"Where are we?" Sam unfolded himself from the backseat of the Impala and roughly rubbed afternoon car nap from his eyes.
"Yeah Cas, why did you take us to an empty field?" Dean surveyed the view skeptically.
"It's not empty," Cas said softly, squinting and blinking in the bright sunlight. Dean gave him a look, are you serious, but decided to let Cas have his thing. He let Cas drive (after two hours of bitter bickering) them to a place he said would help them in some non-specific way. Dean knew Cas was stubborn and when Dean finally relented he was more than a little curious at what was running through Cas' thoughts.
Cas was walking away from the shiny chrome bumper and into the tall grass. Dean sighed and followed after with heavy steps. Sam sighed even heavier, feeling more tired after the long drive than before they left the bunker earlier that morning.
Dean rushed his steps to catch up with Cas and hovered around his elbow. "What is this place, Cas?" Dean's voice was unmasked and raw, questioning, like a child. Cas smiled knowingly at Dean over his shoulder, "Follow me." Dean fell behind Cas and followed his path through the dry grass. Cas led him over the hill and they looked down into the valley the lay below, a perfect circle surrounded by green spruces and pines. Cas spread his arms and ran down into the valley, letting the momentum of the earth propel him where he wanted to go. Dean followed him, sliding down the hill in his steel-toed boots less gracefully, leaving a small cloud of dust behind him.
Cas stopped at the center. Dean almost collided into his back but nearly stopped himself in time, he ended up very close to the back of Cas' neck and his strong hands (that were out in front for balance and maybe to keep him from falling to the ground face-first) ended up on the sides of Cas' waist. If Cas noticed or minded he didn't move and Dean breathed on Cas' neck and breathed in Cas' sweet odor and felt the curve of his waist and Cas felt solid, Dean felt solid. Dean stepped back and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and mumbled "Sorry," he looked past Cas at the trees encircling them.
"No need to apologize."
Dean cleared his throat and wouldn't look at Cas but the blue gaze pulled and Dean had to meet that face glowing in the late morning sun, smiling in his crinkled trench coat, in his crinkled way.
"Ok," Dean said and it wasn't sarcastic or layered but humble and honest.
"There are a many different types of plants living in this valley," Cas said and picked up a purple spiky-ball-flower with a fat bumble-bee crawling on it, "and more life than you can count."
"How many?" Dean asked like he always did when he was trying not to show he was impressed, with a false breathing pattern and roaming eyes.
"One-hundred and eight," Cas said and the bee buzzed lazily away.
"What kind of plant is that?"
"Just a thistle," Cas said as he threw it into the grass.
"Oh."
Cas felt Dean was disappointed, "What is it?"
"Nothing," Dean almost started to say what he was thinking, "It's nothing." Cas eyed him intensely and walked back towards him.
"It's not nothing," Cas peered at him closely, "thistles are nice plants but they're not...very useful."
Dean laughed softly, "No, it's not about that, Cas," Dean glowed green and gold when admiration shone from his lips and eyes, "I just forgot. I forgot, that, that was a thistle." Dean looked down and Cas stopped him and held his face up to the light in his cupped hands. "Cas," Dean started to choke, "I forgot that she taught me that," and Dean didn't have to say his mother for Cas to understand.
"Things have a way of coming back to you," Cas stroked Dean's rough cheek with a thumb before letting his hands fall back to his sides, "There's more I want to show you." Dean swallowed the rising anxiety in his stomach and followed Cas across the field.
Sam saw Dean stumble into Cas then Cas' support of Dean from the hill high above. He decided not to follow them down to the valley and not just because they shared a moment down there but it was really far down and it was getting warmer and his head ached so much everything was starting to get fuzzy around the edges...the darkness creeped in and he forgot everything else but the stabbing in his temples as he crawled into the backseat of the impala and closed his eyes...breathing in the dust on the dry kansas air of summer, breathing in the tall whispering grasses, the buzz of fat insects, the familiar leather...
Dean followed Cas to the edge of the trees and as Cas slipped into the cool shade between the boughs Dean felt held back by the transition from light to shadow. Cas was gone into the trees. Dean swallowed the fear and walked across the line.
In the forest the air was cooler and wetter and the trees swayed above him in the strong prairie wind back and forth, back and forth, their branches brushing together in earthy caresses. The sun sparkled through the thick green leaves and Dean saw Cas' light tan coat ahead. Cas slipped between the trees as graceful as a deer grazed. Dean felt the quiet and cursed his heavy boots under his breath.
"Take them off," Cas looked back at him and smiled, "your feet will thank you."
Dean wondered, how the hell did he hear that, but once he untied his boots and stashed them behind a mossy rock with his socks tucked safely into the toes, he forgot about Cas and the cool earth welcomed him.
He caught up to Cas at the falls. The water was roaring, splashing down the boulders into a glistening small blue and green and orange pool. Dean balanced on a rock next to Cas and tried to discern what he was looking at.
"Belted Kingfishers."
"Huh?" Dean was finding it hard to balance on the rocks as smoothly as Cas.
"Those birds that swoop down over the water, almost touching the surface," Cas pointed at one little gray bird with a crest of blue feathers on its head and flashes of white under its wings.
Cas led Dean down the falls to the pool that beckoned below with its shady willows and soft grasses. They settled on the ground next to the pool, facing each other. All around them daisies wavered in the breeze and looked up at the sun. Cas took off his coat and placed it over his lap. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button down and his wrists were white and smooth. He plucked all the long daisies near him and set them in his self-made coat basket. Dean watched his fingers twist the long stems together until he had a thick circle of daisies. Cas then looked up at him and smiled so big his whole face was bright and yellow. He leaned towards Dean and Dean leaned towards him. Cas set the daisy crown on Dean's head and let his hand slide down on Dean's shoulder, on Dean's scar, on his mark.
"Cas," Dean was tentative, "why did you bring me here?"
"A king needs a crown," Cas shook the fallen petals and leaves from his lap.
"Cas," Dean pleaded, "what is this place." Dean looked at Cas with the green eyes of new growth on the earth after a wet spring.
"Your mother," Cas whispered warily. Dean fell forward on his fists, wanting to rip the earth apart but Cas caught him and held him tight against him. Each shudder and gasp Cas held him tighter until he was quiet and breathing softly on Cas' neck and then Cas still held him in his arms for a while after that.