"Chuck?" Castiel called out cautiously as he entered the run-down house which the prophet had once inhabited.
There was no response.
Castiel sighed. He had been hoping that the prophet would be able to give him some clue about the future – some hint of what he could possibly do to stop Raphael and save the world from destruction (again). Because at the moment, he really had no ideas.
"Chuck!" he shouted, louder this time.
Still no response. It looked like Chuck had relocated, which was strange considering all the furniture was still here and it smelled like there was some rotting food in the kitchen. Castiel went over to look, and flinched back from the smell of decaying fruit and mouldy bread. Still, the stench wasn't as bad as he would have expected if Chuck had been gone for more than a couple of weeks. It couldn't have been long since he'd left. And if he was still on the face of the Earth, Cas would find him.
A few days later, Cas was back at the house. He had searched the majority of the USA before realising that he could, in fact, look Chuck up on the internet. And the results had been: nothing. No one had seen Chuck for two weeks.
Cas walked around the house aimlessly, occasionally picking things up and putting them down again at random. Eventually, his eyes fell on one object – a laptop. He knew that Sam kept all of his most valuable information on his computer. Could it be the same for Chuck? At any rate, it was worth a try.
Castiel opened the laptop.
It wasn't password-protected – apparently Chuck had no concerns about people stealing his ideas. Cas looked blankly at the screen, unsure of where to begin. He had never been particularly interested in modern technology and had only the barest idea of how to use the computer.
He pressed a few buttons experimentally, before widening his eyes in surprise when something appeared on the screen.
It appeared to be a manuscript for one of Chuck's stories – an unpublished one judging by the occasional appearance of the angel's name. Not what he had been looking for, perhaps, but undeniably intriguing.
Castiel began to read, eyes skimming through the text impossibly fast, only to come to a halt and reread one particular passage over and over again – the one documenting Dean's thoughts at their first meeting.
Dean's heart clenched upon first seeing the creature who had rescued him from perdition. He had believed himself to be prepared for anything. After all, you had to be in his line of work. But the one thing he had not expected was the sheer beauty of the angel standing before him.
Castiel's eyes widened as he read this, a small smile curving his lips as he discovered thoughts he had never dared to hope would cross the hunter's mind.
Greedily he searched for more insights into Dean's inner thoughts, only to scowl in frustration when he found none. The angel kept tentatively jabbing buttons, gasping as more blocks of text appeared, each one revealing a thought, another brushstroke in the painting of Dean's feelings for Cas – feelings which Cas had only imagined in his most private dreams.
Finally, when Castiel pushed a button to bring up another story, none appeared. All that was on the screen now was a single, simple sentence.
Go and get him.
Before Cas had time to wonder how Chuck had known he would come here, if this could possibly be a trap, or, indeed, why Chuck would even care about a relationship being formed between Cas and Dean, he was gone.
Seconds later, Cas stood shrouded in invisibility as Dean went about his daily business. Suburban life clearly suited him – he looked healthy, and as happy as you could expect someone who had lost his brother less than a month ago to look.
Castiel sighed. He'd had no real plans or any clear conception of what he would say to Dean when he's zapped himself over here. Cas had had ideas of confessing to the older Winchester how empty he felt without him, how glad he was whenever their paths met and how desolate when he was forced to leave again, but he had no idea of how to word all this. Caught up in the fervour of love, he'd simply assumed that somehow it would all work out. But now, watching Dean raking leaves, seemingly content, he wondered if he could truly bring himself to snatch him from this peaceful, normal life. Perhaps he would resent Castiel for trying to do so. Perhaps he no longer cared for the angel. Perhaps it would be better for all concerned if Cas just left, and went back to fight in the heavenly war.
But before he could bring himself to decide either way, a familiar voice came from behind him.
"Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?"
Caught up in the fervour of trying to save the world as he was, there was not a day that went past without Cas thinking of Dean and the terrible way that he was betraying him. But after all, it was all for the greater good – or so he believed.
After it was all over – after the leviathans broke free, and after Cas took on Sam's hallucinations, and after purgatory and everything – after all that, Cas still didn't tell Dean how he felt. He went on, believing that there was no way that Dean would ever forgive him, no way that he could possibly still care for him no, but not loving the hunter any less.
And not realising that Dean felt exactly the same way.
End.
Notes:
1. Title taken from lyrics from "the Long and Winding Road", by the Beatles
2. Thanks to Adrija aka write-letters for feedback and stuff
3. Thanks for reading! :)