A little fix-it fic of sorts, after that slightly unsatisfactory series finale. Also, this is my first ever published fic! Hope you enjoy it. This will be the first of many. :)
Bobby looks up at him in this vast, new world, and beams with pride at the sight of the man standing beside him. Beneath the surface, Dean Winchester's eyes darken with the shadows of the demons he spent his short earthly life fighting with every ounce of his being. Bobby knows these shadows all too well. But there's something else there, Bobby thinks. Ah, he muses with a grin. A twinkle. A twinkle in his hazel eyes of remembrance for every cheap beer shared with his brother, every damn piece of pie eaten after a hunt, and every laugh shared with his dearest ones after a lifetime of loss. Naturally, Bobby's eyes are drawn to the immaculate replica of the Impala, then tears them away to glance up at his surrogate son, once again, the hint of a smile masked beneath his full beard.
"So, son. What're you gonna do now?"
Dean glances down at Bobby appreciatively, with the hint of a genuine smile on his face covered up by his instinctive smirk. Then he draws his head up to look at the glimmering, golden landscape ahead of them, lost in thought.
"I think…" he starts. "I think I'm gonna go for a drive." Dean looks back at Bobby, and lets out a melodic, disbelieving laugh full of so many emotions: shock, sorrow, love, longing…
Bobby's lips upturn slightly, and the skin around his dark eyes crinkle as he gazes at Dean, seeing the little boy Dean still has hidden in his laughter.
Dean gives Bobby a knowing look, but then his brows furrow slightly in thought.
"But I have something to do first. You said they live around the road?"
Dean gets out of his Impala and tentatively walks down the gravel laden path leading to a modest and rustic little cabin in the midst of some rather intense forestry. As he arrives at the worn looking door, he takes a deep breath and lifts his fist to lightly knock.
But his lifted fist pauses when the door abruptly swings open before him, revealing an older, yet beautiful woman with impossibly long, golden hair wearing a soft, white nightgown, and a tall, tanned older man with a gruff salt and pepper beard, and hardened yet kind eyes.
Dean's eyes well up with tears before he can even say a word.
Mary's eyes soften with the realization that her son is now, finally, with her.
"Oh, my sweet boy. We've been waiting for you for so long," Mary utters softly, tears filling her striking blue eyes. John, once recovering from the shock, lets out a sharp sob, gruffly slapping his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Welcome home, son," John shakily lets out on his breathy exhale.
Overcome with the emotions he forbade himself to express during his life on earth, Dean lets himself fall into the arms of his parents and releases the salty tears of joy.
As he drives around in his Impala, Dean can't help but realize something is missing. He knows Sammy will come, in his own time, he thinks sadly. But...Cas.
Dean releases a heavy sigh, burdened with the weight of losing those close to him.
Shouldn't he be here?
As if on cue, Dean hears the sharp sound of the gruffest, heaviest, most gravelly voice in the world. Although he'd never admit it, it's still his favorite sound.
"Hello, Dean."
A startled Dean looks to the backseat in shock. With too many thoughts running through his head now, Dean suddenly slams on the break and parks the car in the middle of the desolate and winding country road. He gets out of the car, which Cas follows as well, with a puzzled expression on his face, and slams the door. He quickly approaches Cas's side of the car and grabs the soft cotton of his shirt, willing his body to nearly slam into his own.
"You sonofabitch," Dean whispers softly, all of the malice he wanted to summon into his voice fading away with every moment his eyes rest on the angel's face. His eyes begin to well up with tears. "I thought I'd lost you."
Cas gazes at Dean, tears of his own welling up in his eyes.
"The lost can be found, you know," Cas mutters with the cheeky, gruff voice Dean knows and loves, and gives him a shy, innocent smile.
Dean's eyes flash with a plethora of surging emotions, and pulls to his chest for a suffocating hug, nails digging into the back of his trench coat, and then releases him.
Cas tentatively lays his hand on Dean's cheek, and rests his forehead on Dean's, the two men's breaths intermingling with each other as they were always meant to be, until they meet as one. Finally.
And they'll never know who leaned in first for their soft, electric, and sweet-as-honey kiss, which took its place in history that day as one of many. And they'll still argue about this fact a few millennia later, while Sam beams at them, grinning with the sheen in his eye that reflects only the love he feels for the two men who were his whole life, and still remain his whole life. But little facts like that don't matter anymore here, and that's okay. It's all okay, Sam muses. Because as they sit down for their millionth after-dinner dessert of warm and crumbly blueberry pie, while the brave, eldest brother runs his thumb across the gruff angel's cheekbone playfully and throws a knowing wink at the kind, youngest Winchester…
All is exactly as it should be.