Epilogue: When their World Broke They Still Wished Upon a Star

"So there's Lilith, Crowley, and Alastair."

"We've talked about this a million times, Sammy."

"I know. I just… we can kill them, Dean."

Dean takes a sip of his beer and looks up at the sky above them. It's a clear evening and the stars are bright, twinkling and sparkling in their blanket of velvety blue. The Impala is cool and majestic under him and he has his brother by his side as they lounge. It's a comforting, relaxing exercise and Dean finds that he can forget most of the fuck-ups on this planet when he's with his brother like this, on the Impala and under the stars.

However, even then he's missing something huge and he can't bear to think of it, because it hurts. Hurts so much.

They've been back in the bunker for a year, and life is starting to go back to normal, or at least as normal as it can. Except, it can't. They've each suffered innumerable ordeals, Sam more than Dean, ever since they left this place the last time, and no one can erase or undo that. It's probably what has brought him and Sam closer than they ever were, Dean thinks.

"Dean?"

He turns to Sam, swallowing. "It's a year today, Sammy."

He knows that Sam knows. Sam's been aware of it all along, which was precisely why he was rambling about demons and Lilith and Alastair. Dean reckons Abaddon is out there, too, somewhere, because he refuses to believe that drowning can kill a demon at all. However, there's no news of her as of now. Maybe she's hiding, biding her time and plotting revenge.

Dean revels in the silence between him and Sam, eyes searching the sky, looking for the one thing that matters to him.

"And that up there, that star, is called the Evening Star. You can wish upon it."

"Really?"

"Really, babe."

"How?"

"Just close your eyes and ask for it."

Dean shuts his eyes, grips at his beer. He has no idea why he still believes, but he does. Because Sam came back. It took time, but he got his brother back. And later, Cas came back, too. He escaped Naomi's clutches and found them.

So maybe this is how Dean gets Cas back once again. Maybe… maybe…

Bobby's search team had no luck with Cas. All they could bring back was the Impala, and all their things from the cabin. Dean still has Cas's shirts, his trenchcoat, as a reminder that it wasn't all a lie; that as ephemeral as it all was, Dean really did have an angel in his life; that he'd been married to the man he loved beyond anything, and that in those crippling, terrible days, a small ray of hope, little happiness had always been there. He can smell Cas in those things, feel him around, warm and comforting and loving, his embrace always welcoming.

Angel, Dean had thought every night when Cas lay beside him, when their lips met, when they were tangled together in bed or in the shower or the Impala, Cas trailing kisses down Dean's jaw and neck, or his warm breath against the shell of Dean's ear, and he'd been so lucky, Dean had thought. So lucky. He'd forgotten that it was all going to be temporary, no matter what he did, because that was what his life was meant to be like.

"Dean."

The voice is soft and there is a hand on his shoulder. Dean turns to his brother, who is also eyeing the expanse of the sky before them. "He's out there," Sam whispers. "He's out there and he can hear you. You know that, right?"

And how could Dean forget? He's been wishing ever since he regained consciousness that day at the shore of the river, and every day after. He hopes maybe Cas is listening and is looking for them and the bunker, and is one step closer to finding them and he thinks of this every day and tries to get happy about it. He keeps hoping because that's all he can do.

"I miss him, too," Sam mutters. Dean hears him sniff and reaches out a hand to hold his brother's wrist. He does this whenever he needs to be grounded; whenever he needs to remember that he has Sam, still has him; and on most nights, this is enough to keep the nightmares at bay. "He took real good care of me, you know," Sam continues, "in Hell."

"I know."

"Sometimes he pretended to be you."

"Yeah, he said."

"And remember, Dean? Remember how he got you pie every day? Went shopping just for that?"

Dean snorts. "Idiot."

"He had a crush on you, dude."

Dean leans back against the windshield, taking another sip of his beer. "I don't blame him. Have you seen me?"

"You're an asshole."

"I know." Dean presses his lips together. "Remember how Cas tilted his head when he was confused?"

"Yeah." Sam chuckles. "Yeah, so weird, right?"

"Totally. And dude, his wedding vow. You two morons were totally crying."

"No!"

"Lying bitch." Dean turns around to catch the sparkle in his brother's eyes. "That's what you are."

"You're a stupid jerk."

"Oh, how original."

"I hate you."

"I know you do, Sammy."

Dean is still smiling as he keeps watching the stars, keeps remembering the bright days and cold nights and beautiful sunsets. And Cas and Sam, and embarrassing Sam by pretending to kiss Cas or trying to get his clothes off…

"You loved him." Sam sounds sad and his voice is thick when he speaks.

Dean doesn't look at his brother; just at the stars as he nods. "Guess I needed a reason to marry the dude."

"You still love him." The voice is quieter.

"He's still my husband."

Dean blinks a couple of times, reaches to hold Sam's wrist again. Sam leans back like Dean, against the windshield.

"He loved you too, you know, and still loves you wherever he is."

"And… that's because I'm his husband too," Dean whispers over the tightness in his throat.

"Yeah, and an idiot, too, apparently." Sam nudges him. "I mean, look at you."

Dean tries to snigger, but he can't. Because, yeah, seriously, look at him. He's lost everyone he loved, ruined everyone he cares for. How could Cas be such an idiot? Why the hell did he choose this when he could have been alive and safe?

"He chose happiness, Dean," Sam replies as if he knows what Dean's been thinking. "He was happy with you."

And Dean grins then, just a little.

"There's something I wanted to show you," Sam says quietly. "I wanted to… actually, you should have seen it a while ago but I didn't because it's… it's Cas, and…" He purses his lips, rummages through his pockets with his free hand and extracts his phone. Dean doesn't even know why they have those. They don't make phone calls anymore because of Crowley literally being on their asses. It made at least made a little bit of sense at the cabin even if they rarely used them then, either. And Cas's voicemail message was the stupidest. ("You've reached the voicemail of: I don't understand. Why do you want me to say my name?")

Sam turns to Dean and holds out his phone as he leans back, a video ready to play on it. Dean's heart flutters, hand gripping Sam's wrist tighter when Sam presses 'play'.

"You're… you get upset whenever I mention Cas," Sam says, "and I just wanted you to feel better before you watched this."

Dean wants to yell at Sam then because feel better? Feel better and holy fuck why did you not show me this, Sammy, because that's Cas, Cas on the video, adjusting his tie as Sam enters with his phone on video-recording mode. And Dean knows what day it is just from Cas's face.

"The day you two got married," says Sam.

Dean blinks, concentrates on the screen and watches Cas give Sam a small smile. A shy smile. Something Cas rarely does—did—and he's just there, right before Dean, but so far away.

Dean's throat is clogged up.

"You wanna say something to Dean?" Sam asks Cas in the recording.

Cas is a little flushed at the cheeks and neck and Dean holds back the urge to run, to hide, and not have to face this because he just wants Cas back. Just needs him back now.

"I am glad you agreed to marry me, Dean," Cas finally says, voice all strange on the recording, but it's Cas.

Sam snorts behind the camera. "Cas, maybe something a little less formal?"

Cas's grin widens. "I love you." He waves, lips still stretched wide, eyes still sparkling blue, and as the screen goes blank Dean shudders, pushing Sam's phone away so he can shut his eyes and remember. Remember Cas.

Sam is warm and comforting and brotherly and there. "Dean—"

"Maybe," Dean begins in a quiet voice, as he controls his urge to scream and rip something apart, "maybe if two people pray to him instead of one, he'll actually listen, you know."

The hand that Dean has on Sam's wrist gets enclosed by a large, warm palm. Dean locks eyes with his brother. "I'll pray with you," Sam tells him. "I've prayed every day but we'll try it this way."

Dean nods and shuts his eyes again. He can't say anything else, can't talk. It's too much, all this has been too much for a whole year and Sam's handled too many of Dean's meltdowns for another one to happen right now. Sam is tired. He needs a break. He's healing and he's been hurting the longest time and Dean needs to unburden his brother.

"Hey," says Sam, "you're not a fucking burden, okay, jerk? Just shut up."

Maybe Dean said that out loud, or maybe Sam really does know the shit that goes on in Dean's head. Either way, something falls at ease in Dean's heart at Sam's words, and he tries to breathe deeper. The feel of Sam's hand is warm and Dean's finally a little comfortable, thinking of Cas's blue eyes and ridged lips and wide smile and his hair and his face-tilts and long eyelashes and sharp jaw and just… all of him.

Angel.

Dean takes a deep breath.

Hey Cas.

He wants to tell Cas that he's okay. That he's safe at the bunker. About Abaddon and about Sam. About how Sam's getting better in the nightmares department, about how he's found someone—Sarah Blake—and it seems to have the potential to be something better. He wants to say so much, talk to Cas about his stupid fucking day while they're in bed together but nothing will ever be enough. Nothing will ever suffice compared to what he had with Cas.

Dean opens his eyes.

Hey Cas,

Where are you? What are you up to? Just come back quick, okay? So much to say to you, man.

He takes a deep breath.

You're fucking sexy, and you're fucking mine, and I wanna be with you and make the other chicks and the dudes jealous.

You remember that? Of course you do. Your memory was an unnecessary piece of crap just to make me feel terrible about mine. But you thought I wouldn't remember my wedding vow, didn't you? You're so wrong, dude.

So you come back, okay? Quick. I don't wanna wait until I get all wrinkly-assed, but hey, if that's your jam, then I will.

… Dude, I'm just kidding. I gotta be a fucking saint for this, but I'll wait, okay? 'Til you get tired of hiding. Until I get all curmudgeon like Bobby—'cause have you seen that guy?

Dean's eyes are prickling and he heaves in another breath, sniffling. Sam's arm is around him, and Dean leans into his brother, blinking back the tears.

Cas, it's been a year, but I still feel the same, okay? So just come back. Because… dude, I love the motherfucking fuck out of you and you gotta get your ass back here and I ain't giving up until you do that.

You get me?

Yeah, I think you do. I really think you do.

The End

A/N: And that's it! Hope you guys enjoyed the innocent version of this story, ha! Please leave us some reviews, as they make us happy. We worked hard for this one. :)

As for what happened to Cas, yes, it is open. Make what you will of that ;). We are happy with all headcanons. Do tell us about them too!