AN: I was thinking about season 7 and I saw that picture of Dean and Cas on the pier, and this was born. Please don't hate me, I do that enough myself.
The only thing Dean dreams about anymore, or at least the only thing he remembers dreaming about is that damn pier.
Every night since the night they managed to rip purgatory's souls from Cas he'd dreamed about the same damn pier overlooking the same damn lake.
Every night since Cas had died, using his grace to seal the souls in a neat little gift wrapped bundle for them to kick back to Purgatory.
Every night since Cas had told him he could never express his sorrow deeply enough, and that he just wanted Dean to know that he loved him.
Every single goddamn night since Dean had let Cas die in his arms.
And on every single night, in every single dream, Dean sat, fishing pole in hand, watching the never ending sunset, never catching a fish, just sitting, and waiting.
Waiting for Cas to come.
And on every single night, in every single dream, he waited and waited, for an angel that never comes.