*this chapter includes the mentioning of depression and an attempted suicide*

Five years later

Today was finally the day. Dean had gone to the recording studio with Castiel. They had both been writing the song that Castiel would record today with his band. They were both a little excited because the song would reflect their history together. How it all started until now.

Castiel was busy now and as much as Dean would have liked to stay with them, he was expected elsewhere. He had had to give up dancing with a heavy heart after the accident. The long stay in the hospital and rehab had caused the muscles he needed to dance to regress. Then, when it had been repeatedly suggested to him that he could start training again when he left rehab, but he could never do ballet as a competitive sport again, his world had shattered before him. Coupled with the only slow progress of his healing (two broken legs, traumatic brain injury, a broken hand and memory problems did not heal overnight), he fell into depression with increasing frequency and severity.

Castiel and Dean had been separated for over two years when the accident happened. The fact that Castiel had been sitting at his bedside when he had briefly woken up after the doctors had brought him out of an induced coma had been Sam's doing. The paramedic had explained to Sam that before Dean had passed out at the scene of the accident, he had muttered 'Castiel' a few times. The paramedics had assumed he was praying, but Sam knew better. And he had actually managed to track down Castiel during the week Dean had been in a coma. When he had catched Castiel outside the recording studio to tell him what had happened, Castiel had lost all color in his face and had nearly fainted himself. Trembling, he had put his hand on Sam's shoulder, turned around, and driven away in his car toward the hospital. He had spent nearly two days in the chair next to Dean's bed, and every attempt by the nurses to get him out of the room had come to naught.

After Dean had been taken to the rehab center, Castiel had bought a motel room nearby and had been with him every day from morning until night. When Dean had been in therapy sessions, Castiel had sat in the cafeteria writing new songs. It was going to be a very emotional album, he had realized at the time. The songs were about losses, near-losses and new beginnings. When Dean was off therapy, Castiel would drive Dean, who was in a wheelchair, through the adjacent park. When Castiel stopped at one of the benches to sit down, Dean turned his wheelchair so they could look at each other. But they didn't talk much during that time. They both hung on their thoughts and neither knew what to talk about. At some point, while they had been sitting there listening to the birds and the wind, Dean had taken Castiel's hand in his and held it. Castiel had looked at him in surprise at first, but then smiled and squeezed with his hand. It was the first time since they had spent their time together here that Dean's posture had seemed a little more relaxed.

Castiel had noticed very well that Dean was not well psychologically. But he had not known how bad things really were for Dean. Until the night he had woken up in Motel because his cell phone was vibrating on the nightstand. He had given Dean his cell phone number again, under the guise that he could text him if, for example, he needed help getting back to the room after therapy. But that night, it wasn't why Dean had called him. In a shaky voice, Dean had said he was in the bathroom and that he wasn't feeling well. He didn't know if he would make it through the night either. Castiel had been wide awake immediately and had told Dean not to move an inch. Dean had said nothing back but hung up. Castiel had driven his car as fast as he could to the rehab center and had run in a panic to the station where Dean was housed. The corridors were poorly lit, as it had been night. Castiel walked purposefully toward the ward's bathroom.

It had been dark inside, but he had been able to spot Dean's wheelchair as the light from the hallway had spilled into the bathroom entrance. Dean had been lying motionless in the bathtub and Castiel had gotten the shock of his life. 'Am I too late?" had run through his mind as he ran toward Dean. It was only when he sobbed in relief that he realized he had started crying. The bathtub was empty and Dean was in a sleep that had come after complete exhaustion. Castiel had lifted Dean out of the tub with a little effort and had sunk to the floor with him. Dean, meanwhile, had woken up and just looked at him. Castiel had cradled him in his arms, rocking him back and forth like a little child and burying his own face in Dean's hair. After a few minutes, Dean had put his arms around Castiel and squeezed very hard. "Please don't leave me," Dean had mumbled over and over, feeling himself crawl further into Castiel with each time. "I won't," Castiel had then promised him.

When they woke up in Dean's bed in the morning, their legs were tangled and Dean had his face hidden in the crook of Castiel's neck. It had been so long since they had lain together like this, and even though they both knew it wasn't right, they both let themselves kiss anyway. Dean had literally clung to Castiel and Castiel had held Dean to him as well. The emotions and unspoken words that had been suppressed for so long had been released and it had made them both tremble. Yes, the whole thing had been wrong, but it had been exactly what they had both needed.

After that night, Castiel hadn't let Dean out of his sight again, and Dean hadn't left Castiel's side one bit either. They hadn't become as close again as they had been that morning, but they were freer with each other than they had been before. They also started to talk to each other. Not much at first but more and more as time went on. They talked about Dean's therapies, Castiel's songs, Dean's worries and fears, Castiel's family and they made plans for their future. Over time, their individual ideas became joint ones. When Dean was finally able to get out of the wheelchair after three months and was now learning to walk on crutches, he was overjoyed and had hugged Castiel around the neck. From then on, things had only gone uphill. Sam also visited him, but since he had to prepare for exams at Stanford University, these visits were all the more frequent. After six months, Dean had been sent home from rehab, and Castiel had offered to continue taking care of Dean.

So it happened that five years after their separation they were together again and this time they even lived together properly. Dean could no longer participate in any ballet performance as a dancer, but he still attended performances as often as he could as a visitor. None of his old dance buddies knew him anymore. At first this had made him terribly sad, but Castiel had made it clear to him over and over again that this was not the most important thing. It was much more important that Dean continued to take care of his health. After long talks and some tears, Dean had accepted Castiel's suggestion. From that moment on, he trained the background dancers of Castiel's show. And that was now where he was expected to be.

For the upcoming concert, Dean had come up with a very special choreography. If everything went well, he would be the happiest man on earth. The dancers had agreed and were as eager for the day as Dean was. Two months later, the time had come.

Castiel stood on the small stage in front of the main stage and Dean had a text displayed on the monitor at the bottom of the stage in which he asked Castiel to turn around to the back. The audience began to cheer as they could see the question "Will you marry me?" in illuminated letters on the dancers' black T-shirts. Castiel's eyes snapped open and he took his headphones out of his ears. He walked toward the main stage, but because he couldn't spot Dean, turned back around and promptly slapped his hands together in front of his mouth. There knelt Dean, who had climbed onto the stage while Castiel had been paying attention to the dancers, holding a small box in his hand. Castiel ran up to him and dropped to his knees in front of him.

"Yes, I do," Castiel said, tears standing in his eyes.
"That's not really how it works," Dean said, laughing a little shakily. Then he put the ring on Castiel's finger. Castiel looked at the ring for a moment, then looked Dean in the eye.
"It's beautiful, thank you."
"No, Cas. Thank you, and you can't imagine how happy I am right now."
"Can I kiss you now?" asked Castiel softly, meant only for Dean. But instead of answering the question, Dean leaned forward and placed his lips on Castiel's. Both of their laughter, happy as they were, was lost in the jeers of the audience. At some point, though, Dean had to come up because his legs were starting to hurt. Castiel apologized to the audience and announced a short break. Then he escorted Dean backstage.

As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Castiel pressed Dean against the stage scaffolding and the kiss that followed was one that really should not take place in front of strangers. After a few minutes, they broke away from each other.
"We'll talk again when we get home," Castiel murmured in Dean's ear, breathless. That Dean had to swallow, Castiel noticed and he winked at Dean. Then he gave him a kiss on the cheek and stormed back onto the stage. The audience cheered and for the addition Castiel gave it his all once again.

Dean, who had remained backstage still gasping for breath, smiled. When he had himself under control again, he went back to the VIP area. Where he was greeted with handshakes and pats on the back. Congratulations were offered and Benny, one of the security guards and who had become a good friend of Dean's over time, put an arm around Dean.
"Way to go, man. Proud of you, brother. All the best to you." Dean grinned at him and boxed Benny's upper arm with his other hand. Then he broke away from the hug and went to his chair to wait for the show to end.

The instruments were stowed away, the dancers were on their way to their quarters, the musicians had left in their van and only Dean and Castiel had stayed behind. They got into the back of their Range Rover while the driver took a seat at the steering wheel in the front. No sooner had the interior of the SUV darkened than Castiel slid over to Dean and snuggled up to him.
"We're two strange ones," he said. Dean turned his head and gave Castiel a kiss on the temple.
"Yes, we are. Met by coincidence, parted because of barriers of our own making, and reunited by fate." Then he turned Castiel's head so he could give him a real kiss.