Dean sat on the dock in one of bobby's old camping chairs, fishing rod balanced lazily in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. There was no one around and it was a lovely sunny day, not too hot and just the right amount of breeze. Otis Redding's (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay played softly in the background. It was calming.

The calm was broken by a flutter of air behind him.

Dean took a long slow drink, finishing the bottle. As he moved it away from his lips he sighed in satisfaction, "Man, that's good beer."

The wood of the dock creaked as someone moved closer, not that he had to guess who that someone might be.

"I wondered when you might show up."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, his deep voice was soothing and memories of the distant past. "I thought I might find you here."

"Where else would I be, Cas?" He turned to face his old friend, taking in the familiar posture, the same clothes and the same face; Castiel hadn't aged a day. "You're in my head, I'm always here."

The angel sent Dean a chastising glare, which Dean ignored.

"Pull up a chair," Dean waved an arm at the empty space next to him and suddenly Castiel was sitting in the chair that appeared out of nowhere and clutching onto a beer. "It's good to see you, you know, in the flesh."

Castiel nodded that he understood. It had been fifty one years since Dean and Castiel had stood face to face for the last time, in the light of the flames licking up around Sam's dead body. A hunter's funeral for the one that should have got away, lived the life Dean had gone on to lead in his memory. Castiel had brushed a tear from Dean's cheek before disappearing back to Heaven that night.

"Dean, I-"

"I know," Dean cut in softly. "I know you had to go back to Heaven, I mean you're an angel, of course you had to go back."

There was a pause as they both drank from the bottles in their hands, staring out at the calm ocean in silence.

"I came back, quite often. I watched you live the life you deserved, you were happy." There wasn't a tone of sadness in Castiel's voice and Dean suspected that the angel might have had a hand to play in how some of his life events had played out.

Castiel often visited the Winchester family over the years, staying invisible to all except Chewy, Dean's long haired mutt. The dog always lifted his head when Castiel dropped in, looking directly at him with big brown eyes and wagged his tail against the floor a few times before dozing off again. Castiel was fond of that dog and was sad when he passed away all those years ago. He had laid a hand on Dean's shoulder as the vet put Chewy to sleep. Dean had a sad smile on his face at the touch, as if he knew somehow that Castiel was there with him.

Castiel was there when Dean met Amy, he looked on as she became Mrs Winchester, and was there for the birth of their beautiful son, Robert Samuel Winchester. He was at Dean's side ten years ago when the family buried Amy, and rejoiced with them as Dean's grandchildren were born. He found himself dropping in on Dean much more frequently after Amy's passing, providing a supportive presence, or at least he hoped Dean felt him near.

"I knew you were there, watching over me. It was... It helped to have you close. You were always there when I needed you, even if you didn't show your feathery ass." Dean chuckled and Castiel smiled at him, eyes bright in the reflection of the water.

"I heard your prayers, I always came."

Dean thought back to the years after Amy's death, when he'd decided to write his memoirs – they'd be classed as a work of fiction for the most part but that didn't deter him – the writing helped give him a purpose and he often felt his angel's presence when he sat down to write in the study. He was surprisingly eloquent on paper, and spent months perfecting his life story. During one chapter in particular, he felt Castiel behind him, flush against his body with his arms wrapped around his chest and abdomen, head nestled on his shoulder reading as Dean wrote. Maybe Dean had dreamt it, but as Dean finished and scrawled a title for the chapter on the first page, he could have sworn he felt a light kiss on his neck before the angel was gone again. The chapter was his favourite, getting it down on paper had given him a much deeper understanding of who he was. The chapter was called 'What an Angel Taught Me About Love.'

Otis was whistling on the breeze as they sat, blue and green eyes locked together, conveying the joy, hurt and sadness they had both been through in the last half century together but apart. As the song started from the beginning again, Dean broke the gaze.

"So what happens now? You going to work your mojo or are we going to sit around like the old folk that we are, waiting for the inevitable?"

"It's time, Dean," Castiel sighed.

"My son..."

"Has taken his children out of school, they're on their way here," Castiel reassured. "We can stay a little while longer."

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Dean changed the track to Don't Fear the Reaper followed by Knocking on Heaven's Door, which earned a smile from Cas. The trenchcoat rustled as the angel reached out and took Dean's hand in his own, their beers and the fishing rod disappeared leaving them alone with the music. They sat there for hours, just two men on a dock holding hands.

Suddenly they were no longer sitting on the dock, but stood in a hospital room with machines beeping and whirring away, and an old man lying in the bed. The old man was asleep and deathly pale, his features looked grey and his eyes seemed to be sinking back into his skull.

"I look like crap," Dean stated moving to the foot of the bed, hand still firmly grasping Castiel's.

The angel looked from the old man in the bed to the young soul next to him. He squeezed Dean's hand, "You look beautiful to me."

He'd had a stroke, a pretty major one at that. At eighty seven years young there wasn't much the doctors could do for him, except make him comfortable - it was a waiting game now, a game that was nearly over.

Dean squeezed Castiel's hand tightly as his son and daughter-in-law ushered their two children into the room, going straight to Dean's bedside with tears in their eyes.

"They love you very much, Dean. You are a good father and grandfather." Castiel whispered.

"Were, Cas. Past tense." Dean grunted back.

Castiel smiled, "Your legacy will live on in them."

They watched the scene as each child was lifted to press a kiss on Dean's cheek, which Dean felt from the foot of the bed. He reached a hand up and touched the spot with his free hand. His grandchildren were then taken out of the room by their mother, leaving only his son. Bobby pulled up a chair and took his father's lifeless hand in his, stroking soft circles on his skin.

"I love you, pops," Bobby wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "You say hi to mom for me when you see her, and Uncle Sam and Uncle Bobby, and Cas, and everyone else you've been telling me stories about my whole life."

Dean felt the pressure of Bobby's fingers lessen on his hand, but he could see that Bobby was still tracing those circles. He moved closer to his son, forgetting Cas' hand, as the monitors started beeping erraticly. Bobby cried harder as a nurse came in and turned the sound off as he flatlined.

"I love you too, buddy. Look after that wife and those kids of yours," Tears were falling freely down Dean's face now. "And be happy, Bobby. I just want you to be happy."

Castiel was in front of Dean then, wiping the tears away. "I'll watch over him, and his children, and his children's children."

"I know you will," Dean smiled leaning into the touch on his cheek.

Castiel leaned in, brushing his lips softly over Dean's before pulling back.

"Are you ready to go and find your Heaven now, Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, Castiel," He nodded and took both of the angel's hands in his. "I'm ready to go with you now."

~ The End ~