Castiel doesn't remember their names.
He tells himself it doesn't matter. Everything they ever accomplished is plain to see in how high the grass grows, the path the rivers choose to take, the stories parents tell their children before they put them to bed. Those two boys scratched everything raw until free will was the only variable left to bleed; what did something as trivial as a name matter, at that point?
He remembers everything else. How freckles seemed so out of place on a face that tan. How it was impossible to tell if a certain pair of eyes were green, brown, or blue, and how the man was too tall to check discreetly. How someone who had so much love to give could never share it, and how an abomination could have the purest soul he'd ever seen.
Sometimes, he feels like their names are on the tip of his tongue, and he experiments with several that just don't feel right until he gives up. Remembering the names would blur out everything else, and he never wanted to forget.
There was a car, too; a shiny black car that would have a lot of things to say if it could. Castiel listened to a lot of music in that car, songs that had the same title when heard outside of it, but never the same sound. When that car's wheels left their last tire tracks in the road, the older brother slept in the backseat for two days, ignoring the cricks in his joints in favor of worn leather.
There'd been others, too. An old coot in a baseball cap that Castiel never got to say goodbye to. A blond girl who started and ended her life in her mother's arms. A demon who pretended not to care. And they were all real, but as with any good story, some of the details got changed or lost along the way.
They were the most significant humans to ever walk the earth, but their goal was insignificance, and eventually, the universe let them have it.
Somewhere, in a part of Heaven carved out specifically for them, the two brothers drink beer at an old bar, their faces more youthful than they ever were when he knew them. Occasionally, Castiel debates finding them and reliving old memories, but theirs' was a story that was meant to start and end with just the two of them.
A/N: Sorry, it's short. If I get a decent response, I might elaborate on it. It's just something that came into my head, just your average SPN crying jag. No big.