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In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek.
For ah! we know what each other says,
These things and I; In sound I speak,
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
The Hound of Heaven - Francis Thompson
-----
He stands facing into nothing, as Castiel has seen a thousand times in a thousand souls - a thousand thousand and more over, but now as never before, Castiel is given pause. Something like pain takes him in what he thinks should be his chest, though he doesn't bear his vessel here, and he sinks into that foreign pain, against the sight of hands curled as if around familiar and trusted arms, weapons so carefully and diligently tended to in a long (not so long, not at all, and there again is the pain) life of war.
"Dean." It escapes him, though he knows - I know, Dean, what waits - it does no good. And Dean still stares into the far distance.
Castiel doesn't stay to look his fill - there is no such thing - but if, when he leaves, he takes with him the comfort of seeing Dean without that chilling power in his gaze, he also takes with him the memory of seeing nothing of Dean in his gaze, either.
-----
Castiel would like to have come again sooner, but it is difficult, with how close this place is to Heaven, and that last reach of space between barred to him. Even with what has been unleashed on Earth, that world is still more welcoming to him now.
The vessel hasn't, of course, changed in the passage of almost a year, and all of Zachariah's old threats aside, Castiel has rarely spent much time away from it, but still Castiel likes to think that here Dean is still closer to how Castiel remembers him.
He is conscious of how time is passing on Earth, though not at all here, and he knows he can't stay. When he begins to feel Michael noticing his absence, turning that terrible presence toward seeking him out, Castiel gathers himself to go.
"Sam still says no nearly every night," he says, and flies.
-----
His faith remains unshaken, but there are still times when Castiel comes to Dean just to look upon him for an endless moment, and in the midst of the very worst of it, Castiel clings to those moments and feels his conviction strengthen.
-----
"You did it," Castiel says, and it is the closest his true voice has ever come to the steely rasp that Dean would recognize. "The Host sings your victory. Michael-"
Castiel is driven, despairing, to invade the space he has carefully never trespassed on before, stands right in Dean's face, and imagines that Dean's gaze is locked on his. "He leads their song, and he praises your name, so that Heaven rings with it, so I even I can hear it." Even here, in a place of nothing, the void somehow comes alive with the love Heaven bears for the man who cannot hear them.
On Earth, Sam and Bobby pass the night together, drinks on the table between them, the look in their eyes saying they hardly believe that it's over. Castiel is quite sure that he even saw Bobby smile.
They haven't realized yet that with Lucifer defeated, Michael has returned to the Host, no longer needed, and they have seen the last of the man who was their brother, their son. Castiel waits for that moment, when one or the other wonders at not seeing Michael for some time, when understanding dawns. He hopes he is not there.
He doesn't know if he should tell them he has seen Dean, knows where he is, how he fares. Dean was the only one Castiel ever explained his fate to, and Castiel is certain Dean never shared it with them. It is a protection very like Dean, the best and the worst of Dean. Castiel will not be the one to undo that.
The wondering, he thinks, will be nearly as bad.
-----
Years pass and it is Michael himself who beseeches Castiel to return. He confesses to Dean, now, that once his conviction was strong that he would not go back before he had found God, but the devil is dead, and there is less and less reason for him to remain on Earth.
"I feel the difference," he admits, and can't decide if it's better that Dean doesn't process it. "I feel the lack. There's nothing for me there."
Yet he can't remain here. This isn't the place for angels.
It isn't the place for Dean, either, though here Dean remains.
There comes a time when Castiel can no longer bear it. He flies.
-----
The day he feels Bobby Singer's passing, Castiel seeks Dean out. The hesitance he feels now is something he isn't accustomed to, but he cannot escape the knowledge of his desertion, of how long Dean has been trapped here, without even the angel's company.
Castiel's thoughts often stray to the state of Dean's mind, wondering if it, like his form, is trapped in the moment of acquiescence. He fears ever knowing that he has the truth of it.
-----
Castiel comes more often, then, and begins to find an odd comfort in Dean's unchanging presence. The horror of limbo becomes a familiar thing, to be pushed aside where it can't intrude on these visits.
He tells Dean of the Host, and Raphael's diminished status. Something curious happens to Castiel's grace, then, that might be like a smile, as he remembers that night in the abandoned house, and the rain hissing against the holy fire, Dean's solid presence at his shoulder.
He speaks of Anna, and passes on the news that she hadn't been destroyed, as Castiel had long feared. "She doesn't hold it against me," he wonders. "Much."
He finds, one visit, that Dean is corporeal. After that, Castiel visits him in the familiar, comfortable vessel he has little other opportunity to wear, and chances at taking one of Dean's hands between his own, which is almost like having a piece of him back, though Castiel is conscious of the heavy silence, the lack of Dean's sharp retorts.
-----
"God wasn't dead." Castiel sits at Dean's side, staring out into the nothing with him, imagining what it is Dean sees.
"He has returned, and He is pleased."
Castiel turns his head and leans close to Dean's ear, praying in that moment that this once, something reaches him. "His regard for you made Michael weep."
-----
Sam Winchester has been dead and gone for ages. The time blurs for Castiel. Chuck has been gone for near as long, but it isn't for a thousand more years that Castiel understands that there isn't a man left on Earth who knew Dean.
Castiel's memory alone may be all that keeps Dean here, and Castiel will never die.
He stays away for ages more, but Dean's memory never fades, never blurs around the edges, and Castiel still recalls every bit of time he spent rebuilding Dean, watching Dean, feeling frustrated and furious at Dean, and learning to laugh with Dean.
Eventually he comes back to him. He always does, always will.
"Your soul is gone," he says, but not for a long time. "It was gone the instant Michael's grace touched you. It no longer exists to join your brother's, the Harvelles', Bobby's. And I can't bear a memory to Heaven." Castiel stands quietly, his back against Dean's, pretending he can smell the leather of the jacket Dean wears in his thoughts.
"I will live until the end of times. And I can't forget you. You'll never be completely gone."
He leans back, lets the memory of Dean's broad shoulders take his weight, and lets his hand slip into the pants pocket where the amulet is hot to his touch. Castiel makes a promise not to stay away for so long again.
"I'm not sure Heaven would've been the right place for you, anyway," he says, slowly at first, but he has never forgotten the curious pleasure of speaking with Dean. "The song of the Host sounds nothing like Bad Company."