At this very moment in the town Lawrence, Kansa, Castiel was nine years, twenty seven weeks, six days, three minutes old. He was not like any other boy, or would he ever be. Because Cas had a power that nobody would have ever thought would have. For he could bring the dead back with the touch of his fingers.
He brought back little things such as flies or other bugs that died by the windows sill. But nothing was of immediate concern or worry because Castiel was in love. His name was Dean Winchester, who at that moment was eight years, forty two weeks, three hours and two minutes old. They had played all summer when one day, Cas's father, Chuck, had suddenly died of a ruptured blood vessel. Of course, Cas had gave his father one touch and he was brought alive.
But Castiel's gift also had a price. It was a gift that not only gave, but took. He discovered that he could only keep someone alive for one minute without consequence. Because, looking out of his window he saw Dean's mother, Mary die in front of him. He had traded Dean's mother life for his father's.
Although he could bring back his father, he learned that there had been more guidelines, when his father hugged him and died a moment later. First touch, life. Second touch, dead again... forever.
At the respective parents' funeral, dizzy with grief, curiosity, and hormones, Castiel and Dean shared their first and only kiss. It was a simple yet sad kiss. Their lips touched softly, brushing against each others. It ended moments later.
After the memorial, Castiel was moved to a boarding school and Dean to move constantly with his father.
Castiel avoided any social attachment after his father's death, fearing what else he would do if someone he loved died, and he became obsessed with the one thing he remembered Dean loved, pies.
Nineteen years, thirty four weeks, one day and fifty five minutes later, known as now, Castiel had become a renowned pie maker. But on the verge of financial ruin, Castiel met and became partners with a private investigator, Bobby Singer, in finding out who killed the victim by asking the very victim themselves who killed them. Together they solved crimes whilst Cas still had time to make pies using dead fruits he turned into fresh strawberries and berries.
The waitress that had worked at the pie shop for years, Meg had been in love with Cas the moment she had started working there, although Castiel could never show any affection towards her because he could not let himself. His thoughts would always come back to his father and Dean Winchester. Meg had turned the television in the back on as Cas began to close when he heard the newswoman stating a murder of a young man, name withheld, murdered in a motel as he was taking a road trip across the country.
Castiel held his breath, his heart seemed to almost leap out of his chest, his thoughts were clouded with worry, for some odd reason his thoughts went to his childhood friend, Dean.
There was a knock on the outside window as he saw his partner, Bobby, standing outside of the pie shop. He knew already it was about the murder of the young man. Bobby passed by him, "Give me a piece of pie, cherry, and some tea." He sat himself down, before turning his body to Cas. "So have you been watching the news lately?"
"Yes, nothing interesting of late... except for the murder of the young man in the motel."
"More interesting is the amount of money they are paying to find the murder." Bobby said as Cas handed him his plate. "$50,000. But we've got to hurry they are already putting him in the ground. You've ever been to Lawrence?"
"I... grew up there." Castiel said, his blue eyes shifted for a second. "Sort of. This dead young man from Lawrence, does he have a name?"
Bobby blew on his tea and took a sip. "Dean Winchester."
Suddenly Castiel was consumed of flashbacks of playing outside with Dean, holding his hand when Dean was scared of camping out in the dark and their first kiss.
"Dean...?" His blue eyes went wide in shock and sadness.
"That's the name. And we are heading to Lawrence first thing tomorrow. Go pack and get some sleep." Bobby said as he finished his pie, leaving some cash.
All Castiel could think about was Dean
Castiel had not returned to Lawrence since his father's death. It was a strange yet familiar sight. The engine of the old truck hummed.
"Did you know of this boy?" Bobby asked him Cas who was seated next to him.
"I know of him." Cas simply stated.
"Know of him in the biblical sense?"
"I haven't thought of him since I was ten." He lied.
"Did you think a lot about him when you were ten?" Bobby asked.
"I don't remember anything when I was ten." It was a horrible lie. He remembered everything.
But the facts were simple. Dean had been murdered and his body discarded. But by who seemed to be the question. Only Castiel could find out.
They made their way up the stairs of the funeral home. They had paid off the funeral management, getting into the room. Castiel touched the doorknob for a moment, and then turned. As he saw the funeral basket his heart felt heavy.
"Um, may... I do this one alone? I've got something I want to say." He asked Bobby, looking at him nervously.
"Something personal you need to say?"
"No—I just have history, and it might do well for some closure." He tried saying.
Bobby seemed to accept this and went out the door.
Castiel looked at the plain funeral basket, he slowly opened the side door to it. There was Dean. His face smooth and pale. He was a lot older now, yet he still kept those freckles that Cas used to count when they had been children.
His finger lightly touched Dean's forehead.
Dean's green eyes opened wide as he sucked a breath of air in.
Finally his eyes focused in on Castiel's.
"Cas?" He asked, his voice was gruff. "What the hell? I just had the strangest dream..."He said, looking at his basket then realizing that it wasn't a dream.
"It's not. You were stabbed to death in a motel, and I need you to tell me who killed you. So, you know, justice may be served. But we have less than a minute to talk."
"I wish I knew, man, but this person had a mask and gloves, the whole nine yards."
There was a knock from outside. "Just a second." Cas said.
"Is my time up, Cas?" Dean asked.
"Almost... you know, nobody has called me Cas since... you." Cas looked down and smiled. He remembered that nickname. The nickname that Dean gave him when they first met. "I, um, I used to have a cru—liked—," for some reason lost for words, "you were my first kiss," Cas finally said, his face flushing.
"Yeah? You were mine first kiss too." Dean smiled at Cas. "Well... since my time's running up. Can I ask you something? Since you were my first, can you be my last kiss too?" He said, in a flirtatious way, that only made Cas sad.
Dean leaned over to Cas as to kiss. His lips could only go as far as he could let. But Castiel's eyes were opened and all he could think about was not wanting to lose Dean again. He leaned back. "I can't."
"You don't have to kiss me on the lips, you know." Dean said, opening his eyes.
"No, I want to. But... what if you didn't have to be dead?" Cas asked, leaning away.
"Well, yeah, that would be preferable." Dean said.
"Okay, well, let's sneak you out." Castiel smiled.
They were sitting in the pie shop after escaping all that were there of Dean's family and friends.
Dean was surprised at what Cas was telling him. "So I can't even hug you? Not one touch?" His voice was incredulous.
"Yes, touching me would only result to you dying once more." Castiel replied, solemnly.
"So I'm guessing a kiss is out of the question?" Dean flirted.
"I—um, I've lost my train of thought." Castiel face flushed.
"Have you thought much about it? You know, bringing back to life?" Dean asked.
"No... I mean, I don't know, I didn't know what to do until you were right there. Then I thought, why not?"
"Well, I'm glad you did anyways. I didn't know how horrible my life was until now. I guess this is the best time to start living." Dean gave a wolfish smile. "And, um, is there any way to see my family? My little brother must be out of his mind."
"I'm sorry, no. It's just... it will be too much for him. The sense about morality and why does he get to live and nobody else. Nobody can find out you're still alive."
Dean sighed, unsatisfied . "Cas, it's my little brother."
Cas could feel Dean's heavy stare. He looked away, "Okay."
"Alright," he smiled, "So where do you live?"
They walked side by side together to Castiel apartment, Cas yearning to hold Dean's hand and Dean feeling the same way. He wanted to warmth of a person so desperately. It had been years since Castiel had let himself be physically touched.
They finally reached Castiel's home. Cas shrugged out of the beige trench coat he had on, "You can sleep in the bedroom. I'll just rest on the couch." He said, laying down. Moments later, fast asleep.
Dean stared down at him, smiling. It was a strange sort of exhilaration he felt for Cas.
He walked towards the bedroom. Undressing himself, taking off the funeral wear he had on. As he laid down, he thought about the day. Of seeing Cas again, and being dead and alive. He chuckled.
He laid down on the strange bed that somehow felt familiar. He put his hand on the wall and leaned in, as if almost touching Cas.
Castiel had woken up a bit, too, looking up, he thought about the strange events of the day. He smiled, and turned himself around as if lying right beside Dean. He put his hand on the wall, the only thing separating them, and closed his eyes.