Here it is.

The grass was bright green and the flowers glowed in the sun and the tombstone reflected white, but they were dark, left in the shade of Castiel's death.

Viktor and Dean stood beside the grave. Alona and the other sisters had left once the tears began to fall. They couldn't stand to look at what once was. But Viktor and Dean stood strong.

"He pushed me out of the way," Dean finally said when he felt like his voice could handle speaking. A few more tears fell.

Viktor nodded. "I know." They were quiet again for a few minutes. "He love you, you know that?"

Dean nodded. "He told me."

"No, he love you since I made you sell drugs. I could tell. When I try pull him away when you two making out, and he latch on to you… I knew. That's a deep love, for him to go against me. He never had before… He really loved you."

"Then why did he act like me loving him was such a big deal?"

"Because it was." Viktor finally looked at Dean, who was looking down at his hand. The ring was still on there. He refused to take it off. "Love is the most stupid thing you can do in this life. He not want to see you get hurt."

"And what about him?" Dean asked, looking up at Viktor. "I don't want him to hurt. What if I had been shot, and you were at my funeral right now?"

"Castiel would be the same. But not openly. He'd hide it. He'd curl up in his room and sob for days and never say a word about it, because he strong and refuse to show weakness."

"Love isn't a weakness."

"Yes it is. But it a weakness that you have to be willing to have."

"I'm weak. I'm the weakest man I know." Dean swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath. "I loved him so much. I still do. I love him." He cleared his throat and wiped away a few tears.

Dean turned back to look at the grave, and Viktor placed a hand on his back. "I give you some time." He rubbed his shoulders for a second, and then walked away, back toward the house.

Dean dropped to his knees. He shuffled closer to the headstone, and placed his hand on it. "I love you, Castiel."

He bit his lip, thinking. "Why did you push me out of the way? Why did you save me? Did you know how much this would hurt me?" He scoffed. "Of course you did. You know this life better than I do. Is it because you think I'm stronger? That I'd handle it better than you?" He sat down, leaning his head on the stone, pretending that it was Castiel's side. "Of course you didn't. You knew how weak I was. You were giving me a way out, weren't you? You brought me here, and then you were trying to set me free." He sighed. "I wish you wouldn't have."

He rested on the headstone for what seemed like forever, until he grew cold and his back was sore. He sat up, pushing himself back to his knees directly in front of the new marble. "Your dad told me I could stay in the house, that I could continue with this life, but… But I don't think I can. I love this place." He looked up to the sky and then around the enormous yard, all of the trees and bushes and rows of flowers. He'd kissed Castiel under one of the blossoming trees on the other side of the yard, the bright petals above them as they sat outside. He had been so happy in that moment, so in love.

He looked back to the stone. "But I can't stay here. Just the thought of walking passed your room every day, remembering everything that happened in there, how happy I was with you… In a few years, I'll be able to look back on those moments and smile and not cry, but for now, it's too painful. I'll never forget our time together, Castiel, I promise." He ran his hand over the stone, then leaned in, pressing his lips to the top.

He held his lips there, flashing through every moment and memory with Castiel. Every kiss, every laugh, every accidental brush of their hands, and every purposeful one. All of the nights they had spent together, wrapped in each other's arms, the stories they had shared and the fights that followed.

He pulled away from the tombstone, eyes wet. "I love you. I always will."

He took a shaky breath, spending another moment on the ground before he pushed himself up, running his fingers over the stone one last time as he walked back toward the house.

Dean let himself in and walked up the stairs, taking in every hallway and room, each place where he and Castiel couldn't resist each other and slammed up against the wall to make out, or snuck into a room because they didn't have the patience to walk all the way upstairs. He passed Alona's hallway, remembering breaking her door open, and Rachel's room, where she had kissed him.

He proceeded up the final set of stairs, stopping at the start of their hallway with only two rooms; one Dean's, one Castiel's. He didn't want to walk down it. He didn't want to go into his room and not have Castiel follow in after him and grab him from behind or lay with him in bed just to relax for a while by themselves.

He walked down the hallway, stretching his arms out to run his fingers along the solid walls. He went into his room and packed a bag of clothes, taking the nice shoes and jeans and shirts that Castiel had bought him. He opened his drawers, shuffling through them and pulling out what he wanted until his fingers hit silk. He pulled out what he was touching and laughed. Panties. He put them in his bag, smiling at that second day they had been together, when Castiel came onto him and was way more forward with him than Dean had ever experienced with another man.

He was packed. He was done. He looked around the room once last time before walking out, turning to shut the door behind him. He took a breath and turned around, but he couldn't move. Castiel's room.

He wanted to resist, he wanted to stay back, but he had to go in. He had to be around Castiel again.

He walked in.

The room seemed so much more empty than Dean remembered it. There wasn't life in there, there wasn't warmth. He dropped his bag and walked forward slowly. He passed the vanity, running his hand over the polished wood. There were picture frames, and Dean looked at what was enclosed in them. Castiel was young, about 16, and so gorgeous.

Dean looked away and walked across the room to Castiel's desk. His laptop was there, and Dean sat down in the chair, opening it. He laughed when there wasn't a password and his desktop popped up. His background was of Dean with his eyes crossed and a flower in his mouth. Dean remembered that day.

They had gone outside to enjoy the warm sun and each other's company. There was a tree they sat under that was blossoming and surrounded by large bushes with flowers jutting out of them. Castiel was upset at sitting in such a frilly area, and Dean tried to loosen him up by ripping a flower out and making a funny face. Castiel had taken a picture of it, but Dean didn't know he had it here.

He had very little on his desktop, and Dean didn't want to take advantage of him not being there to investigate further, but a folder caught his eye. Dean. That's all it said.

He opened it.

Inside were a plethora of pictures of he and Dean together, of Dean doing something or giving Castiel a dirty look. Pictures Castiel had chosen to represent their relationship throughout their time together. There was a word document in there.

Dean's box.

Dean frowned and clicked it, waiting for the application to open and load the words. It was a typed out letter referring to a box. Dean didn't want to read much farther than the first line until he found the box.

He discovered it in Castiel's closet. It was on the top shelf in a neat and new-looking box. There was nothing on the exterior of it, but Dean still opened it. Inside was a letter placed neatly atop a stack of photographs and pressed flowers and ripped out pages from notebooks. Dean picked up the letter, moving it to the ground gently as he looked through the box.

Journal entries were scattered about the photographs and flowers. They spoke of their adventures from Castiel's perspective, how he felt about their first time together and their first kisses. The photographs went with the entries, a picture of Dean with flowers, or Castiel with trees, or Dean nearly naked in bed, bathed in sunlight after they'd been together. Dean didn't remember half of these pictures being taken, but he wasn't surprised. Castiel was so private and secretive.

The letter still sat by his side. He watched it wearily, knowing that this was the last attachment to Castiel he had, that this letter was for him and he'd never get another one like it. He could save it and preserve it, not read it for years when he knew he'd be okay and not so emotionally compromised.

But he had to read it. He had to look.

Dean looked at the front of the envelope, his name scratched in neatly on the front. He ran his fingertips over the indented letters, enjoying how pristine they were. He opened the letter, pulling the paper within out.

Dean,

I typed this out on my computer just to make sure it'd make sense to you. I know I can't speak english good, and I can't spell it either, but I need you to read this.

It's hard for me to tell you any of this, which is why I wrote this letter. If everything has gone as I hope it will, then I have given you this box and am sitting somewhere off to the side, watching you read this. I'm probably scared.

Let me tell you about us, and then you can talk to me, okay? Just read this.

I met you at a beach. You looked familiar and so attractive, but I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to kill you. I'm so glad you gave me a reason not to. You saved my life. I thought for sure I was going to die, with the water drowning me, but you came along. I'm sorry you had to almost get shot, and leave your sandals behind. They looked nice.

When we took you out shopping, that's when I knew I wanted you. You had a body I needed, and I didn't want to stop at anything to get it. You were stubborn, but so was I, and the whole day, all I could think of was ripping those new clothes off of you and having what I wanted.

When you finally said yes to me, and we had sex, I knew I was fucked. I could have just moved on, but you were so persistent in getting to know me, and force me to open up… I wanted sex and I knew that meant I'd have to deal with attachment. Fuck you, for that. This could have been a nothing relationship.

But I'm glad you didn't stop. You stuck by me, and the first time we kissed… I didn't even know it at the time, but I was gone. There was no way I was coming back. I was in it now.

I knew I loved you when I saw how you looked at me. Always. After I'd taken you down in training. After I'd shoved my face with food. After I threw up from getting way too drunk… It actually happened after we'd woken up one morning, and my face was red and I looked like shit. You kissed me and gave me a look like you wouldn't want to be with anybody else.

And the drugs. You stuck by me through it, Dean. There's nothing more I could have asked for. No one would have done what you did. And you stuck by me through withdrawal, when I punched you and attacked you and tried to get out of the house for another hit. You just grabbed my arms and held me and wouldn't let me go. I wish I would have told you then that I loved you, but I was scared that it would make you stay if you wanted to leave. I knew that the life I live gets so much worse than doing drugs and recovering from them.

You stayed anyway. I hope that you remember those times like I do. I'm writing this before our date, and hopefully I'll have something new to add to this box.

The box is filled with things that remind me of you, that make me feel warm when I look at them. I hate feeling sentimental. It's so fucking stupid. But when it's for you, I can deal with it.

If you're reading this, then there's a question I want to ask you when you turn around to face me, and I pray to god you'll say yes.

I love you so much.

His name was signed at the bottom, but Dean's eyes were wet and he couldn't look at it for long.

He set the paper down, taking a few shaky breaths as he looked to his hand, the ring Castiel had placed on his finger the night he had died. Dean touched it and sucked his lips between his teeth, nodding to himself. He closed his eyes, letting his tears fall, knowing that what could have been would no longer be, and that'd he'd never have another chance at a life and love like this. He twisted the ring, nodding once more before opening his eyes and looking up, trying to pierce his gaze through the ceiling at whatever was watching him back. He smiled weakly.

"Yes. Of course it's yes."

Here we are. Exactly 11 months after I posted the first chapter, and I have tears in my eyes instead of celebrating its completion. Oh god, I didn't want to end it...

Regardless, it's over. Thank you for reading. It means the world to me that you've taken time to sit down and scan your eyes over every letter I've typed out. It's kind of a pain in the ass, I know, so thank you.

For those of you who have been here from the beginning, and those of you who have just started but have given me support in trying to finish this, just know that I adore each and every one of you. Your kind words helped me finish this. I don't know where'd I'd be without you.

So, one last time, please let me know what you think. Be it good, bad, or otherwise, I'd love to hear from you.

Thank you so much.