It would've been a beautiful summers day, the clouds travelling relentlessly along the sky in marvelous patterns, letting the evening sun shine onto the golden wheat and deep green leaves. Only the sounds of nature itself were audible, no such thing as cars or factories breaking the eclectic song of the forest glade.

There were candles placed around Castiel, and as he watched the tiny flames flickering in the warm wind, he came to understand why the Winchesters never liked fire. The playful swaying of the light seemed like a mockery in the face of recent memories and there was nothing left of the peace and homeliness a fire used to bring. Castiel moved Jimmy's fingers to distinguish them. Like age old stars they disappeared and left black circles in Castiel's sight - his time as a human had never quite lost its impact on him and Jimmy's body. The distinguishing of the flames, however, didn't bring him the comfort he hoped it would. The ever present weight in his chest didn't move.

For a moment he felt tempted to pray and call out to his father, but this was a habit he should have dropped a long time ago. Wasn't it odd to still seek comfort in the presence of someone, when they had left so long ago? He shook his head as if it would've been of any use in shushing away the memories of Dean, Dean still praying to him even long after he'd gone and let them drown in their problems. The memories where there and they would never leave him at peace, but he deserved it, after all, and neither Dean nor Sam deserved their troubles being forgot.

There was a sudden cold breeze, and Castiel pulled Dean's old jacket tighter around himself. It was a habital reaction and he missed the times the cold used to disturb him, the times he was able to sleep and feel freely, to do all thsoe human things. He missed the time of being human, even if it was only for the company. He missed Sam and Charlie, and the Winchester's other friends, but Dean he missed most of all.

With a sigh he got up. The golden light was gone by then, and the night soon to come, so he quickly collected the items of his ritual. Empty it might be, but he had a home to hurry to. There would be a few bottles of Jack waiting for him, he knew, standing right next to the calender announcing Dean's anniversary.