Dean moaned and rubbed his weary eyes. The light that teased through the holes in the wall made his head throb. For a horrible moment, he actually thought he was still alive. He thought he was on a hunt with Sammy, that they were camping out in some abandoned shithole. Then he remembered with painful clarity that he was dead, and lying in some crappy angel hideout. A hideout that was on Earth.
There were no angels around. He silently got up and poked his head out the door. There were only a few angels around, and they all were occupied with healing the wounded. No sign of Castiel. Dean made up his mind.
He crossed his fingers and placed his hands on the wall. Immediately, his hand phased through, followed by his arms and body. Face first, he slammed into the dirt. It was all worth it though. Dean got up, dusted off his jeans, and started to run for the nearest gas station.
"I'm coming, Sammy." He promised.
It didn't take long for Dean to track Sam down because he wasn't using a fake name. Hope that Sam was alive and unharmed inspired Dean as he hitched-hiked his way to California. That wasn't hard at all because no one could actually see Dean.
All worries of Sam's well being evaporated when Dean saw the familiar sight of his impala. Sammy had taken good care of his baby. Gazing inside, he saw that Sam had kept the mixtapes of classic rock music. Dean knew that once he found Sam, they would be able to fix things and go back to the family business. He just had to find Sam.
That's when he heard his brother's laugh. A wave of emotion hit him that felt comforting yet simultaneously seemed to mock him because it represented all the good times he had once shared with his brother. He gathered his courage and turned around. It took him a second, but then he recognized his brother.
Sam had grown his hair out, and his face had matured a surprising amount from when Dean last saw him. He looked healthy, only a few scars from ancient monsters were left as clues to his past. What's more, he had his arm around a girl. They both laughed at something, and Dean could tell from the way they looked at each other that they truly enjoyed each other's company.
Dean had been determined to find Sam and he felt that together they'd be able to fix all the mistakes, and get back on the road. Now he wasn't so sure. Seeing Sam so happy was a relief, yet Dean knew that if he were to reveal himself to Sam, he'd poison the life that Sam had always dreamt of.
The pair walked towards Dean, not seeing him. Dean could theoretically make himself visible any second, but he didn't. Instead, he watched as Sam and the girl walked to the impala. He jumped when Sam walked right through his ghostly figure. Sam sat driver's seat, revved up the engine, and a Kansas song came on.
As they drove off, Sam driving and the girl sitting shotgun, painful memories of the times Dean and Sam had in that car tore at Dean's chest. That was over now. Dean was dead and would stay dead. And that was the best for Sammy.
All purpose had left Dean. He supposed he should go back to the Hell's Angels, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he found himself where every cliche "I'm dead" story ends up eventually: his own grave.
It was pathetically small, he thought. The inscription pissed him off, There'll be peace when you are done. What a load of bullcrap.
The worst part was it was next to his mother and father's gravestones. The cruel irony that this was the way the Winchester's would be reunited made him angry at God. If there even was a God. Dean spit on the grave.
Then he saw a shadow sneak behind a tree across the way. His experience instantly made him move to investigate. But then a hand rested on his shoulder. He turned his head suddenly.
"Castiel." He said.
"Dean," Castiel said. He wasn't looking at Dean, but down at his gravestone.
"Ya know," Dean began, also gazing at his gravestone. "I thought death would be the end of it. I thought there'd be white puffy clouds, and cherubs, and pies, and hot chicks. I didn't think I'd be a ghost, or that Heaven would be even more screwed up than Earth."
"Heaven is in turmoil. It's run out of space for fresh souls. It's been overcrowded. Dean, if we don't do something there will be ghosts and lost souls trapped outside Heaven forever. Some will be forced to wander the Earth in the same form you're in now. A ghost." Castiel explained. "And eventually, they'll be driven insane by the years of purposeless wandering."
"Huh. So Heaven doesn't have a vacancy," Dean said. "So how exactly have you been fixing that?"
"We've been freeing souls from the Waiting Rooms, and giving them temporary spaces until a final solution can be found." Castiel said.
"I don't understand," Dean said. "You're angels. Can't you just make more space?"
"No, God made Heaven and only God can renovate Heaven." Castiel explained
"Why would he design it that way?" Dean asked. Castiel paused before answering.
"Because he intends to come back." Castiel said. Dean didn't respond. He didn't even believe in God, let alone that he would come back to fix the current mess that was Heaven.
"What about the Waiting Room?" Dean asked. "It goes on forever."
"Yes, those were designed to expand forever." Castiel said. "Heaven plans to let it continue to expand as more souls enter, and not bother with expanding Heaven."
"Staying in the Waiting Room forever? Sounds a lot more like Hell than Heaven to me." Dean said. Castiel nodded solemnly.
"That's why my angels and I have split away. We refuse to let innocent souls that deserve to enter Heaven be abandoned on the outskirts." Castiel said. "Dean, you showed bravery and intelligence when you saved my squadron. You would be a valuable asset to us, especially with your experience."
"How are you planning to save Heaven?" Dean asked, ignoring Castiel's offer. He failed to see what further use he could be as a ghost.
"We need to find God." Castiel said. Dean raised his eyebrow skeptically. Apparently that wasn't the reaction Castiel was hoping for.
"Do you have a backup plan?" Dean asked. Castiel pursed his lips and didn't answer. They were both silent for a few moments. A single leaf slowly fell onto Dean's grave.
"Seeing as I've no plans for the next few eternities," Dean said. "I'll help you."
Castiel smiled softly. He took Dean's hand.
"I know you think everything is hopeless," Castiel said. "But you have not been abandoned."
