A/N I really hope you enjoy the final chapter! Thank you to my beta Fellowship-of-the-Hobbit for keeping me right. Merry Christmas.

November 16th

Dean had been so caught up in his resolve to patch things up with Cas, that he had forgotten he agreed to give the angel some space. It wasn't until an hour into the journey home that the realisation hit him, and his breakneck driving slowed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, looking over at him.

"Sure," Dean said, a little too quickly to be convincing.

"How exactly do you plan on getting Cas back?"

"Right now, I'm not going to do anything," he said. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. "I hate this," he muttered. "I know Cas needs space, and I know I'm the last person he wants to see, but all I want to do is make sure he's okay."

"He will be," Sam comforted. "It might take a while, but he will be. Just give him time."

"But will he ever forgive me?" This time Sam didn't answer.

With a couple of stops along the way, the journey home took almost the whole day. It was evening when Dean parked the car in front of the smooth, arcing silhouette of the bunker and they walked in together. Dean stood at the top of the stairs, looking blankly over the railing at the bunker below and let out a long sigh.

"You okay?" Sam asked, his expression concerned.

"Yeah," Dean said hastily, flashing his brother a smile. "It's just good to be home." Sam looked relieved as he headed down the stairs, but once his back was turned, Dean's smile fell.

Sam made them both a grilled cheese and they sat together for a few hours, flicking through the TV channels, never really settling on anything to watch.

When one of the large grandfather clocks chimed one o'clock in the morning, Dean bade his brother goodnight and headed for his bedroom. He pushed the door open and switched on the light, looking around the familiar room. The bed looked exactly as it did the day he left twelve months before, the corners of the sheets folded and tucked with military precision. In fact, everything was just the way he had left it, except for the pile of spell ingredients still laid out across his desk. Dean picked up the trash can by the door and swept the mess into it, his sleeve mopping up the leftover liquid that had pooled on the desktop. He undressed, folded his shirt and jeans and laid them over the chair, but he couldn't face sleep without at least trying to talk to Cas. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked up to the ceiling, as if that would make his prayers more audible.

"Hey, Cas," he started, with no idea whether or not the angel would hear him. "I know I said I'd give you space, so that's what I'm going to do. I just want you to know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk. Or not, it's your call. But I'm here, and I really want us to work, Cas, more than anything. Don't give up on me."

With that, he climbed under the covers, clicking off the light on his bedside table. But the familiar bed wasn't enough to comfort him, and he lay awake for several hours, finding himself missing his bed in Illinois and the warmth of another body beside him.

January 28th

Christmas and the New Year passed unobserved as Sam and Dean worked back-to-back cases. Dean welcomed the abundance of creatures to kill, because it was one of the only things that stopped him thinking about the fact that he hadn't heard from Cas in two and a half months.

Sam and Dean sat together at the breakfast table, Sam eating a slice of toast, Dean with his arm in a cereal box. "Looks like there's a Skinwalker in Colorado," Sam said, stifling a yawn and showing Dean an article he had pulled up on his laptop. "Want to go get it?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, immediately standing up and hurrying from the kitchen to get his bag.

"I didn't mean right this second!" Sam called.

Dean shook his head as he reappeared, throwing his bag down on the table and pulling on his jacket. "I'm going crazy just sitting here."

"We've been home for three hours," Sam complained.

"Suck it up, Sammy," Dean said, turning for the hall, but he froze in surprise and relief when he saw a man standing in the doorway.

"Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

Sam left the room to give them some privacy, but not before he clapped Cas heartily on the shoulder as he passed. "It's really good to see you," he smiled. Cas just nodded, never taking his eyes off of Dean.

Dean said nothing, standing still as a statue, as if his smallest movement might scare Cas away again.

"How have you been?" Cas asked, his voice stilted.

"Uh, okay," Dean faltered. "All things considered. You?"

"Fine." A long silence followed in which Dean was sure Cas would be able to hear the sound of his heart hammering nervously in his chest.

"I'm tired, Dean," he said at last, his gravelly voice weary.

"Of what?"

"Of this," Cas gestured vaguely at the space between them and Dean's stomach twisted as he wondered if Cas meant he was ready to give up. "I'm tired of obsessing over who did what to whom, and who hurt whom the most. It's exhausting."

"You got that right," Dean said, risking a small smile which Cas didn't return, but Dean still felt a surge of relief at the angel's next words.

"I'd like to put it all behind us, and I'd like to try to move on."

"I'd like that too," Dean said, but he could tell that Cas was still guarded; there was a distance and a coolness between them that made their conversation feel almost mechanical. But it was something; it was progress.

Cas stayed for a short while before he departed, claiming he had to return to Heaven. Dean didn't know if he was telling the truth or simply making an excuse, but he was so grateful to have had a few hours in Cas's company that it didn't matter. That night when Dean fell asleep in a strange motel room in Colorado, the ever-present knot in his stomach didn't ache quite so badly.

April 2nd

Dean trudged through the six inches of snow on the sidewalk that crunched loudly under his boots. His breath rose and dissipated into the clear blue sky as he headed for his motel, feeling the pleasant contrast of the sun on his back and the cold breeze on his face. He rounded the next corner to see Cas standing in the snow. It had been two months since they had last spoken, and in his surprise, Dean found himself pulling Cas into a hug before he could even ask what the angel was doing in the middle of Duluth. But as soon as the angel was in his arms, he realised that perhaps he shouldn't have been so forward. He froze, but before he could pull away he thought he felt Cas tentatively hug him back.

"What's up?" Dean stepped back at last. Cas's face gave nothing away; he wore the same serious expression as always, his forehead permanently on the edge of a frown, and Dean became painfully aware that he couldn't remember the last time he had seen him smile.

"I heard you had a case," Cas said simply.

Dean nerves made him speak far more quickly than usual. "It's nothing, really. Just a shifter on the loose. We haven't had a big case all year, actually."

"Yes, the angels are attributing it to your recent absence," he said matter-of-factly. "We're expecting another apocalypse in the near future now that you're hunting again." Dean looked at him in astonishment, and Cas met him with a level, unwavering gaze. But a second later, Cas's lips twitched and he broke into a smile, and it was like seeing the sun shining through the rain. Dean laughed with both relief and surprise as Cas looked at him with something other than disappointment or apathy in his eyes. They walked through the snow together towards the motel where Sam was waiting. It only took them around five minutes and they talked easily as they walked, Dean grinning the entire way.

November 3rd

It was turning into one of the least eventful years that Sam and Dean could remember, but it was a welcome change. They tackled ninety cases with ease, joined occasionally by Cas. Werewolves, vampires, djinn, shifters, and demons were all dispatched with minimal effort, and, sitting in their dingy motel rooms in the evenings, bruised and battered from their day's escapades, Dean felt almost content again.

When Cas wasn't helping Sam and Dean, he spent the rest of his time in Heaven where order had been more or less restored, which no doubt contributed to the sudden and unprecedented harmony that seemed to reign over the world.

This time, Cas had been gone for almost ten weeks, and although Dean missed him a great deal, he didn't feel the twisting worry in his stomach anymore as he wondered if the angel would ever return. Nevertheless, when Cas walked through the bunker door that afternoon, Dean couldn't help the little surge of pleasure, and the distinct feeling that the weight of the world had just gotten a little lighter.

That night Dean, Sam, and Cas sat around the TV, bickering over what to watch. More accurately, Sam and Dean were bickering, and Cas sat beside Dean, doing his best not to get involved.

"We watched Suits last night," Dean complained, snatching the remote from his little brother.

"I'm sick of Top Gear," Sam retorted, grabbing it back. "It's all we ever watch."

"That's not true, I watch all your stupid cop shows."

"Yeah, and you complain the entire time. I have to re-watch them when you go to bed so that I can figure out what they were saying for the whole damn episode." The brothers continued to argue, but there was no real malice in their quick exchanges. After a few minutes of indecision, they both looked to Cas to cast the deciding vote.

"I have no preference," he said, abruptly extricating himself from the responsibility.

"C'mon," Dean cajoled, "just pick something."

Cas looked awkwardly between the brothers for a few seconds before his gaze landed on Dean. "Fine. Top Gear," he said at last. Dean smirked smugly at his brother, kicking his feet up on to the table in front of him, and putting his arm around the back of the sofa.

"No fair," Sam muttered.

"Top Gear it is!" Dean grinned. Sam groaned, but within a few minutes he was as engrossed in the car show as Dean was, perhaps even more so, as Dean had just become aware of how easy it would be for him to put his arm around Cas's shoulders. Cas was watching the show with a great deal of concentration, which made Dean smile, but before he could dare to move his arm the few inches towards the angel's back, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked down at the screen, suddenly rose to his feet, and walked from the living room.

He strode into the cool kitchen where he stared at the message again, struggling to understand the complex mess of feelings that had risen up inside of him. But as quickly as his mind had fallen into turmoil, it stilled again as Dean felt a gentle hand on his back. He looked around to see Cas was standing beside him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Annabelle just texted me."

"What's she saying?" he inquired.

"She's getting married."

"To whom?"

"Chris Walker. He's a surgeon in her year. We used to hang out sometimes, but he had a girlfriend back then. Good guy." Dean realised suddenly that Cas was standing very close to him. It wasn't unusual for the angel, who had no sense of personal space whatsoever, but it was the first time since Dean had left that Cas hadn't kept a distance from him, subconscious or otherwise.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm glad she's found someone. She deserves to be happy." Dean turned to look at Cas. "I know I am."

December 20th

Sam and Dean hurried from the Impala through the cold December sleet; it soaked their faces and necks, and dripped unpleasantly under their collars. Dean pushed open the door of the bunker, only to stop dead in his tracks, Sam almost running into the back of him. Dean looked down from the metal balcony to see the bunker had been transformed. The ceiling and doorframes were laced with thousands of gold and white lights, twinkling amongst long, green garlands. Red and gold ribbons adorned every corner, and Dean could just make out a fire burning welcomingly in the fireplace in the library. An enormous fir tree stood in the corner of the entranceway, surrounded by crates, and in amongst the beautiful chaos stood Cas, rifling through the boxes and pulling out more decorations.

"Cas…" Dean breathed. "What is all this?" Cas looked up with slight surprise, as though he hadn't noticed the brothers standing above him.

"I found these boxes in one of the store rooms," he explained. "I know you don't make a big deal of Christmas...I hope you don't mind."

Sam watched as Dean practically bounded down the stairs with the kind of childlike excitement that he had never seen on his face as a child; he had always been so burdened, even when they were little. Dean stopped next to Cas, gazing up at the ten-foot tree. "This is incredible, Cas. Thank you." He patted Cas on the back, but a second later, instead of dropping his arm, he let it come to rest on Cas's shoulder. Sam smiled down from his viewpoint at the two men standing in the hall. Dean's eyes were wide with wonderment at the glittering lights that surrounded the tree and laced every surface, an expression of complete happiness and contentment on his face. Sam noticed that Cas had the very same look in his eyes, but he wasn't looking up at the decorations, he was looking at Dean.

For the next few hours, Sam and Dean helped Cas finish hanging the remainder of the decorations. Dean was rummaging at the bottom of a crate, passing Cas the baubles for him to hang on the enormous tree. He straightened up with an armful of decorations, but Cas wasn't paying attention, so he picked up a little plastic bauble in the shape of a star and threw it at the angel's head.

"Hey!" Cas grunted, turning to see where the shot had come from. Dean grinned but had to quickly duck behind the Christmas tree as Cas returned the projectile with interest. Dean peered around the tree to see where Cas had gone, but almost too late he realised the angel was right behind him. Cas lobbed another bauble at him with a smirk on his face, but Dean's hand shot out and he caught it, and Cas darted around the other side of the tree before Dean could wreak his revenge. His attention was diverted, however, when he heard Sam call him name and looked around to see him standing by the fire, holding out a beer. "I'll be back for you," Dean warned, nodding at Cas.

"Yeah, yeah," the angel smirked, returning to his work. Dean walked over to Sam, accepting the bottle gratefully and turning his back to the fireplace to observe the wonderland before them.

"Do you remember that great summer we had a couple of years ago?" Sam asked out of the blue. "We had a bunch of good cases and spent the rest of the time just hanging out here."

"You mean the summer before I left," Dean clarified, despite Sam clearly trying to avoid saying it.

"Well, yeah," he conceded. "You and Cas were inseparable, always joking and giving each other a hard time, gazing longingly into each other's eyes when you thought the other person wasn't looking…" He gave a knowing raise of his eyebrows.

"I remember," Dean said dryly, taking a sip of his beer to keep the smile from his face.

"This reminds me of that."

"It's the middle of winter," Dean teased.

"You know what I mean. You and Cas, it's like you're back to the way you were."

"Maybe." Dean watched Cas hang the last of the baubles carefully on the tree before stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"You realise that Cas isn't going to be the one to make the next move," Sam smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know."

"So will you?"

"One day."

"Soon?"

"I don't know."

"I think you should."

"Get off my back, Sammy," Dean said mildly.

"Sorry," he apologised with a smile on his face that said he wasn't sorry at all. "I'm just saying, if you make the first move, Cas will know that you're as invested in things as he is."

"I always assumed one day I would just tell him that I love him," Dean admitted, and Sam looked around, surprised by Dean's sudden openness. "But the closer I get, the scarier it becomes."

"Now you know how Cas felt before he told you he had feelings for you."

"Don't, Sammy," he shook his head sharply. "I think about that every day; I don't need you reminding me." They both went back to watching the angel rummaging in one of the boxes. "Know what's stupid? I think I'm more scared of talking to that guy than I am of a pack of werewolves." He motioned to Cas, who now had a string of Christmas lights looped around his neck.

"You're right," Sam agreed, nodding earnestly. "He's absolutely terrifying." Dean shoved him in the shoulder, secretly pleased to see his brother stumble slightly, despite being a good three inches taller than him.

"I'm serious," Dean said. Sam straightened back up.

"Love is devastating, Dean," he said sagely. "If you don't feel like it could kill you, you're doing it wrong."

"Well, then I'm sure as hell doing it right."

Sam slapped his arm reassuringly, and left him alone with Cas.

Dean approached the angel and picked out three red stockings from one of the boxes by the table. "You want to use these?" he asked.

"Sure," Cas said. Dean laid the stockings out on the table and grabbed a fabric pen that was lying nearby. With a little difficulty he wrote their names across the white furry material at the top. He handed them to Cas who hung each stocking on the mantelpiece; first Sam's, then Dean's, then his. They both stepped back to admire them.

"They look good," Cas smiled.

Dean laughed, observing his blotchy, uneven scrawl. "They look like crap."

"I like them anyway," Cas placated, and something in his voice made Dean look at him. They met each other's eyes, each staring as if there was something they wanted to say, but they were waiting for the other person to speak first.

"Listen, Cas," Dean began, not really sure where he was going. "I don't want to pressure you, but I also don't want you to think that I want us just to be friends. So, you know, if you ever wanted to…I don't know, get a drink, or-"

Cas smiled. "I thought I was supposed to be the socially inept one," he teased. Dean laughed and sighed.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's been yes for a while now," Cas said with a little smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam re-enter the room, but instead of joining them, he stood in the archway between the entrance and the library, looking up at the wall with concern.

"Hey guys, you might want to come see this," he called. Dean approached him, his brother's tone worrying him slightly. Cas followed behind and when they reached the arch they both looked up at the wall where Sam was staring, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Dean frowned.

"What?" Sam's face broke into a grin as he nodded again to the wall. Dean looked for a second time and saw that Sam had led them both under a sprig of mistletoe that he had pinned to the wood. Dean felt his cheeks colour, but regardless he held out his hand to Cas. Cas looked at him curiously for a second, before taking his hand, and Dean pulled him in towards him.

Dean shot Sam a half-exasperated, half-grateful glance. He saw his brother watching him proudly, and as he turned to look at Cas, he saw all the warmth and love he felt for the angel reflected back at him in his blue eyes. And in that moment, Dean knew, with absolute certainty, that he was exactly where he should be.