Dean is woken by the delicious smell of bacon and pancakes. He cracks his eyes open and squints at the sunshine spilling in through the window, promising a beautiful day to come. He inhales deeply, smelling the fresh scent of the bed sheets and stretches before getting up. Smiling he walks out of the room. Dean doesn't notice the CREASE on the other side of the bed, indicating that someone else must have slept there just minutes ago.
He makes his way downstairs, following the clattering of pots, the faint sound of music and the heavenly smell of greasy bacon sizzling in a pan. His mind doesn't register the pictures lining the walls, memories of special occasions and happy days from the past.
When he turns the corner and enters the kitchen, he recognizes the person in front of the stove in a heartbeat. Dark hair, broad shoulders. Even though he exchanged the trenchcoat for a pair of jeans, a white shirt and an apron. An odd feeling settles in. The person feels as familiar as ever, though the setting seems off.
Dean's thoughts dissolve when Castiel turns around. When he notices Dean standing in the doorway a smile spreads across his face and Dean feels the urge to squint again. His smile is as bright as the sunlight that greeted Dean when he woke up.
"Sit down, I'm almost done." Hearing Castiel's voice makes Dean feel all kinds of emotions. He can't really grasp the feeling that settles in his chest. The feeling when you find something you thought was long lost. The overwhelming joy and surprise when you had already lost all hope of finding it ever again.
He sits down at the kitchen table. Castiel puts down a plate in front of him and gives him a peck on the cheek. The gesture startles Dean even though he doesn't understand why. Cas looks at him
"Dean, are you ok?" Dean shakes his head, shaking off the uneasy feeling.
"Yeah. No, I'm fine" Castiel sits down opposite of him and picks up the newspaper, thumbing through it while Dean savours his breakfast. He glances around the room. He tries to remember how they got here. Is this really their place? Is this really his life? He spots the car keys to his baby dangling on the wall, a stack of FBI badges on the kitchen counter. His eyes wander around the room and he stops at the newspaper Cas is holding in front of him.
The date. ...
Realization hits in an instant. His stomach turns and his heart drops. He clenches his jaw, sorrow and despair weighing down on him. Castiel puts down the newspaper and looks at him.
"It's a dream, isn't it?" Castiel looks at him sadly, empathetically, but stays silent.
"So, this is what could have been? If I hadn't been such a coward..." he breathes in deeply and rubs a hand over his face. Castiel gets up from his chair and walks behind Dean. He puts his arms around him from behind and the pain he feels is almost unbearable. He closes his eyes, breathes in, tries to catch the scent of the other man, tries to remember what his embrace felt like, the energy that emanated from him. Another second and Dean is awake. He looks at the grey walls of the bunker, smells the damp of the room and the smell of liquor coming from bottles strewn across his room. He rolls on his back, closes his eyes and tries to cling onto the fragments of his dream. Just a little longer.