Whose woods these are, I think I know.
His grave is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

Bobby Singer's land. Castiel recognized it, even as changed as it was now, more than sixty years after his death. What used to be a sea of cars and parts had turned into a garden under the new owners of the land. When they moved on, it had ended up becoming woods, not quite forest, but too wild and large to be an unattended garden. Through it was the old driveway, now a simple alley connecting two roads. They were not necessary for Castiel, even ignoring that angels were not generally known for using roads. There were highways that were much more convenient for travelling across the country. But going by back road and country lane felt right. Castiel didn't want this journey to end. It was lonely and silent and cold, and Castiel was emotionally exhausted, but getting to his destination meant getting to the end. The finality of it was almost physically painful.

So he was going slowly and stopping regularly, though he did not need to eat or sleep or use facilities. There were other things to do, such as stopping in on friends who were now old both in friendship and in body. Remembering a particular case or moment spent with his best friend, Dean Winchester. Watching the snowflakes land around him.

The antique car would think it queer
To stop without a motel near
Between the woods and dusty home,
The darkest evening of the year.

If the Impala could speak without divine intervention, Castiel was sure that it would wonder what was going on. Dean was, of course, nowhere in sight. He hadn't been for the last two years. As of two days ago, he wasn't even on this earth anymore. For the first time ever, Castiel drove the Impala from its place in a garage in California to Dean's final resting place in upstate New York.

Cas had been there as Dean took his final breaths. The staff at the nursing home knew he was going, so they had called him. Cas didn't hesitate to go to his best friend. It could have been the last time the two would ever get to see each other. After all, Cas was still barred from Heaven.

Dean's passing was made peaceful with Cas there, and quick. Castiel did not cry, but there was a sore spot in his heart, a deep ache. What humans called heartbreak, maybe. His emotions, the emotions that caused him so much trouble, seemed to rally for a single blow which felt as if it could knock him off his feet.

Once he could control himself and compose himself again, he went to California, to that garage with a love of antique cars. He stole the Impala, which one of Sam's kids had sold five, six years ago. He got into the driver's seat and drove. It seemed fitting that he put in a final roadtrip. It seemed fitting that it would end at Dean's grave. The Impala would rest with the person who loved it the very most.

If only Cas could rest with them.

A ring upon an old cell phone
Reminds me that I'm still alone.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of wind and footsteps on the stone.

He hadn't turned off the car, but he could still hear the cell phone ringing from the passenger's seat where he had left it. Leaves and snow sounded beneath his feet as he walked to answer it. He opened the passenger door, picked the small object up, answered it. "Hello."

"Cas?" It was Jessica Winchester. She was twenty-five now, though it seemed only yesterday that she was born. In some ways, however, it was as if she had been around forever- she was like her grandfather and great-uncle combined. Jessi was a hunter to her core, unlike the woman her grandfather had named her for. Her voice was almost physically painful, a reminder of friends long gone- it was Sam Winchester's voice, but translated from male into female. The cadence and tone were uncanny, even if the range wasn't.

"Jessi," Cas responded.

"Look, I know that you're upset about Uncle Dean, and I am too. You know we were close. And I know you guys were. But, come on, you don't have to go on a freakin' cross country race. He'd understand if you just went to his funeral without the car."

"This isn't for him. It's for me." Cas realized with a start that what he said was true. Dean was in Heaven, he could feel it. He was happy. The Impala was likely with him in spirit. This journey was for Cas. An appropriate ending to the greatest story of his life.

"Well, whoever it's for... do you have to do it tonight? We need you. There's an assload to do, Castiel."

"I don't want to hunt tonight," he said.

"Who said anything about hunting?" Jessi laughed. "Cas, it's Christmas Eve. Hunting can wait until the new year. Come decorate the Christmas tree with us. Get your mind off death."

These woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep.
"Will the car be safe until tomorrow?"

"Cas, think for a moment. Tonight- Christmas Eve. That makes tomorrow Christmas. You aren't getting out of family celebrations this easily."

"I..." Cas wasn't sure how to say that he didn't realize he was still part of the family. The last one of his original family had died nights ago. Yes, Sam's children and grandchildren had accepted him, even loved him, but he had always thought it was on the merit of Sam, and later Dean. He hadn't realized he was still part of the family now that they were gone.

"Come on, I know you could have been here by now." Jessi's impatience leaked into her voice. "Tell me I didn't make Mom make some of that awful meatloaf you like for absolutely nothing."

Cas glanced at the Impala. It would be there on the 26th, and if it wasn't, he would find it with ease. And really, this was as good a resting place as any- Bobby Singer's land, an old place that used to be filled up with old cars.

He would return, and he would go to Dean's grave. But right now, he had promises to keep. So much to do, Jessica had said. Yes, he would help his family. The family he had right now. The new Winchesters.

And someday, he would get caught up in another story, another epic. Jessica might be at the center, or rough-and-tumble Rob, or maybe one of the others. And maybe he would lay down his life and his own happiness all over again.

But that was a long way off. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and he had things to do.

And miles to go before I sleep.

Author's Note: Well, that's my fifth annual Christmas fic. It also marks one of the only Christmas stories I've had with a happy end. Or, well, kind of happy. Just trust me when I say it's better than last year (when a girl sold her soul to get a very special present for her boyfriend), or the year before (when a ghost haunts the man who killed her on Christmas Eve). Might even beat the one where a girl is forced to make toys because of a deal her parents struck with Santa. The first year was okay, though...

Okay, rambling. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! :)