Foreword: Rated for foul language. Warnings: contains Character Death. Very bittersweet take on what would happen if Dean didn't die in a blaze of glory, if he grew old and had his angel by his side.


His bones were getting creaky. It took longer for him to get up the stairs. Fuck, he hated getting old. He'd dealt with it once, he hadn't planned on doing it again. But hey, life was a kicker like that. Oh god, he said kicker. Someone shoot him.

Dean sighed a little to himself as he pulled up the laptop—much heavier than it was yesterday, that's just wrong—and started to clack away at the stiff keys.

While the first time he experienced old age was quick and awful, this time it was in slow motion. And ridiculous. Each day a joint or his hip cracked, and years ago he'd finally given up searching out hunts and instead focusing on the ones that came to him.

He's taken over Bobby, and then Sam's, old job. No one around was old enough or wanted to do it but him. Sammy had been much better at it but no one…was around forever. And making a deal just wasn't in the cards anymore. Not with—

"Dean? Dean, I told you, not today. The doctor…"

"Oh screw you, Cas. I'm not lying in bed all day like an invalid."

Castiel sighed behind him and set down the laundry basket, one warm, smooth hand cupping Dean's jaw as he looked over his shoulder.

"No hunts?" Castiel mumbled, lilted slightly with what Dean knew was poorly masked hope.

"Yeah, nothing. Just on phone duty today."

Castiel hummed and leaned down to plant a kiss on Dean's head, and Dean grinned when he felt the warm porcelain of a coffee mug slide into his hand.

"Man after my own heart" Dean chuckled as he turned around, hooking his fingers into Castiel's shirt to capture angel's lips with his own. The faintest curve of a smile followed before Cas pulled away, smiling at Dean with his blue eyes flickering with mirth.

Cas hadn't aged a day. Literally. While Dean ached and moaned and griped every day about his joints and the hernia in his back, Castiel never said a word; he had nothing to say. Staying on Earth so long had depleted his grace somewhat sure, but he was still very much an angel. And as Gabriel proved long ago, the vessels didn't age if the angel was inside.

Dean asked decades ago, back when he was angrier why Castiel had stayed; why he bothered when all the angels had left and gone to Heaven. Dean wasn't worth it, he wasn't important anymore. But Castiel had given him one of those intense looks he'd learned from Sam and Dean shut up. It took him too many years after to admit he was in love with the angel. And when he admitted it, Castiel was no longer afraid to say it, either. A couple years after that, Dean got the nerve to buy the rings. They had a small ceremony, just Sam and the few friends they'd gathered years after the apocalypse and the leviathan scare, but he's still been more nervous than a teenage virgin about to go to second base. He never regretted saying "I do" for a moment.

Another thing about getting old he hated. He was so sentimental it hurt.

The years were… well, monotonous; especially after Sam was gone. They had the same boring routine with the occasional hunt Dean was too stubborn to let go unless Castiel was more stubborn to keep him home. Castiel always shook his head and smiled at Dean, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with happiness even though Dean knew he was a handful in his old age.

But today was…different. The smile on Castiel's lips was just a little weaker, his eyes not staying on Dean's as long as they usually did. After a moment too short Castiel picked back up the basket, and heading out to the bedroom to fold the clothes.

"Take it easy today, Dean. Promise me," he called back, looking over his shoulder with a gentle smile and his brow creased.

The words stuck in his throat for a moment, "Yeah. Yeah, sure Cas."

Dean didn't know why Castiel was so…not Cas until later that night. He'd felt tired lately, over the past month. But never this tired. And when Dean went to bed that night, Castiel placed his hand over his cheek, his fingers stroking the greying edges of his hair, and whispered, "I will be with you when you wake."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. Just that he felt at peace, and he knew to trust Cas. For a moment his heart felt heavy and thick, beating out of time before more calm passed over his mind, and Dean fell asleep under Castiel's watchful eyes.

When he woke up, he was in Ellen's bar. It was empty, and dark, with blindingly white light streaming through the boarded up windows. Dean gaped for a moment, and then it hit him.

He was dead.

"Oh- god dammit did I really just- Cas!"

"I'm right here Dean."

Dean turned around to face Castiel, by Dean's side as he always promised him. He looked…sad? Guilty? Why?

"Cas, what the hell happened?"

"You had a heart attack, Dean. You didn't wake up. I'm…sorry, I couldn't…"

Dean looked down at his hands; they were unwrinkled, no liver spots. He ran his smooth fingers through his hair and found it thick again. He was…yeah, he really was gone.

Before he could help himself Dean was smiling, and pulling Cas in for a bone crushing hug he hadn't had the strength to give in over two decades. Castiel didn't even hesitate to hug him back.

"I told you not to interfere when I kicked it, Cas. No sorry for keeping a promise."

He could hear the smile in Cas's words, "Okay, Dean. Would you like to see Sam now?"

"Hell yeah I'd like to see Sam! But please don't tell me he's got like, a harem of people he-"

"Dean."

"Yeah yeah. Come on."

With a big grin on his face, Dean took his angel's hand, and he led him out of the darkness and into the light.


A/n: Just something I felt like writing after seeing a brilliant piece of artwork on tumblr. Comments are always much appreciated.