It reminded him of a castle, tall and ornate, topped by a number of little towers that were more for looks than actual defense, the thick white-stone walls still bright despite their age and wear, and complete with a large wooden door that could keep anything out. Stained glass windows were set in the stone at intervals, three per side and one massive one in the back, depicting various scenes from the Biblical days. Ironic. Of all the places they could have chosen, it'd been an old cathedral. He personally would've chosen someplace else, but his soon-to-be husband was entranced by the older architectural sights, and he would do anything to make him happy, no matter how utterly awkward this was. Besides, the building was beautiful, and it would be a nice place for them to finally get married.
They'd spent months, nearly a year, planning the million and one things that a wedding required: the colour scheme, the location, the reception, the guest list, how they would walk down the aisle, who would be the 'bride,' what flowers would go best, etc. Sometimes they'd agreed instantly, and other times they'd bickered over their preferences until they either found something they both liked or until a not-so-little little brother jumped in to mediate. In the end, everything was decided, and both of them were satisfied with the final product.
The church bell tolled, pulling Dean from his thoughts and reminding him that the hour was upon them. He fidgeted nervously, running his hands along his black jacket, brushing at invisible specks of dust that he was sure were lingering on the fabric. He wanted to look his absolute best. When he'd done that nearly a hundred times, he moved on to fiddling with the black tie, loosening the knot and re-tightening it a few times, causing it to lie oddly against his chest at an angle. "Dammit," he muttered, pulling it loose so he could retry.
Just when he'd started to get frustrated with it, a pair of softer hands brushed his away so that they fell to his sides and set to expertly fixing the mess he'd made of his tie, adjusting the front of the jacket just a bit afterwards before sliding into his own rough hands. He looked up with a smile, coming face to face with the man he'd fallen in love with long ago. God, if he didn't look even more handsome than when he's last seen him, his eyes alight with excitement and that crooked smile spreading across his lips. Dean could spend all day staring at Castiel, just taking in the gorgeous features and soul he'd been given and wondering how he'd ended up with such a wonderful man.
"You look wonderful," Castiel said, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Dean could say the say for him. They'd decided to both wear simple suits, black jackets and pants matched with a crisp white shirt. The only thing that varied clothing-wise were their ties, Castiel wearing a dark blue one that matched the hues of his irises perfectly instead of traditional black. The damn thing was backwards, as was usual with him, but nobody would even try changing something that was just so him. He pulled off a suit in ways that no other person ever could—but then again, he could pull off almost any look with ease, even though he liked to complain about how his dark hair was permanently messy, the near-black strands poking up whenever and wherever they pleased. Today he'd tried to tame it, but some pieces still managed to spring free. Castiel had probably been irate with the hair, but Dean had always found it very attractive. It suited him.
"Come on. They're going to start in a minute." Dean nodded and linked the fingers of his right hand with Castiel's left, and they meandered over to stand in front of the large outer doors. Everyone else filed into line in front of them, the two best men second to last. Both he and his fiancé had picked their brothers, Sam and Gabriel, who had been their biggest supporters since day one of their relationship. Everyone ahead them was a mix of family, some pleased to be there and others glancing down at watches every other minute. That didn't bother Dean too much—as long as Castiel was happy, he was happy, and nothing was going to ruin this blessed day for them, not even crabby family members.
Even through the thick wood of the doors, Dean could pick up the distinct sound of an organ playing, and his heart skipped a beat. This was it. He felt Castiel squeeze his hand a bit, silently expressing his excitement and showing that he too was nervous. The group around them hushed as the doors began to open, pushed inward by two ushers, friends of Sam's who grinned at them as they began slowly their trek into the church.
It was nerve-wracking, walking down an aisle as everyone stared at them with mixed reactions. He wasn't at all embarrassed or ashamed of his relationship with Castiel, but the scrutiny of many gazes put a pressure on him that he would prefer to do without. He'd never done well with crowds, there being far too many people for comfort and he could suddenly feel a panic attack coming on, the familiar clenching of his chest making him stop dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to breathe deeply so he didn't lose it. That'd make it so much worse.
Instantly Castiel was there, pressing his shoulder to his comfortingly, and Dean leaned into that contact. "It's okay, Dean," he whispered, his breathe tickling his ear. "I'm right here. Just focus on me and you can make it. It's alright, I promise." He softly kissed Dean's cheek when he nodded slowly, stepping back as he took a moment to gather his strength. He could do this. He wanted to do this, and he could, if he ignored everything that didn't matter. So he tuned out everything, the music and people, and focused solely on Castiel, on their hands linked between them.
That was how he made it down to the altar, and by the time they got there he had calmed down quite a bit. He just kept his eyes on Castiel as they got into their positions, facing one another while the priest, a close friend of his fiancé's, centered himself between them. They hadn't been able to find anyone else to marry them, since they were not a traditional marriage, but Balthazar had been more than happy to do it. He was a little eccentric himself for being a man of the Word.
The room was alive with little whispers that made Dean nervous again, but Balthazar was a clever man. He knew how to hush a room. "Friends," he began softly, and everyone shut up to listen. "—we have joined here today to share with Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak an important moment in their lives. In their time together, they have seen their love and understanding of each other grow and blossom, and now they have decided to live out the rest of their lives as one. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
The room was silent, and Balthazar took that as his cue to continue with the reading. They'd given him free reign over that portion of it, so Dean could only hope that he'd come up with something good. "You don't know how happy it makes me to finally say those words. I've known some pretty stubborn people, but never any as hard-headed as these two. They were so blind for so long, but then they finally figured out how they felt and the rest of us celebrated that victory. Years later they got engaged, and now they're here to get married. And I could not be happier for any couple than I am for you guys," he paused, smiling at them before continuing, back on track with the more serious parts of his speech.
"Before you're wed, though, let me talk about marriage. What is marriage? It's the union of two people, yes, but there is much more to it than just that. Marriage is giving yourself completely to one another, in body and soul, in life and in love. In all my years, I've never seen two people more qualified for marriage than the two before me today." Once that was said, Balthazar asked them to say a short prayer for their happiness, and then it was time for the vows and ring exchanges. Castiel went first.
"Dean, you are so many things to me, and I am sure you will be many more in our life together. No one is perfect, but with all of your strengths and weaknesses, and with all of mine, together we are perfect. You complete me in more ways than I could have thought possible. I knew before my heart did that we were made for each other. Now my heart has caught up, and the joy that I feel from the love that I have for you is incomparable, and I know that you feel the same because your love radiates from you and surrounds me in warmth. Because of all of these things, I want with all my heart, to be the best person I can be for you. I will love you forever. I will laugh with you when times are good, and I will lift you up when times are hard. I will be the joy of your heart, and I will be the food of your soul. I promise to wash away your tears with my kisses, and hold you with passion. My affection will know no bounds. With this ring I give to you my body, my mind, my soul, my entire being."
He smiled as he retrieved the ring from Gabriel, taking Dean's left hand in his and sliding the ring onto the appropriate finger. Then he stepped back, and it was Dean's turn. He took a deep breath and launched into the words he had spent so long trying to perfect.
"When we first met, the thought of us together was crazy and impossible. I tried to hide my feelings and did so successfully yet painfully. We became closer over time and my feelings only strengthened. Then one ordinary day turned extraordinary when you confessed you had feelings for me. I told you how I felt and then you kissed me. I knew it was wrong but it felt so...right. Like we were meant to be together. You made me feel like everything was going to be all right. I couldn't believe that someone as beautiful and wonderful as you would love me back. I still can't. It's been 12 years since that amazing day and I feel exactly the same as I did. I love you just as much if not more. Before you my life was empty, meaningless. I thought it would be like that until the day I died. But after we got together I was happier than I have ever been, you gave my life meaning. You filled the empty spot in my heart. I can't imagine living without you, and I won't. Today I am the luckiest man alive. I love you more than I can ever tell you or show you, and will love you forever and always."
He took the ring from Sam, unable to hide the grin that crept across his face—not that he would want to, anyway. He was undeniably happy about this. He took Castiel's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the smooth back before he slipped the ring onto his ring finger.
Then they stood there, both blushing and staring at one another and smiling as Balthazar spoke. "In the exchanging of rings and vows, these two different souls have been connected as one. I now pronounce you Dean and Castiel Winchester. Dean, you may kiss your bride." Castiel had insisted on being the 'bride,' since he was taking on the family name instead of the other way around. He'd said that he preferred Dean's name over his anyway, because his family was much better to be a part of than the Novak family. And judging from the amount of bitter faces out in the audience on his side, that wasn't an understatement.
Dean reached out for Castiel, sliding one arm around his waist to pull him close while the other slid up under his arms to cross his shoulder blade, allowing him the proper support to dip him slightly. He hadn't told his husband about his plan to do this, and it was clear that he was both surprised pleasantly and embarrassed. Castiel regained his composure and wrapped his arms up around Dean's neck, bringing them only inches apart. "I love you," Dean murmured, tilting his head just the slightest bit so that he could lean in and press his lips to his, and—
And then he was waking up, blinking up at the blurry white ceiling he'd spent years staring at, the cracks of which he had already committed to memory. Almost instantly his hand darted over to the other side of the bed, pressing into the sheets where there had once been another warm body. For a second he thought he felt warmth beneath his fingers, the familiar soft skin he so loved letting his hands roam over, and he nearly gave himself whiplash jerking his head to the side, only to come face to face with a cold and empty space, his fingers splayed out on the lavender cover they'd picked together. Dean choked out a sob, hot tears running from his already-sore eyes, and he rolled onto Castiel's side of the bed, pressing his face into the pillow he'd once used, breathing in deeply between sobs as if it would hold any of his scent, that wonderful sharp, musky smell that he so loved waking to in the mornings. But there was nothing, no reminder that there was ever once anyone there in the first place. Knowing that only made him cry harder, and he found himself nearly screaming about how unfair this whole goddamn thing was. It hurt; Castiel had left a void that couldn't be filled in his heart.
He stayed like that for an eternity, crying until there was nothing else to let out and his throat was raw, the pillow damp under him, and then he lay there in thick silence. The house was always silent anymore, and it nearly drove him mad. He pined for the days when there had been music pouring through the halls, when he and Castiel would slow dance to their favourite songs, tripping over one another's feat fairly often and laughing about it when they were on the floor. He longed for the smells of Castiel's burnt cooking, for the frustrated sounds he'd make when he couldn't quite get the hang of using a pan or the stove in general, how he'd walk up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist, kissing his neck and totally distracting him from the task at hand. He wished for the cold nights when they'd curl together in bed or on the couch, Castiel's icy feet tucked between his legs in a futile attempt to get some heat into his body, content to stay in each other's arms until the world ended. Dean just wanted Castiel back.
It hadn't been fair, losing him. It wasn't right that while he was fighting for his life, the drunkard who'd hit him got to walk out of the hospital with mild injuries, just shitty little scratches like one might get from an angry cat. It wasn't just that when he went to join the angels in Heaven he didn't take Dean with him, because Lord knew he was ready to go right then if it meant he wouldn't be alone. It just wasn't fair that a sick twist of fate had claimed the one person he cared most about from the world, stolen him right from his arms in a gust of wind like he was nothing more than dust. For a while he'd blamed himself, thinking that if he'd kept Castiel home none of this would've happened. If he had begged him to just stay, to not go to work... Then he'd been angry, with the drunkard, with the hospital, with Castiel. How could he leave him here? Didn't he know that Dean couldn't do this by himself? Countless vases and glasses were broken in an attempt to control his rage. But all of that eventually faded into resignation, a sad acceptance that there was no bringing him back from the dead, even if he wanted nothing more than to see him once again in person, to hold him in his arms and kiss him endlessly, to hear that wonderfully raspy voice mumbling his name in the best of ways. The only thing he had anymore were memories.
Dean eventually forced himself up from the bed, going into the bathroom to take a quick, cold shower to wake himself up the rest of the way. He didn't want to look like a total disaster, because today was a special day, and he had somewhere to be. Despite his plans to not take long, he ended up just staring blankly at the walls until his hands started going numb, longing for the life he'd once had. His movements were sluggish, and all he could keep imagining as he washed himself were that his hands were not his own, but instead the warmer ones of his fiancé, loving in every little touch. Dean wouldn't lie; he was trying to draw this out, to indulge in those memories as long as he could. But he could only stand the bitter cold water for so long, so he eventually shut it off and toweled himself dry. After he was mostly dried off he got dressed, picking a pair of nice jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt. Castiel had always told him the lighter shades did him many favours, and he'd worn pale colours every time he'd visited since the accident just to see his eyes light up or his pale lips turn up into a sweet smile.
It was well after noon before he actually left the house, later than he'd wanted but still perfectly alright, picking up the bouquet of white roses on his way out the door. Castiel had always adored flowers, stopping to smell them whenever they saw them in stores or on walks. He was always the one to pick them out for things like Mother's Day or Valentine's Day, and he occasionally brought some home to Dean just because he knew he'd love them. Dean tried to figure out which were Castiel's favourites so that he could get him the best ones. After some trial and error, he'd learned that he liked the white blossoms best, stating that they had some kind of purity or something. All he knew was that they made him happy; he almost acted childishly, excitedly jumping about and sniffing them deeply, sometimes so hard that he'd get a dusting of pollen on his nose. Dean would usually snort unattractively and he'd just wonder why, so he'd start asking and that would only make him laugh harder. He was just so damn precious, sometimes he really wondered if he knew how adorable he really was.
It was a short distance to the cemetery, though he'd learned to just make it take as long as he humanly could so that maybe by the time he got there, he'd have a little bit of composure. It never got any easier, visiting him. It brought up swarms of memories and feelings, things that made his heart ache painfully in longing. Dean never left that place without a very heavy burden on his chest. Yet still he found himself there time after time, every year and sometimes in between, usually around holidays. Castiel had always delighted in such things. He could remember many of the times they'd gone out to do something festive; they'd go out and find the ugliest Christmas sweaters for a card photo, or have a romantic date on Valentine's Day, and go out trick-or-treating like they were five or something. It was always so fun, it didn't matter that they were in their late twenties already. As long as they enjoyed themselves, that was all that mattered.
Dean could only delay the trip for so long; within about twenty minutes, he was slowing his car to a halt in the gravel driveway of the graveyard and climbing out to cross the bright green stretch of lawn that he'd trekked so many times before. The springtime breeze rustled the leaves and bent the flowers around him as he walked, rubbing the petals of his own white roses between a thumb and forefinger. The grave was easy to find, resting in the shade of a large cherry tree centered in the lot, its pink leaves dancing invitingly. Castiel had chosen the spot long before the accident when they'd gone to visit his late father, saying that in case he ever did die, that's where he wanted to go. Right under the cherry tree where it was most beautiful. At the time, Dean had told him how preposterous the notion was, but he'd honoured his wishes in the end. They'd also claimed the spot right next to it, because that was where Dean was going when he finally went to join him. Together in life, and together in death.
He stopped when he was under the tree's branches, lowering himself slowly to the cool ground beside the headstone, reaching over to lay the roses in front of it just so. He leaned his shoulder against the stone, sighing and twisting the simple gold band on his left ring finger. It was the one Castiel had given him eight years prior, on the day they'd gotten engaged. He'd never taken it off for more than a few seconds, and he never would, even after the life drained from his body and he was no more. Then it would lay with his corpse, a permanent memento of the love he and Castiel had shared. A love that continued, despite the fact that he was the only half remaining in the world of the living. It was the kind of thing that would never fade, and he would never let it go.
"Hey, Cas," he said softly, rubbing his finger along the engraved letters. "Six years today, huh? Man, you won't believe the things I've got to tell you 'bout..."