A/N: Made from a prompt given to me via tumblr by realhunterswearplaid. Character death and cancer.
For some reason, the fact that he had less than a year to live hardly seemed to faze Castiel. When the doctor had informed him of this fact, Castiel had merely nodded, shook the man's hand and stood, waiting expectantly for Dean, who was sitting pale-faced in the chair beside him, staring blankly at the doctor as if he had been waiting for him to exclaim that it was just a joke and that Castiel was fine. He never did.
On the way home, Cas drove. It was a beautiful AUTUMN day, and Cas had rolled down every window in the Impala and was playing Dean's favorite music. Dean sat motionless in the passenger seat of their car and stared at Castiel, soaking in every inch of his features, absorbing every small detail of him.
Dean hardly noticed when Cas made an unexpected turn and stopped at their town's local gardening center. He put the car into park and looked over at Dean, unbuckling his seatbelt and waiting.
"What are we doing, Cas?" Dean finally spoke, voice blank. Cas smiled reassuringly and put a hand on Dean's leg.
"I'm going to do the garden, Dean." Dean blinked and said nothing, mouth hanging open slightly.
"The garden?" he spluttered, his emotions finally cracking the seal he had put on them. Cas nodded slowly.
"The freaking garden, Castiel?" Dean exclaimed, lurching away from Cas' touch. Castiel didn't seem surprised at his outburst. He had been expecting it.
"Yes, Dean. The garden." Dean put his hands in his hair, threading his fingers through the strands before he looked up at Castiel with despair.
"Cas, you're dying and you're worrying about the damn garden?" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air and biting down the tears that sprung into his eyes.
"Yes, Dean. I'm worrying about the garden," he responded, voice trying to soothe Dean. He shook his head.
"What the hell, Castiel? Aren't you upset? Because I sure as hell am!" Desperation crept into Dean's tone and the tears he had been trying to save for home sprang forward without invitation, rolling down HIS cheeks.
"Dean, of course I am upset. But I can't change the inevitable, and before I'm gone I want a garden. So please come in with me." Dean wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and nodded unsteadily. Cas smiled at him and reached over, wiping an errant tear that had fallen from where it clung to Dean's lashes, holding the side of Dean's FACE when he finished.
"Thank you. I appreciate it." Dean leaned into Castiel's touch, relishing the warmth of his fingers. He pushed back the thought that eventually, it wouldn't exist to him.
Cas stepped out of the car and walked around to Dean's side, opening the door and twining his fingers through the eldest Winchester's. Dean clung to his hand tightly, not caring that a few people stared. He held onto Castiel until they were in the flower aisles and Castiel detangled his hand from Dean's. The absence of Castiel's hand scared him, but he pushed it aside as Cas strode confidently towards some flowers.
"I've always like tulips. They're my favorite." He looked to Dean and motioned towards the flowers. "How do you feel about a garden of tulips?" Dean swallowed thickly and tried his best to produce a genuine smile.
"I'd love it, Cas."
They left the store forty-five minutes later with a cart layered in mulch and fertilizer, a blue watering can that Cas had fallen in love with, and bags of tulip bulbs. Dean had insisted on pushing the cart and Cas trailed slightly behind, watching Dean. His posture was slumped and his arms seemed listless, but he was putting on a good front for Cas.
Despite Castiel's protests, Dean insisted that the gardening could wait for one more day.
"We… We need to tell Sammy, Cas," Dean finally muttered. Castiel had stopped arguing and nodded, reaching for the cordless phone.
Dean half listened as Castiel invited Sam over, going through the motions of making spaghetti with an automatic stiffness to him. Cas stood on the opposite side of the island and watched, unsure if he should intervene or let Dean do his thing.
"Do you want help?" He eventually asked as Dean dropped the box of noodles on the floor for the second time.
"No." Cas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, walking out of the room. He couldn't let Dean see him cry.
Sam cried when they told him. He set his fork down and put his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. Dean wiped his eyes once and then put on a brave face like he always did with Sam. He put an arm around his brother's shoulder and looked up at Castiel, despair clear in his green eyes. Cas' heart lurched and he pushed back from the table, walking into their bedroom to compose himself.
Sam stayed well into the night, sitting on the couch next to Cas and Dean as they watched crappy eighties movies and tried to laugh. Dean had his arm around Castiel the entire time, holding him close. He rarely took his eyes off Cas and every time he laughed or smiled Dean seemed to light up.
The next morning, Dean woke to an empty bed and shot up, panicking until he looked out the window. In the early morning light he watched Castiel, wrapped up in a sweater against the fall breeze, spreading mulch across the dilapidated flowerbeds that had come with the house. He stood at the window for a long time, watching Cas work intently. From that distance he could barely make out the crease that formed between his brows when he was focused on something.
Eventually Dean stepped outside in his flannel pajama pants and old sweatshirt, two cups of coffee in his hand, his black and Cas' with two sugars, Cas looked up as the sliding door opened and smiled, walking over and taking a mug.
"Good morning, Dean. I'm glad you got some sleep." Dean nodded and looked at the progress Castiel had made. The bed was filled with fresh mulch and fertilizer, and the bulbs of tulips were sitting beside the empty ones of mulch.
"It looks good, baby." Cas smiled proudly and kissed Dean on the cheek before taking a sip of his coffee and looking out at his hard work.
"Thank you. I have to get them planted before it gets too cold, or they won't bloom in the spring." Dean nodded and put his arm over Castiel's shoulder, thinking ahead to the spring. Would he still have Cas then? Or would he be watching Castiel's hard work bloom alone.
"They'll be amazing."
The next week, Dean dragged Castiel to another doctor for a second opinion. He hadn't realized it, but some part of him had been clinging pitifully to the idea that perhaps the first doctor had been wrong. When the test results came back, they were the same.
The doctor had informed them that it was terminal, and even with treatment there wouldn't be much they could do.
This time, Dean fell apart in the doctor's office. He wanted to scream in the man's face and punch a hole through the computer monitor. He wanted to slam his fists into the wall and shout. All Dean could do, though, was lean against Castiel and sob so hard that they came out in broken gasps and heaves.
The doctor left the room to give them a moment. Cas wordlessly wrapped his arms around Dean and held him as he soaked through Castiel's sweater and shirt. He pressed his lips into Dean's hair and murmured softly until Dean was composed enough to leave the office.
That night, Dean and Cas lay tangled up in each other in bed, foreheads pressed together and hands entwined.
"We need to talk about this, Dean," Cas said softly. Dean shook his head, wanting to cherish the few moments of this he could. Cas smiled sadly and kissed Dean's nose tenderly.
"What's there to talk about, Cas?" He grumbled, closing his eyes and moving closer, head resting against Castiel's chest.
"We'll have to get a will written up for me," Cas mused. Dean's eyes fluttered open at how casually Cas brought up the idea of having his will made. He pressed his eyes closed and nodded against Cas.
"I'm not going through treatment, Dean," he said gently. Dean jerked away from him in shock.
"Yes, you are." Cas shook his head and put a hand on the side of Dean's face. He flinched away but didn't move back entirely. His mind was reeling.
"No. I'm terminal, Dean. I'm not going to spend our savings on treatment that won't do anything except prolong the unavoidable. I refuse to…" Cas stopped and put a hand over his mouth, eyes misting over before he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure.
"I refuse to die and leave you with all of my expenses. Please respect this, Dean." Dean shook his head and cried again.
"Cas, please just think about this. I'm begging you. Maybe it would help." Cas shook his head again, irritatingly calm.
"No, Dean. I won't budge on this." Dean nodded through the tears and curled against Castiel again, his silent sobs lulling him into a restless sleep.
Two months later, the first snow fell. It came on quickly and furiously, snowing people in for two weeks in some places.
Somehow Sam had managed to drive the half hour from his apartment to Dean and Castiel's house in a foot of snow just to spend Thanksgiving with them. It was a relatively simple affair. Dean and Sam had never bothered with Thanksgiving as children, but Castiel had insisted on at least making a turkey. He had spent most of the day in the kitchen, following directions off the internet to the last word.
"Dean, come help me with this!" He called from the kitchen. Dean stood up from the sofa where he and Sam had been playing video games and walked into the kitchen. Cas was just pulling the turkey from the oven and Dean grabbed a spare oven mitt off the counter and walked over to help him. They set the turkey on the holder gently and Cas looked at him and grinned.
"It looks good, doesn't it?" Dean nodded and licked his lips dramatically.
"I have a surprise for you," Cas sang jokingly. Dean smiled as Castiel told him to close his eyes.
"Open them." Dean opened them and looked at Castiel. He was grinning widely and his eyes shone like an ocean sunrise. The corners of his mouth crinkled and smile lines branched from the sides of his eyes. In his hands he held an impeccable pumpkin pie.
"I made you a pie," he said, still smiling. Dean took the pie from his hands and set it on the counter, pulling Cas against him and kissing him.
"I love you, Cas. I love you so much." Cas flushed and scratched the back of his head.
"I love you, too. Where'd that come from?" Dean shrugged and fought the surge of emotion at the back of his throat.
"I don't say it enough, Cas. You're amazing." Cas smiled and leaned into Dean's arms.
"You're too good to me, Dean." Dean shook his head and let a few solitary tears fall.
Cas went to the hospital for the first time two weeks before Christmas. He had been sick for a few days leading up to it, but the day that he couldn't even get out of bed to get the coffee Dean made had been the final straw. He had bundled Castiel up and drove them to the hospital, where they admitted him immediately.
The doctor informed Dean that Cas had the flu, but because of his low white blood cell count, his body was having a hard time fighting it off. Dean nodded, never taking his eyes off Castiel. They wouldn't let him in the room with him because of the outside germs he carried. His heart thumped in his chest as he looked through the window at Cas. He had tubes coming out of his arms and a mask over his face, eyes closed. It was only the steady rise and fall of his chest that told Dean he was still with him.
Dean spent three days outside the room, sleeping on a cot they provided for him. On the fourth day the nurse walked out of Castiel's room with a message for Dean.
"He says to go home, shower, get some food and hang out with Sam. And if you're here when he wakes up, he said he won't make you pie for Christmas." Dean managed a weak chuckle and looked at Cas. He stared pointedly back and motioned feebly for Dean to leave. Dean nodded and waved as Cas turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, sinking back into sleep.
As was Castiel's bidding, Dean left the hospital and drove back to their quiet house, showered, changed his clothes and called up Sam to see if he wanted to get a bite to eat.
They met at a little diner not too far from the hospital. Sam was waiting when Dean got there and stood up to hug him immediately.
"No chick flick moments, Sammy." Sam frowned.
"Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean retorted, ignoring the gasp of an older lady in the booth behind him.
They ordered the food and while they waited, Dean filled Sam in on all the information he had about Castiel's flu.
"They hope he can go home by the end of the week. He's doing a really good job fighting it all off." Sam nodded, surprised by how cheerful Dean seemed.
"And what about the cancer? How is that looking?" Dean froze up before relaxing and taking a bite of his cheeseburger.
"His white blood cell count is low, like I said. But the cancer is still progressing like it did before. No change." Sam swallowed audibly and looked down at his salad.
"They said it'll be less than eight months, now," Dean murmured quietly, gripping his fork tightly. His appetite disappeared.
Sam remained silent as he watched his brother slowly push away his half eaten bacon cheeseburger.
They released Cas at the end of the week with orders that he was to take it easy and not to go out if he could avoid it. Castiel joked on the way home that it was a good thing they had already finished their Christmas shopping, and Dean gave him a genuine smile before turning up his AC/DC.
The original plan for Christmas was to spend it at Sam's, but due to the risk of Cas getting sick again, Sam decided to come to their house on Christmas morning.
Christmas Eve was spent snuggling on the couch watching old movies with mugs of cocoa. Castiel was doing much better than Dean and the doctors had anticipated. He was tough and unafraid of a fight, even if it was with his own body. He had color to his complexion again, and when he breathed it sounded normal.
"I got you something," Cas announced at the end of the second movie in their marathon. Dean perked up.
"I got you something, too." Cas grinned and stood up, pulling Dean with him. They separated to retrieve each other's gifts from opposite sides of the house and met back in the living room. Dean clutched a small box in his hand and a book wrapped in paper covered with dancing gingerbread. Castiel held a small box wrapped in green paper.
"You go first, Cas." He smiled and dropped back onto the couch, handing the box over to Dean. Dean shook it experimentally and Cas smiled and smacked him playfully.
"Just open it, Dean." Dean grinned and slowly opened the package, teasing Cas by carefully pulling the tape off the paper. Cas rolled his eyes in annoyance and watched as Dean's face lit up.
"You got me an iPod?" Cas nodded and Dean cracked the top open, pulling out the sleek MP3 player.
"I took the liberty of putting your favorites on there and made a few playlists." Dean looked up at him and grinned.
"Thank you, Cas. I love it." Cas blushed and shook his head. Dean smiled and handed Cas the book. He knew Cas already knew what it was. He had walked in on Dean wrapping it, but that didn't stop Cas from getting excited as he unwrapped it.
It was a gardening book filled with pictures and paragraphs about different flowers and what they needed to grow and thrive. Cas spent a few minutes pouring over the tulip page before Dean coughed and shook the smaller box. Cas raised his eyebrow.
"I saw this in a window while I was looking for that book. I thought… I don't know. I just thought it suited you." He handed the small box over to Cas and looked away as he tore open the wrapping paper.
"Dean," he said breathlessly. Inside the box, on a layer of cotton, was a ring. The band was thick, and carved into it were a set of angel wings.
"I know we decided against marriage," Dean said quickly, "So think of this as a promise." Cas looked up at Dean through his lashes and smiled. He took the ring out and slipped it on his finger.
"A promise for what?" He asked softly as Dean took his hand.
"Forever, Cas," Dean responded. His chest tightened and he looked away as tears filled his eyes again. Cas scooted closer to him and wrapped his arms around Dean.
When they finally made it to bed that night, Cas and Dean both lay in silence, wrapped around each other, thinking of promises that couldn't be kept.
The next morning when Sam arrived, both of them were tired from lack of sleep and their eyes were red from crying, but Sam tried his hardest to make Christmas fun. He succeeded, mostly.
Halfway through February, after another three weeks of Castiel in the hospital with a cold, Dean and Cas decided it was time to draw up a will. The night before their lawyer was set to come over, Dean lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, Cas' head resting on his chest, soft puffs of breath rolling across his skin. His mind drifted without permission to when he wouldn't have the warmth of Cas' body against his own, when he could run his fingers through Castiel's hair. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, unwilling to deal with them. He didn't sleep that night.
The will was a short-lived affair. Castiel only had three people in his life to give things to. He left the estate and his bank accounts to Dean with instructions for Dean to split the money between himself, Sam and Gabriel, Castiel's brother. When the lawyer left, Cas looked heavily at Dean, and Dean looked at the table with acceptance in his eyes. Cas' hand touched his under the kitchen table, and Dean looked up through tears at Castiel. He squeezed his hand.
Spring happened suddenly. It was as if they had gone to sleep in the winter and woken up in the midst of a glorious spring. The snow disappeared overnight, leaving green grass and damp sidewalks in its wake. Cas looked mournfully out the window, wanting to go out but knowing it was still too cold. Dean had been very clear in the fact that he didn't want to take Castiel back to the hospital for the third time.
It was a few weeks into spring that the tulips finally began to shoot from the ground. Only then did Dean let Castiel go outside to tend to the flowers he had been patiently waiting on. He didn't let Castiel stay out longer than was necessary, even though Cas grumbled like a three year old when Dean forced him back inside for a nap. Castiel's energy was running out faster than normal. His movements were slowing and he was falling asleep multiple times a day.
The day after the tulips fully bloomed was the day that Dean took Castiel back to the hospital. Castiel had spent the day before outside in the garden, tending patiently to the tulips and admiring them. It had been too much time outside and Dean had known it, but he couldn't bear to pull Cas away. It was the first time in weeks he had energy and was smiling. He pulled Dean next to the garden and kissed him softly, putting his hands on the side of his face and smiling. Dean put his arms around Cas and held him close, not caring who saw. For one day, he had his Castiel back. His smiling, shining Castiel.
The next morning, Cas could barely open his eyes. He woke up long enough to tell Dean that something wasn't right and to take one forlorn glance at his flowers before he fell asleep. He didn't wake up again until they reached the hospital. A nurse met them at the entrance with a wheelchair and brought Cas to his usual room. They let Dean stay with him this time, mostly because every time a nurse tried to usher him out, Castiel threw a weak fit.
Dean stepped out when the doctor came to check Castiel over. When the physician left the room, he walked slowly to Dean and asked him to come back to his office. Dean sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and braced for the worse.
"I'm going to be straightforward with you, Mister Winchester," he exhaled. "He doesn't have much time left." Dean nodded. He had known this was coming. He had known all along that it would come down to this.
"How much?" The doctor looked down at his charts and then back up at Dean, face tired and worried with lines.
"I would be surprised if he lasted two weeks. Have you settled his final affairs?" Dean nodded, numbly acknowledging that they were having this conversation. That this was the end.
"You should call his family." Dean nodded and stood, walking out of the office with his cellphone in hand. He had Gabriel's number punched in and ringing before the entirety of the situation hit him. He barely held it together as Gabriel answered.
"Good afternoon, Dean-o. What can I do for you?" Tears slipped down Dean's cheeks as he sucked in a shaky breath.
"Hey, Gabriel." His voice cracked and he held the receiver away from his face as his body shook with a sob.
"Oh god," Gabriel's voice turned serious. "Is he…"
"No," Dean stuttered, "Not yet. You should come."
"Yeah. I'll be on the first flight out, Dean." Dean flipped the phone shut after he said his hasty goodbyes. He called Sam next, and after he got off the phone, he walked back into Castiel's hospital room and sat down on the recliner next to Cas' bed. He was sleeping. Dean picked up the hand that was free of IVs and held it gently, noticing the change in temperature.
"Cas, baby," he moaned, dropping his head onto the space between the edge of the bed and Castiel's hip. He stayed like that until Sam came in. Dean looked up at Sam and broke down in tears again.
"He's got less than two weeks," Dean choked out. Sam nodded and pulled a chair up next to the recliner. He put an arm around his brother and Dean leaned against him, crying.
Gabriel arrived late that night. He had been living in California for many years and was the only member of the family that Castiel kept in contact with. He knocked gently on the door and Sam and Dean looked up as he walked in. His eyes focused in on Castiel's sleeping frame and then flickered to Dean's.
"Hey, guys," he mumbled as he walked over.
"Hey, Gabriel." They were silent after that. Gabriel found a chair outside the door and dragged it in, situating himself at the end of Castiel's bed. He kept an eye on the monitors beside Castiel, jumping whenever one of them beeped. Sam left around eleven at night, promising to come back the next morning with breakfast. Eventually Gabriel slumped over in his chair.
It was around three in the morning when Castiel woke up. Dean was still awake, watching the rise and fall of Castiel's chest. His breath was rattling through him and occasionally he would let out a small cough.
"Hi, Dean." His voice was small compared to how it normally was. Dean smiled wetly and held Cas' hand tighter.
"Hey, baby. Gabriel is here." Cas looked towards where Dean motioned and gave a weak smile at his brother's sleeping form.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, lacing his fingers through Cas'. Cas squeezed gently and then shrugged, his laugh clattering around his chest.
"Not too hot, Dean. This is the end." Dean shook his head and let it fall on Cas' hand in his own, hot tears slipping down his cheeks.
"I know," he cried quietly. For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of Dean crying, Cas' loud breathing and Gabriel's soft snoring.
"I want you… to make sure… the tulips are good…" Cas wheezed out. Dean looked up at him and laughed through his tears at the absurdity of Castiel's request.
"The tulips. Always the freaking tulips."
Two days after Cas was admitted, he told Dean to go home and check on the flowers. Dean had resisted to the point where Castiel threatened to call the nurse to have him escorted out. It was only Gabriel's promise to stay with Cas that eventually convinced him to go.
"I'll be here… when you get back," Cas managed between coughs. Dean smiled and wiped his eyes quickly, motioning for Sam to come with him. He didn't feel like driving.
Sam cleaned up the house while Dean showered and changed his clothes. He stood on the back deck and watched Dean mimic the motions Cas had gone through every day to keep the flowers alive. He watered them with Cas' special watering can and made sure each one had enough room. When he was done, he pulled out his iPod and took a picture of the flowers to show to Castiel.
It was like that every day for a week. Dean would go home with Sam, clean up a bit and tend to the flowers. Every day he brought back another picture to show to Cas. Gabriel scarcely left Castiel's side, and the two of them entertained Sam and Dean with stories of their childhood while Cas was awake. When Cas slept, Gabriel told Sam and Dean the more embarrassing parts of Castiel's life. There were days where Castiel would sleep the entire time and days when Castiel was awake and alert as ever, brimming with as much life as his frail body could hold.
At the end of the first week, Dean came back one afternoon to find Cas asleep. He closed the picture of the flowers from his iPod and stared at Cas.
"I'm awake, Dean. I just can't… open my eyes." Dean jumped a bit at Castiel's feeble voice.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. Sam and Gabriel must have gone out to lunch, because it was just Cas and Dean in the room.
"How… are my flowers?" Castiel rasped.
"I have a picture, but…" Cas weakly shook his head.
"Just tell me, baby… Wanna hear your voice…" So Dean talked. He told Castiel about how they were all in full bloom and about the variety of colors. He explained that they all clashed together, but not in an unpleasant way. He described the way they danced in unison when the wind whistled through them and how the bent slightly from the weight of the petals. He was describing one particularly tall one when Sam and Gabriel came back. They stayed quiet until Dean finished his description.
"You're… doing perfectly… with them," Castiel said slowly. Dean smiled and kissed Cas' hand.
"Not as good as you did, Cas." Castiel smiled and then his head rolled to the side and he slept. Dean wiped tears he hadn't even realized were there from the corner of his eyes and glanced up at Sam and Gabriel. They were both crying as well.
Castiel died three days later. It was in the early morning. Dean had just drifted to sleep when he felt something jerk his hand. His eyes flew open and Cas was looking at him intensely, squeezing his hand.
"What is it Cas?" Dean asked, leaning forward.
"Dean… I love you…" Cas whispered, pulling Dean towards him meekly. Dean's heart sunk.
"I love you too, Cas. So much." Cas nodded and took his hand away from Dean's, wiggling the ring off his finger.
"You wear this," he said brokenly, handing it to Dean. Dean clutched it in his hand and nodded, tears falling from his eyes like rain.
"I promise I will, Cas. Just hang on, okay? You're doing so good." Cas shook his head and Dean tried to smile at him, tried to make Castiel feel better.
"Come… here… please…" Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Cas', breathing in his smell. Cas finally smiled and Dean moved the mask away to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
"Promise me that you will be okay," Cas insisted, one hand on Dean's arm. Dean nodded against Castiel's forehead.
"Promise you'll get help if you need it." Dean nodded again. Gabriel and Sam stirred, sitting up. They had both stayed the night, realizing this was probably Castiel's last few hours.
"I promise, Cas. I love you." Cas nodded and touched Dean's cheek, looking around to Sam.
"Sam," he coughed, "Please make sure Dean is okay." Sam, crying openly, nodded and stood to hug Cas gently. He looked at Dean and left the room, his shirtsleeve pulled over his hand, wiping his eyes.
"Hey Cassie," Gabriel said sadly, moving to Cas' other side. Castiel looked at his brother and gave him his best grin.
"Love you, Gabe." Gabriel nodded and held his brother's hand. Castiel looked back at Dean once more before his eyes drifted shut. Dean leaned back and held Castiel's hand until the heart monitor gave a long, continuous note. Two nurses and a doctor rushed in and Dean was numbly pushed to the side. He didn't remember walking out of the room and into Sam's embrace. All he knew was one minute Cas was there, telling him he loved him, and the next he was gone, and it was over.
The morning of Castiel's funeral, Dean walked out of the door and stood in the garden in his suit, turning Castiel's ring in his fingers and staring at the tulips. He wished that he could feel Cas standing next to him, or watch from the porch as Cas worked his magic in the dirt.
The flowers danced softly in the light breeze that ruffled Dean's hair. He slipped the ring onto his finger and took a shaking breath.
"Dean?" Sam walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, Sammy. I know." He let Sam drive him to the church where Gabriel had arranged a small ceremony. There were more people there than Dean had expected. Both of their neighbors were there as well as the barista from the coffee place that Cas and Dean had frequented. Random acquaintances from across town had shown up for the service. Gabriel stood next to a blonde man that Dean had never seen before. There was a redheaded girl standing off the side of Gabriel as well.
"Dean," Gabriel greeted, pulling Dean into a hug. "This is Balthazar, a childhood friend." Balthazar offered his hand to Dean, who shook it feebly.
"I'm sorry, Dean. Cas talked highly of you." Dean nodded and then Gabriel cleared his throat, gesturing to the girl.
"This is Anna, our sister." Dean nodded. He had never met Anna and he knew she and Castiel weren't close. Anna didn't make any move to greet Dean, but Dean didn't care. He wasn't in the mood to be social. Sam shook Balthazar's hand and nodded briefly at Anna.
The service was simple and brief. The burial was immediately afterwards. Only Sam, Dean and Gabriel stayed. Dean looked away as they lowered the casket down.
A week later, Sam had had enough. Dean hadn't answered any of his phone calls, and the only reason he knew his brother was alive was because he had driven past the house once a day for the whole week. He let himself in on the seventh day and stormed into Dean's bedroom.
"Get up, Dean. Take a shower."
"Screw off, Sam. Get out of my house." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"We're going out to lunch, Dean. Get up." Dean shot up, bleary-eyed and agitated.
"No. Get out." Sam crossed his arms and yanked the covers off Dean.
"I promised Castiel that I would take care of you, Dean. Get up." Dean looked at Sam angrily for a moment before his expression softened and he nodded, pulling the blanket off the bed with him as he trudged to the bathroom.
They went to a small restaurant in the middle of the town, and Sam made sure that Dean ate every bite of his cheeseburger. By the end of lunch, Dean had smiled twice and laughed once. Sam considered it a personal victory.
He dropped Dean off with the promise of returning the next day. Dean walked into his house and the silence and emptiness hit him like a wall. He trudged to the back yard and looked at the flowers. He had made sure to take care of them every day, no matter what mood he was in. He had promised Castiel, and he'd be damned if he failed him.
He walked to the edge of the flowers and knelt down. He pulled his pocketknife out and very carefully cut one of the flowers down. He held it in his hand, twirling it for a moment before sighing and looking out at the rest of them. He set the singular tulip down and reached for another.
The drive to the graveyard was peaceful. It was down a back road and Dean rolled the windows of the Impala down, enjoying the breeze. The sun beat down on his face and he allowed himself a small smile. He parked on the edge of the lot and grabbed the bouquet of tulips from the passenger side. He walked slowly to where Castiel was buried. It was a simple headstone. Castiel had picked it out shortly before his last hospital visit. It had been morbidly humorous to watch Cas pour over a catalogue of headstones. "Castiel Novak. Loving Partner, Brother and Friend" had been the chosen inscription.
Dean knelt beside the grave and brushed the dirt down evenly. It was still fresh.
"Hey there, Castiel," he started, feeling no shame when tears dripped down his cheeks. "I miss you more than anyone understands. I hope you know that." He took a shaking breath and glanced around before directing his gaze back to the grave.
"I wear the ring every day. I haven't taken it off. You're my angel now, I guess. Well, you were always my angel," he chuckled. A gust of wind swept through the graveyard, tinkling chimes on a headstone a row up.
"I'm taking care of your flowers, Cas. They're doing good. Not as good as they did with you. Kind of like me, I guess." A few tears pattered to the ground.
"I love you, Cas. I miss you so much." Dean knelt in silence, his hand playing with the dirt below him. With a deep sigh he leaned forward and put the tulips at the base of Castiel's grave.
Because Cas always liked tulips.