Chapter 2: The Longest Minute

Castiel never returned to Lawrence, Kansas after being sent away to school, but he thought of Dean every day. So when he was finally presented with the chance to go back, he couldn't help but feel despair in the pit of his stomach. As he sat on the bus, driving far into the countryside, with Mr. Crowley snoozing on his side, he looked out the window, wishing he'd been able to meet with Dean under better circumstances. A field of brightly colored, yellow daisies covered the rolling hills of Kansas as they drove.

The facts were these: Dean Winchester, 28 years, 24 weeks, 3 days, 11 hours and 51 minutes old, was found floating in the ocean, moments after his body was discarded there. Discarded by whom seemed to be a question only Dean Winchester could answer.

The bus ran over a bump, which shook Mr. Crowley awake. The sudden stink of exhaust filled the bus, causing Castiel's nose to wrinkle in disgust.

"We there yet?" He rubbed his eyes.

"No, not far though." Castiel's gaze never broke from the window as the daisies filled his eyes.

"Good. Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get the money. I do have to ask though," Mr. Crowley sat up and looked over. "Did you know this guy?"

"I did." Castiel replied. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, fighting back a tinge of sadness.

"I mean in the biblical sense, love."

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked over. "I haven't thought of him since I was ten. I don't remember anything about back then."

The Pie Maker remembered everything.

Soon the bus had rolled to their stop, and after a few blocks they arrived at the funeral home. The remainder of the journey had been in silence. They walked in, Mr. Crowley giving money to the funeral director, who pocketed it, and let them into the viewing room. Castiel's tan trench, undone at his sides, stopped flowing behind him as he stood in front of the porcelain casket.

Once the door had shut. Castiel turned to Mr. Crowley. "Um, I need a moment alone. You know, history and all between us…"

"You got something...personal you need to… ahem, say?" Mr. Crowley put emphasis on personal and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"No." Castiel lied. He took a breath when Mr. Crowley's raised eyebrow let him know he was not believed. "Okay, maybe. I just need a moment."

"A moment for…?" Mr. Crowley's mouth remained open as if waiting for Castiel to finish the sentence.

"I want to say sorry. I wronged Dean." Castiel clenched his right hand. "I did something stupid to him when we were kids." His thoughts immediately traveled to Dean's father.

"Just be sure not to let your head get filled with...romantic gestures. We need to know who killed him. So ask that first, then say your words. You have one minute." Mr. Crowley said.

"I know."

"Sixty seconds." Mr. Crowley pointed to his silver Rolex.

"I know." Castiel repeated.

"Fine, fine." Mr. Crowley walked outside and shut the door.

Castiel was now alone. He turned to the casket. His mouth went dry and his fingers started to shake. There was more he wanted to say, that wouldn't get said. His hands ran over the smooth surface of the cold casket. With a deep breath, he pushed the lid up and looked at the handsome, but extraordinarily dead Dean. His sandy brown hair was messy, but somehow looked good on him. He seemed peaceful.

Castiel felt his stomach flip as he stared upon the face of his first love. Only Prince Charming could know how The Pie Maker felt looking upon Dean. Great thought was taken as to where to touch him. The lips, too forward. The hands, too intimate. The cheek...maybe the cheek.

Decided, he reached his hand down to the man's cheek, caught his breath, and let it fall to the warm skin of his first love. With a jolt, Dean's emerald green eyes snapped open. He looked up at Castiel. Castiel flashed a nervous smile.

Then Dean grabbed Castiel's tie, pulled it forward, and banged the man's head on the casket. Castiel cried out in pain, holding his head and staggered back. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth from biting the inside of his cheek. After a second, when the pain stopped searing, he looked up to see Dean holding a chair, ready for another attack.

"Ow! Ohh…" Castiel winced. "Dean, wait!" He held up his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean said. A snarl formed on his face. "Start talking, or so help me God, I'm going to bash this chair through your goddamned skull."

"When we were little, I lived next door. You remember when your father died?" Castiel removed his hand from his head. It hurt, but getting Dean not to 'bash the chair through his skull' was more important in this moment.

"Cas?" Dean's expression changed. He set down the chair as a half-open smile, with the left side higher than the right, replaced his snarl. He was even more handsome than Castiel remembered. His "messy" styled brown hair brought out the brilliant emerald in his now happy eyes. He had on a grey jacket with a heather grey button up shirt beneath. The top button was undone, showing off the pale, perfect skin beneath. "How the hell are you man?" He walked over.

"Uh, good Dean." He made sure not to touch him. Not yet. "Listen, I have to tell you-"

"Funny I thought I was on that damn boat. Bad choice for a vacation; you figure out just how single you are on a cruise. So I put down a couple beers and then…" His eyes widened. He now had a shocked expression. "Some bastard was strangling me on the deck. But then, how am I here?"

"Dean, you were strangled to death." Castiel said. "Wow I bet that sounds odd. How else are you supposed to break that kind of news to someone?"

"Oh." Dean looked over to the casket. He blinked, raised an eyebrow, turned back and shook his head as if he'd just seen a four headed dog. "Oh! Well that's not something you see every day."

"You only have a minute. Less actually." Castiel looked at his watch.

"Damn. How am I supposed to use this minute?" Dean asked.

"I need you to tell me who killed you. That way justice can be served." Castiel gave him an intense blue stare.

"Nice thought, but I've got no clue. I was staggering around the deck and...well, I was hurling over the side, and then I just felt this rope around my neck…" He rubbed his neck where some burns were showing. "Next thing I know, I feel your hand against my cheek." His hands thoughtfully moved from his neck to his cheek, verdant eyes softened. Castiel felt his heart stop. He remembered that exact moment vividly.

There was a loud knock. "Done in there yet?" Mr. Crowley called, a bawdy note in his tone.

"Almost." Castiel said back.

"Back into the ground then?" Dean asked.

"I-" Castiel couldn't bring himself to apologize. He choked up.

"Cas, it's okay. I get it." He took a step forward.

"No one's called me Cas since you." Castiel felt a tear form on the edge of his eye and wiped it away. "Dean...you were my first kiss. I...haven't stopped thinking about you."

"Yeah?" Dean smiled and walked right up to him and looked into his eyes. Castiel's world went fuzzy. "You were mine too. Want to make it my last as well?" His eyes, jade and practically sparkling, started to close as he bent towards Castiel.

"I'd love nothing more…" Castiel went to join him. At least, if this had to end, it would end the best way he could imagine.

Dean's minute of life was nearly over. Castiel's lips went as far as they would go: he couldn't will them to go any further. His bottom lip trembled, feeling the heat from the other's breath, and then, he took a step back.

Dean's eyes opened as Castiel pulled back. "Listen Cas, I get it. If you don't want to kiss...I just thought it might-"

"No. I do. It's just..." Castiel interrupted. His hands shook as a thought pressed against his mind. He knew the consequence, knew someone around would suffer. But for one selfish moment… "What if you didn't have to be dead?"

"Shit. That'd be great."

"We can't tell anyone." The gears turned in Castiel's mind as he opened the casket, which had half closed in the earlier scuffle. "Get in." Dean obeyed and got in.

"Kinda weird to be in here." Dean said, shifting uncomfortably. Once settled, he looked up, eyes pleading with Castiel. "Don't...leave me again." Castiel's heart broke.

"Just lie still." Castiel shut the casket slowly, making this the second hardest thing he'd done today. "I'll figure this out, just don't move. Okay?"

"Got it." Dean was still after that.

Castiel left and met up with Mr. Crowley who was waiting outside. He had an anxious look.

"So?" He asked.

"Had no idea. Didn't remember anything." Castiel clipped, a little too quickly. He was the worst liar, and he knew it. Maybe if he wasn't asked any specific questions...oh no, he was psyching himself out. Don't think about it, don't think...shit. His sweat started showing on his trenchcoat and he swore silently.

"Odd. Someone just strangles the man and then tosses the body overboard - you're sweating mate." Mr. Crowley snickered, taking note of the painfully obvious wet spots forming.

"It's just the temperature and my coat." Castiel adjusted his necktie trying to calm himself down.

"Your eye's twitching." Mr. Crowley folded his arms in suspicion.

"Oh?" Castiel tried looking away.

"What aren't you telling me?" Mr. Crowley was practically growling now, for such a short man, he was fairly intimidating.

"I-I-I got nervous, I suppose. I mean, I knew the victim this time. Made my stomach aggravated. It's like acid reflux, but...in my eye."

Acid reflux in my eye?! Castiel realized just how stupid that sounded even as he was saying it.

"Riiiight." Mr. Crowley wasn't convinced. Whatever reservations he had though, he dismissed and started to walk away. "Shall we then?"

"Actually, I want to pay my respects. I've never seen a hunter burial before." Castiel knew this was his chance. If not now, then he'd be letting Dean get burned alive.

"Suit yourself. I've gotta try to get more information anyways. No offense, but you aren't exactly the greatest source of info at the moment." Mr. Crowley said. He waved. "You remember how to get back to the station?"

Castiel nodded and Mr. Crowley took off. Time to get to work.

Dean Winchester hadn't been to a funeral since the death of his dad. As he felt the casket shift from being picked up, he realized that just moments ago, he was unaware that he was dead. The fury began to set in. He'd died on a stupid goddamn cruise from some asshole strangling him to death. He wanted to go shove his foot up the goddamn ass of the asshole who'd fucking strangled him.

He raised his fist to punch the top of the casket, but stopped. Castiel had told him explicitly not to do anything. True, if he didn't eventually bust himself out, he'd be burned alive, just like any other good hunter, but Castiel had seemed so sure. He took a deep, calming breath.

Cas.

It had been years, but Dean still recalled those innocent pools of blue looking at him from when they were kids.

He wanted nothing more than to be lost in Cas' eyes forever.

But the awful truth surfaced as thoughts of mashing his lips against the other man's were shattered. Cas couldn't touch him. It wasn't explicitly stated, but he somehow knew that's how it worked. He'd been brought back to forever pine for someone he couldn't touch. Fuck.

At least he was alive.

The casket was now being settled and a motor roared to life. There were vibrations, and soon he lost his grip on the cushioned bottom of the enclosure and hit his head against the side of the casket as the car drove. He swore as quietly as he could and covered his mouth so his grunt would be muted. Then the car made a sharp turn and on pure instinct, he held his arms and legs out against the sides of the casket so that he wouldn't flail around. In doing so, his head started hurting due to the lack of pressure being applied. Dean pursed his lips. If he hadn't promised Cas he wouldn't do anything stupid...he'd have made one of his glorious escapes in blazing fashion. But this wasn't his show right now, it was Cas'. And he had to respect that. But god, he wanted to bust out. Fuck small spaces.

Hurry up Cas, or I'm gonna fuck some shit up.

Back at the station, Castiel jumped aboard the bus that would take him to the gravesite. When he pulled the cord for the stop, the bus driver gave him a pitiful look. Castiel adopted a glum persona, he was going to a friend's funeral, definitely not on his way to break a dead man out of a sealed coffin...his somber look turned to panic as the bus pulled away. What if he wasn't quick enough? The sweat on his brow made a swift return as he rushed toward the hill where he knew the hunter pyre would be built.

"Stack it high, boy, we don't want it going out on us!" A gruff man in a dusty flannel and a graying beard was directing a tall man with floppy hair on the proper placement of the logs for the coffin's final destination. The younger man rolled his eyes and pushed the hair from his eyes with one stroke.

"Bobby, let it go, I've got it!"

Castiel looked around from his spot behind a nearby tree. He needed a distraction, and a good one. He had bargained on at least one hunter at the gravesite, but two? Where was Dean? He swiveled his range of vision and aha! There was the casket, and behind it...his distraction and his getaway. A shiny black car was parked down the one side of the hill, but on the other side...a red truck in the gravel. Taking his silver knife that he always carried from his back pocket, he crept up towards the closest vehicle. Bracing himself on the side of the truck, he slashed the knife across the tire, the air hissing out. Making quick work of the next two, he climbed back up the hill and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me sir," he addressed the older man.

"You talking to me? Cain't you see I'm burnin' a family member here? Can a man get some privacy?" The gray bearded man glared up at Castiel, emotions thinly veiled by the anger.

The younger man then gave a shout, bringing away what looked like a handkerchief. Cas saw the matted down dark brown hair and knew this was the younger Winchester brother, but did his best to hide his knowledge of this with a stoic face.

"Hey Bobby! Something's up with your truck!" Sam shouted, noticing the tires.

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed. "Who messed with my truck? Don't anybody have any respect anymore?!" He took off down the hill after the long haired man, blustering the whole way.

Castiel ran to the casket, all pretense of solemn mourner gone. Shouldering off the heavy lid, his eyes met with Dean's.

"What are you...why are you all stretched out like that?" Cas tilted his head, observing Dean's limbs braced against the sides of the coffin.

"Being burned ain't no walk in the park Cas!" Grumbled Dean, a bruise starting to form on his forehead where it had struck the casket walls.

"Let's get you out of here," Castiel instinctively reached for Dean, but thought twice and pulled back. "Damn."

"It's alright...I got it…" Dean hoisted himself out of the casket and cast his glance down the hill. "Oh man, Sammy's here. And Bobby. Don't suppose I could…" he shook his head. "We gotta get out of here. What's our escape plan?"

Castiel pointed down the other side of the hill. "I was thinking we could somehow get that car to start…" Dean's eyes brightened at the sight of the black car.

"That's my baby! I've got the keys in my pocket, those sentimental bastards were gonna burn me with them…" he shook his head lovingly. "Let's move!" The men tore down the hill toward the vehicle, Dean swung open the driver's side door and started the motor.

"They're gonna notice us, hold on Cas!" Foot met petal met floor, and the gravel clouded behind them as they swerved out of the cemetery onto the road ahead.

"Bobby! Someone just stole the Impala! Get back here you dicks, that's Dean's car!" Shouted Sam at the cloud of dust.

Cas heard Dean mutter an apology and look distraught for half a second.

As the car sped off, Cas leaned back. He smiled. For the first time in years, the love of his life was back. Sure, they couldn't yet touch, but they'd figure it out. He tilted his head towards Dean and watched as he took a breath.

His hands were moving. His smile was real. The impossible had come true.

Dean was alive.

But at what cost?

A/N: We finally put up chapter twooooooooooooo ~Mr. Fizzles. Shut up Fizzles *threatens with can of bleach*. Anywho, yes we finally finished chapter 2. Thank you to everyone who is following, favoriting, and avidly reading this fanfic. Both co-authors want to express our gratitude for your enjoyment of this :) We are having a ball with it and I think you should see some of that come through in the next chapter. DEAN IS BACK! Anywho, until next time, cheers!