Nine: The Sleuth

Charlie trudged into her little apartment, tired as all hell and in no mood to finish any more assignments for tomorrow. Final exams were coming close and she hadn't even started to study. She'd been working at an ice cream parlour as of late and her boss was not nearly as good as Dean. It really got her thinking sometimes about how weird people could be, that she honestly thought a serial killer had a bigger heart than most people she'd met.

She shuddered at that thought. As sad as she'd been to leave Dean's diner, she knew it had been necessary. It made her morose and horrified to think that the Creature, that glamourised, feared serial killer, had been Dean of all people. She wished it hadn't been that way. She wished she were coming back from a fun day at the diner.

Charlie's roommate, Emily, was home visiting family. Kevin had said he'd come over later on. He was always so psyched about all the assignments Charlie had to do. He was looking forward to starting his term soon, but it could never be soon enough. His mom was out on a business trip and apparently this was the perfect weekend for him. Anyway, he'd called an hour ago that he'd take a bit to get to her place.

Relieved that she could be alone for a while, Charlie threw her bag onto her small armchair and pushed her hair out of her eyes as she started to strip. Her boots were off first, followed by her hoodie, her tank, and she was stomping her jeans away, unhooking her bra when she reached for comfier clothes that were lying on her bed. Nothing was better than a loose t-shirt and sweats, she thought, as she pulled them all on. Plus the lack of a boob cage was just—

Something wet and heavy fell against her when she opened the closet. Shocked, Charlie leapt back. Her eyes fell on the figure slumped to the floor. Her eyes widened.

"OH MY—"

A hand gripped her mouth and muffled her voice, silver knife against her throat. "I'm sorry, doll," said a hoarse whisper in her ear, "but it has to be you."

The last thing Charlie saw before she met blackness was Kevin's dead and staring eyes. The last thing she felt was his thick blood on her body and her assailant's hand against her mouth. Then—sharp pain… and nothing.

~o~

When there was a knock on Dean's door, he couldn't help but feel anxious. He'd been following the news channels closely and everyone was hot on his ass. Cas had acted exactly as Dean asked him to, and so had Sam and he was happy they were safe. He knew there was a possibility the FBI would find him someday, but he wasn't prepared for it to happen today. That meant he was slacking and needed to be better at this and fuck, he really needed to be more alert, didn't he?

He'd been climbing the walls with no visitors, nothing to do, and a constant need to keep tabs on how close those assholes were to finding him, so if he had missed something and they had found him, he wondered if he would finally be relieved about it.

Then he gave up on that thought because, fuck no, there was no way he was rotting in prison.

So when he took out his gun and peeked out of his curtain, his heart jumped. Because standing outside, looking like he'd just stepped out of a hospital and pale as all hell, was Dean's gigantor of a brother. Oh, Sammy. Chest filling with happiness, confusion, and anger (what the fuck, Sam, you could land in trouble, dude), Dean was at the door, opening it, only to be swallowed by Sasquatch arms.

He promptly stumbled back two steps, but continued to hug Sam. "Ugh, you idiot, you stink."

Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder. "You stink."

Dean broke apart. "I just had a shower, so I know you're lying. Why are you here?" he asked, moving on to shut the door behind Sam.

"Really?!" Sam asked him, putting his bags down, and then his cane. "Is that what you're gonna say to a person who almost died and come back only to meet your stupid ass?"

"I knew you weren't dead. I was following the news. And I'm not stupid."

"Yeah, you are," Sam huffed. "Or do you prefer martyr? Makes you feel better about it?"

"Shut up." Dean looked around the small cabin he was now starting to get seriously annoyed by. Sam's presence seemed to have brightened everything up and so Dean kinda liked being here more right now. At least for a short while.

He shook those thoughts away and cleared the sofa for his brother, balling up all the junk food wrappers before tossing them into the trash. Sam made a face, but didn't say anything. "So you come to vacation here, or…?"

"I'm here for a day," said Sam as he sat down on the now-clean couch with a grateful sigh. "I need to leave tomorrow."

"Oh." Dean's heart sank. He wasn't looking forward to stare at the dank walls again.

"Cas sent you something, though." Sam reached for his laptop bag and stuffed his hand into a side pocket before extracting an envelope. He held it out to Dean. "Here."

Dean took a moment just eyeing it and recognising the sentiment behind Cas sending it. His heart started to beat fast in his chest. Numbly, he reached forward to take it and tried to ignore his brother's concerned expression. "How is he?"

Sam didn't reply for a minute. "The truth?"

Dean considered it. "No…" It came out as a whisper.

Sam nodded. "He's fine, Dean. He's doing great."

Something horrible and slimy slid into Dean's stomach. He had to turn away from his brother as he pocketed the letter and walked to the kitchen, trying not to think, or really, to think of anything but this. He'd read the letter when Sam was asleep. "Can I fix you some dinner?" he asked his brother. "You must be tired."

"Sure." Sam seemed to understand, but of course he always did, and Dean smiled to himself.

He pulled out the chicken he'd left to thaw, trying to decide whether to have it roasted or fried as Sam got up from the sofa and lingered behind him, watching. Just when Dean had settled on fried and reached for the spices he'd raided out of a grocery just last week, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I will fix this for you," said Sam in a low voice. "I'm going to help you out of this. I won't let you fall, Dean. You're gonna see Cas again."

Dean nodded silently, knowing his brother meant every word it.

~o~

Jess fingered her phone, locking and unlocking it as she thought of Sam. He had called her a couple of times about wrapping up his case tomorrow but she wasn't so sure now that she had done right by booking his ticket to Montana. Sure, stubborn as he was, he would have just booked it for himself later on and he'd even insisted quite a bit—Jess didn't like to be controlling, just as much as she didn't like Sam controlling her. They were equals and they respected that. So she'd not argued too much when he didn't seem to want to budge.

Then again, he had almost died not ten days ago, he had been taken captive by his brother (and was in denial about that) and he really needed a break from it all. Maybe he thought he didn't, but Jess knew Sam, and she knew he didn't do well with stress. Burying himself in work, whether it was related to college or otherwise, was his way of dealing with bad things.

She battled with herself over whether she wanted to do it, and after a few minutes of pondering, decided not to call Sam's office. She'd talk to him when he got back home tomorrow. Doing this felt like she was going behind his back and she wanted it to be anything but that. In Sam's world of hurt and betrayal, she did not want to be another reason for him to feel awful.

Hoping this was the right decision Jess put her phone away and went downstairs to help Cas set the dinner table.

~o~

One day with Sam went by too damn quickly. Dean didn't waste even a minute, though. He led Sam to the clearing in the woods behind the cabin where he'd stashed Baby and Sam had looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes, grinning as he snatched a bottle of beer from the case that Dean had carried along. They talked until their voices got raspy and sat on the hood of the Impala, looking at stars and drinking beers. The woods were quiet except for the chirping of crickets and there was a cool breeze blowing at them. It would have been the perfect evening to spend in each other's company, had Dean not been ardently missing Cas and had that horrible feeling in his stomach about not wanting to say goodbye to Sam tomorrow.

"Did you tell her?" Dean asked Sam. "Jess?"

"She knows I'm here."

"Sam—"

"I told her I'm seeing a client," Sam replied before Dean could freak out. "She thinks I'm in this… huge trap of denial and stress because of you."

"She's not gonna find out about me being here, right?"

"No," Sam replied. "If she suspects… I'll talk to her."

"And… did you talk… about the other thing?"

Sam breathed out quietly. "Not yet."

"You gotta tell her, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I am. Tomorrow, actually."

"And – and…" Dean swallowed, "honestly, this time, how's Cas?"

Sam turned to him, face half-lit by moonlight, expression unreadable. "Did you read his letter?"

"I will."

"He…" Sam nodded. "He misses you. He's not okay with saying the stuff you asked him to talk about to stay out of prison…"

"As long as you two are okay, man," Dean shrugged. "There's no going back for me. I ain't taking that from you."

"I know, Dean, but—"

"If you're gonna tell me this was a bad idea, Sammy," said Dean, blinking slowly at the dark blue sky, "then I ain't listening. I don't have regrets, okay?"

"Dean…"

"I would die for you two. No regrets."

"I know," Sam seemed to hug himself as he muttered, "it's not fair."

Dean peeled at the label on his beer, contemplating Sam, who was staring into a far-off point, then reached for his brother, a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine."

Sam sniffed, chuckling quietly. "You're an idiot."

Dean didn't reply to that. They finished their beers and headed back to the cabin with too many things on their minds. Neither of them could sleep, although Dean wouldn't have any of that crap, and he made goddamned sure Sam got his rest. He lay on his bunk alone and thinking, reading and rereading Cas's letter while listening to his brother's soothing snores.

Dean, Cas wrote, I hope you are doing well. I love you.

It was signed with a simple C, just like the times before, but different from then because Cas hadn't written like he used to. It wasn't long or sweeping or poetic or any of the things that it used to be. Cas didn't seem to have any words for Dean anymore.

Heart growing heavy, Dean stuck the letter under his pillow and willed his mind to shut down; get a few hours of rest. It didn't, however, and all he could do was stare at the worn wooden wall, listen to Sam sleep, and take his happiness from it.

~o~

By morning, Jess had made her decision. She got out of bed at her alarm, checked for messages from Sam, and then proceeded to brush her teeth. As she spat frothy toothpaste into the sink, she thought of everything she'd battled last night, meditating over what she wanted to do about Sam's situation and had come to the conclusion that requesting his colleagues to keep him off the hook for a while was not a wrong thing to do.

When she'd washed her face, she unlocked her phone again and scrolled through the contacts. She knew Sam wouldn't approve of this; that he would possibly get angry, but she wasn't comfortable with him having to work so soon and Sam often didn't ask for help even when he needed it, only to realise later on that it had all come back to bite him in his ass. He was at a delicate point in his life now, and Jess didn't think they needed to experiment with how this was going to work out for him.

So she finally hit Sam's office on the contacts and put the phone to her ear. A man, Sam's boss, took her call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Danny, this is Jess."

"Jess?"

"Sam's girlfriend."

"Oh. Oh! Oh wow, Jess, how's Sam? The news channels and papers—"

"He's doing okay now," she said, "and yeah, quite a bit on the news, too. Hey, I just called to request something—can you do me a favour, if you don't mind?"

"Go ahead."

"Sam's—you know, he's been in the hospital and he's a big workaholic so he's not going to tell you he's tired. So just maybe shift his cases to someone else for a bit? He's not gonna talk to any of us until he crashes and burns and you know what it's like right now."

"Yeah, cool, we spoke about that, too. Sam doesn't have any cases, don't worry."

"No, he's in Montana right now for you. Talking to a client."

"We called him, Jess, we told him not to go. That isn't his client anymore. Did he still go?"

"Yeah, he's in Whitefish." Jess ran her hand through her hair, exasperated. "Jesus, I wish I'd talked to you before…"

"Whitefish?"

"Yeah."

Danny sounded confused. "We don't have any clients there."

"What?" Jess felt like someone had dropped a rock into her stomach.

"We don't have a client in Whitefish. Sure, we do have a couple in Montana, one was Sam's case in…" He trailed off into the background and Jess could feel sweat build up on her brow. Sam had lied to her. Why had Sam lied to her about this? Was… was Dean in Whitefish? How did Sam even know about that?

"Are you still there?" Danny's voice reached her through the speaker and Jess took a moment to compose herself. "Is Sam in Whitefish?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she said, "And you know what, I think I misheard him. He's… he's probably not in Whitefish after all. I'm going to have to call him now so—"

"Sure."

Jess ended the call and put the phone down, shock infiltrating every inch of her being. She had lied so Danny wouldn't be suspicious but Sam was most definitely in Whitefish. Or had he driven elsewhere after having her book tickets to Whitefish? What was going on? Was this… was this about Dean?

She knew he missed Dean and she knew he'd been distressed and shocked to hear about Dean but he wouldn't go running to meet him murderer brother, would he? Plus how would he know where Dean was?

This was… this couldn't be. Sam definitely had no idea where Dean was. Jess had been with him two years now and he wasn't that good a liar. He hadn't even known what Dean was up to… how could he…?

No, no, there had to be something wrong here. He wouldn't lie to her like that. She just needed to talk to Cas. Sam wouldn't lie like that.

Would he?

~o~

It was dank and quiet in the cabin again when Sam was leaving, the air settling down like something horrible had happened. Dean already dreaded coming back to this. Letting Cas go and having Sam back only for a day were the two times he'd had regrets about killing those two assholes. The only two times.

Anyway. It was too late now to think about it.

Dean pulled out his Impala keys and took Sam's bags, trying not to think that this might be the last time he would see Sam. They walked out, Dean squinting into the sunny afternoon and the perfectly normal world around them, which didn't seem to care that he was going to be fucking miserable again. "I'm going to drop you by the airport," he said.

"Dean, you could be seen."

Dean could barely find it in him to smile. "Don't worry about me, dude, I've been surviving here without being seen for a while now. Dropping you there ain't changing anything."

Sam looked into Dean's eyes and took only a moment to read him. "I know it's crappy here, man," he said. "You know I'm—"

"Yeah. I know you're gonna make goddamned sure I get back. And hey, you can call me now with that phone. At least for a bit." Dean tried to put a positive spin on it, tried to pretend it was going to be fine despite the small tug in his belly.

"I'll call you," said Sam. "I put Cas's number in your phone, too. I'll text him that it's safe to call."

"Cool. Just… be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, I will, Dean. You know I will."

"Come on, I'll drive you."

"Cas gave you that letter. You don't wanna say something?" Sam asked him.

"Sure. Tell him I said hi."

"Dean…"

"I'll drive you to the airport." He refused to talk about it more.

They seated themselves in the Impala, Sam leaning against the glass on the passenger side. It felt like an eternity since they'd done this, even though it had not even been two weeks since they drove to South Dakota. So much had happened between then and now and neither of them had much to say. The rest of their drive was filled with silence. Morose, but peaceful silence. When Dean stopped his car at a secluded spot behind the airport Sam reached to hug his brother one last time.

Dean returned the hug, cupping his neck. "Take care," he said.

"I will."

~o~

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Cas looked up from his book to see Jessica at the door, and put the novel down. "Of course," he said, and when he noticed the worry on her face, added, "Is anything the matter?" The sheets ruffled as he adjusted himself.

She looked unsure as she crossed the threshold and took a seat in the chair at the window. "I…" She bit her lip, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Jessica, what's wrong?" God knew, Cas had his own set of worries for now, but he rather liked Jessica, and her distress made him think of his own.

"Cas…" She looked like she didn't know how to begin. "Did… did Sam tell you where he went?"

Cas wondered if Dean had received his letter as he shook his head. "I don't know all the details," he replied. "He said he has to work in Montana."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I called his colleague."

Oh. Oh, no. Why would she do that? Cas straightened up, alert and trying to look nonchalant as a million questions ran through his mind. "Okay," he said, maintaining the neutral tone of his voice. "So?"

"Sam doesn't have a client in Montana. At least, not in Whitefish." Their eyes met, her glance meaningful. "And yet, he's there right now."

This was going downhill too soon. Cas tried to take a deep breath, willed himself not to react as he shrugged lightly. "Maybe he had something personal he wanted to handle."

"Something that he told neither of us about?"

"He and Dean have things in their life that neither you, nor I, will never know of, Jessica. Personal matters. Maybe he had something to sort out regarding their father or guardian or a foster parent." Cas looked up at her, narrowing his eyes, willing her to challenge him. "You know that is a sensitive topic. Even Dean was not willing to talk to me about their childhood, and this is after I've courted him nine years and have been married to him for longer than your relationship with Sam."

"Why would he lie saying it was a case?"

"Is he obligated to be truthful about every action of his?"

"No, but this is a huge lie, Cas. Especially with everything that's going on."

He swallowed. Dammit, Sam. "Well," he said, "I know for a fact that Bobby's close friend, Rufus Turner, lives in Whitefish. They visit him sometimes even now. I should guess he is there." Rufus had been dead for years.

"Why didn't he just say so?"

"Probably because he is distressed and suffocated here and needs some space from us for a bit."

She didn't seem to buy it. "And you know this… this Rufus lives in Whitefish and you still believed Sam when he told you it was a case."

"I believed it, yes. It is possible for a case to be in the same town as Rufus. Plus I did not know that it was specifically in Whitefish."

She blinked, and Cas knew he was running out of options here. She did not believe a word of what he had just said.

"Cas," she sighed, at long last, "I gotta ask."

"What?" He was dreading the question.

"Do you… do you know where Dean is?"

"No." He had been great at lying once, but now his heart raced. The FBI was watching them too closely. He couldn't risk a slip-up, even with Jessica.

She didn't look like she believed him. "Honestly? Please?"

He nodded. "Yes. I am not lying about this. I don't know where Dean is."

"Please don't protect him. You and Sam, you know what the FBI said—"

He breathed out, the anger rising in him quicker than he could think. "I know," he said, and then dragged on slowly, emphasising his words and wishing she would stop talking, "I know, Jessica, that Sam and I perhaps possess some bias for a man who loves us unconditionally and I know what Stockholm Syndrome is. Please don't make us out to be criminals."

"Sorry."

"Please leave." Cas covered his face. Dean needed to get out of that cabin and Cas could only alert him if Jessica let him be alone. If she saw the temporary phone Dean could, in no way, be alerted that he needed to change hiding places. This was messed up. They'd messed up too much.

"So Dean could be in Whitefish, right?" Jessica had gotten up and crossed over to the door to heed to Cas's wishes. "Just tell me that, Cas, and then I'll leave you alone. Could he?"

"I fail to see why Sam would go meet a wanted criminal, and if he was doing that, give you the exact location of said criminal." There was no way Cas was saying yes to that. He was going to be very angry at Sam when he came home. Jessica was a sharp, intelligent girl, they all knew that, and Sam should have known better than to blunder like this.

Jessica pursed her lips. "That's all I needed to know." She paused for a moment. "And I'm sorry. I know you're really hurting about Dean and I shouldn't have…"

"I just need to be alone," he replied, and she respected that immediately. He would have really appreciated her kindness and thoughtfulness had he not been extremely anxious. He let her exit the room, pulling off his calm mask the moment she was gone and diving for his burner phone. He needed to reach Dean. There was no way his husband could escape the police in time if he didn't know, because there was no way that Jessica was keeping silent about this.

~o~

The drive back from the airport was worse than anything Dean had experienced in his life. Sam's surprise visit had been the best fucking thing all month and now he was expected to live like a hermit again, waiting for these assholes to get off his back. He didn't want more of this but he didn't want to surrender, either. He hated that the fuck-up was not something he could fix by killing someone else.

Gritting his teeth so he wouldn't pity himself anymore, Dean continued his drive. He was already halfway back, not thinking about anything but TV and some sleep to make up for last night, when his new phone began to ring. Wondering why Sam was calling him, Dean squinted at the number and grinned when he saw the name. He parked the car over the shoulder immediately, ducking his head so no one passing by would recognise him, and picked up the phone. "Hey, sexy, long time."

"Dean." Cas sounded scared and God, it was so good to hear his voice, to listen to him, but he didn't sound good.

Dean frowned. "What happened?"

"You need to leave that cabin now. Jessica just came to meet me and she's called Sam's colleague and—"

"Whoa," said Dean, "calm down. Slowly."

"I cannot calm down!" Cas interjected, and Dean realised he was downright yelling it out. "Jessica is going to tell the police that you're in Whitefish!"

"How does she know?"

"She called Sam's colleague. She found out that there is no client. She even spoke to me about it and I told her I didn't know."

"Fuck!" Dean pulled back into the road because he was almost home and he needed to leave and screw traffic rules.

"Yes, exactly," said Cas.

"Where am I gonna go, Cas?"

"I will look that up," his husband replied, "and I'll contact you. Don't worry."

Dean took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I'll just go get my things and hit the road then."

"Yes, that will be good."

"What direction do I head to?"

"Just start out, Dean, any direction that's not towards Tyngsborough. Give me ten minutes so I can tell you definitively before you're out of town."

"Okay. Okay." Dean drove at double speed, heart lightening when he saw the by-lane that would lead to a dirt road, and eventually his cabin. This was a clusterfuck. This was a fucking clusterfuck and what the hell, Sammy? Why hadn't he thought about this more? "Cas," he said, "I need to put the phone down now. The FBI could track us like this."

"They couldn't have gotten a hold on these phones so quickly, but I will get back to you. We have a while with these. That's what Sam said."

"I know."

"It's going to be fine," said Cas, sensing Dean's tension. Dean could hear him clicking away at his laptop in the background.

"Yeah," he said.

"Sam and I will not let them get to you this easy."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Cas." Cas gave him a grunt of acknowledgement, seemingly already working on Dean's next hideout, before ending the call. Convincing himself that he'd hear Cas again soon, Dean put his own phone down.

At long last he pulled into the cabin and rushed to the entrance, jamming the key into the lock. Cas would call back any moment now and—

He stumbled when he tried to move closer to open the door. He looked down, heart jumping when he saw a big cardboard box. It had no labels on it.

How had he not seen this? Had Sam left it? He would have said something, right?

Okay, this wasn't good. Who knew he was here, apart from Sam and Cas and now Jess? The FBI couldn't reach him this soon, could they?

Mustering up his courage, Dean bent over and picked the box up. It was big, damp, and hefty, with something clinking inside heavily when he tried to shake it. He scrunched his nose at the familiar smell of formalin that seemed to come off it and was immediately alert at that.

Taking a deep breath, Dean opened the box, and almost fell back when he did.

There were two mason jars. He had just left Sam at the airport and spoken to Cas so – so…

His hands shook as he drew them out, two jars, one by one, an unexpected wave of nausea rising in him when he saw what it was.

The jars held two human hearts, but that wasn't what troubled Dean. It was the blue ribbons on them, tied around the lids neatly, like they were a gift. And the labels. A piece of paper stuck on to each jar.

Charlie Bradbury

Kevin Tran

o

-Then-

Dean and Cas's wedding was a small event by the lake and just the way they wanted it to be. Dean was psyched all morning, ready to see Cas in his sexy wedding attire and even more ready to take the whole thing off his husband—as Cas would finally become later today—piece-by-piece. He was totally prepared for this. He rolled up his sleeves, grinning as he thought about it and pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

The pants were grey, as was his waistcoat, underneath which he was wearing a black shirt. All his own selection. He was proud.

Sam came for him a minute later, took a look at Dean, and raised an eyebrow. "You don't look too ugly in that vest."

Dean squinted at Sam's own semi-formal attire before he glared. "Yeah, well, you're the same as always, bitch."

"Jerk."

"All ready?" Dean asked his brother.

"The minister and Cas, yes. Come on." Sam held out his arm.

Dean felt warmth rush up his face. "Shut up, Sam."

"I told you I'd be giving you away. Don't be an idiot."

"Freak," Dean muttered under his breath, before placing his hand on Sam's arm. The warmth at the gesture made him smile, but he decided he'd forever be bitching to Sam about it anyway.

"Ready?" Sam whispered a moment later.

Dean smirked. "Fuck yeah."

They exited the little cabin they'd rented, the lake coming into view immediately. The air was crisp, pleasant, trees laden with red, yellow, and orange leaves, some on the ground, crunching underneath their shoes. There were only two guests: Maureen and Jess, apart from the minister. And then. And then there was Cas.

Dean found himself involuntarily gripping at the fabric of Sam's blazer. Cas was standing there, hands behind his back and a smile on his face. He had a blue shirt on underneath a pale brown full-sleeved sweater, with a black tie. His eyes sparkled, hair delicately dishevelled, and Dean wanted to reach right across and do things to him to make that hair unrulier. Damn, he was hot.

Dean could barely remember what happened from then on. He recollected the vows, holding Cas's hands, and watching the sunset… posing for a picture with their ring fingers sticking out, and then home and their room and bedcovers twisting under Cas's fists as Dean kissed him, their wedding attire strewn everywhere, dark bruises on Dean's neck and the cry of each other's names from both their mouths.

Later, Dean undraped himself from around Cas as he remembered something. Cas, who had been sleeping, stirred. "Dean?"

"I got you a gift," Dean told him, getting off the bed as gently as he could. He winced at the soreness catching up with him. Yeaaah, that had been good.

"Dean…?"

"Hang on, Cas."

Cas turned, rubbed his eyes, and propped himself up on one elbow. "You didn't have to get me anything."

Dean leaned against the closet and winked. "But I did." He opened the door and reached for the gift-wrapped box he'd hidden inside, feeling Cas's eyes on him. Then he walked over and put it on the bed for his husband to open before taking his place behind Cas.

"Thank you," Cas whispered as he started to unwrap the fancy paper. Dean crossed his arms and watched Cas meticulously remove the tape and the paper in one piece, folding in the sticky bits and squaring the wrapping before putting it aside. Normally, Dean would have huffed at this but tonight he just felt good watching his husband.

Cas finally opened the box and reached in to pull out a jar with a blue ribbon around the lid. "What is this—?" His jaw dropped a little when he saw it.

It was a preserved specimen, a heart, and when Cas read the label on it, his eyes widened. "Henry Ericson?"

"We got engaged that day, remember?" Dean asked him.

"Of course – of course I do, Dean, I—"

"I want to do this for everyone now," Dean said, resting his chin on Cas's shoulder. "To remember how much fun we have."

Cas turned around and planted a quick kiss on Dean's cheek. "You know I don't need a reminder of that."

"Yeah, but," Dean pressed his lips together. "This is our thing, you know? And… I never want to forget about that. I want something to look at when we think of our hunts."

Cas nodded. "I love it. Thank you." He rested his temple briefly against Dean's forehead before kissing him.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and pressed himself closer to his husband's back, putting his cheek on his shoulder. "Cas," he said, "we're fucking married."

"I know," Cas replied. He halted for a moment. "I love you."

"Me, too."