A/N: I am sorry this is so late. My computer died and I had to purchase a new one, then move over my files before I could really get back into this. The good news is that chapter 22 is coming very soon, and I am not dead. This fic is not dead. In fact I have begun writing little short spin offs about Dean and Castiel's future. Yay, huh?

Patrick's voice and the alley were gone, and replaced by the kitchen of the beach house. Dean's stomach also flipped as he recalled what poofing did to his guts.

"Oh fuck, man." He leaned over, supporting himself on his knees. At least his hearing was no longer fuzzy, and he had no pain in his ears. There were advantages to hanging out with an angel.

"Does he know where we are staying?" Castiel was circling the room, making new wards and enforcing those that already existed.

Dean gulped down some air, then straightened up slowly. "Uh…not specifically, but it wouldn't take a genius. I told him about my baby, and she's parked just outside."

Castiel let out a string of words Dean did not recognize and continued his work. "Well, we cannot leave so we will simply have to fortify this house best we can and work quickly. We know the year, so we should be able to hurry. Once we find the right moment in time, I will prevent him from marking you. With your permission I will mark you myself then to keep anything like this from happening again."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, that sounds like the best call." He walked over to the door and slipped off his boots, still reeling a bit from the travel and the booze, though he was pretty sure Cas had removed some of the effects. He was feeling a hangover coming.

"Hey Cas…"

"Yes?" The angel was writing with his blood on one of the windows.

Dean watched the nimble fingers as the man dug another nasty gash into his own arm, then used the blood as ink. "Sure seemed like Patrick knew me. Said he missed me."

"And?"

"Well," Dean shuffled over to the couch and fell across it with a groan. He still didn't feel like his brain was functioning fully. "So…he knows me but I don't know him."

Castiel strode across the room to another window to modify a ward. "He is most likely someone you know in your future. "

"Then why is he here? I mean now."

Castiel shrugged, but didn't look at Dean. "I do not know, Dean. Maybe to prevent us from reversing the marking process."

Dean nodded, then crossed his feet on the couch. He looked down at his toes and slowly wiggled them to test his coordination. It was a bit…lacking.

"He said his partner died recently, Cas."

"A hunting partner?"

Dean rolled his eyes, then laid his head back against a throw pillow. "No Dude. Partner as in life partner. Lover. Husband. Whatever."

"I see." Castiel finished his work on the symbol, then crossed to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He toweled off his hands, then sat down slowly in the chair beside the couch. He sighed.

"If Patrick marked me, wouldn't that make me his partner?"

Castiel seemed to ignore this for a moment, then suddenly sat forward in his chair and glared at Dean. "Yes."

"Dude. He said I died in my sleep. Peaceful. I was thinking he meant it was sudden like if a younger man died like that, but I was…probably old."

Cas tilted his head at him. "You always thought you would die young?"

"Well, yeah." Dean turned around on the sofa so that he was sitting upright.

Castiel clasped his hands in front of him. "I am sure…he kept you safe." There was an edge to his voice as he clenched his jaw around the words.

Dean nodded. "Cas, that means I was with him for probably a long time. I doubt he could have forced that on me."

The angel seemed to mull this over. "You mean that you probably wanted to be with him?"

"Well, not now, but it makes you wonder."

His friend sat for a small time, thinking to himself. He looked up at his human with eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul. Seemed to plead with him over something, but Dean was unsure what.

"Dean, what do you want now?"

"I…" The hunter decided to think this over as best he could while still somewhat drunk. He didn't want Patrick. That was a fluke in the alley. He was drunk and horny, and had been thinking about Cas. And boy was that a whole new set of weird he needed to sift through. Patrick was cool, but he barely knew him. And he wasn't really attracted to Patrick the way he was Cas. He didn't think.

The hunter looked up to his friend. He was attracted to him. He was attracted to Castiel, not Jimmy. When he thought how Jimmy looked, he was not turned on. When he thought of how Cas looked, he was turned on. It was something about Castiel—an angel who Dean would never be able to see beyond using another person's body. Something clicked then as Dean thought he'd probably be turned on by Castiel no matter what body he inhabited. He did like the way he looked now, though. Maybe he was just attached to it, or maybe he was into a dude who was a good-looking brunette with killer eyes. Seemed to be his type with women.

Castiel was the person he wanted to spend time with. He was the person he wanted to share experiences with. Why else would he have insisted Castiel bring him to this beach that he'd always wanted to see? Why not Sammy? Because he wanted to experience new things with Castiel before anyone else. Somewhere along the way, the angel had become the person who listened to his stories. And Dean wanted to tell him his stories. He wanted to tell Cas about his mother, about his first sexual experience with that blonde in tenth grade, and Dean even wanted to tell Cas about his time in Hell. He wanted to share it all with Cas, and he wanted the angel to do the same. What did Cas think when man was first walking on two legs? Where was he during Pompeii?

He loved Castiel. And, though Dean was still pretty sure he wasn't gay, he figured he had just enough flexibility to accommodate Castiel into his fantasies.

Dean licked his lips and met his angel's eyes. "I want you, Cas. I think I'll probably want you as long as I live."

There was something to be said for choosing an angel for your lifemate. For one; that heart attack he probably had coming from all the bacon cheeseburgers? Never showed. Seemed that his angel had been keeping him cleared out for years. That alone was pretty awesome. And his liver? By this age, Dean should have done some serious damage—even though in his forties he'd cut back on his drinking significantly—he'd been a full blown alcoholic before he'd learned moderation. And yes kids, it was moderation this 'holic chose. None of that abstinence bullshit for him. That crap was for bitches like Sammy.

Speaking of Sammy, there was another benefit to fucking an angel. Turns out that whole long-lived charm extended to his family too. Or maybe Sam was just a healthy fucker due to hard work on his part. Dean wasn't sure, but considering they'd both reached the three digit age group and were still alive and healthy—all things considered—he figured there was some miracle working going on.

Dean considered all these aspects of his age as he lay awake that night next to the person he'd just spent most of his life with. Cas was still young looking—well Jimmy's body was still in his thrities. When they first started their life together, it was Castiel who appeared older. Now Dean looked like he could be his lover's grandfather. He looked like his children's grandfather. Considering how little that bothered him, Dean figured he had truly grown to be an old man.

The angel—who'd learned to sleep for Dean's benefit years ago—slipped his hand into Dean's palm. He closed his gnarled digits over his friend's. Because they were still very good friends, even after all this time. He thought about how for a long time Cas managed to keep Dean from looking his age for his own comfort. He didn't like being out with his partner in public and being confused for his father, then grandfather. Castiel didn't do that anymore. Part of it was because there was only so long you could keep human skin elastic without being immortal, and his angel was lacking in that ability. The other part was because Dean simply no longer cared. Let the world think Cas was his family. It wasn't far from the truth. When they made it clear they were not family, and people stared at the old creeper with the younger boy toy, Dean let them stare. He didn't care.

He didn't care because he'd had more years of goodness than he could have ever dreamed of. The length and quality of his life was entirely due to his angel. He rolled onto his side with a grunt—that's how you knew you were old, you hurt in bed—and turned his face in to rest with his breath over Castiel's neck. They'd had a good, long life together, and Dean felt a sort of peace as he watched Tessa reach her hand out to him with a smile. He wondered how many times she had reaped his soul. He wondered if they would get a chance to talk again. After all, how often did she get a few minutes with an old friend?

He kissed the side of his friend's neck as he slept, somewhat glad the man was not awake for his own sake. Dean was surprisingly alright with it, but he was pretty sure Castiel would try to hold Tessa at bay. There was no point in that. He would get to see him in heaven soon anyway. That's what Cas had always said anyway. After the war.

"Are you ready, Dean?" Tessa stepped closer, her arm still outstretched.

He rose from the bed, knowing he was no longer in his body because he wasn't stiff. The age spots on his hands melted away, and he was pretty sure he was back in his thirties again. Not that it mattered—he was whatever he wanted to be.

He took her hand in his, and when they touched it was as if he'd been missing her through his whole life. How often had he gone against his nature and cheated death? The warmth from Tessa was stunning.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He took a step closer so that their arms hung between them, anchored together. "Tell your boss man that the place down the street makes some awesome pickle chips."

Her smile was genuine—she may have always been all about the bottom line, but she was never cold. Dean never doubted she cared. "I will be sure to pass that along. Now, close your eyes."

The angel sat stone-still as he took in the news. He felt that a large portion of his long life was being summed up through this moment. The moment of Dean's confession. His human was drunk, but Castiel could see that he spoke truthfully. It was the moment Castiel had waited for the longest—he just hadn't known it until recently.

"Cas?" Dean waved a hand in front of the angel's face. "Dude, kinda confessing my undying devotion here."

Somewhere along the angel's thoughts, Dean had gotten up from his place on the couch and come to him. Castiel looked up to him then, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Cas?" The hunter seemed to bend a bit more to look him in the eye.

The angel swallowed. "Dean, I would like very much to kiss you now."