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Dean smells the ashes of a cold July night. When fireworks were above him and rain-drenched grass slicked under his boots.
It's not a memory he could ever forget.
Heaven stretches out with mountainous green fields. Skies so endless and a bright blue that has Dean's eyes straining to focus. Pavement crunches under the Impala's wheels. He doesn't know which road to take, but it'll get him to where Dean needs to be.
(Call it a feeling.)
He parks off on a bridge, gazing out to his surroundings before Dean hesitates. His hands clench down on the railing.
"Hey, Sammy."
Dean turns around, his mouth flattening into lopsided smile. Golden sunlight warms his cheeks.
"You doin' alright?"
Sam — the spitting image of his Sam, thirty six years old and completely flushed red from sobbing his heart out — waits behind him. The bob of Sam's throat clenches up. "We're actually dead this time and that's what you're gonna say to me?" Sam mumbles.
"Aw, c'mon," Dean says with lighthearted teasing, opening his arms and gesturing. "Don't be like that. Bring it in."
He walks towards Sam, hugging him.
This is who Dean waited for — for better or worse, Dean waited outside of Sam's college dorm until sunset, terrified of being rejected by Sam like he rejected John Winchester. Sam was never afraid of doing what needed to be done. Dean admired him.
"Hey," Dean mutters, holding Sam's face and pressing their foreheads. As tenderly as Sam did for Dean dying. For Dean, it only felt like hours ago and not a lifetime. A hiccup stifles in Sam's throat. Dean would give anything to erase that pain for Sam. For them to start over. "Look at me," Dean coaxes him. "Mm'never gonna leave you again, Sammy. I promise you."
Sam nods, his eyebrows furrowing as he sniffles and wipes off his face. Dean's lips find home, brushing Sam's forehead dryly.
"Geez, man." Dean grasps onto Sam's shoulders instead. His own eyes flood with a gleam of moisture. "I said I loved you and all I got outta you was a bunch of tears, as usual," he complains. To Dean's reassurance, Sam crinkles his nose and laughs lowly.
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Dean wipes under his own eye, hugging Sam again. It feels like coils of tension leaving Sam's body.
"Took you long enough, Sam."
"Yeah, well…" Sam pulls away, and Dean doesn't know what to make of the haughty look. "I didn't come alone."
A flutter of wings echoes across the bridge.
"Hello, Dean."
Sam's hand lowers from Dean's side as the other man glances around wildly. "Cas," Dean murmurs, visibly shocked and grateful. Castiel, his blue tie and all, watches ruefully as Dean's jaw hangs open. "That… Cas, is that really you? How long have you been here?"
"Not long," Castiel explains. "Jack freed me and I rearranged Heaven with his help. I was hoping to see you again if I could."
Dean swallows. Everything feels knotted up in his stomach.
"Cas, I…"
Silence follows.
"Dean," Castiel starts, like he's about to apologize, and Dean cuts him off by waving his hand.
"No, you gotta let me say this," Dean grumbles. He runs his hands over his face. "I screwed up, Cas. You told me what you felt and I screwed that up. I didn't say how it was for me because… that would have meant letting myself. I couldn't let myself at the time." From beside them, Sam folds his arms expectantly. "You said you loved me, Cas… but I didn't tell you the same thing."
Castiel frowns.
"Dean, you don't have to…"
"I know that," Dean says, reaching out to yank on Castiel's trench coat. He urges him in. "Nobody's making me do this but me." The beige material feels impossibly new on Dean's fingertips. They're close enough to breath each other. "I love you, Cas."
Deep blue eyes widen.
"I know I do and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before all of this…"
He lets Castiel register this, getting a hint of the wonderstruck expression on him. "I see," Castiel proclaims. Dean searches his eyes over him, tempting the idea of kissing him but he loses the opportunity when Castiel looks pointedly at Sam. "Both of you are the most important things in Creation to me." He looks back to Dean. "I didn't understand what love was until you."
Sam lets out a loud, shaky chuckle, hugging Castiel.
Not expecting it, Castiel blinks. He rumbles out Sam's name kindly, grazing over Sam's jaw with his thumb when they pull apart. In outright amusement, Dean witnesses as Sam reddens in embarrassment, looking away, and Castiel's face softens.
"You two," Dean says with a grin, wrapping an arm around each of them.
"What do we do now?"
"Keep on driving for a while, I guess." Dean pats on Castiel's arm. He tilts his head back to the Impala, marching for it, whistling to get Sam's and Castiel's attention. "I thought I saw a strip club down the highway. Maybe there's a bar too if we're lucky."
Sam gazes to Castiel, baffled.
"… They have strip clubs in Heaven?" he asks.
"They have everything in Heaven," Castiel deadpans. "That is why Heaven is considered Heaven."
"Let's go, slowpokes!"
Dean gleefully jumps into his car, listening for Sam opening the passenger-side door and climbing in next to Dean. Castiel materializes between the front seats, leaning between the front car seats from the backseat and making a thoughtful noise.
He slips in Kansas into the cassette player, gripping the wheel.
This is how it's supposed to end. The three of them.
(Call it a feeling.)
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