Happiness is the greatest hiding place for despair.

Soren Kierkegaard

Sam and Jack were sitting in the library, pointlessly going over books and lore trying to... Keep busy? Sam sighed feeling defeated and he slammed the book he was reading shut when something caught his eye. A shimmer in the air, a spot in space that didn't quite feel right. But then the next thing he knew, a very familiar figure faded into place.

Castiel looked confused and distressed as his eyes darted all around, fearful that this is his version of hell, but when he caught Sam's eye, there was a glimmer of hope that it just might be real. How and more importantly why, he had no idea, but with the wide smile spreading across Jack's face, he was more sure with each passing second.

A bottle crashed down on the ground up ahead in the distance, beer and glass spreading all over the floor, drawing the angel's attention. There stood Dean, his eyes wide and disbelieving as they bore into the angel. The hunters name lingered on the angel's lips, but before he even had a chance to speak it, Dean started walking towards him, his steps firm and determined.

Castiel wanted to say it was him, feeling the hunter might question either his own sanity or the convenience of the angel's appearance, as if a shifter or a ghoul could ever mimic him. He wanted to say so much, but he remained speechless as those two green eyes stared at him like they were trying to see straight down to his grace. Still, the moment Dean came within an arm's reach, he set his hands on the angel and Castiel found himself being drawn into a hug.

Ah, yes, the all too familiar welcome-back-from-the-dead Winchester trademark hug. Strong and firm, like he wanted to make sure Castiel is there, tight as to say he never again wanted to see him go. Then followed by a strong pat on the back, avoiding the emotional moment, and then drawing away and not looking at the person they were hugging for a minute, as if he was embarrassed or something. And then they would talk.

But seconds ticked, and there was no pat on the back. No sniffs and playing like everything's fine and putting up a mask of an emotionless man. No, Dean simply stood there and held him, tight and firm.

"Dean..." Finally the angel spoke and gasped when then hunter only tightened his grip, his hands clutching onto the angel's trenchcoat and buried his head in the angel's shoulder. Something stirred in Castiel's chest and he too strengthen his embrace of the hunter, breathing in his scent of whiskey and beer and gun-powder.

Jack silently cleared his throat, loud enough only for Sam to hear and it snapped the younger hunter from the scene he was witnessing. It was heartbreaking, to find Dean down in the dungeon, broken and crying, and with that damn handprint on his shirt, like the damn faith wanted to taunt him even more, like some sort of a cosmic joke. Sam looked back at Jack, who craned his head, silently telling him they should give them a moment. And Sam agreed. As much as he wanted to welcome his friend, his other brother back, he was happy to see Dean a little less broken.

Dean heard them leave, but didn't react for a good few minutes, just holding onto Castiel, afraid to ever let him go. Too many times he lost him, too many times he died to protect Dean, and each time he came back, Dean just... He couldn't stand to let him go this time. He couldn't stand to drift away from him, fearful that the angel would die again and he would get hurt. He had no more strength to build those walls back up, knowing well that no matter what, they will inevitably come crumbling down.

He couldn't stand to get hurt again without even letting the angel know he too felt the same.

After what seemed like forever, Dean pulled out of that embrace, but only enough to get a look at the angel, his eyes brimming with tears, his hands keeping a tight grip on the angel's neck. Castiel sighed, opening his mouth to say the words of comfort, to ease whatever pain and despair the hunter felt, when suddenly those soft pink lips of Dean's pressed against the angel's. Caught by surprise, his eyes went wide, watching as Dean's closed, the tears sliding down his cheek and landing on Castiel's. Dean kissed him, the simple act carrying so many emotions, but also a reprimand - that the angel didn't give him time to say much before the empty took him, that he didn't let him say his own goodbye. And one more thing.

That no matter what, he wasn't going to let him go this time.

As the kiss deepened, Castiel relishing in the feel, taste of Dean's lips, his closeness and his reciprocated feelings, a voice echoed as a memory in his head.

"I appreciate the gesture little gnat, but you have no idea what happiness really is. Enjoy it for a while, until we meet again."