"Hey daddy! Look, daddy! Made picture for you!"

Dean turned and looked down, wayyy down, to the dark-haired girl tugging on his pants leg. Big blue-green eyes blinked up at him from behind a freckly nose, pride practically rolling off the kid in waves. Dean smiled a bit, wiping his hands off on a towel and turning from where he was frying an egg for breakfast and knelt down, brows raised as the girl handed him a piece of construction paper.

"See? Look, its me, you… and mommy!"

Dean dragged his tired eyes over the picture his daughter made him, still only half-awake and perhaps slightly hungover, only to have the breath stolen from his lungs.

Drawn in crappy second-hand crayon was two stick figures. One tiny, black-haired tot with a cutesy pink bow in her hair, one tall male with brown spiky hair and scruff and bright green eyes. And one little white lump. One white lump under a tree, with black scrawl on it and flowers in front.

"A-A-Anna…" he murmured, finding it hard to get words out around the sudden lump in his throat. He stared wide-eyed at the picture, feeling his shoulders begin to shake. He felt tiny, warm fingers on his cheeks, and he finally tore his eyes from the paper which trembled in his hand, to see a pair of big turquoise eyes looking at him with childish concern.

"Why… are you crying, daddy?" she said, tilting her head in the same fashion her "mommy" used to. She scrunched her eyes, trying to see the answer on Dean's face, just… like…

"Anna…" he said again, reaching out and grasping one of his daughter's arms, pulling her gently forward until she was cradled against his chest, her head on his shoulder, where he softly petted her dark curls with his shaking hands.

"Daddy…?"

"Shhh, Anna… Daddy… needs a moment, okay?"

"Okay, daddy."

A pair of tiny arms wrapped around his neck and Dean clutched her tighter, dragging breath after breath in slowly until the tears slowed. But his eyes still burned, his throat was still tight, his chest still felt like a canon had blown right through it.

"Be strong, Dean. For both of us. For Anna and me. Dean… I love you, Dean."

"Cas…" he breathed, the word alone bringing up so many mixed feelings, mixed memories that he felt like he was going to collapse. But he never let himself be this way around Anna. He couldn't. She was too young to even begin to comprehend what had happened to Cas, what it turned Dean into when he wasn't around his kid. She could not see this pain, Dean did not want to be the parent that fell so deep into himself rolling in self-pity that the child had to grow up practically on their own, taking care of that horrible parent instead of the other way around. Dean refused. So he pulled back and gave Anna his biggest smile through the tear-tracks on his face, and he kissed her forehead.

"That's a friggen' awesome picture, babe. You know what we're gonna do with it?" he said in a cracked voice, gently taking the piece of construction paper like it was sacred. Anna shook her head sweetly, eyes wide once more, the furrow in her brow from before having disappeared now.

"We're gonna take it to mommy. And we're gonna show him what a great job you did."

Anna's little face lit up like fireworks on 4th of July, showing off her Winchester dimples with an award-winning smile. She giggled and did a silly little happy-dance, clapping her hands and stomping her chubby bare feet on the wooden floor. "Yes, Daddy!" she chanted. "Yes, yes!"

Dean chuckled and slid his hands beneath her arms, lifting Anna up as he stood. She squealed in delight, smiling brightly at Dean as he turned off the stove, breakfast forgotten, and handed the wiggling creature in his arms the drawing. He carried Anna into the living room where her crayons were strewn about everywhere around the coffee table. He took care not to step on them as he weaved his way to the front door, where a pair of white little sandals sat next to a pair of big Kansas-mud-caked boots.

Once he'd stepped into his own shoes, he set Anna down and helped her into hers, strapping the sandals on. Briefly he thought about changing Anna out of the Dean-sized Metallica shirt she currently wore, the neck so wide it sagged off one of her smooth little shoulders. But he saw the little spattering of light freckles that resided there on the pale skin, and decided not to. It fit her like a dress anyway, so long that the bottom edge brushed the carpet, so nothing to worry about.

He lifted her once more into his arms, settling her on his hip as he grabbed the keys to the Impala and carried his daughter out the door, her eyes shining with excitement. He opened the back door of the car, gently sliding Anna from his arms and into the car seat waiting in the middle of the backseats. He strapped her in, Anna carefully holding the picture out of the way as he did so. With a fond smile he ruffled her mid-back-length curls, mindful of the barrette on the side of her head. This earned him a grin and an impatient pat on the cheek.

"C'mon, let's go daddy!" she peeped, and he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, kiddo, hold on to your britches. We're goin'."

He smiled once more and closed the door before plopping into the front seat, putting the key in the ignition and revving her up. The Impala purred and growled pleasantly, and Dean cranked up the AC so some of the stuffy summer heat would be chased away.

He settled back into the warm leather seat, reaching a hand into the box of cassettes in the passenger seat. "Whaddya wanna listen to, baby girl?" he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder to Anna. She scrunched her face in thought.

"ADC!" she exclaimed, bouncing a bit in her seat. "ADC, ADC!"

Dean smirked as he plucked out a cassette from his collection. At least his daughter had inherited his good taste in music. He felt a swell of pride as he popped the tape in the player, and the Impala dutifully played the first chords of "Back in Black", to which Anna sang garbled, slurred interpretations of the words, which were too fast and too much for her to understand completely yet.

Backing out of their driveway, turning and driving out of their neighborhood, Dean's thoughts were catching up with him. His smile faded to something broken and chipped, something falling apart and washed out. Dean knew that he was only hanging on to this life by a thin, fragile thread named Anna, and a promise he'd made to Cas. Dean was sharply aware that he was barely, barely holding himself together for her, and knew that even then he was still doing a pretty bullshit job of it most days. He sank back into the car seat, the weight of everything pushing down on him like an actual force of gravity. Suddenly he was weary, tired, strung out. He felt just as crappy as he had last night at the bar with Sam.

But he spared himself a glance back at his daughter, all bouncy dark curls and bright blue eyes and dimples and he let out a shaky breath, tugging himself up to a straighter position in his chair.

Stow your crap, Dean, he told himself, just this once, stow your crap and be a good father. Don't be dad, don't be John Winchester…

The next song on the ACDC track started and Anna was singing that too, and her voice relaxed his shoulders, if only temporarily. He took deep breaths, steadying himself in the warmth of his daughter's presence. He can do this. If not for himself, he will for Anna.

They turned down a discreet dirt road off the main one, a road you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. It was a bumpy ride, but Dean often tinkered with the Impala late at night or when Anna was taking naps, so the car despite its age still ran smooth as glass even on this sort of terrain.

It was only another five minutes before they branched off and puttered down a smaller, even narrower road, right down to the edge of a clearing next to a small lake, in the middle of which sat a giant dogwood tree. Dean parked and turned the key in the ignition again, and the sounds of "Hells Bells" stopped abruptly, leaving behind a buzzing silence in the May heat.

Dean sat there for a moment, fingers clamped around the key ring still in the ignition, staring at his hand in silence. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but he couldn't move yet. He couldn't bring himself to look up and risk catching the glint of white out of the corner of his eye, much less face the stone head-on. But then a tiny hand tapped on his shoulder. He turned around, surprised to find Anna had managed to unbuckle her seat belt and climbed over to her father, drawing in tow.

"Come on, daddy," she said softly, seeming to already know that coming here was like twisting the knife in the wound Cas' death had left in Dean. The excitement she had barely been able to contain minutes ago was dampened, and Dean flinched at the thought. He didn't want coming here to become something somber for Anna. The child smiled at him, flashing tiny white teeth. So perfect, Dean thought as he returned the smile somewhat weakly, my perfect baby girl.

"Alright," Dean murmured and turned, heaving himself out of the Impala, keeping his eyes carefully away from the dogwood tree as he retrieved Anna from the car. He lifted her up high, rewarding him with a gleeful giggle before he set her sandaled feet on the trunk. He turned around with his back towards her and helped her up onto his shoulders.

She scrambled aboard, ankles crossed on Dean's chest and her tummy pressed to the back of his head as she wrapped her arms around his forehead. Dean held on to her knees, pushing the car door closed with a nudge of his boot, and with a deep breath, turned to face the tree.

He looked up at the long branches first, examining the magnificent white blossoms there which were tinged with a delicate pink, fluttering in the sudden breeze from the lake. He traced down the length of the limbs to the trunk, sliding his eyes down the wood, where, carved by Dean's own pocketknife, the letters D.W and C.W were carved, marking this place as his and Cas' just as the D.W and S.W in the Impala marked that as his and Sam's special place.

Then his eyes fell to the headstone. His breath caught in his throat, his vision was blurring already, but the fresh wave of pain was suppressed somewhat by the child sitting on his shoulders. Dean bit his lip harshly as he started forward, his knees suddenly shaky, but he pressed on until he stood right in front of Cas, right in front of where his angel had been buried.

There was a hallowed silence, the bugs buzzing faded away, the birds chirping quieted to nothing, and the animals of the forest seemed to pause. Dean looked down through the tears at the stone, which read "Castiel Winchester, Beloved Brother, Husband, and Father, May he watch over us". Below the fading grey script was a picture of Dean and Cas a few days after they first received Anna. Both of them looked tired and worn out, their hair sticking out everywhere, stubble covering their jaws, but the light in their eyes was like nothing else Dean had ever seen. It was joy and pride and love and adoration and every good feeling in the world as they took their first, and last, picture with Anna together before the cancer. There was a few more pictures Dean had stowed away of Cas with Anna in the hospital after the illness took hold of him, but those were private, and he's sure that Cas wouldn't have wanted those pictures to be what he was remembered by.

Dean knelt down and cleared his throat wetly, patting on Anna's knees so she'd slip off his shoulders and down his back, her sandals landing softly on the grass littered in those of the dogwood petals that had already fallen. Dean stayed where he was, one arm resting across his knee as he watched Anna come around and scuttle up to the white stone, a great big smile on her face.

She stopped when she was practically nose-to-marble with it, her little hand coming up to touch the picture in the stone, her fingers on Cas.

"Hiya, mommy," Dean heard her say, and the retired hunter's heart lurched in his chest. Or, what was left of his heart did anyway. "I drew a picture for you today. Daddy really likes it, he wanted me to show you. So, um, here it is!"

The young girl backed away a little and held up the picture, showing it to the smiling picture of Cas, who looked overjoyed of course. Dean was overwhelmed with so many urges at the sight that his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails bit into his palms. He wanted to scream and demand from the Man Upstairs to give Cas back so Anna would have her mom and didn't have to grow up without him like Dean and Sam had to without Mary, he wanted to thrash and throw a fit and beat the gravestone until it crumbled so maybe Cas would rise from the ashes of it like a glorious phoenix, he wanted to drive to the nearest bar and drown in alcohol until he couldn't feel this ache in his chest anymore, he wanted to grab Anna and pull her into a hug so tight that his body swallowed her up and she would fill the void Cas had left inside him, he wanted to take a gun and put it in his mouth and swallow a bullet to be with Cas.

But instead he was paralyzed, watching his daughter show a picture to a cold gravestone and that hurt almost as much as it did watching Cas' chest heave his last breath and hearing the heart monitor flatline.

Anna bent over and placed the picture against the marble stone and then backed away with her hands clasped. "I hope you like it, mommy. I really hope you like it in Heaven."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and let out a long, strained breath. He reached out and pulled Anna back against him gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. Together they looked at the stone a while longer, Dean sitting down cross-legged and pulling his daughter into his lap, encasing her in his arms protectively.

It was silent for a long while before he sighed and mustered a smile out from the darkness inside. "Love ya, Cas. We both do."

"Yeah, love you!" Anna chirped, her hands clinging to rest on Dean's arms wrapped around her.

"And… we miss you," Dean continued, his smile becoming more relaxed as Anna's closeness stabilized him. His daughter's presence calmed the storm inside. Didn't vanquish it, didn't blow away the pain, more like blocked it out.

Anna jumped happily in his lap. "But it's okay, mommy! Unkie Sammy says you're in a better place now. And that someday me and daddy will be with you again. Soooooo…"

Dean tensed a little, eyes widening a bit at what his daughter said. So… she'd been asking around about Cas. It must have been recently, when Sam was visiting last week, and left late last night after taking Dean to the bar. Dean had left Anna with "Auntie Charlie" at her house yesterday so he could spend some time with his brother, but after Sam had left, the house was too empty and he couldn't stop thinking about Anna. So he'd went and gotten her at three am, carried her sleeping form into the Impala, kept her in his lap the whole way, and then carried her into his king-sized bed and curled around her until he fell asleep.

Dean's lips twitched and the hardness in his green eyes softened. "So, see ya soon, Cas," he finished, and Anna nodded, her curls brushing Dean's cheek.

"See ya soon, mommy!" Anna raised a little hand and waved enthusiastically, then threw a kiss. Dean felt another tear escape and slid down his cheek, but he paid it no mind, turning his head to press his lips to Anna's temple, breathing in the scent of her watermelon shampoo. She laughed happily and nuzzled beneath Dean's chin like she did when they cuddled together on the couch when watching Star Wars or Three Stooges reruns.

For a while they sat there like that, eyes closed and enjoying the silence, father rocking his daughter softly back and forth. Dean was reveling in the momentary peace when he turned to look at the dogwood with his and Cas' initials and had an idea.

He gently bounced Anna in his lap. "Hey, babe, let me up a sec," he murmured as Anna looked up at him, a serene, borderline sleepy look in her eyes. She nodded and he helped her to her feet, patting her on the head before he got up himself and headed over to the Impala. He popped open the trunk, opened the fake top and grabbed a knife from beside a folded up trench coat stuffed between the rest of the weapons Dean and Sam and Cas had vowed never to use again. Before he could let the pain take hold again, though, he shut it and jogged over to the tree, gesturing Anna over.

Once she was beside him he gently took her hand and put the handle of the blade in it, closing her small fingers around it. Her eyes widened and she looked between her dad and the knife like she wasn't sure to be scared or not. Dean gave her a gentle smile and nodded, and she relaxed slightly.

"What are we doing, daddy?" she asked, tilting her head like a cat. A habit she inherited.

"We're gonna put your initials with dad's and mom's, okay?" Dean explained, closing his own fist around hers softly and wrapping his other arm around his daughter, hoisting her up on his hip. "Right here between them…"

He raised his hand and hers along with it, biting his lip in concentration, unaware that she did the same. Together, they carved A.W into the wood, and drew a rough heart around all three names. When they were done, Dean took the knife and reared his hand back, lodging the blade in the tree beside the heart.

The two looked at their handiwork in silence for a while, Dean holding Anna tight against his side before he felt a little head resting on his shoulder. He looked over at his daughter, who was blinking wearily up at him, smiling tiredly.

"Daddy, can we…?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a wide smile and a chuckle. "Yeah, let's go home."