles and a rag and then turning back to Dean, analyzing the wounds on his face.

"Oh baby. My poor baby."

He poured a little of one of the bottles onto the rag, then took Dean's hand.

"This may hurt a little, so just squeeze my hand."

Dean laughed, a choked, breathy sound.

"I would never, ever feel the need to bring you harm, love."

Cas smiled widely, and looked at him in a way that was so full and saturated with pure and unbridled love that Dean forgot his pain. All he could feel was numb happiness and comfort. Cas began to gently move the cloth along the cuts on his cheekbones, stopping to kiss each lightly after it had been cleaned. He washed the rag after he had finished, and then cleaned off Dean's mouth and nose gently with cool water. He then stood, wrung out the shirt, and walked back out of the bathroom. Dean, sitting there, half-naked, the bite of the cold toilet seat evident through his jeans, and the fresh, stinging waves of pain coming from his face, had never felt so safe, so taken care of. He could only relate it to the uniform childhood memory everyone has; bursting in the door with bloodied hands and knees, sobbing, and hearing your mother come running and swoop you into the bathroom, stroking your hair and telling you everything is going to be ok. Cas came back then.

"Everything is going to be ok."

Cas lifted Dean into a standing position and helped him into the bedroom, which was mercifully protected from the blinding morning sun by thick, white curtains. He lay Dean on the cool sheets permeated with the smell of Cas, and Dean was aware of his pants being removed, and then his body being covered by warm sheets. He felt Cas slide in next to him, and opened half an eye just to enjoy the sight of Cas curled up against his chest. Dean draped an arm over him, and, for the first time since Cas had left, they both fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

Castiel

Cas awoke in a warm ball, curled up with a much thicker blanket than usual. He turned slowly and looked at his blanket. Dean was curled into a "C" shape in order to snuggle his back into his chest, his arm curled protectively over the space where he had been. Cas swore to himself that there was nothing better than watching the man you love sleep after knowing he had been through so damn much, and now he was safe. He gently brushed the very outer border where the swelling in his eye reached, tracing its long and still blood-bruised surface with the softest touch he could muster. Dean's lip looked much better, the cut had healed efficiently and it was only slightly swollen. Cas looked at the time.

6:30 pm.

Cas reluctantly decided he was gonna have to wake up Dean, for even though he looked so beautifully calm in this moment, he was probably starving. He leaned down and gently kissed Dean's warm, bare shoulder, his long, muscular neck with the finest layer of peach fuzz, the uninjured curve of his cheekbone, his eyelid that was not the victim of brutality, and the warmth of his forehead. He heard a soft groan, and it went straight to his lower region. Later he told his troublesomely sex-addicted body. Dean turned, smiled softly, and rubbed his glowing green eyes. Cas almost melted. His hair was almost perfectly mussed, his eyes where bleary and slightly red from sleep, but still shone with awareness and love. He sat up.

"Im starving."

"I had a feeling."

Cas threw him his shirt and a hairbrush.

"We are going out."

Dean looked up at him, confused.

"I'm gonna show you the city, for real."

Dean snickered and pulled on his shirt, putting the brush down and finger combing his hair in the mirror. Cas watched this process with mild fascination, and when Dean turned and caught his gaze, he spun in a circle and curtsied. Cas laughed, shaking his head.

"Dork"

Dean trotted up and attempted to twirl around, but took out an end table instead. He stood up and fixed his hair again, trying to salvage his dignity.

"You know you're crazy about me."

Cas laughed and took Dean's face in his hands.

"That's 'cause your my dork."

They shared a long kiss that was broken off when Dean's stomach began to complain.

"My stomach has cockblocked me more times than anything else."

Cas laughed, but felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. He stood up on his tiptoes and whispered in Dean's ear:

"Later."

Without another word, he turned and flounced out of the room, holding the door for Dean. Dean chuckled breathily and bowed as he exited. Cas shut the door and they walked to the elevator arm-in-arm, and when they got out, Cas tried to exchange it for Dean's hand, but Dean quickly pulled it away.

"Won't people see?"

Cas laughed at the beautiful innocence of this statement.

"That's the great thing about San Francisco, no one sees anything."

Dean smiled shyly and slipped his hand into Cas'. When no alarms went off, he relaxed enough to allow himself to be lead out of the warm lobby and into the biting chill of the San Francisco evening. Cas hailed a taxi.

"Times Square?"

The man nodded happily.

"Anything for the young couple."

They drove in silence, Dean watching the passing buildings with never-ceasing awe, Cas watching Dean, and the driver watching them. Cas caught his eye, and the man winked. Cas nodded with only the slightest whisper of movement. In that moment, Cas remembered why he loved San Francisco, his home. He reached over and took Dean's hand, squeezing it gently.

"What do you think?"

Dean could not tear his eyes from the window.

"Its- I- I've never seen anything so… big."

Cas leaned his head on Dean's shoulder and watched the familiar building faces fly by the window.

"It's so beautiful."

Dean's voice was almost a whisper, as if he believed that if he talked too loud, he would ruin the moment, disturb the delicate beauty of it. The rest of the ride was in silence, a comfortable silence. When they finally pulled up along the entryway, Dean was out of the car in under five seconds. Cas sighed, but could not contain his smile. The driver turned to him.

"Like a kid in a candy store."

Cas' smile grew as he fumbled for his wallet.

"Yah, gonna have to invest in a leash soon. How much do I owe you?"

"No charge."

Cas looked up in surprise. The driver was smiling at him.

"Why?"

"Because I remember being your age and having a boyfriend just like him. They are the best kind. It's free…"

The taxi driver's face became stern.

"…as long as you promise to never break his heart. Boys like him are hard to come by. Been married to mine almost all my life. Highly recommended."

He smiled at him.

"Marry the boy .You two already seem about as in love as they come."

Cas nodded, slightly dazed from all of this information.

"Now go find your love."

Cas got out of the car, and managed to gain back his mind right as he was about to pull away.

"Wait! Sir!"

The man stopped and rolled down his window.

"I didn't ask your name."

The man smiled.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"And your husband's name?"

"John Watson, aka my world-renowned blogger."

The man waved and pulled away. Cas waved back.

Speaking of "lost," where is Dean?

Cas finally found him staring up at a fountain, watching the waters dance over their blue uplighting. Cas wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't run off again."

"Sorry."

They stood there, watching the water together. Finally, Cas took Dean's arm and began to lead him away.

"Let's go see some more."

They wandered around for the better part of an hour, talking only when Dean would pull on his sleeve and point at something, and Cas would explain what it was.

He really is like a kid in a candy store.

Finally, Dean was too hungry to put off dinner any longer. Cas walked him over to the nearest stand and ordered two hot dogs and two Cokes. The incredibly unenthusiastic service man totaled it, took the money, and ungracefully prepared the hotdogs and grabbed the drinks, handing it to them and wishing them a good night in the most apathetic tone Cas had ever heard of someone working in Times Square. They walked back over to the fountain and ate together.

"Some of the finest cuisine I have ever had." Dean's mocking French accent made Cas nearly spit out his Coke.

"Wii wii, some of zee finest in zee land."

"That was pathetic."

Cas tried to look put out, but couldn't manage.

"I know."

Dean leaned in and gently kissed him.

"Your my dork." Dean's impression of Cas was almost perfectly-spot on, and Cas turned up his nose.

"Show off."

"I know. But you love me anyways."

Cas sighed.

"Should have read the Terms and Conditions."

Dean laughed and took another bite out of his hotdog.

"You really should have."

When they had finished, they hailed another taxi back to the hotel. Before going in, Cas lead Dean to the small store across the street.

"Dessert is not an option, it is mandatory."

They walked over to the frozen isle.

"Pick whatever you want."

Dean, in an almost automatic response, snatched the quart of Mint Chip.

"Mint Chip huh?"

Dean blushed.

"It was mom's favorite, so we never had any other flavors in the house."

Cas shrugged.

"Hey, all ice cream is good ice cream."

They checked out and went back to the room. Once in, they grabbed two spoons and a comfy blanket and cuddled up on the tiny couch. Cas picked up the remote

"What movie do you want to watch?"

"I haven't seen the new Star Trek yet…"

"WHAT?! This is blasphemy! We must right this wrong!"

Cas selected it, and together, the two men ate ice cream and laughed, yelled, and cried their way through Star Trek.

"Did you like it?"

"Like it?! I loved it! The effects where awesome, there was awesome fighting, and we can both safely say the Mr. Cumberbatch has a perfect ass."

Cas punched him.

"Oh come on, you were thinking it too."

They sat in thoughtful silence. Cas cleared his throat.

"Come on, I wanna show you the reason I bought this apartment."

Cas lead him to the bedroom and had him close his eyes.

"Please don't do anything that involves weird fetishes."

Cas snorted.

"Do I really look the type?"

Currently, Cas was attempting to push the foldout bed back into the closet so there would be no obstruction of the view. After a good deal of wrestling, Cas finally got it into place and ran to the window, opening the shades.

"Open your eyes."

Dean opened his eyes.

And he couldn't believe them.

Cas had set up a small bed on the floor with blankets and pillows and a slim mattress. There was nothing in the way of the wall-sized window.

Which was the most spectacular thing Dean had ever seen.

It opened out over the city, looking over the lit and flowing streets of the Financial District. Between the glowing buildings that shone against the inky sky was the shining Golden Gate Bridge, sitting in the jet-black bay it was designed to cross. Dean sat, awestruck, on the make-shift bed.

"It's… beautiful."

Cas sat down next to him, rubbing his back.

"This is our city now."

Dean turned to him, his green eyes wide.

"Ours?"

"Ours."

And suddenly, Dean was kissing him with a kind of force Cas had never before experienced. Cas responded with equal eagerness.

Both where completely undressed in under a minute, and Cas was on Dean, kissing him, as he always did, in a descending line towards his penis. Dean stopped him.

"Not tonight."

And Cas let out a whine that was similar to that of a dog taunted with a treat.

Dean leaned in close.

"I want you to be inside me for the first time in our city."

Cas could not believe his cheesy line had worked.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

And Cas certainty wasn't going to try and change his mind. In one smooth motion, he had rolled over to his nightstand and grabbed lube and condoms. He rolled back to the bed and gently kissed Dean; his lips, his shoulders, his neck, the contour of his collarbones as he lubed up one of his fingers.

Cas' only true mission was to make it look as if he knew what he was doing.

"Do you know what you are doing?"

"No."

Mission failed.

Dean laughed.

"Don't worry, I'll help."

He gently took Cas' trembling finger and angled it correctly.

"Now… just very slowly… push it in."

Cas took a long breath and gently applied pressure to his finger, feeling it slide in.

"Fuckkk."

Cas stopped almost immediately.

"Am I hurting you? Should I stop or go lower or higher? Maybe this is a bad idea…"

Dean sighed.

"My poor little virgin angel. Don't stop baby, I'll tell you if it hurts."

Cas nodded and again pushed his finger in at the speed of an elderly woman crossing the street. He did not open his eyes until the knuckles of his fingers met the softness of his butt cheek. Cas was proud of himself.

"What now?"

It took the two about five minutes before Dean was finally ready. Cas rolled on a condom with the same level of expertise as a white American woman would roll a burrito. He lubed up and then grabbed one of the pillow for Dean's hips and another for his knees, trying to look efficient so as to recover some of his dignity. Dean lay there, his face flushed and the sweat on his skin glimmering like diamonds in the moonlight. Cas felt his heart race, accompanied by a sudden surge of confidence. He positioned himself over Dean and kissed his neck softly.

"Ready?" he breathed into his ear.

"Ready."

Cas pressed his lips against Dean's and very gently began to work his hips forward. Dean was disconnected from his mouth so quickly, Cas thought he had been electrocuted. He arched his neck back, and his pupils dilated until they nearly swallowed his eyes, his irises gleaming on the very edges, a sparkle of green at the edge of a yawning black hole. A low groaning sound emitted from the back of his throat. Cas felt as if fire was being forced through his veins. Every part of his body trembled with anticipation. He pushed forward a little more, wrenching an inhuman sound from his throat. Dean almost immediately laughed.

"Hot."

"I've never done this before." Cas admitted breathlessly.

Dean smiled evilly at him.

"Please continue."

Cas tried to breathe to get himself under control, but found that it was pointless.

"Cas, for God's sake, move"

Cas obeyed, but perhaps a bit too eagerly. Cas gasped loudly, and Dean loudly yelped, which faded into a long moan.

"Dean we gotta be quiet."

Dean opened his eyes and responded with the most sarcastic look Cas had ever received.

"When you are on bottom, you decide noise level."

Cas continued at a slow but steady pace, and a long string of profanity streaming from his lips. Dean was groaning in a way that should not be legal. Suddenly, Cas felt his inner thighs brush Dean's, and they made eye contact. Dean's eyes, below the lust, where comforting and warm.

"Go on…"

Cas took a breath, reminding himself to go slow, and began to push his hips back. Dean's muscles contacted around him, and his thighs wrapped around his lower back. He was gripping the sheets like they where his last tie to this world. The nerves in Cas' body where like live wires, and the feeing of pulling out made him feel as if his head was about to implode. He made himself watch this time, through the swirling stimuli of his brain, where he was. He didn't want to pullout all the way and make himself seem more amateur. Once he was most of the way out, he paused to lean over and nibble and kiss Dean's neck, panting against him. Dean's hands flexed and released on their positions, one tangling in his hair, the other curving around his hip.

"Ok baby, do the same thing, but a little faster."

Cas did as he was told, and when he was almost all the way in, Dean's back suddenly arched and a loud cry came from his lips.

"...Prostate." he breathed weakly.

Cas memorized his position. He pulled back out, making sure to wrench another moan from his lips by brushing it again. He moved back in, and they had developed a rhythm. Cas' muscled flexed and he felt like he was being lit on fire. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face buried in Dean's neck. He was close… really close. Cas loudly and gruffly moaned Dean's name, al pretenses of quietness forgotten, and the resulting contraction in his muscles and he thrust forward sent him over the edge. Dean's name was the final word on his lips as his world clouded over and he slumped, still inside Dean.

"Baby…?"

"Oh… sorry."

He pulled out and worked off the condom and weakly threw it away, then turned his attention to Dean. He came with just three simple passes over his penis, crying out Cas' name as quietly as he could, which was not very quiet. Cas grabbed a tissue and helped Dean clean himself off, and then they curled up together, allowing their minds to wander.

Dean

He opened his eyes slowly, listening to their slowing heartbeats. Cas was propped up on one muscular arm, looking out the window at their city sprawling out below them. The only light was that of the moon and the golden tint of the lights gleaming against the night, which made his skin, which was bare down to the soft curve of his hip, where their comforter lay, seem flawless and almost glittery, with a soft hue of gold. His hair was messy, and tendrils of light glowed in its warm, brown expanse. Dean silently reached for his bag and pulled out a camera, quickly capturing the moment. He reviewed it, smiled, and slid the camera back in his bag, then rolled back and pushed out Cas' elbow so that he fell and landed on his outstretched and waiting arm. They lay like that, Cas under Dean and looking up at him, Dean holding Cas and watching his eyes.

"I see you."

"I see you too."

They rolled back into a sleeping position.

And together, they watched their city below them until they drifted to off to sleep.

Castiel

Cas woke to a panicky feeling. He was sweaty, and could feel a congealed mass of tears on his face. He knew he was screaming, but was unable to hear it or stop it. He could only feel the rawness in his throat, the feeling of all of the air leaving him in a rush. His hands gripped the sheets, his eyes displayed the same images, over and over again.

The car, going over the guardrail. The yawning chasm below them, beckoning their car into its malevolent womb. Cas' fault. Their pain, their death, all Cas' fault. It was all his fault.

Cas was suddenly aware of two strong arms wrapping around him. Whispering to him.

"It's ok Cas. It's all ok. You are ok."

Cas shook his head, still not in control of his flailing limbs.

"They're all dead. My family. They're dead. My fault, all my fault. My goddam fault."

Cas felt a pressure on his hand, but didn't look up until he felt his cold, wet palm suddenly press into warm, firm skin that tremored with a heartbeat. He looked up.

"Do you feel that Cas? That's my heart. Do you feel it beating? I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm never going anywhere."

Cas sat in silence, feeling Dean's heart beat steadily under his hot skin.

"You gotta let it go, Cas. It's not your fault. It never has been. The longer you hold on to that, the more pain you cause yourself. They are in a happy place now, my angel, watching over you. It must hurt them, thinking that you are giving yourself all this burden. Let it go Cas. Let them go."

Cas was shaking. All of it, ripping down the carefully built walls in his mind. All of the emotions he never dared to face. They all came pouring into his mind, and his body could barely keep up. Dean had finally broken him, and the emotional consequences were going to be violent. Cas sobbed, kicking his feet and flailing his arms, throwing and breaking things, but Dean's arms never left him, and Cas never hurt him, even in his half-conscious state, only wet his shirt with his surplus tears. Cas slumped suddenly, with no warning whatsoever. He was exhausted. He look up at Dean with his swollen and bleary eyes. He was certainly not healed, not fixed, but he had seen, for the first time, that there was hope. That he could start to heal, to fix his tired heart. Dean smiled as lovingly as any smile he had ever given him.

"I- I'm sorry Dean."

Cas' voice was shot from yelling.

"Oh baby, please don't apologize."

"Why?"

"Because nothing, no amount of emotion or pain or anger you have locked up inside will ever make me stop loving you. And now that I have seen you like that, you can know that. And you can trust me to help you."

Cas touched Dean's face with his hand. Dean put Cas' other hand back on his heart.

"I see you."

"I see you too."

Cas blinked his eyes open, and they swept the room. It looked like there had been a hurricane. Cas flexed his abs and shifted his weight until he was looking at the spot on the bed next to him, which was still filled with the sleeping form of his love. He smiled and sat up, immediately feeling a throbbing in his head. Crying hangovers were the worst. He rose from the bed, dressed himself as quietly as he could, and padded to the bathroom, wherein he splashed his face with cool water. From there, he moved to the kitchen, receiving the painful reminder that they had no food.

Ok if I go fast, I might be able to make it down to that place that sells muffins and back before he wakes up.

Cas nodded, and grabbed his key card and ran out of the room and straight into the wall. An old woman stopped and wheezed a laugh at him.

"Let me guess, trying to get food before the significant other wakes up?"

Cas nodded, taken aback. She laughed again.

"The only reason I know is because I've been doing the same thing for almost seventy years. I know the look."

Cas smiled and slowed his pace to match hers. She cleared her throat.

"So you hitched to this lucky girl yet?"

Cas blushed and looked down.

"Uh… guy, and uh… no."

She looked back, unabashed. Cas was surprised.

"Your not-"

She shook her head.

"I don't care. I'm mostly wondering why, with the clear early morning gotta get food, pants tucked into underwear, unbrushed hair and crying hangover routine isn't part of a marriage."

Cas shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought of that kind of thing yet."

They were in the elevator now.

"I'll tell you a bit of advice, kiddo. I can imagine that the lucky fellow who gets you is cute, funny, caring, etc, am I right? There is a perfect other half out there, for everyone. You will always know when you meet yours, for it is the first time you can't imagine yourself with anyone else. Keep them. I know a few people who were to unsure to seize the moment, and they slipped out of their hands. Don't let that happen to you."

They had reached the lobby. She took his hand and shook it.

"Good luck."

Cas watched her strut out of the lobby, still in shock. He would have never expected to have an old woman slap sense into him at eight in the morning. He shook it off, walked out, and hailed a cab.

Cas burst in through the door, set on getting the muffins on the table before Dean woke up, forgetting he was supposed to be quiet. Dean was already sitting at the table, cup of coffee in hand.

"Dammit."

Dean smiled smugly as Cas crossed the room and set the bags on the small table. Dean rummaged through it, pulling out its concealed goods approvingly.

"I love muffins."

Dean selected one and unwrapped it, biting into it and smiling. Cas watched, unable to take one yet.

"Dean?"

Dean swallowed his bite and cleared his throat.

"Cas?'

"Can we take a muffin break?"

Dean looked morosely at his muffin, then back at Cas, and ultimately wrapped it back up with a sigh.

"Okayyyyyyy."

Cas took his hand and lead him out of the room. Dean did not question him, just followed in silent brooding about his abandoned muffin. Cas hailed them a cab, and they traveled in silence, hand-in-hand. They arrived at the destination, and Cas told Dean to close his eyes. He paid the driver, and put his hands on Dean's shoulders and lead him forward, for a time, and stopped in front of the fountain they had looked at last night. He slowly knelt down onto one knee, and then, after taking a breath, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Ok… Open your eyes."

Dean blinked open his eyes, his pupils shrinking to adjust to the bright morning light. Cas took his hand and watched as his face changed as it dawned on him. The look on his face sent a surge of confidence through Cas.

"Dean, I'm never very good with words, because there are none that show you how I feel. But the best I can manage are a combination of five."

The growing crowd around them went ignored by both men.

"Dean, will you marry me?"

Dean's face, for the first time, was not set. There was no facade, no coying smile. All there was was liquid sunshine, his eyes shining, his mouth pulled wide open into a beaming smile that trembled slightly. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sweet.

"Of course, my angel. There is nothing I would rather do."

Cas stood, and they shared a long, warm kiss, wrapped in each other's arms. Whoever was in charge of the speakers zeroed in on them, and suddenly, "A Thousand Years" flowed through the air, interrupting the usually soft rock. Cameras flashed, people laughed and smiled and cheered for a couple they did not even know. Dean broke off the kiss and turned to give them all a thumbs up.

"I love San Francisco."

Cas smirked.

"No kidding."

Castiel

Ellen was nervously fixing Cas' black tie for the fifth time, simultaneously wiping away a stray tear. Cas took her hand and kissed the palm.

"My tie is fine, mom. It's totally fine."

Ellen looked up at him, her adopted son who she thought was going to remain a broken and lonely man all her life, but had turned out so good, he was such a good man under the bad stuff, and he had finally found another person who could see that in him.

"I know. I'm just… happy."

Bobby walked next to her and hugged Cas, patting his back warmly.

"Lets go get you married, you idjit."

The Wedding March had begun, and Cas' heart skipped a beat. They had rehearsed so many times, yet he was so nervous. He took a deep breath, and felt Ellen's hand slip into his.

"I bet your parents are watching. I can already tell that your dad is sobbing and your mom is laughing at him, but getting a little misty eyed as well. They are so proud of you, just as I am."

Cas smiled happily, nervousness momentarily forgotten in exchange for that comforting image.

"I love you mom."

"I love you too Cas."

And the two stepped out of the narrow room and down onto the soft sand leading to the secluded section of beach that Dean had chosen. They walked down the pathway, and slowly, the audience came into view. Some were crying, some were laughing, but all were smiling. Suddenly, the alter was revealed and the sudden scene of infinite blue poured into his eyes. He blocked this out and focused on one thing; the figure of a man juxtaposing the ocean, wearing a long black tux and shining with vitality and happiness. He felt his mom squeeze his arm gently, and they smiled at each other.

"Good choice," she whispered.

"I know," he breathed back.

They finally reached the alter and Rufus, a friend of Bobby's and a preacher who had agreed to marry them, went through the motions of a very much shortened version of vows. It came to Cas' line, and Cas could feel his world, so unsure, so broken, suddenly be illuminated with hope. Forever. the word did not seem scary at all, it seems like a comforting promise, that he would never again have to know the cold darkness of loneliness. So he answered the question with the two most important words he had spoken in the whole of his life.

"I do."

Cas watched as a shimmery tear fell from Dean's eye as he responded.

"I do too."

Rufus looked out at the audience. "Cause these two boys are so special, they decided to go with slightly unorthodox rings, which they wanted to present after vows. so starting with Castiel, present the man opposite you with the object that shall bind you through all that stands in your way, through the good, the bad, and all in between."

Cas dipped a hand under his collar and slowly removed his most cherished possession; a simple strand of black string that held his mother's ring, and placed it into Dean's hand, closing his fingers around it.

"Dean, I give you this necklace as a symbol of my love. As long as you have it, I am always with you. It will protect you, just as it always has. And don't lose it, assbutt."

The audience laughed, but all Cas needed was to see Dean laugh, even as the tears chased each other down his cheek.

Rufus spoke again.

"And Dean, would you now do the same?"

Dean mirrored Cas' movement, but produced a simple black string with a golden amulet on it, which he put into Cas' hand.

"This is my gift to you, love. Almost my entire life was spent with that around my neck, so don't you lose it, either. Cause that's a half of my heart right there, and I'm trusting you to keep it safe, just as you have the other half."

They both slipped the necklaces over their heads, and Mr and Mr Winchester shared their first wedded kiss.

Dean and Cas made their rounds through the small crowd that was moving between the bar and the water, kissing and hugging and receiving congratulations from all they encountered. At one point, Cas noticed Sasquatch and a young, blonde woman walk up to them. Dean suddenly smiled so wide Cas thought his face was gonna split.

"Cas, this is my brother, Sam, and his wife Jessica."

Samsquatch offered his hand, and Cas shook it with a smile.

"Nice to meet you Sam and Jessica. Thank you for coming."

Dean and Cas danced their first dance to your song, and then opened the floor (a raised wooden stage for dancing) to anyone who wanted to join. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur of food, drink and laughter. The sun was almost gone when Dean came up and tapped Cas on the shoulder, who was happily talking to Sam about life in big cities. Cas turned, and Dean whispered to him.

"We better get going, before it gets too dark."

Cas nodded sadly and they bid their friends goodbye, racing out as the rain of rice came flying on after them. They both got into the car, pushing aside the condom balloons that floated about. As they pulled out, Cas stared at Dean's profile in the moonlight.

"I love you."

"I love you too, angel."

Castiel

"Close your eyes."

Cas sighed sarcastically and closed his eyes, pretending he didn't care even though he knew Dean could easily tell that he was extremely excited to see the honeymoon location Dean had kept a secret for so long. They walked together for awhile, and the only clue Cas could get was the sound of waves and the smell of ocean thickening the air. They stopped suddenly, and Cas was aware of his pounding heart and shaking hands.

"Open your eyes, and prepare to be amazed at how awesome your husband is."

Cas slowly opened his eyes, and it took them a second to adjust to the night's cloaking darkness. But when they did…

"No way."

The lighthouse stood against the moon, a brightly-lit silhouette against the inky sea. It's warmth permeated the air, and the inside smelled like fire. Dean took Cas' arm, and Cas, who was unaware that he had been swooning, used it to stabilize himself. He looked up in amazement at Dean.

"You remembered."

"I never forgot."

Cas dashed inside of it, running through the warm halls until, he eventually ended up back at Dean, launching himself into his lover's arms. They did not make it to the bed, and afterwards, they lay on the warm carpet by the fire wrapped in a quilt that was on the couch, and watching Up on the small TV over the fireplace.

"Dean?"

"Cas?"

"I know this is kind of a weird thing to be thinking about on our wedding night, but I had an idea."

"And what's that?"

"What if we both write letters to each other, just in case something happens, it's like, a way for us to know that we will always have a way to say goodbye, no matter what happens?"

Dean kissed Cas' head.

"I like that idea, just, not right now ok? I just want to lay here, with you."

Cas nodded.

"We'll do it tomorrow. We do have all of forever to wait, after all."

Dean smiled and stroked Cas' back.

"Forever that I can spend every minute of every day seeing you."

Cas turned around and kissed him. Dean kissed back with a kind of loving energy.

"My little angel, here to watch over me."

Cas laughed.

"As I always will be, Dean."

Outside, the moon shone over the water. The birds called to each other in various forms of song. Lightning bugs flitted up and down the shore. The waves lapped the sand with their greedy tongues.

Inside, Cas and Dean fell asleep in each other's arms, which they would continue to do for the rest of their lives. Two men, one forever to spend together.

And so they did.

Castiel

"I'm so sorry."

Even at his age, Cas would be able to tell you exactly what time it was when he knew

6:56 pm

He would be able to tell you exactly how he felt when he knew.

His hands ached from the cold quart of get-well mint chocolate chip ice cream. John had offered to carry it, but Cas had refused, even though his old arms shook with the weight. He wanted to see his husband's face for himself when he saw the ice cream. His other hand was aware of a dull warmth, a sudden pressure most likely attributed to John's hand grabbing his, whether to support Cas or himself he would not know. All the other visceral feelings had left him, all he was aware of was the feeling on his skin. His heart had broken and had taken the rest of his mind along with it.

He would be able to tell you how beautiful Dean looked.

Illuminated by the setting sun, the lines on his face seemingly smoothed over in its forgiving light. He looked so peaceful, relaxed, even with the series of tubes and wires leading to and from his aged body. His hair lost its white fluff, and to Cas' clouded eyes it seemed it had reverted back to its old vitality, the chestnut brown of it that Cas had kissed so many times, that Cas had gently stroked on those lazy mornings when he had woken first, that Cas had spent hours washing to remove the splashes of paint that Cas had put there on accident while they were painting the walls in their bedroom, the hair that Cas had teased when the first strand of gray emerged, matching his own, the hair that had never receded the way Cas' did, the hair that always smelled like Old Spice, the hair that always shone with sweat and moonlight after they made love, the hair that had been so shockingly white against their favorite green throw rug, when Cas had come home that night.

That night.

Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. Yet so perfectly clear in Cas' broken mind and heart, a burning scar, an empty hole next to the one he had spent his life fixing. The sound the paper bag had made when it hit the tile floor, the "clunk" of the pie he had brought back to celebrate their anniversary.

It had been their 76th anniversary.

He had been frozen in the doorway, uncomprehending yet so perfectly aware of what was happening. The body of the man he loved for 76 years lay on the floor, weakly convulsing. A thin line of blood-red saliva slipped from his mouth. The once youthful green eyes now were rolled back in his head, tears sliding from them. The atrophied muscles in his body were tensed and shook. He made no sound.

It had been so quiet.

Cas remembered running to the phone, but not picking it up. He remembered dialing all the faithful numbers he had half-heartedly hoped that he would never have to dial as they reached their elder years. He did not remember who the dispatcher was, or what they had told him. He remembered running to Dean, drooping to his knees and screaming his name, crying, his voice old and cracking. He remembered the pressure in his chest. The frantic beat of his own heart. It was so cruel that what Cas could achieve so easily was what the love of his life could not. He would have happily given Dean every heartbeat he had, would have sooner breathed his own life into Dean than have to feel so helpless. He remembered the sound of the sirens cutting through the stillness of the warm spring night. He remembered strong hands pulling him away from Dean, telling him to calm down. He remembered the sting of the blood vessels in his eyes bursting as he screamed the only name, the only thing, that had ever truly mattered to him. But most of all, he remembered being suddenly alone in the living room. Looking down. Seeing it laying there, Dean's final act. What he had been doing when the valve in his heart suddenly ceased to function. A cassette marked "Our Song" in Dean's scratchy handwriting. He had been stretching up to the top shelf of their collection of cassettes to play it, surprise Cas when he got home. Cas slowly crawled over, unable to remember falling on the floor, and cradled it, his voice gone. He could almost hear Dean's voice, saying the exact same thing he always did when Cas returned from the grocery store with their anniversary pie, their song playing softly in the background.

"Welcome to our home, love. Welcome to the only place that really matters, to the only person I really care about. I see you, Cassy."

Cas wept, for this time, the first time since they had married, those words would remain unspoken.

Dean had been on life support for a week now, in a self-induced coma. And Cas had been there everyday like clockwork, forcing John to drive him or else he would drive himself, which he was long past capable of doing. And every time, he would simply sit. Look at him, touch his hair, his face. And every time, convinced that it would be the time Dean awoke, he would make John stop at a store so he could get ice cream. Seven tubs sat in the fridge in Dean's room, the eighth currently making its descent to the floor. Cas had lost the ability to hold it.

The ice cream hit the floor, yet no one moved. No one could.

"Take as long as you need, but he will not wake up. The kindest thing to do is pull the plug. He is gone."

The doctor turned and walked back out, casually, as if he broke old men's hearts everyday. John was the first to move, and lead Cas to a chair, where he sat him down. Tears slid from his eyes.

"I'm going to go say goodbye to… dad. You can be last. Daddy, I know it hurts. I loved him too."

Cas did not respond, and John dropped his hands from Cas' and wiped his eyes.

"And I may not know much, but I do know that he loved you more than he loved anything else on this world. Just in the way he looked at you, how, even after all these years, he never stopped looking so amazed, so entranced by you. He was always so sad… when he couldn't see you. That was why I see you meant so much to him, because just seeing you, everyday, every moment, was the most special thing he had. And I know, wherever he is, he is happy, because now he can be always with you, and can always see you, even though you can't see him."

John stood slowly and walked into the hospital room to say goodbye to the man that, singe his adoption, had been the first to teach him how to walk, how to throw, how to tend the animals they raised together.

When he returned, he was joined by a looming, hunched figure who was lead by a still petite, frail woman. Sam and Jess walked together to where Cas was, and Sam slowly kneeled next to Cas, and took his hand.

"I can never thank you enough for taking care of my big brother, Cas. God himself could not have sent an angel able to save him like you did. Thank you."

Sam began to sob, and Jess lead him into the next room. He was aware of John leading him into the room, sitting him down next to Dean, but it still came as a surprise when he found himself alone, listening to the steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor. Cas let out a long sigh and retrieved a letter from his pocket. The letter.

"Dean… I" Cas was surprised. Despite the waterfall of salty tears on his cheeks, his voice was strong and sure. This was going to be the last thing Dean hears, and he wanted it to be good.

"I always selfishly hoped that it would be me on my deathbed first, that I would never have to know a world without you in it, because deep down I knew I couldn't cope, and I was right. I have barely, slept, everything hurts, and I swear I want to rip my heart out of my chest because that would be so much less pain compared to how much it hurts to be the one to watch you die. But we made a promise that night, and fuck me, I am going to hold it, because it is the closest thing I have to you. So here it is, the letter I wrote to you. Keep in mind, I can't remember what I wrote, so it may suck, but I know that anything I do, to you, is amazing, as you have told me so may times, so here it goes…"

"Dearest Dean:

For God's sake, I pray I am not the one holding this. I pray that it is your voice, your slight southern drawl that is repeating the words I write. If it isn't….I can't even think about that. But I am evading the point of me writing this, so here it goes:

Dean, I didn't believe in love. I didn't believe in humanity. I didn't believe in myself. I was so broken, so alone before I met you, and I owe you so much. You gave me something to believe in, something to hold onto, and that was you. It's funny, for a man who banks his career on being able to write exactly what he feels, when it comes to you, words escape me. All I can think about are moments, feelings, memories. On that beach, seeing you for the first time, and never again being able to stand not seeing you. Dancing with you in the basement, hearing you say "I see you' for the first time, and the feeling of falling in love; of plummeting into a dark canyon but suddenly feeling a point of concentrated warmth within me, and suddenly having the wings to fly, exploring the city with you, watching the skyline from my window. Knowing in that moment that I had never belonged anywhere until you where there beside me; two souls, lost, but not alone. Our whole lives spilling out ahead of us in a way that never made sense but always ended with you and me, which made more sense than anything else in my life. The wedding, the lighthouse, finding our little suburban house with a white picket fence and a backyard with a deck, adopting John, being a dad with you, all of the things that I could never know I wanted, yet I wanted more than anything in the entire world. And you gave them to me. You offered me a key to unlocking a life I never deserved. Dean, I cannot even say exactly how much I love you, and that limitation makes me hurt. I could have every word ever created, every rose ever planted, every pie ever baked, and it would still not be close to how much I love you, and what I owe you for saving my life. But even those things I do not have. The only thing I can offer is me, the small, broken, and careful heart that beats within me. And for awhile, I thought that that was sufficient to keep people away. But then you came, and you had all the perfect band-aids, the matching half to my split heart. You taught me to love. You helped me in ways professionals couldn't. You are one man who made the biggest difference in another's life. I have never said it before, and I swear to god if I haven't physically said it by the time you open this, you have permission to punch me once you join me in heaven. But here it is Dean: you never though this, never heard this, never felt this, but if this is my last legacy to you, to be able to tell you, then I can begin to repay my debt:

Dean, you matter so very, very much. Without you, I would still be a bitter, angry man who avoided society and probably died some sad death all alone in his apartment. To quote our song: "How wonderful life is while you're in the world." The world, without you, would be so dim, lost of all its color. There would be no one to tease me and then feel bad and make me pancakes to apologize. There would be no one to hold me when I have bad dreams, to say that what happened wasn't my fault and make me actually believe it. There would be no one to blast old rock until it nearly blows out my speakers and exaggeratedly sing along while I pretend to be embarrassed, but secretly hope you never stop. There would be no one to dance with, to go swimming with, to go on walks with, to look at the stars with. And hostly, no amount of hellish pain can amount to the pain that that would cause me.

So Dean, I really can't say anything more besides that I love you. Sure, I can go on forever about cheesy things, but the only thing that matters is that you know that I love you, and will always be with you.

And guess what?

No matter how far, how long, how lonely we are, I can always, will always, and have always, seen you.

Goodbye love,

Castiel"

Cas stood from the chair and sat next to Dean on the small bed. He held his warm hand for the last time, stroked his soft hair for the last time. And he sighed.

"Dean please, before I let you go, if you can hear me, send a sign. I want to know that before you left, you heard all the things I most wanted you to hear. Please Dean, I need this."

And then, suddenly, in a room with no open windows or doors, a warm breeze kicked up, smelling like the ocean air always had from the bedroom window of their light house. Cas smiled, breathed it in, enjoyed the feeling.

"Ok. Ok Dean. If you are ready, so am I."

He began to reach for the plug.

"Your little angel, here to protect you one last time."

And in one smooth motion, Cas pulled the simple gray plug from its place on the wall. He held his hand the entire time, feeling the warmth of life leave it. The beeping slowed to a stop.

Like the final notes to the most beautiful song ever played Cas thought.

"I love you with all of my heart, Dean. Always have, always will."

Castiel

Cas watched as the landscape flew smoothly by his window in a blur of bright and vital spring colors. Brilliant greens, soft blues, vivid yellows and fiery reds, all competing for the spotlight, displaying their intricate beauty and fragile designs. Life had so many beautiful things to offer, and you can't help but stop and admire how amazing it is that in the modern and gray society today that things of such beauty could exist, hidden in plain sight until you choose to see them. Losing sight of these small treasures was when life lost its color, but in this place, where humans are raised to look straight ahead, move quickly, do nothing without efficiency, it was becoming much more common to lose sight of them. Cas smiled. Dean had always been so observant of them. There was never a time where Dean would not tug his shirt excitedly, pointing at a flower or a bird or the way the sun reflected on the water.

"Isn't this friggin' awesome?" he would always remark, snapping a picture or bending to get a closer look. And through Dean's eyes, Cas began to notice as well. And it was like seeing in color for the first time. Dean had unlocked something in Cas that would never leave him, a little part that would always say what would Dean see here? It was painful, thinking that way now, for it reminded him of the throbbing hole in his heart that he had even yet to address. But he figured he owed it to Dean, to continue seeing, remembering just what life had to offer before even its most beautiful gifts had to be taken back.

So the whole way home from the hospital, Cas dutifully noticed ever tree, ever flower, every bird that was stirred by the sound of John's car. For Dean he thought, unsmiling. He was dimly aware of John's hand on his and the sound of soft sobs coming from his end of the car.

"Oh dad." he heard him repeating, over and over, and Cas was jealous, for John could cry for Dean. Cas was so deeply hurt, he was beyond crying. He was simply numb, constantly terrified of when his body would come to consciousness, and the emotions would push forward. But rather than think about it, he continued seeing the flowers, the trees, the birds. It was a warm evening, and the last rays of sun clinging to the day caressed his face and paved the roads with gold. If Dean were here, he would have made us pull over and take pictures, make me stand against the sun, tell me I looked untouchably beautiful in this light, as he did with every lighting type we had ever photographed in. John pulled into the familiar driveway and put his car in park. Cas turned to get out.

"Dad, wait."

Cas turned, but did not meet his gaze. Seeing that much pain in his son's eyes would be too much for him.

"If you need anything, please call. Ariana and I will keep our phones close. If you don't want to talk to me, your daughter-in-law would be more than happy to. I can already see the thousands of casseroles we will be bringing over."

John paused and brushed away a few of the many tears chasing each other down his cheeks.

"I love you, dad. We both do."

He leaned over and kissed Cas' forehead. Cas turned to get out, but paused once again, this time without provocation.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I just want you to know that your father loved you very much, even though he did not always have the best ways of showing it. His family raised him without the kind of love that we are used to, and it is very hard for him to say 'I love you.' But please, know that he actually loved you deeper than words could show, and was always so afraid of letting you down, of ending up becoming a dad like his own. He tried his best for you, John, even though it was scary. And that means more than words."

And with that, Cas got out of the car and walked up the stone pathway to the wooden door on their shaded deck. He did not look back. He unlocked the door, shut it, locked it behind him, and collapsed on the floor, the feelings he had been avoiding finally pushing through his defenses. He beat the floor with his fists until his arthritis kicked in and he could barely move his arms, and his hands were split open and bleeding. He lay there, spit, tears, blood, and bile pooling around him (although he was unsure how half of those got there), a lost and pitiful mess. In the end, he was still alone. And it hurt in ways that could not be described. Blinding, crippling, intense pain to which there was no match. Cas was unsure how long he lay there, but at some point, his brain found a vantage point in the confused war in his mind. He got up, forced his old knees to carry him up the stairs, and into their bedroom. It was time to see what Dean's last goodbye to him would be. He retrieved the small white envelop from the shelf above their closet, slowly breaking the seal and pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. On it, four words penetrated the page with their shock of blackness against the white of the paper.

Look under the carpet, friggin idiot.

Cas ignored the complaints from his back as he dragged the heavy carpet away from its place in the room. Sure enough, the floorboards were loose and came up easily, coated with blood from his bleeding hands. Nothing, in all of his years, could have made him even slightly guess what was under it. A scrapbook, marked "Our Adventures" lay at the bottom, covered by a tape and a camera. Cas pulled out the tape and tripped over himself running over to where the player was, sitting back and listening as Dean's voiced echoed through the room.

"My love:

I know we were supposed to write this, but I wanted to make sure you could understand every word of it, and my handwriting just wasn't gonna cut it. Plus, I can usually sound more sophisticated when I talk than when I write so yah. Cas, if that is you, I am so sorry baby. I can't even begin to imagine life without you, so I can only imagine how much it sucks without me. But Cas, this is going to be rather short, because, for me, there are only so many ways to say 'I love you.' I honestly wish there were thousands. Millions. Because I would happily spend my life saying each to you, trying to somehow tell you how much I care. But I have just never been very good at that, for love scared me. I thought that love always leads to regret, like what happened with my mom, my dad, even my baby brother. But then I met you Cas, and I fell in love helplessly. And I will never regret you. Which scares me, because the sheer damage you could do to me would probably be enough to get me locked up. But I trust you in ways I don't even trust myself. I have surrendered my heart to you, and I have faith in you to care for it. Cas, you are my best friend, my love, my rock, my angel. And honestly, my world has never made more sense than it does when you are with me, and I knew that from the very moment we first danced together in the basement, and you said 'I see you.' Those words had never been more perfect, more right, even though you had no idea why you said them, or what they meant to me. With you, I have no idea where I am going, how I will feel, what the next day ail bring for us. And I have never been more happy, not once in my generally sad life."

"Cas, baby, the book under this letter is our adventure book. I had the idea when we watched "Up" together on our honeymoon. Look through it. All my pointless and annoying photography makes sense."

"I know you feel lost right now, love, because that is exactly how I would feel. But I have one final request. I don't care how old you are, or what condition you are in. In the words of a wise movie, "thanks for this adventure, now go have a new one." I want you to climb mountains, ride zip lines, go on airplanes, go parasailing, do all kinds of cool stuff. I want to see you leave this world in a comfy bed, surrounded by pictures from all your experiences with a smile on your face. I want to hear all of your stories Cas, cause the idea that you lived a happy and full rest of your life is all I need to feel happy. So that is my message to you, my love, my last goodbye."

"I love you with every bit of my heart, with every fiber in my body."

"And I always see you."

"Love, Dean."

Cas sat there, never wanting the tape to end. Finally, he stood, and replaced it with their song. The all-too familiar lyrics filled the room, and Cas grabbed the book and opened it, feeling tears gather as he looked over the pictures of the moments he held most dear, the beach, the apartment, their wedding, their lighthouse, John, countless sunsets and cloudless blue skies, always featuring Cas.

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

I don't have much money but boy if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it's not much but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss

Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross

But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song

It's for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Alright Dean. Cas thought. If this is what it takes to make you happy, then for you, a thousand times over.

And with that, Cas packed a suitcase and headed out, to go and embrace what was left of the world.

Death of 98-Year-Old "Daredevil Man" Brings Tears to the Eyes of Those Who Know his Story

Earlier this morning, Castiel Winchester passed away in his sleep, shortly after calling the writers for The San Francisco Times to share the truth, which, until now, has been left unspoken, behind his elder year adrenaline junkie nature. Interview specialist Michael Vasquez went into the interview unsure of what to expect, but certainly not prepared for what he would hear, which brought tears to those who were listening, including Vasquez. He has requested that the in-depth version of his story he relayed not be printed, but has allowed a summary:

I was a broken man, wrestling with so many demons that I thought I could never be loved, nor love in return. But then I crashed into my husband of 75 year's tree, and I fell hard and fast. Dean Winchester saved me in more ways than just taking me inside and binding my cuts. He took my protected and bruised heart and showed it a way to love despite its inabilities. We married and lived happily together, adopting our son, John Winchester, moving into a small farmhouse where we lived form many years. Dean suffered a major heart attack at 97 on our anniversary, and passed away a week later. It was in his final goodbye to me that he stated that he wanted me to spend the sat part of my life exploring and having adventures so we could have something to talk about in heaven.

Daredevil man, who was well-know and loved by many, who climbed the rockies, rafted the Colorado, skydived, parasailed, and countless other deeds was nothing if not faithful to his husband's final wish. Because of the finality of this interview, we are lead to believe that Castiel knew he was dying and wanted his story to be read. He had one final statement to the general public:

Love is not something you see, feel, touch, or taste. Love does not center itself around dating sites and bars and work environments. I believe that love is found locked within a person, and the person you are meant to be with carries a complementary key. Even those that fight the hardest, who believe so little in it, just need to find their other half, for they are out there. I found mine when I crashed my car, for God's sake, and loving Dean was the best thing to ever happen to me. Loneliness may suck, but out there is a person who can open your eye to the colors of the world, to the feeling of true, unbridled happiness.

He also had one favor to ask in return for his story, a song request. When asked about his choice, he simply stated:

It was how my story began, and how I want it to end.

So, as our respects to Cas and Dean and the love they shared, the song will be playing on the radio at 12:30 this afternoon, and all of those who follow his story are encouraged to tune in and listen.

At 12:30 pm, a world-wide audience turned their radios on to hear the song that began what was being referred to as 'one of the most modern love stories in existence.' And each person was met with a song that they all knew, but would never be able see the importance.

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,

I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man,

Well, it surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune,

But I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more no!

Carry on,

You will always remember

Carry on,

Nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry,

Don't you cry no more,

No more!