This wasn't even supposed to be started right now, but I accidentally a long update. It's the last update before the big reveal, and so far, a few of you have gotten pretty close. I just... I can't. I may post the reveal tomorrow because most of the finale is written. I just need to put a few finishing touches on it.

Speaking of which, "Finishing Touches" is supposed to be the next update. Brace yourself for feels - not in the next chapter, but the one after it. Just...BRACE YOURSELF.

For Mems, who gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition.

Flash!

The roar of the Impala was a comforting sound. The Impala was the one constant in Dean Winchester's life, the only thing that had remained the same. Even as his life shifted, rearranged itself, becoming something so totally different that he almost didn't recognize it, the Impala was a perpetual entity. Throughout his forty-one years, wherever he was, the Impala, his baby, was the one thing that never changed.

She had originally belonged to his father. John Winchester had bought her a few months before Dean was born. At the time, John had no way of knowing he was really just preparing her for his impending child, but by the time Dean was sixteen, it seemed that the Impala and Dean were destined for each other. She was the car in which Dean learned to drive. She was the car in which Dean—unknown by John, of course—lost his virginity less than a year later. When Dean went to college at eighteen, he took the Impala with him; she became his in every sense of the word.

And sure, Dean's younger brother Sam had had a few significant moments in the car, but he was fourteen when Dean went off to college, and that was all there was for him. He didn't even learn to drive in her—instead, he took his road test in their mother's Volkswagen van.

Dean barely scraped by college with a Bachelor's degree in business. He was more concerned with spending every free moment he had at the school's auto garage, honing his mechanic skills to better care for his baby. At that point, the Impala, a black 1967 model, was thirty years old and Dean didn't trust any of the mechanics by the school to treat her right. He relied on himself to change the oil, rotate the tires, check the fluid levels—Hell, by the time he graduated from college, he'd learned how to do basic body work for her. He cared for her like no one else could.

But when Dean was twenty-six, things started changing. John Winchester had a heart attack, and then another one eight months later. The second one killed him, sending Dean into a dark depression. One day not too long after the funeral, stricken with grief, he found the sledgehammer in the garage and smashed damn near every inch of the Impala, breaking windows, headlights, taillights, denting doors, the hood, the trunk, until he couldn't swing the sledgehammer anymore. He collapsed against the side of his baby, drew his knees up to his chest, and sobbed. That was how Sam found him twenty minutes later, stunned at both his brother's display of emotion and the state of the Impala.

Maybe it was a mistake, but less than a month after the funeral, Dean proposed to his girlfriend Lisa. She'd been taken by surprise because they'd never really discussed marriage, but she happily accepted. Neither of them really cared that they'd only been dating for a year or so. It didn't matter. They were in love.

They got married not too long after that with Sam as his best man and Sam's girlfriend Jessica as Lisa's maid of honor. They moved out to San Diego, where Lisa was originally from, and settled into their new life. For the longest time, Dean had by turns told himself he'd make a great father and he'd make a terrible one. It was during one of the latter times when Lisa told him she was pregnant, and he tried to be happy about it, but he started to worry.

And then came Lisa's miscarriage. Dean tried to make himself feel bad about it, but he couldn't help being a little relieved. And then she got pregnant again. Another miscarriage two months later. Four times, she became pregnant, and every single time, she miscarried. They finally went to the doctor and discovered that Lisa was unable to carry a baby to full term. For the first time, Dean felt just as gutted as she did. After all, it was one thing to not be ready for a child right now. It was quite another to find out that you could never have kids at all.

They got home and Dean drove around in the Impala for seven hours, only stopping for gas. He ranted and raved like the Impala could give him some sort of answer, but when he finally fell silent, all he could hear was the soothing rumble of his baby's engine.

Nothing was ever quite the same with Dean and Lisa after that. They started fighting over stupid little things. Their little habits—Dean consistently forgetting to take out the trash, Lisa leaving the windows in the living room open when no one was home—started to grate on each others' nerves. It was the beginning of the end, and shortly before their fourteenth wedding anniversary, Lisa filed for divorce. He couldn't blame her, and he signed the papers with hardly a second thought. They kept it as clean as possible and Dean let her have the house. He didn't want to stay in San Diego anyway—he wanted to go back to Lawrence, Kansas.

Now the Impala was packed full of his things with a mini U-Haul stuck to the back with the rest of his possessions. He was driving home now, ready to crash at his old house until he could get back on his feet.

He pulled off the interstate and under the overhang of a gas station with the sun setting behind him. He started to climb out of the Impala, but to his surprise, a gas station attendant appeared out of nowhere. His hair was golden under the grease and there was about a day's worth of stubble on his face, but the strangest feature of this fairly short man—he was a solid five inches shorter than Dean—was his golden-green eyes that were almost the exact same shade of gold as his hair probably was when it was clean. "Hey," he said to Dean with an easy smile.

"Hey." Dean's eyes went to the name tag sewn onto the other man's dirty, vertically-striped shirt. Gabe.

"Want me to fill 'er up?"

Dean glanced at his baby. "Y-yeah. Thanks." He dug three twenties out of his wallet and handed them to Gabe, who went right to the fuel nozzle. Dean almost told him to go to the back—the Impala's fuel tank wasn't on the side, after all—but Gabe must have seen the style before because he knew exactly where the tank was.

"Just passing through?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah. How could you tell?"

"Well, the U-Haul was a big clue," he joked, his grin widening. "Plus you look exhausted. Where ya heading?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"What for?"

Dean chewed on his lip for a moment. "Just finalized my divorce. I'm heading back home so I don't have to see my ex."

"I'm sorry to hear that." When Dean looked up in surprise, it was clear from Gabe's expression that he genuinely was sorry. "Were you married long?"

"Almost fourteen years."

"That really sucks."

"Yeah. Thanks." Dean turned and squinted into the setting sun. His mother wasn't expecting him for a few days, so he had some time to kill. "Any good motels around here? Preferably one near a bar."

"Yeah, there's Elysian Fields just down the street. They got some good rates, and Boomer's is right across the street. Plus, they got some pretty hot bartenders," he added with a grin, as if trying to cheer up Dean.

"Huh. Sounds good. Thanks."

"No problem." Gabe handed him a five and some change after he re-holstered the fuel nozzle.

"Thanks," Dean said, sliding back into the Impala and dumping the change in the cup holder next to him. He started up the Impala and smiled as the fuel needle went all the way to the F. He put her in gear and double-checked that there weren't any other cars coming.

As he pulled away, he heard Gabe yell, "Good luck, Dean! I hope you find what you're looking for!" Dean stuck his hand out the window and waved in acknowledgement. It wasn't until about thirty seconds later that it occurred to him that he'd never told Gabe his name.

He tossed his duffle bag into his room at Elysian Fields and headed right back out without looking around. He knew what the room looked like, and he didn't want to spend more time in it than absolutely necessary. He wanted to get dinner, have a drink or three at Boomer's, and stumble back to his room, too drunk to notice the shitty décor. He was somewhere in Nevada and he was pretty sure this would only be the first of several filthy motel rooms he would want to forget.

Even though he had some trepidation with leaving his baby in the parking lot of the motel, the gas mileage was already jacked up as it was, hauling that U-Haul around. Spending fifty-five dollars on one tank of gas wasn't his idea of pleasant. So he left her there and just walked to the nearest burger joint, which was just down the street. That was one thing that could be said for small towns—everything was close to everything else. He was in and out of the diner in a half an hour and he headed to Boomer's, hoping the drinks were cheap. If he was really serious about saving some money, he probably wouldn't have gone out to a bar at all, but he wasn't too serious about it and he needed something to wipe away whatever was going on in his head.

The sun had already set when he pushed open the door into Boomer's. A blast of what sounded like AC/DC from the jukebox greeted him and he felt himself smiling. This place wasn't so bad. Even though it was dark and dingy, just like nearly every other bar in the country, he felt at home. He headed to a barstool and sat down as the song ended and a Motörhead song started up in its place. There was a dark-haired bartender with his back to Dean a little ways away, but he wasn't in a hurry anymore and he took another moment to glance around the bar. Maybe he'd hustle a little pool while he was here—he'd always been good at that.

"What can I get for you?" a low, gravely, but ultimately soothing voice asked.

Turning his head toward the voice, he said, "A shot of…" His own voice faltered as their eyes locked. Damn. The dark-haired bartender had turned around. That hair of his was thick and messy, as if someone had just run her fingers through it while they fucked. His eyes were the deepest, purest shade of blue he'd ever seen. His lips were pink and full but chapped, like he spent nearly every waking moment chewing on them or licking them. There was a few days' stubble built up on his cheek and a tired but curious look on his face, and it was all Dean could do to keep his thoughts PG-13-rated. "Shot of Jack," he finished lamely, suddenly feeling awkward. How long had he been staring? He hoped the bartender hadn't noticed.

If he did notice, he didn't comment. He simply nodded and pulled out a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. He filled the glass to the top and started to set the bottle back under the bar, but Dean lifted the shot glass to his lips, knocked it back with one long swallow, and slammed it back on the bar. "Gimme another."

The bartender nodded, his expression unreadable, and filled the glass again. This time, he didn't make to put the bottle away. He simply held it by the neck, his long, hypnotizing fingers wrapped around it, and waited for Dean to down his second shot. Dean motioned for him to fill the glass again, and he did so. "Thanks," Dean said after he'd knocked back his third shot.

"You're welcome. You're new here," the bartender said in that same rough, sleepy voice.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Just passing through. I'm on my way to Lawrence, Kansas." The three shots of whiskey hadn't quite kicked in yet, but he imagined they had. He was volunteering more information than necessary.

"Is that home?" the bartender asked. He set the bottle under the bar and rested his elbows on the bar top, leaning forward slightly. Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought he smelled something familiar and safe about him. It was distracting.

"Yeah. I haven't been back in a few years, but…" He shrugged. "My mom and my brother still live there." Sam and Jess had gotten married, but Jess hadn't made him move away from home. Dean felt a slight twinge of jealousy at that fact, but he couldn't fully begrudge Lisa for wanting to live near her parents.

"Is your wife with you?" the bartender asked.

The fuck? Was everyone in this town psychic or something? But then he remembered that he still hadn't taken off his wedding ring. He stared at the gold band on his hand for a moment before he shook his head, pulled the ring off, and shoved it in his pocket. "I just got divorced. I let her keep the house because I didn't want to live in San Diego anyway. I'm moving back home. I didn't really want to leave anyway, but…" He sighed. "It's complicated."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the dark-haired man said. Just like Gabe, he looked sincerely sorry. "Going through something like that is terrible. I can't even imagine what that's like."

"I bet you're happily married," Dean said. He hoped he didn't sound bitter, but ever since the divorced was finalized, all he saw were happy couples everywhere, people having babies left and right. Hell, right after Lisa had her second miscarriage, Sam had called him to tell him he was going to be an uncle. Little Tommy Winchester was eight years old now and he had a three-year-old sister named Mary, after Dean and Sam's mother.

"No. I've never been married."

That took Dean by surprise. This guy was hot. He should have had women crawling all over him. It didn't make any sense until his blue-eyed gaze flickered toward the bar top. Oh. "Well," he said clumsily, because now his nearly pornographic thoughts about this man were suddenly that much more likely to happen, "I'm, I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

The bartender looked up with a small smile. "Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel Novak."

"Castiel? That's an interesting name."

"Thank you," Castiel said with a smile that said he wasn't sure if Dean's comment was a compliment or not. "It's supposedly an angel's name, but I don't know that for sure. I'm taking my father's word on that one."

"I like it." Dean wasn't sure why, but the name felt right in his mouth. "It suits you." It was an unusual name, but Castiel looked like an unusual man.

Castiel's smile widened. "Thank you, Dean," he said, and Dean loved the way his name sounded coming out of Castiel's mouth.

He smiled and Castiel went down the bar to check on a pair of patrons. Dean barely had time to miss him before he was back. On and on it went for about four hours, with Castiel hovering close by him and Dean ordering drinks just to keep him by. His alcohol tolerance was fairly high and after his first three shots, he stuck with mixed drinks and took his time with finishing them. He and Castiel exchanged a few words at a time and Dean felt something reawakening in him, something he thought was long gone.

No matter what had happened between him and Lisa, he loved her, but he hadn't been in love with her in a long time. Maybe he hadn't ever been in love with her. Maybe he'd only convinced himself that they were in love. After his father died, he would have believed anything. It had probably been a mistake to get engaged so soon after his death, but he couldn't do anything about it now. But now, something warm and pleasant, something other than alcohol, was bubbling up in his chest and causing him to smile every time Castiel came back over to speak to him. It made him want to know everything about him, like if Castiel had lived here his whole life, what he'd wanted to be when he grew up, what his favorite baseball team was, how he took his coffee, what he simply couldn't do for shit. It was so stupid, but he couldn't help it.

At one-thirty, Castiel stepped out from behind the bar, loosening his tie and grabbing a jacket from under the counter. Dean felt the panic rising in his chest and he wasn't young enough or delusional enough anymore to not know what it meant. He felt something, an immediate connection with this man, and the thought that he might not ever see Castiel again honestly terrified him. "Cas," he said quickly, not knowing how the nickname sprang to his mind so quickly but hoping Castiel didn't mind. "Are… are you leaving?"

"Yes, Dean. My shift is over." He motioned widely to another bartender who had appeared, a man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that had nothing on Castiel's. "Why?"

"I…" What on Earth could he possibly say? He was leaving tomorrow, wasn't he? It was unfair for him to have this kind of bond with someone in a town of which he didn't even know the name, a place that he'd be leaving in the morning. It was stupid to expect something, anything from Castiel, even though Dean was pretty sure the other man felt something, too. Castiel's blue eyes had lingered on him longer than necessary. There was something. But as stupid and pointless as it was to expect anything to come of it, he opted to spill his guts. "Look. I like you. And I got the impression that you liked me. If I completely misread the situation, I understand and I'm sorry. But if I didn't…" He shrugged, emboldened by how the look behind Castiel's eyes had softened. "Well, why can't I get to know you a little better?"

"I'd like that, Dean," Castiel said. From the tone of his voice, though, Dean knew a "but" was coming. "But you said yourself that you're just passing through. It seems foolish to allow myself to become emotionally invested in someone who will be several states away by the end of the week."

"What if I wasn't leaving tomorrow?" The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. "What if I was moving here? Then what would you say?"

"That would change things." Castiel's voice was soft. "That would change things considerably. But you don't want to get stuck in this town, Dean. You might never get out again."

"What if you came with me? To Lawrence, I mean?"

"I have a job and an apartment here. I wouldn't have a job or a place to live in Kansas. What would I do, Dean?"

"I could help you find a job. You could live with me. I just… I can't lose you, Cas."

Castiel looked to be warring with himself. Dean could see the emotions battling on his face. "You don't even know me, Dean."

"That's crap. The moment we saw each other… You can't tell me you didn't feel that. That bolt of electricity or whatever it was, that instant connection—I know you felt it. It felt like I knew you."

Castiel's eyes, wide and blue and unblinking, never left Dean's face. "Yes. I felt it. There was that sense of familiarity. A rather profound bond. But still, that's no reason to—"

"Cas. It's plenty of reason. I've never felt something like that with anyone. Not even Lisa. And if there's even a chance that I could be happy with you, I want to take it." It was crazy—he'd blown into this place hours ago, never expecting to meet anyone remotely like Castiel. But here he was, basically admitting that, if Castiel asked, he'd stay here, just for the sake of finding out where this went.

A small smile spread across Castiel's lips. "Alright, Dean. What do you suggest?"

"I can stay here for a few extra days. We see if, maybe, this is something we want to pursue. I go back home for a few weeks and, if we want to keep this going, I come back for you. I don't care if I stay here or if you come back with me. It just seems stupid to let the distance get in the way of this, especially when something could come of it. Doesn't it?"

Castiel, who had sat down on the stool next to Dean's, nodded slowly. "You're right. And I… I dislike the thought of never seeing you again. I believe that your proposal is the best course of action." Dean loved the way he talked. It was formal and awkward but it hinted at intelligence, something he appreciated, and it just seemed so damn familiar. He grinned at Castiel and, following his instinct, pulled the dark-haired man toward him and pressed a gentle but firm kiss to those soft-looking lips of his.

He felt Castiel smiling against his mouth and returning the kiss.

They stumbled back to Dean's room and christened the sheets that had probably seen hundreds of other couples pass through. Neither of them really cared—they were too wrapped up in making the most of what they both hoped would be the first of many times they'd be together. It was quick and almost filthy, but that link they both felt turned it into something sweet and consuming. It was the first time in almost ten years that Dean really felt like he'd made love to someone, that he wasn't just fucking them. It was also the first time since college that Dean had sex with another guy, but it was just as good as he remembered. Better, actually, because he felt so strongly for Castiel, in a way that he hadn't cared for anyone else before.

He stayed until the end of the week, and those four days were enough to convince him that he had to keep Castiel in his life. They exchanged phone numbers and email addresses and promised to stay in contact. He made it home the following Tuesday, not quite sure what to tell his family. It wasn't until three weeks later, when he told his mother he was going back to Nevada, that he finally explained. He was surprised, even though he shouldn't have been, when Mary told him that she thought it was stupid but it may have been just the thing he needed to do. "After all," she explained, "marrying Lisa was the smart move and look where it got you."

Dean was back in Nevada less than a month after he left, and this time, he stayed for six months. Castiel quit his job and moved out of his apartment to follow Dean back to Lawrence, where Dean had gotten a small house. They both found jobs surprisingly quickly—Dean at Tony's Auto Repair as a senior mechanic, Castiel at a bar down the street from their house—and settled into their new life. It wasn't easy at first, but they had each other for support and their bond grew stronger every day. Four years later, there was a wedding ring on Dean's finger again. This time, the mate for it was on Castiel's left hand.

As fucked-up as it seemed, Dean was glad he'd married Lisa and moved out to San Diego. If it hadn't happened, he wouldn't have passed through Jericho, Nevada, and met Castiel. If he hadn't met Castiel, he wouldn't have had that sudden, deep connection that gave him strength and kept him smiling for the rest of his life. Everything had finally worked out for him, and he had another constant in his life. Once, all he'd had was the Impala, his baby. Now, with Castiel sitting in the passenger's seat, he knew he'd never be alone again.

NO HOLDS BARRED FOR MY FINAL SCENE! Except for smut, but this scene is long without it, so...yeah.