Vor í Vaglaskógi by Kaleo
*translates to "Spring in Vaglaskogur...the original version I listened to was in Icelandic so I got this translation off of the Kaleo website, please forgive any errors!
The night is ours
Spring in the wood of skies
We head to the heath with our tent, where the berries grow
Take me, dear friend to the mirth of yesterdays
Where our creek runs free and the birch will blow
Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow
The dew comes forth
Our valley is swept with peace
Our dreams come true, who sleep in the wood of skies
On the berry hearth, the last touch of sunlight dies
And the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow
Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow
Light in the mountains
Scent from our dearest fountains
The wind is counting your hair in the light aglow
The wind is counting your hair
Not a single word was spoken as he hiked through the trees and finally came upon the meadow where everything had started all those years ago. The place where two people had broken through their walls and issues to finally come together. He smiled thinking about the excitement and slight flush on his brother's face when he had told him of the night.
A camping trip, something his city addicted older brother had never wanted to do in his entire life, but once the angel brought it up he had agreed reluctantly. When the three of them set out to find the perfect place the seraph had flown on ahead and declared a more perfect place didn't exist, not one that the humans could get to anyway. So they hiked and they pitched their tents and they had drank beers in the sinking sunlight before a fire was started and weiners were roasted. The little stream that came down out of the mountains was a constant background babble to their conversation.
Once darkness settled neither of the men wanted to sleep, instead spending almost the entire night reminiscing and trying to impress the angel with stories of hunts. It was a perfect night and only when the sun began to rise did any of them dare to break the spell. But sleep was necessary for the humans and so they retired to their own tents. He didn't miss how the angel looked around cautiously before slipping into the tent of his brother.
"We're here guys." he said quietly as he rolled out his sleeping bag. The weather promised to co-operate so he had forgone a tent for the night. A warm summer wind stared the grass around the site and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. He missed his friends, his family that had been here the last time and tears flowed freely down his face. There was no longer any one to hide them from.
He opened his hazel gaze to watch as the sun began its decent below the horizon. It was beautiful here, calm and quiet, the only sounds around him the rustle of the grass and the babbling of the water. Still as a statue he sat on his sleeping bag and remembered the two men who had meant so much to him, one a brother and one a friend. Two men who had built him up, supported him when he had done so much to deserve the opposite. All the while attempting to come to terms with their own emotions and demons.
"Alright guys, you ready?" he asked the little urn in front of him that contained the two most important people in his life. Two men who had been taken from him too fast. He popped the top and poured out the ashes into his hand. That had been one of their last requests, burn their bodies together and spread their ashes here in the most important spot to them.
So while the sun set on the little glen Sam raised his hands and let his brother and his angel fly back into the universe. The golden light caught on every speck of ash and highlighted as it rose up on that summer breeze. Sam cried, he smiled when he thought about Dean ribbing him for being such a girl and how Castiel would automatically come to his defence. He laughed out loud as some ash blew back into his face like they were actually telling him to give it up. It was good to laugh again even if it pained his heart to be there alone doing it.
After letting them go Sam slipped off his clothes and washed himself in the cold stream. It was a rebirth for the Winchester and when he emerged he felt more alive then he had in weeks. His breathing was ragged and his long hair dripped onto his chest. He didn't bother with his clothes yet, instead just stretched out on his sleeping bag and watched the stars come out.
Sam didn't know if he would sleep that night, he rarely did these days, but he was content enough to sit and contemplate the universe opening above him. And to say goodbye to his family.