Author's Note: WARNINGS apply for this chapter – brief contemplation of suicide

Chapter Nineteen

Dean realised he had nothing.

No job, no husband, no purpose.

His body was broken and his mind was in ruins. His memories were shards of glass, cutting him up from the inside and leaving him bloody. He couldn't hunt, he couldn't work, he couldn't even go out in public for fear he might hurt someone.

He was trapped in this empty house, alone and unwanted.

He tried exercising, but the burn of his muscles and the ache in his joints did nothing to distract him. He tried reading, but the interrupting flashes of dusty old texts filled with monsters and spells made it impossible to focus. He tried watching television but the shows were either too dull or filled with triggers that sent him into a tailspin. He tried cooking, but ingredients were running low and no matter what he made it always seemed to taste like ashes on his tongue.

Nothing helped, and it wasn't long before he stopped trying altogether.

He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The hours wore on and day turned to night but he couldn't bring himself to care.

What was the point of him now?

Why hadn't his abductor just killed him? He was just a waste of space, another body taking up oxygen, useless, worthless.

Maybe before, the work he had done to save innocent people had been enough to outweigh his downfalls, but if he went up against a monster now his knees would give out or he'd freeze up and he would just be one more dead person to add to the body count.

At least it would be over, then.

He had met a few Reapers in his time. Maybe one of them would be willing to end him properly – no Heaven, no Hell, just… nothing. He could be like all those ghosts they ganked, well and truly obliterated. There would be no torture, no hollow memories to taunt him. Nothing.

It sounded a hell of a lot better than the meaningless existence he was currently living.

Except, going out to find a monster to kill him sounded like too much effort.

Sam had taken most of their weapons, but Dean still had his gun.

Simple. Clean. Easy.

The thought gave Dean enough energy to roll into a sitting position and move over to the closet where he had stashed it.

But when he opened the doors, he was confronted by the sight of Castiel's duffle bag.

"You don't know – you don't know how much it scares me. The thought that someday you will remember everything, and it will be too much, and I won't get to you in time."

Cas didn't want him dead. He hadn't wanted Dean to remember because he had been afraid that the memories would drive him to suicide and he couldn't bear to lose him that way. He had left because he thought that he would be sparing Dean from that fate. If he found out that Dean had eaten a bullet, Cas would never be able to forgive himself.

Dean couldn't do that to him.

He couldn't tell Cas that he had remembered who he was, either. Cas thought he was going to live a happy, normal life, not turn into a certifiable nutcase.

Dean had to find a way to cope.

But he didn't know how. Not alone, not without Cas.

"I need you here," he whispered to the empty room. It was almost a prayer, and for half a moment he thought that he would hear a rustle of wings and a low voice behind him saying "Hello, Dean." But that wasn't quite right, because… something. Cas was an angel, or at least he used to be, but something had… something had happened. He couldn't remember. Fuck, there was still so much missing! But he was pretty sure that Cas had lost his mojo. He was human now. He couldn't hear prayers.

Dean knew that he could just call Cas on his cell phone, but though he pulled the phone from his pocket he found that he couldn't muster up the courage to dial. What would he even say?

Hi Cas, I remembered all the crap that you told me not to and now I've had a mental breakdown. Would you like to come back to play the role of my psych nurse so I can dump all my crazy on you and not feel so fucking alone? Thanks, man. Oh, and as an added incentive, I still don't remember a damn thing about our relationship so I'm beginning to think the rings must have been from some stupid case and we were never really married but you went along with me because you pitied the poor amnesiac. I'm sure you must be thrilled to be burdened with me again.

Yeah. No.

Dean dropped the phone back into his pocket. Against his will, his gaze was drawn to the pearl-handled gun that was nestled in a box at the bottom of his closet.

He reached down-

-and grabbed the duffle bag instead. He slammed the doors shut with more force than was necessary, a symbolic gesture which meant 'Don't be such a fucking coward'.

He sat on the bed and opened the bag. The clothes were all tumbled together haphazardly; Cas had been in a rush to leave. They still smelled like him. Dean inhaled deeply and he could almost imagine that Cas was right there with him.

He pulled out the trenchcoat, needing something concrete to hold onto when everything else was gone. But the other clothes came spilling out with it.

Scattered on the floor like that, they reminded Dean of those few magical nights when he and Cas had been too busy trying to get each other naked to care where their clothes ended up.

He felt a pang of longing, and he almost couldn't bring himself to pack them away. But he reached for a shirt and folded it neatly, then placed it carefully in the bag, on top of the-

Dean stilled.

There was something else in the bag. He couldn't be sure of what he had seen. But he thought it was a frame.

Hardly daring to breathe, Dean pulled the shirt back out again and set it aside. When he reached back in, his fingers brushed cool glass.

Slowly, hesitantly, Dean lifted the frame out of the bag and turned it over.

It was a photo of Dean and Cas. Together. Smiling. Happy. Castiel was blushing as he stared into green eyes, his lips kiss-swollen and his body arching into Dean. Dean had his arms wrapped around him and was laughing, even as he seemed to be angling in for another kiss.

They were wearing matching tuxedoes and fancy bowties.

There was a band of gold, just visible, on Castiel's left hand where it rested on Dean's hip.

Dean realised that he was looking at a wedding photo. A wedding between two men who were clearly hopelessly, happily, sappily in love with each other.

A photo from the day he had married Castiel.

"Dude. I can't believe I'm really doing this."

Sam laughed. "Me either. But it's about damn time."

Dean tugged at the stiff collar of his white shirt. "This is me we're talking about. Unattached drifter. Terminal bachelor. Now you getting married, that I could believe. But I was never meant to have this. Fuck, I've got no idea what it means to be someone's husband."

"Well, if it helps, neither does Cas."

"Oh, thanks for that reminder that neither of us has a friggin' clue what we're doing. This is going to be a complete disaster. What was I thinking, proposing to him like that?"

"Pretty sure you were thinking that life was too short, that you wanted be with Cas until your dying day, and that you were desperately in love with him."

Dean made a disparaging sound in the back of his throat, even though Sam was right on the money, as usual. "Doesn't make this any less of a bad idea."

"Dean, it's perfectly normal to freak out on your wedding day. But if you think about it, this won't really change much. You already have a shared bedroom in the bunker, you already bicker like an old married couple, Cas already promised to stay with you forever, and you already told him that he was part of our family. All that will be different is that you get to call Cas your husband instead of your boyfriend, and you'll both be wearing matching rings. It's not that scary."

"But what if I screw this up?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Dean, you two made it through Hell, Purgatory, an apocalypse or two, Castiel's god-phase and your demon-phase. I'm pretty sure you guys can handle anything that comes your way."

"But this isn't just some monster of the week. This is a relationship."

"Yeah, it is. It isn't going to be a cake walk, Dean, but you and Cas are going to be happy."

"How can you be so sure?"

Sam smiled. "Because you already are."

Dean didn't have an answer for that.

He was shocked to realise that it was true. He was happy. Happier than he had ever been in his entire life. He had fallen in love with his best friend, and today he was going to marry him.

All of a sudden his fears dropped away, and all he was left with was a buzz of anticipation. "I'm getting married," he said wonderingly.

Sam clapped him on the back. "Yeah, you are."

It was going to be a quiet ceremony. It seemed ridiculous that they were turning it into an actual event at all, considering that legally neither of them existed (well, Dean did, but as a corpse twice over) and they could have just forged a marriage licence. But Cas was a sucker for tradition, so they had booked a small chapel with intricately-designed stained glass windows, ordered some flowers and found a celebrant who wouldn't ask too many questions.

The pews were all empty, but it didn't matter because Dean had his brother by his side and his future husband waiting for him at the end of the aisle.

Dean smiled and stepped forward.

There was a sudden blare of sound, almost as though a dozen trumpets had been blown at once. Before Dean could recover from the shock, a host of angels appeared in the eaves above them. He almost went into defensive manoeuvres before he noticed that they were wielding instruments, not weapons. And they were singing, in a perfect blend of harmonies… the wedding march.

Dean was fairly certain he had to be dreaming or hallucinating, but he pinched himself and the scene didn't change – or, at least, the angels didn't disappear, but a figure materialised at the other end of the chapel. He looked strangely familiar.

Dean blinked. "That's Chuck."

He remembered, then, the final conversation he'd had with God on the day the world was supposed to end. In a rare case of things actually going well for them, and matters improving instead of going from bad to worse, the sun had been restored and the Earth saved. Chuck and Amara had been reunited and they were going to head off on a holiday together, but Chuck had one last thing to say before they left.

"Dean, you have given my sister and I what we needed most – each other. You have always had Sam, but I don't think that you have ever realised that you could have Castiel too, if you only asked."

"What – what are you saying?"

"I know how you and Castiel feel about each other, even if neither of you has admitted it yet. Why do you think I kept giving Castiel back to you? I just want you both to be happy."

God had given him permission. His only condition was that he would be invited to the wedding. At the time, Dean had been struggling to come to terms with the idea of being with Cas; a future wedding had seemed so unlikely that he hadn't given it a second thought.

When they finally decided on a date, Dean had dutifully sent up the prayer, but he hadn't expected a response. God and his sister hadn't been seen or heard from in years.

Yet here he was.

"I wasn't going to miss my own son's wedding," Chuck said.

The celebrant had fainted. Dean realised that God himself was going to officiate their wedding, and it was the furthest thing from normal but it seemed fitting for them.

"Why not?" he said with a shrug, and began walking down the aisle.

Chuck waved a hand and light bled into the chapel. The pews began to fill with people.

Dean stumbled when he realised what he was seeing.

These were the friends and family they had lost along the way, stretching all the way back to Pastor Jim and Caleb.

There was Ash, flicking his mullet over his shoulder and raising a beer can to them in a toast. Ellen and Jo were sitting with him, looking beautiful and radiant and happy; they scattered white rose petals over Dean as he passed. "Don't be nervous, honey," Ellen said. "You look great," Jo added.

Pamela pinched him on the rear and said with a chuckle, "I'm gonna miss this ass," but she then turned and winked at Sam: "At least one of you boys is still single."

Kevin waved at them. "I knew there was something between you and Cas," he said. "I'm glad you got your act together."

Charlie popped up behind him and dropped a flower crown on his head. "This is the best day ever," she grinned. "I'm a sucker for happily ever afters."

Gabriel appeared out of nowhere to poke Cas in the ribs. "Hey there, little brother! Miss me? I know you did. I'm standing in as your best man. No, you don't have a choice in the matter. Do you have any candy? Never mind, I want to save room for cake. There's going to be cake, right?"

And there, sitting proudly in the front row, were Bobby, Mary and John. Bobby was wearing a suit but he still had his battered baseball cap on his head. "Took you idjits long enough," he groused, but there was a smile twitching at his lips.

Mary had tears in her eyes. "I'm so glad you found someone, sweetheart."

"You had the guts to go after what you wanted," John said. "I'm proud of you, son."

The flood of emotion was almost overwhelming. But then Dean met Castiel's eyes and everything else just fell away.

Cas stepped down to him and took his hands. "Hello, Dean."

His heart swelled with love for this man and he realised that proposing was the best decision he had ever made. "Hey, Cas."

"Are you ready for this?"

Dean smiled and leaned forward to steal a kiss. "Yeah, I am. Let's get married."

Chuck grinned broadly and spread his arms wide. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today…"

ooOOoo