Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Castiel first notices the wilted grass, he thinks nothing of it. The cemetery is spacious and old, and it’s the middle of summer, with plenty of sun and little rain. Things like that happen, he presumes, and walks away without a second glance.

It’s also not his place to keep watch over the well-being of plants.

He visits the bell tower during the full moon and, while he’s idly wandering around, he spots a cluster of half-wilted rose bushes. He spends a moment looking into it — he doesn’t see anything wrong with the ground around the bushes, but he gathers something must be causing this. Almost all of the pink blossoms are lying on the ground, rotting, and when he brushes those that are still sticking to the twigs, they feel weak, almost lifeless.

He briefly considers dark powers at work, but he cannot sense anything, no matter how hard he tries. Still, he spends a few days and nights roaming around the cemetery in search of the source of the decay, but in vain.

He forgets all about it during the day, too distracted keeping an eye on the cemetery visitors. He witnesses one funeral and makes sure everything is in order while they lower the coffin into the ground. A few people visit their loved ones. Castiel mostly gives them privacy and busies himself with checking up on the oldest monuments.

It’s nearing evening when he finds a tabby cat prowling around one of his favourite mausoleums. The old grave sits at the crossroad of Cedar and Alder alleys and gives Castiel a perfect view of the entire west side of the cemetery. On good days, he can watch the sun set over the horizon, painting the trees and old tombstones with golden light and making the entire place look otherworldly and much, much more beautiful.

It’s not beautiful when he finds the cat and carefully shoos it away from the mausoleum. The weather has been grey and rainy the entire day, the late summer wind far colder than it should be. Even though Castiel can’t technically feel its temperature, he’s learned his mood does indeed depend on the weather. Grim days can make him sulky and tired, especially considering he spends his entire time in a graveyard.

Sometimes he wonders when he became so human, but he hasn’t been able to find the answer yet.

The cat is gone by the time Castiel notices the man for the first time.

He’s more of a boy, Castiel thinks as he watches him stroll down the Alder alley, with his young face and vigorous pace. But maybe Castiel isn’t an expert at judging humans’ age. The man looks young, true, but there’s an aura of distress around him that makes him seem older — and it’s not the aura of grief that usually surrounds people who visit Castiel’s graveyard. The way the man is dressed makes him seem older, too, the clothes a tad too big and worn, the duffel bag he’s carrying too heavy.

Castiel follows him with his eyes, but doesn’t move from his spot on the mausoleum. Soon, the man disappears behind the trees, and Castiel discovers that the cat is back. He spends the rest of the evening befriending it.

✚✚✚

Castiel is shaken from his sleepless musings in the middle of the night.

He’s more curious than alarmed when he leaves the mausoleum and looks around. The night is quiet and still, the darkness not complete because of the candles adorning most of the graves. Castiel breathes in the chilly night air and is about to go back inside when he senses it again.

Someone is here doing something they should not be doing.

It takes him only a moment to locate the trespasser. Castiel strides towards the human currently bending in half to read the inscription on the tombstone, but stops a few feet away from them when he realises who it is.

Somehow, it’s not really that surprising.

Castiel watches, interested, as the young man from earlier swipes his flashlight over the grave and mutters something to himself. In the dark, the man’s features seem rougher and more secretive than in daylight, his movements certain when he digs into his bag, the aura of misery gone and replaced by something more decisive, more vibrant.

Castiel is so invested in reading the man’s features that he completely misses the first and second swing of his shovel.

The third one takes him back to reality, though.

Castiel is so surprised, he barely reacts at first. He’s standing there, right behind the man, and watching him dig up a grave in the middle of Castiel’s cemetery, without Castiel’s permission. It seems almost unreal and Castiel spends a while just gaping at the human, at a loss for words for the first time in a very, very long time. This hasn’t happened in quite a while, he thinks as he finally takes a slow step towards the man. Grave desecrations aren’t that common anymore, fortunately for Castiel and the cemetery’s human caretaker.

And yet, this is exactly what seems to be happening here.

Castiel can’t see any special candles, incense, or magic spellbooks; he also doesn’t sense anything dark from the man, but he knows he cannot be sure these days. It may not be an evil ritual, but it can still be harmful to the dead. Who knows what people these days may come up with.

Castiel is here for a reason. He hasn’t had much to do around here for some time now, but now that something is finally happening, he knows how to react.

The man is still shoveling into the soft ground when Castiel starts with the cold wind. He watches the man shiver and look around, and doesn’t let himself react in any way when the man’s eyes sweep over him without really seeing him.

The wind isn’t enough to chase the man away, and neither is the drop in temperature that fogs the man’s breath, so Castiel adds whisperings and quiet groans. The human drops the shovel and straightens up at that.

“Huh,” he says to himself. “So you’re not a zombie.”

Castiel frowns, but doesn’t stop his ministrations. He breathes out and the candles around the man go out with a soft hiss, sinking him in darkness.

“That’s okay,” the man says out loud. It seems he has forgotten all about the grave-digging. “I’m not scared.”

Castiel waves a hand and conjures a faint glow that flits by the man, almost too quick to notice — but not quick enough.

The man, to Castiel’s surprise, chuckles darkly.

“You just wait, you son of a bitch,” he says, grabbing the shovel and the bag and looking around with a smirk. “I’ll deal with you.”

Castiel, tired of the man barely showing anything even close to horror, finally shows him the entire mirage, clear as daylight — he makes it appear as a young girl, all in white, and adds a deafening scream as she charges at the man, arms outstretched and face contorted with pain.

At that, finally, the man yelps, turns around, and flees the cemetery.

Castiel sighs and lets the apparition dissolve. Before going back to the mausoleum, he makes sure the grave the man was trying to dig looks intact again and refuses to feel unhappy that the troublemaker is gone and the cemetery is quiet and peaceful once more.

✚✚✚

Castiel is lounging on top of the gates of the cemetery, the last remnants of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon. The tabby cat is back, playing with a stick on the ground below, making soft cat sounds at things Castiel can’t see from where he’s seated.

It’s quiet around him. All of the visitors have left for the day and it seems nothing can disturb Castiel’s peace now. He likes days like this, the ones that put him at rest and make him wish he could stay like this forever, unbothered, untethered, eternal. In these quiet moments, he finally feels calm and definite in his being.

Just as the sun dips behind the horizon, a car parks right outside the cemetery and shatters Castiel’s peace. He watches with a frown as a person exits the vehicle and slams the door shut. The cat hisses and flees.

Castiel slides down the gate, eyes glued to the new visitor. With a strange feeling in his chest, he immediately recognises the man from the day before. He stays in his spot, never letting the man from his sight, and tries not to dwell too much on the mix of feelings inside him. First of all, he should be getting angry — that man tried to desecrate Castiel’s graveyard, and from the look on his face, he is determined to try it again. Castiel should get furious and show him it is never going to happen, not on Castiel’s watch. He should not be feeling any kind of excitement fluttering in his chest at the mere thought of something interesting happening around him. He’s not here to be interested, he’s here to protect.

He observes as the man takes out his bag from the backseat and starts towards the gate, his jaws set and eyes steely. Silently, Castiel trails after him, eyes never leaving the man’s broad back.

It gets dark quickly, but the man continues to walk around the graveyard with a flashlight, never really stopping anywhere. Castiel decides not to interfere unless actually prompted, but he can’t resist trying to scare the man a little. He chills the night air around them, making the man shiver despite his jacket; he lets a few dry branches snap beneath his feet and is rewarded with the man looking back, uneasy, his eyes wide as he searches the darkness for the source of the sounds. Castiel smiles to himself, but his good humour dies as soon as the man finally stops at one of the graves and drops his bag to the ground.

“Leave,” Castiel whispers, more to himself than to anyone else, but his voice must carry because the man looks up from where he’s digging around his duffel.

“You’re here, then,” he says with a satisfied grin.

Castiel scowls at him.

“Leave us alone,” he murmurs, even more forcefully now.

“Us?” The man raises a brow. “Stop lying, I know who you are. You’re not gonna scare me off this time.”

Castiel huffs and sends a cold wind through the man.

“Oh,” the man chuckles darkly. “That tickled.”

At that, he retrieves a shovel from inside his bag and leans it on the ground. Castiel feels the growl start deep inside him at the sight.

“I ain’t scared of you, sweetheart,” the man says lightly and grabs a shotgun with the other hand. “Whenever you’re ready, Eleanor.”

Castiel can barely hear him. The man is clearly taunting him and the annoyance quickly turns into something colder and deeper as he watches the man smirk and start digging up yet another grave.

Not on his watch.

Castiel rarely has to use his powers to this extent anymore, so he miscalculates and sends a much stronger wave than he originally intended. The man stumbles onto his back with a surprised yelp, but is quick to get up and point his shotgun in Castiel’s general direction.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters angrily. “Show yourself, you coward.”

Castiel does.

He isn’t exactly sure how it happens, but one second he’s glaring at the man, still invisible, and the next, he allows his powers to fade between one step towards the man and the other.

The man blinks, once, twice, and then shoots Castiel.

The only thing Castiel feels is a slight prickling sensation in his chest. He doesn’t let himself react, though, and charges at the man with a quiet rage inside him. He thinks he can hear a muttered curse falling from the man’s lips, but then he closes in on him and watches with dry amusement as the man growls, takes a swing, and sinks a knife in Castiel’s chest.

Castiel looks down at it, then back at the man.

“You’re not Eleanor,” the man whispers. His face is pale, even in the dark, and his eyes are huge and strangely bright.

“I am not,” Castiel says and pulls the knife out. He lets it fall to the ground, but never stops watching the face of the man in front of him.

“Who are you, then?” he asks as he takes a slow step back.

Castiel follows him, satisfied when he notices the man’s nervous gulp.

“My name is Castiel,” he offers good-naturedly. Sometime in between one attack and the other, his anger dissipated, leaving only a slight annoyance behind.

“What are you?” the man asks. His legs buckle when he meets another tombstone behind him, but he manages to stay upright. “You’re not a ghost.”

Castiel tilts his head. “What made you think I am?”

The man waves a hand awkwardly. “Just. The usual. Old cemetery, weird noises, all that. And I saw you yesterday. Or, well, I thought it was you. You look different tonight.”

“You didn’t see me yesterday,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realise that,” the man says. “Unless you like to wear a white dress and screech at innocent people from time to time. I don’t judge”

Castiel narrows his eyes at him. “You are not innocent. You are far from innocent,” he says quietly. He observes with satisfaction as the man’s eyes jump to the knife lying on the ground at Castiel’s feet.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m all squeaky-clean,” the man says and lets out a nervous laugh. “But—”

“You are a vandal,” Castiel says. “A delinquent. I have no interest in hearing your reasons, I just want you gone, the farther from my cemetery, the better.”

The man stares at him with open mouth, then closes it, then opens again. He frowns. “Your cemetery?”

Castiel doesn’t respond, but he does take another step in the man’s direction.

“Hey, hey, wait,” the man says. “Wait a second. I honestly had no idea it was your cemetery, pal.”

“I am not your pal,” Castiel growls.

“And I’m not a vandal,” the man shoots back. “My name’s Dean. And I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No,” Castiel hisses. “I have watched you. I have seen you creep around with your shovel and your gun and I have seen you trying to desecrate the graves, my graves, so do not talk to me about a misunderstanding—”

Dean holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Shit, man, I swear I’m not trying to—”

Castiel has had enough, though, so he flicks his wrist and pushes Dean over one of the tombstones and down to the ground. Dean falls with a grunt and tries to stand up quickly, but Castiel keeps him pinned to the ground with a raise of his eyebrow.

“I am the guardian of this cemetery,” he states when he stops and looks down on the struggling man. “I will not be made a fool of, especially not by someone like you.”

“Shit, man, listen—” Castiel raises a hand and Dean shakes his head violently. “Wait, wait. Castiel, was it? I’m a hunter, okay? Not here to desecrate your precious graves or whatever. I am hunting.”

Castiel frowns. “Would it not be better if you found a forest for that?” he asks. “There are not many animals around here.”

Dean gapes at him. “What? No. Not that kind of hunter. I hunt monsters.”

Castiel doesn’t respond. Dean realises he’s not being held down quite so strongly anymore, because he sits up and looks nervously up at him.

“Listen,” Dean starts. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t see how,” Castiel says.

“There’s a ghost here,” Dean says slowly. “I need to burn its body so that it can move forward and stop haunting your cemetery.”

“My cemetery is not haunted,” he says.

Dean laughs, humourless, and stands up, brushing off the grass from his pants. “Oh yes, it is. What kind of a guardian are you if you don’t know that.”

“It isn't haunted,” Castiel hisses and moves forward again. “There’s no ghost—”

He stops abruptly when Dean takes a swing and punches him straight in the face. Castiel blinks, shaken, and moves back merely by instinct. Dean, meanwhile, doubles over, hugging his fist to his stomach.

“What the fuuu—” he wheezes. “What the fuck, man. Who are you—”

“I told you,” Castiel says. “I’m a guardian.”

Dean straightens back up and shoots a glance at Castiel. He should be scared, Castiel thinks, but he looks more curious than anything else. Castiel has no idea what to think of him.

“What, like an actual guardian? Like a grim?”

Castiel decides to humour the human for a while. He has nothing better to do, anyway, and if it keeps him from trying to make trouble again, that’s an even better reason.

“Some people do call me that,” he says, nodding.

“I thought those were dogs,” Dean says.

“I could be a dog,” Castiel says. “Although I prefer cats, to be honest.”

Dean frowns. “But you’re neither.”

Castiel looks down at himself. “This is my preferred vessel, yes.”

“And you just, what, sit around and scare people off?” Dean asks.

“I only scare those who give me reason to,” Castiel says with a meaningful glance. “Like you did.”

“I told you, I wasn’t trying to— Well, okay, I was. But I have to do it.”

“No, you don’t,” Castiel says calmly.

Dean shakes his head. “You weren’t listening to me, man. I know what I’m doing. The only way of getting rid of the ghost is burning its bones—”

“You are not doing anything of the kind,” Castiel states.

“But I have to.”

“No,” Castiel says. “There is no ghost, I told you. I would know if there was a ghost in my graveyard.”

“A zombie, then,” Dean says.

“No zombies, either.”

“A ghoul?”

Castiel just sends him a look.

“Well,” Dean says with a shrug. “Clearly you suck at that guardian thing because you don’t even realise what’s happening in your own cemetery.”

For a short, sweet moment, Castiel considers shoving Dean over the tombstone yet again. His fingers itch, heart unsteady in his chest — but then he simply meets Dean’s eyes and lets out a sigh.

“I want you gone now,” he says in a calm voice. “You have five minutes.”

He can see that Dean tries to argue some more, but suddenly Castiel feels too tired for that.

He disappears before Dean can say anything and hides in his favourite mausoleum so that he doesn’t have to see him leave.

*

Despite himself, Castiel spends the next day looking carefully for any sign of evil forces that could be hiding in the graveyard. He meets with the graveyard’s human caretaker and confirms that the thing causing the plants to wither is a simple disease. He checks every tomb, every crypt, looks around the church and the bell tower, upturns every stone and each statue.

He finds nothing.

He knew it, of course, because he is never wrong about these things, and yet he still feels a flicker of pride at being right. He imagines, just for a short moment, standing in front of Dean once more, just to be able to throw it into his face. I was right, and you were wrong. You should never underestimate me again.

Not that he will ever have a chance, considering Castiel explicitly told him to leave. Dean would have to be stupid to show his face around Castiel’s cemetery again. And Castiel didn’t get the impression that Dean was stupid.

He has to physically shake himself to stop thinking about the topic, and he’s embarrassed to admit it even to himself. Fortunately, there’s no one around the cemetery that could see or judge him, no one except for the random visitors who cannot see him, the caretaker who is not here at the moment, and the tabby cat who mostly ignores him and continues to play with a ball of grass he found.

Castiel sighs and spends the rest of the day idly wandering around.

The evening falls and finds Castiel at the gate again. He is looking out at the setting sun and listening to a bird sing — even though he’s not yet sure what kind of bird it is — and trying to convince himself that is all that he’s doing.

But then the big black car parks right outside the cemetery and Castiel stops fooling himself.

He watches as Dean gets out of the car, looks around, and slings the duffel bag over his shoulder. There’s no urgency to his movement, Castiel notes, no more vibrant energy. Dean looks more at ease, somehow, maybe even more confident than the last time.

Castiel materializes just when Dean is getting towards the gate.

“Oh crap,” he exclaims and stops abruptly. He stares at Castiel with wide eyes and doesn’t move again. “Man, you scared me.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Good. That was my intention.”

Dean takes a slow step forward. Castiel crosses his arms over his chest and doesn’t move from where he’s still standing at the gate.

“You can’t stop me from getting in,” Dean says. He doesn’t sound quite so certain, though.

Castiel raises his brows. “Oh, I can’t?”

“You can’t,” Dean says. “See, I dug up some stuff on you. Cemetery guardians are supposed to guard the place from people with harmful intentions, which obviously I don’t have. Meaning you gotta let me in.”

“I know your intentions. They are harmful,” Castiel says.

Dean shakes his head. Castiel is surprised to see him smiling.

“Nah, man. I’m just a regular visitor. I just want to look around.”

“I know who you are,” Castiel says. “And I don’t want you looking around my cemetery.”

“Dude. Maybe I just want to visit someone’s grave. You can’t keep me away,” Dean argues.

“Or maybe you want to dig your shovel into someone’s grave?” Castiel shoots backs scathingly.

Dean smirks at him. “What shovel?”

“The one you have in your bag,” Castiel says.

Dean blinks innocently, then proceeds to open the bag and show its contents to Castiel. Without thinking, Castiel inches closer to take a look. Instead of weapons and tools, he finds about a dozen of candles, a bottle of water, a Bible, and a few other non-threatening objects. With a frown, he meets Dean’s eyes and catches him grinning.

“See? Just want to pay my respects, that’s all,” Dean says, sounding satisfied.

“Who are you visiting?” Castiel asks, suspicious.

“A friend of mine,” Dean says.

“What’s their name?”

“Tom,” Dean says with a shrug.

“Tom what?” Castiel insists.

“Tom It Shouldn’t Have To Matter,” Dean bites back. He opens his arms in a placating way. “I’m not here to dig up any graves, I swear.”

“Why should I believe you?” Castiel asks.

“Besides the fact that I just showed you my bag and told you that? I don’t know. Human decency?”

“I’m not human,” Castiel says gruffly.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Dean says with yet another grin. Then he gestures towards the gate behind Castiel’s back. “So, how’s it gonna be? May I go inside?”

Castiel waves for a moment, but then slowly steps to the side, eyes never leaving Dean.

“Awesome,” Dean says and moves.

Castiel doesn’t think, just reaches out and grabs Dean’s arm. He ignores Dean’s surprised gasp and says, voice low and dangerous, “I am going to keep watching you, Dean. Constantly.”

Dean looks up, back into his eyes. In the golden light of the setting sun, Castiel notices freckles dotting Dean’s face — and stores this knowledge away, too distracted to concentrate on it now.

“Great,” Dean says with a smirk. “Can’t wait.”

✚✚✚

And he does — he keeps watching Dean for the next hour, sometimes visibly, and sometimes hiding himself from sight and stalking Dean wherever he goes. He hates to admit, though, that Dean indeed does not do anything harmful. He doesn’t behave like a usual visitor, either, which is why Castiel continues to watch him even when darkness finally covers the graveyard like a heavy blanket.

Dean wanders around, stopping at what seems like random graves, lighting candles here and there. He doesn’t appear to be praying, though, and he certainly isn't digging anything.

What’s more — he keeps talking to Castiel, even when he can’t see him.

“You know, I was wondering,” he says, leaning down to read the letters on one of the tombstones. “What do you do around here all day long? Besides keeping the likes of me on their toes?”

Castiel scoffs and turns away, ignoring Dean’s amused chuckle.

“Do you ever show yourself to anyone?” he speaks out again as he finishes lighting a candle on the small dirty grave. Castiel has never seen anyone visit that grave before. “Or am I special?”

Castiel scowls at him. “Usually people don’t need to meet me to know how to behave in a cemetery.”

Dean chuckles. “Okay. So I am special.”

“Only because you keep misbehaving,” Castiel repeats, growing more and more frustrated every time Dean laughs.

“Am I misbehaving now?” Dean asks with a raised brow.

Castiel watches as Dean cleans the grave of weeds and dry leaves, then straightens the wooden cross on top of it. When he doesn’t respond, Dean looks up, smiles, and sends him a wink.

Castiel rolls his eyes and vanishes to the sound of Dean’s laughter.

He stays hidden as Dean ventures deeper into the cemetery. He doesn’t react when Dean keeps asking him questions and making jokes, but when Dean accuses him of letting the cemetery get shabby, he blows a particularly strong wind in Dean’s direction and ends up knocking over a vase full of half-dead flowers.

Dean looks around with a huff. “Who’s misbehaving now!” he says out loud, then straightens the vase with an amused shake of his head.

Castiel stays silent.

He doesn’t answer when Dean asks about his favourite spot, when Dean wonders about other graveyards and other guardians, when Dean starts reading inscriptions from every tombstone out loud. He doesn’t show himself even when Dean retrieves a sandwich from his bag and eats it on a bench in the middle of his cemetery. He glares at the back of Dean’s head as Dean lets the crumbs fall onto the bench and the ground.

But when Dean tosses a now empty plastic bag onto the grass, Castiel rushes over to him.

“Ha!” Dean says as he flattens himself on the bench, looking up straight into Castiel’s angry eyes as he hovers over him. “Knew you’d come visit me again.”

“I never left,” Castiel hisses. “Now stop littering in my cemetery.”

“Oh, this?” Dean looks over at the bag. “But there’s no trash can around.”

Castiel lifts a hand.

Dean immediately covers himself with both arms. “Shit, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he yells. “I swear I’m kid—”

The bag flies itself into Castiel’s waiting hand. Wordlessly, he pushes the trash into Dean’s chest.

“Take it, now,” he says, voice low.

Dean straightens up and meets his eyes again, this time looking much less confident. “I was just kidding,” he says as he throws the plastic into his duffel bag.

“I don’t like jokes,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realise that,” Dean mutters.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asks. He’s still standing right in front of Dean, who’s sitting down on the bench, and it seems to be a great influence on Dean’s sense of self-confidence, because suddenly he has trouble meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“I told you, I’m just visiting,” Dean says.

“What are you really doing here,” Castiel repeats. “Yesterday you said you were a hunter. Are you hunting now?”

“I wanted to,” Dean admits, shrugging.

“So you lied to me,” Castiel says.

Dean looks up at him and makes a face. “Obviously.”

“But you didn’t… do anything.”

“That’s cause you kept watching me,” Dean complains. “I was trying to throw you off track, show you how harmless I am. Then you’d finally leave me alone and I could do my job and get the hell out of here.”

Castiel frowns. Dean gulps and looks away.

“And you’re telling me this now because…?”

Dean shrugs. “Because you’re impossible to get rid of, apparently,” he says with a dry laugh.

Castiel keeps looking at him, sceptical. It doesn’t seem right, he thinks, but he should take advantage of the fact that Dean is talking, learn about his plan, and find a way to stop him in the future. After all, he doesn’t want Dean to come back here and bother him ever again.

He definitely doesn’t.

“What would you do if I weren’t watching you, then?” he asks.

Dean must realise Castiel isn’t going to move away anytime soon, so he relaxes back on the bench and looks down, fingers playing with the straps of his bag.

“I did check for cold spots,” he says. “That I could do even with you on my tail. But I would need to use my EMF radar, just to be sure. If that didn’t work, I’d perform a ritual and try to summon the son of a bitch here.”

“Summon who?” Castiel asks.

“The ghost, obviously,” Dean says.

“There’s no ghost.”

“That’s what you say,” Dean retorts. “I say there is a ghost. And I need to find it and get rid of it before it hurts anyone since apparently you’re not going to do it.”

“I told you, there’s nothing here. I would know.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Look, I know how to do my job—”

“And I know how to do mine. There’s no need for rituals. No need for… radars. You won’t find a ghost here.”

“Listen, dude, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid and—”

“Dean,” Castiel says firmly. That seems to shut Dean up finally and makes him look up and stare at Castiel. In the dark, all Castiel can see is the shape of Dean’s face and the wideness of his eyes. “I need you to go and leave my cemetery alone.”

Dean is quiet for a long moment. “You do, huh,” he says, finally.

“Yes. You can hunt all you want — just not here,” Castiel says, even when, for some reason, it feels wrong to be saying this.

“Mhm,” Dean murmurs and looks down. He doesn’t move.

“Dean,” Castiel repeats. He wonders, briefly, why he feels so strange when he says the name aloud. “Do you understand what I’m saying? You can’t hunt here.”

“But I have to—”

“Who told you about this ghost?” Castiel asks, exasperated. He moves and sits down on the bench beside Dean. “Who told you to come here and waste your time?”

From this perspective, Castiel can see Dean pull his lips in a tight line. “No one. No one needs to tell me things. I can decide for myself.”

“Alright. How did you learn about this ghost of yours, then?”

Dean squares his shoulders. “I just did. I know how to hunt.”

For some reason — simply inexplicable to Castiel — he realises Dean is telling the truth. Not the actual truth, just Dean’s version of the truth. Castiel looks at him and understands that Dean, this lonely young boy with a leather jacket that is just a little too big for him, with a bag full of weapons and candles, with a bright lovely smile and big green eyes — that Dean really does need to hunt. He obviously doesn’t need to hunt the ghost, because the ghost doesn’t exist, but maybe he just needs the idea of a hunt.

From the way he defends himself, the way he keeps repeating how he needs to do his job, Castiel understands that maybe he really, really does need it.

Castiel’s cemetery is a place for people to find solace, to find purpose after losing something, and Castiel has never refused anyone the comfort of its quiet, its peace, its harmony. He doesn’t think he should start doing so now.

Which is why what he says next comes as a surprise even to him.

“I’m sorry.” When Dean hears him, he looks up and opens his mouth to answer, but Castiel shakes his head. “You were right, Dean: I can’t tell you not to come in here, not when you behave as you should.”

Dean blinks at him, surprised. “But… I just told you I’m going to hunt and kill the ghost.”

Castiel sends him a look, silently asking him to understand. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave when you start acting up, but no earlier.”

“I will act up,” Dean says sulkily. “I just told you—”

“You can come here, look around, search your ghost,” Castiel says. “I can’t prohibit that. Just remember what I said.”

“Cas—”

“Dean.” Castiel slowly leans in. “Maybe there is a ghost. Maybe there isn’t. If you need to hunt — hunt. Just don’t do anything that would make me throw you out.”

Dean swallows slowly, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s. “You mean I can come back here, after all?”

Castiel nods.

“And I can look for the ghost? I can perform the ritual?”

“It won’t do you any good,” Castiel affirms. “But yes, as long as you don’t bother me or the peace of my cemetery, you may.”

“What about burning the bones,” Dean asks and raises his eyebrows.

“That I can’t allow.” Castiel shakes his head.

“What if I do find a ghost, though?”

“Then we’ll deal with it another way.”

“We will?”

“I will,” Castiel says. “But only when I have proof.”

Dean searches Castiel’s eyes for a long moment, and then nods, very slowly. Castiel thinks he can see understanding and a touch of gratitude on his face. “Alright. I think I get it now.”

“Alright,” Castiel repeats and stands up. “Do we have a deal, then?”

Dean stands up, too. He reaches out a hand for Castiel to shake, and when Castiel does, Dean smiles. “We have a deal.”

✚✚✚

When Dean arrives the next day, Castiel is waiting for him at the gate.

It’s already dark and there’s no one else around, so Castiel lets himself be seen as he leans against the gate. Dean notices him as soon as he gets out of his car and, when their eyes meet, Dean raises a hand and waves.

Castiel doesn’t respond in any way, just watches as Dean laughs to himself and pulls his bag out of the car. He stays motionless, except for his eyes as they follow Dean’s movement through the gate. Dean seems to hesitate for a second when he passes by, but seeing that Castiel isn’t reacting, he yet again smiles and goes inside.

Afterwards, Castiel stays hidden.

He watches Dean for the first hour. There is a strange electronic appliance in Dean’s hand and it makes a weird, high-pitched sound sometimes, but it doesn’t really seem to be bothering the peace of Castiel’s cemetery, so he lets it go. After all, he promised he would allow Dean to experiment a little bit.

Dean spends some time sitting quietly under an old birch tree, a thick leather-bound notebook in his lap and a small flashlight between his lips. Castiel walks over silently and reads over his shoulder for a short moment, unseen by Dean. The note describes some kind of ritual, so Castiel lets out a long sigh, letting it tickle Dean’s neck just for the tiniest of moments, and then walks away with a shake of his head.

He observes Dean’s failed ritual from the top of the oldest crypt in the cemetery, but doesn’t say anything. He hides in his mausoleum after that, letting Dean tramp around the cemetery in search of his ghost. He doesn’t have anything to do, but he has no intention of watching Dean all night long. None whatsoever. He is perfectly capable of finding better things to do with his time.

Which is why he’s still sitting idle and bored inside the crypt when Dean calls out for him some time later.

“Uh… Castiel? Are you here?”

Castiel barely even blinks — and then materialises just in front of Dean on the other side of the cemetery.

Dean steps away with a yelp. “Dude. Make some noise, will you?”

Castiel ignores him. “I heard you call me,” he says. “Is something the matter?”

Dean sends him a curious look, then shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “No, not really. I just, uh, wanted to let you know that I’ve decided it’s not a ghost, after all.”

Castiel tilts his head. “So I was right.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Maybe? But also no. I have another theory. You don’t have to look so smug.”

“I’m not smug,” Castiel argues.

“Yes, you are. Here.” Dean steps forward and points a finger right in Castiel’s face. “That’s the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen.”

Castiel fights the desire to swat Dean’s hand away. Instead, he looks up and lets out a sigh. “Alright. Whatever you think. Let’s hear your new theory.”

At that, Dean laughs and moves away. “Nuh-uh. Not yet. I need to do some research and for that, I need Wi-Fi. Unless you’ve got Wi-Fi somewhere around here?” At Castiel’s blank expression, he adds, “Thought so.”

“Dean, I told you it’s not a zombie,” Castiel says, exasperated.

“I know it’s not a zombie. I’ve got something else in mind,” Dean says as he starts walking.

Castiel follows him without thinking. “Which is?”

“Not gonna tell you yet,” Dean says.

“Have you considered that maybe there’s nothing for you to hunt here?” Castiel asks before he can stop himself.

But Dean doesn’t seem to mind. “I have. Didn’t like that theory.”

“You might want to—”

“Cas,” Dean says, stopping so suddenly that Castiel almost walks into him. “You said you’d let me do my job.”

Castiel doesn’t answer. Dean smiles, noticing his frown.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he says. “I’m a professional.”

“If you say so,” Castiel mutters.

“I do.” Dean grins, reaches out, and pats Castiel on the shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow to bother you again, you don’t have to look so sad.”

Stricken, Castiel schools his features into something more neutral. Dean huffs a laugh, waves lazily, and walks away.

“I’ll be here,” he says when Dean can’t hear him any longer.

✚✚✚

“So, what do you do when I’m not here?” Dean asks.

Castiel pulls out a rock that’s digging into his thigh and sends Dean a flat look. “I’m a guardian. I guard.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Dean keeps fidgeting, too, and Castiel would suggest they find a better place to sit, but he knows by now that Dean isn’t easily swayed when he’s determined. Which is the reason they are now both sitting uncomfortably on a very old, crumbling grave that’s been empty for as long as Castiel remembers.

“I keep the peace,” Castiel says.

“Sounds exciting,” Dean snorts.

“What do you do?” Castiel asks before he can stop himself. He’s been catching himself asking Dean more and more questions with each passing night, even though he knows he can’t grow attached to his presence. Dean will be gone as soon as he sorts out whatever is bothering him… or as soon as he finally catches the thing that’s apparently haunting Castiel’s cemetery.

It’s hard not to ask questions, though. So far, Dean has visited every night of the last week and stayed as long as a few hours. At first, Castiel tried to stay away and act uninterested, but he soon convinced himself he needed to keep an eye on Dean just in case something happened.

It helps that Dean doesn’t really seem to mind.

Tonight, he’s hunting a rugaru. He’s already eliminated the possibility of ghosts, zombies, ghouls, and vampires, and now he’s trying to convince Castiel that something will definitely come for the fresh red meat that he’s left at one of the graves. There’s a flamethrower sitting beside Dean and Castiel keeps sending uneasy glances towards it every few moments.

“Sleep, mostly,” Dean answers, pulling Castiel out of his thoughts. “I usually need four hours or so. I eat, I research, I eat some more. There’s an awesome burger place right outside of my motel. I swear I know all the staff by name now, along with their schedules.”

“You live in a motel?” Castiel asks.

Dean looks away. “For the time being, yeah.”

Castiel can feel there is more to Dean’s answer, but he decides to let it go for now. “How do you know so much about hunting?” he asks instead.

Dean still won’t really meet his gaze, but Castiel can see his shoulders relax a little. “It’s a family business. My dad taught me everything he knows.”

“And where is he now?” Castiel asks.

“Enough about me,” Dean says, turning to him with a grin. His eyes stay serious, though. “Tell me more about you.”

“Why?” Castiel frowns.

“Because I’m bored,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Humour me, man. How is it, being what you are?”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t have anything to compare it to,” he says.

Dean eyes him from head to toe, eyes narrowed. “Really. So what, you’ve always been here?”

Castiel fidgets. For some reason, unknown to him, Dean’s questions are making him feel strange. Despite the fact that he spends days all on his own, despite having all the time in the world to think — he usually doesn’t, not about those things. Dean asking about his life — his non-life? — is verging into something Castiel isn’t sure he wants to explore deeper.

“I don’t think your monster is coming tonight,” he says instead, breaking eye contact with Dean and looking ahead into the dark.

Dean hums thoughtfully beside him, but doesn’t answer.

When he leaves, Castiel hides in his mausoleum and spends the rest of the night and day staring idly at the wall.

✚✚✚

About a week later, Castiel is summoned not by a voice, but by a smell.

He appears by Dean’s side just as he’s entering the cemetery. Dean doesn’t jump or yell, simply casts Castiel an amused look.

“Hiya, Cas,” he says and sips from the paper cup he’s holding.

“Dean,” Castiel says. “What is that?”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “You mean my coffee? I’m feeling kind of beat tonight so I stopped by Starbucks.”

“Coffee,” Castiel repeats thoughtfully.

“What, do you like coffee?” Dean asks and sends him an interested look.

Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t drink or eat,” he says, but he can’t stop staring at the cup.

“Uh-huh,” Dean mutters. “Want some?”

He pushes it into Castiel’s hands with a smile.

“I told you I don’t drink,” Castiel says, even as he lifts the cup to his face and sniffs at it. His eyes fall closed when he inhales the rich earthy smell. He hears Dean’s chuckle, but ignores it, taking a tentative sip instead.

“Good?” Dean asks.

Castiel slowly opens his eyes and looks dazedly at Dean. He moves away when Dean reaches out to take his coffee back.

“Cas?” Dean asks with a laugh.

“Not yet,” Castiel says and takes another sip. It tastes otherworldly, burning the insides of Castiel’s mouth in the best possible way and warming him up even though he hadn't realised he was cold.

“You’re odd, you know that?” Dean asks, still smiling. He doesn’t protest when Castiel proceeds to empty the cup, and then lets Castiel keep it as they make their way towards Castiel’s favourite mausoleum.

Castiel stopped asking about the hunt a few days ago — one day he noticed Dean didn’t bring his duffel bag and spent the entire night chatting with Castiel and not doing anything else that could help him find the monster. Castiel doesn’t ask because Dean doesn’t seem bothered by it — quite the reverse, he looks more relaxed and at ease than the first time they met.

“Why this place?” Dean asks when they sit on the stone step just outside the crypt. “I mean, why do you like it so much?”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. It feels good to be here, so this is where I usually am.”

Dean hums, twisting his head to look at the mausoleum behind their backs.

“And it doesn’t creep you out?” he asks. “Like, this is someone's grave. You spend hours sitting beside somebody’s… you know.”

“Dean, should I remind you we are in a cemetery?” Castiel asks, amusement seeping into his voice. “There are tombs everywhere.”

Dean makes a face at that. “I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, as he reads the inscription on the crypt. “I’m just wondering why here, of all places.”

“It feels right,” Castiel says, and to cut the conversation short, he asks, despite himself, “So, what are we hunting this time?”

Dean casts him a sheepish look. “Uh, more of the same?”

“Which is?”

“Oh, are you on board with the hunting thing all of a sudden?” Dean retorts.

“I’ve been spending my nights with you for the last week,” Castiel deadpans. “So yes, you could say so.”

He watches as a little bit of colour creeps onto Dean’s otherwise pale face. “Uhm, okay. Yeah, so I was thinking… a werewolf.”

“Haven’t we already hunted a werewolf?” Castiel asks.

“No, that was a vampire. Totally different thing.”

“Ah.”

“So, yeah. Basically a huge dog. Maybe you’ve seen one around?”

“I haven’t seen any dogs,” Castiel says. “Only a cat. But you’ve already met him.” Dean reacted to the tabby cat with sneezes and watery eyes, so Castiel was forced to shoo him away for the time being.

“Yeah, I wondered about that cat, but didn’t come up with any ideas.”

“The cat is not a monster, Dean.”

“Says you.” Dean winks at him. “But okay, if not a werewolf, maybe a… a… chupacabra.”

Castiel sighs, props his head on his hand, and sends Dean a fond look. “Dean,” is the only thing he says.

Dean blinks at him, then looks down, the tips of his ears pink. “Why— why are you looking at me like that, man?”

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asks. “Apart from the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Dean frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I think, for some reason, you’re trying to find something to occupy yourself with. So you came up with a plan to hunt something, despite the fact that it doesn’t exist.”

Dean shoots him an annoyed look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“True, I don’t, because you never shared that with me. But that’s okay. What I’m asking is, what made you think there’s something here to hunt in the first place? I don’t care about your other reasons. They’re yours and I have no right to them.”

“You’re damn right, you don’t,” Dean bites.

“I’m just curious,” Castiel says carefully. “I know my cemetery, despite what you might say. I can sense these things. There’s nothing here, and yet you stubbornly insist there is.”

Dean lets out a long sigh. “Okay, here. Maybe there isn’t. Happy? Maybe I agree with you. There’s nothing here for me to do.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, just looks at Dean.

“But I’m pretty sure there was something,” Dean continues. “The first night I was here. I found a… a patch of dead grass, a perfect circle and all. And a dead tree in the middle. It’s still there, but it’s not spreading, and I checked for everything — it’s not a ghost, not a zombie, not a ghoul. Nothing. Maybe it’s gone. Maybe…” He shoots Castiel a quizzical look. “Maybe you got rid of it and didn’t tell me.”

Castiel blinks. “I’ve seen the grass,” he says. “It was a disease of some kind, but I talked with the caretaker and he… well, he took care of it. Mostly.”

Dean stares at him. “A disease?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of a disease?”

Castiel shrugs. “I’m not really familiar with plant diseases, but I could get more information if you really need it,” he says in a serious voice.

Dean stares at him for a second, then lightly punches his arm with a fist.

“Are you making fun of me?” he asks.

Castiel looks away, not even trying to hide his smile. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Asshole,” Dean murmurs, but he doesn’t sound angry. When Castiel turns to look at him again, he catches him grinning. “So, basically what you’re saying is, I’m useless here.”

There’s something hidden in Dean’s otherwise light voice — something sadder, and darker, and completely unreadable to Castiel — but when their eyes meet, Castiel sees Dean’s silent plea to let it go. He does — for now.

“I never said that,” Castiel says.

“Right. Do you admit, then, that you like having me around?” Dean asks, leaning sideways to bump his shoulder against Castiel’s.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Castiel says. “You are a nuisance.”

“But you don’t mind,” Dean says with a grin, “because you like me, don’t you?”

“I like that you stopped demolishing my cemetery.”

“I did, didn’t I? Which means I’m not really a nuisance anymore.”

Castiel shrugs. “I did have to send the cat away, though.”

“The cat? Oh, that furry little thing. Well, we both know I’m a better company than he is.”

“He wouldn’t agree.”

“He’s a cat, Cas. He doesn’t have anything to say on the matter,” Dean laughs.

Castiel frowns. “He’s got opinions.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What opinions do you think he has?”

Castiel hums, pretending to think. “He prefers sunny weather to rain.”

“Everyone does,” Dean rebukes.

“I disagree. Also, he likes fish better than any other kind of meat but he rarely has it nowadays. He used to, when he had a family, but they got rid of him.”

Dean sends him a slightly alarmed look. “Are you… are you actually serious now? I can’t tell.”

“Of course I’m serious, Dean. This is a serious subject.”

“How can you know all of this?” Dean asks, brows high up to his hairline and eyes wide. “Is that— is that a guardian thing?”

Castiel shrugs. “I suppose.”

“So do you, like, talk to him? The cat, I mean? With your mouth?”

“That’s how you usually talk, yes.”

“And he… talks back?” Dean asks slowly.

Castiel blinks. “Don’t be ridiculous. Cats don’t talk, Dean.”

Dean lets out a long sigh. “Okay. Whew. I started to think of you as some kind of a Disney princess already, but good to know you and the cat don’t spend days meowing at each other.”

“I communicate with him in other ways,” Castiel says.

“Like what?” Dean asks.

“It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I just… know things.”

“You just ‘know things’,” Dean repeats, unimpressed. “That doesn’t sound mysterious and creepy at all.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s just how it is,” Castiel says, feeling defensive.

“So, reading minds. That’s a guardian power, right? Does it work on everyone, or just the animals? Could you read my mind?”

Castiel looks over at Dean. “Human brains are much more complex. I’m not sure how it would work. I’ve never tried it. It just comes naturally with the cat.”

“You’ve been here forever and you never tried it,” Dean says flatly. “Are you for real?”

“I… Not forever.” When Dean tilts his head at him, Castiel adds, “I haven’t been here forever.”

“How long have you been here, then?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel admits.

Dean looks confused. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Where were you before you lived here? Different cemetery?” When Castiel doesn’t answer, Dean slowly stands up. “You know what? Actually, I was wondering about something. I must have been in a thousand cemeteries in my whole life, and dug like a million of graves. And never before was I stopped by a guardian or anything resembling you. Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I never really leave here,” Castiel says.

“You don’t know much,” Dean says thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of grims, but never of ones quite like you. It’d be awesome to know more, you know, just for the sake of research.”

Castiel stands up, too, and looks into Dean’s face. He looks more eager than a minute before, more resolute. It’s a good look on him, Castiel admits to himself, even if it’s once again just a way of occupying his thoughts with something other than his real life.

“I’ve got this journal,” Dean continues, “well, it’s really my dad’s, but he left it with me when he— Anyway, yeah, I think I’m gonna go back to the motel and dig up some more information. Hopefully there’s something there.”

Castiel takes a deep breath. “Why?” he asks simply.

Dean just shakes his head. “Don’t you want to know more? How you came to be, what’s going to happen to you, what you are? I’d like to know, if I were you.”

“I’m Castiel,” Castiel says calmly. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Well, I do,” Dean says. “It’s fascinating stuff. Someone has to dig a little deeper, and what if I’m the first one to meet a guardian in, like, ever?”

“That’s unlikely,” Castiel says. “But I guess I can’t stop you.”

“No, you can’t,” Dean says and sends him a wide smile. “I’m on a hunt.”

Castiel sighs, exasperated, and then sits back down on the steps to the crypt. “Good luck, then.”

“I’ll be back,” Dean says, sending him a lazy wave.

“I’ll be here,” Castiel says.

“See you tomorrow, Cas,” Dean calls.

Then he walks away.

✚✚✚

“So this is what I’ve got so far,” Dean says as he plops down onto the grass beside Castiel.

Castiel enjoys the chilly night breeze and the sound of Dean’s voice, but doesn’t really pay attention to his words. He can hear Dean retelling the lore on grims and other cemetery beings, but Castiel does not really like to think or talk about that. He knows most of it, anyway, and the rest is simply made up. But he lets Dean talk.

Castiel has spent the entire day walking idly around, not doing anything in particular, wondering if Dean was ever going to show up here again. When he heard him at sundown, he could swear his heart beat faster and he could feel excitement running through his veins as if Dean was his own personal research subject — just as he seems to be Dean’s.

And maybe he is. Castiel studies Dean’s face as he reads his notes aloud, watches the way his lips move, the way his lashes look darker against the paleness of his face. Castiel breathes in the fresh night air and knows Dean is close just by the smell of leather and shower wash that always seems to cling to him. When Castiel closes his eyes and listens to Dean’s eager voice telling him all about the cemetery urban legends, Castiel wonders how he managed to survive those long night before Dean showed up to spend time with him.

He doesn't have an answer for that yet.

“Could you be a statue?” Dean asks, pulling Castiel out of the reverie.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asks.

Dean chuckles. “You said you can be an animal. A cat. Could you also appear as a statue? You know, like a stone angel or a lion?”

“Perhaps,” Castiel says hesitantly. “I’ve never tried it before.”

“Seems to me you never tried a lot of things,” Dean says with a wink.

Castiel frowns, then decides to ignore him. “Anyway, I’m a guardian of the entire cemetery. Stone angels and lions guard particular graves.”

“Wait, they do?” Dean blinks, then looks around. “You’re saying all of them are also guardians?”

“Of a sort,” Castiel says. “I don’t think they’re sentient. But they’re here for a reason.”

Dean is quiet for a long moment, just looking at the variety of statues surrounding them. Then he shakes his head, as if getting rid of unwanted thoughts, and looks back at Castiel.

“Okay, so you’re not a stone angel. Which is good cause they’re kind of creepy.”

Castiel lets out a long sigh.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Dean asks and starts laughing. “You totally did!”

“So what?” Castiel asks grimly. “You’re being particularly irritating tonight.”

“It’s nothing, I guess,” Dean says, shrugging. “Just. Sometimes you’re so human, I forget you’re… not.”

Castiel doesn’t answer.

“Umm.” Dean fumbles with his notes. “So, where was I? Oh, here’s a good thing. I found it in a library.”

“You went to a library?” Castiel asks.

“Hey, I read,” Dean says without real fire in his voice. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“It’s just unusual to see you so invested in this,” Castiel says. “Even though I still don’t know the reason.”

Dean meets his eyes. “Maybe one day you will,” he says quietly. “Not today, though. Here, listen to this: apparently, a guardian is someone who was the first person buried in a given cemetery. Well, sometimes it was a dog. Hmm, I wonder if there’s a guardian cat somewhere?”

Castiel fidgets on the grass, but doesn’t say anything.

“But I digress,” Dean says. “So, that’s what the lore says. Which means that all guardians used to be human before they… you know.”

Dean looks up and meets Castiel’s eyes. Castiel doesn’t look away.

“Which means you were human once,” Dean says in a quiet voice. “Granted, of course, that the lore is right.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know, Dean. I told you, I don’t really…”

“You don’t know much. I remember,” Dean says. He waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter. There’s another thing, though. I looked up the history of this cemetery, cause, you know, I was curious.”

Castiel frowns. “And?”

“The first record of the cemetery dates back to 1812. It probably existed even before that.”

“And?” Castiel asks.

“And honestly? You don’t really look like a dude who died in 1812,” Dean says bluntly.

Castiel blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I just told you. The lore says the guardian is the first person buried in a new cemetery. And the first person buried in this cemetery must have died somewhere around 1812,” Dean explains. “And you, Cas, don’t look 190.”

“How do you know?” Castiel looks down at himself.

“Uh, you’re lacking some serious waistcoats and breeches. And possibly a tall hat,” Dean says with a chuckle.

Castiel brushes a hand over the sleeve of his tan coat. “And you’re an expert in nineteenth-century male fashion, I presume,” he says.

Dean runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “I know stuff, you know. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” Castiel says.

“Well. Okay.” Dean sends him a long look. “Anyway, even your suit and tie and that ugly trench coat look pretty twenty century to me,” he says.

“You think it’s ugly?” Castiel asks with a pout.

Dean laughs. “Seriously, that’s the thing that gets to you? My opinion of your clothes?” When Castiel simply shrugs, Dean continues, “You seem very calm about all of this. Aren’t you surprised? Freaked out?”

“Why should I be?” Castiel asks. “For all we know, this might not even be true. And even if it is, it doesn’t change anything for me.”

“But isn’t this weird? You definitely weren’t the first person buried in this cemetery. So why are you the one guarding it?”

Castiel stays silent.

“Don’t you want to know more?” Dean asks quietly. “Are you just gonna accept everything that comes your way?”

“I can’t do anything about it,” Castiel answers. “I’m not like you. You can change things. You can do things. I can’t.”

“This is not about me,” Dean argues.

“It could be,” Castiel says. “You could do so much, Dean, but instead — you’re sitting here with me, trying to find something that isn’t there.”

“I told you I—”

“I’m not talking about the hunt,” Castiel says. “I’m talking about the reason you’re here and not with the people you love.”

Dean looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth at the last moment and just glares at Castiel.

“That isn’t the point,” he mutters. “We’re talking about you, not me. Not today.”

Castiel shrugs. “You know my opinion, then.”

“Don’t you want to know more? Who you were before… all that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel says.

“It could matter,” Dean says. “If you cared more.”

Castiel stands up. “I care enough,” he says, voice hard. “I care about my cemetery and about what happens to it. I seem to care more about your own life than you do.”

“I’ve noticed,” Dean says, moving to his feet too. “And I told you it’s not your business.”

“It became my business when you started wasting your time in my cemetery,” Castiel says.

“Oh,” Dean says. “Wasting my time. Okay, I get it.”

“Do you, Dean?” Castiel asks. “It doesn’t seem like you do. I appreciate that I’m your new project, really, it’s flattering. But you should consider paying more attention to your own life instead of—”

“Instead of bothering you,” Dean finishes. This is not at all what Castiel wants to say, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Dean doesn’t let him. “You know what? Maybe you’re right. You’re not being a particularly grateful project.”

“I never asked you to pry into my life,” Castiel says before he can stop himself.

“That’s not life, Castiel,” Dean snaps. “You’re not even a person.”

Castiel takes a slow step back. Dean meets his gaze, his own eyes wide and a slight flush to his cheeks, but he doesn’t back down. Castiel shakes his head with a sigh.

“You should just go,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “That’s what I was going to say.”

He doesn’t add anything else, just shoots Castiel a dark look, turns on his heel, and walks away. Castiel watches him go, a sour feeling in his stomach and a strange prickling sensation in his eyes.

It’s for the best, he convinces himself as he rushes back to his favourite mausoleum. Dean is young, he’s got a life outside of Castiel’s cemetery. He needed Castiel to say that to him, to shake him out of his stupor, even if it was harsh. Castiel let himself fall into a routine with Dean instead of concentrating on doing his job; he sank into the illusion of being human, of not being lonely, but it was a mistake. Castiel is not human and, despite what Dean found out, he will never be human again, even if he used to be in the past.

Castiel belongs in the cemetery. Dean belongs in the world.

It’s all for the better, Castiel thinks and sinks down to the cold cement floor inside the silent tomb.

✚✚✚

Castiel isn’t particularly good at forgetting.

He wishes he could be. He wouldn’t have to torture himself with thinking about Dean anymore. And yet.

Days pass and Dean doesn’t come back. Castiel cannot say he’s particularly surprised, but he also can’t deny being disappointed. If Dean knew him better, he would know Castiel didn’t really mean for him to leave forever – but Dean doesn’t know him, not truly. On the other hand, maybe this is for the best. Castiel is certain he will recover from it soon enough, and even if it takes more time… well, it’s not like he doesn’t have time.

At least that’s what he thinks until a calm afternoon five days after Dean leaves.

To say he’s surprised by the visit would be a grave understatement. There is nothing — nothing — that could have prepared him for it. It speaks volumes to how much he actually knows about the world and his current role in it, but he would be lying if he said it was a piece of news easy to accept.

It’s still not entirely dark when it happens, but the sun is getting closer to the horizon and makes the shadows around Castiel more profound. He barely notices, aimlessly staring ahead, legs propped on the tree stump a few yards from the crypt.

He doesn’t pay attention to the change in the wind around him, and he certainly doesn’t realise someone — something — is standing right next to him, not until it touches his shoulder.

It’s there, and then it’s not anymore, and Castiel is on his feet in a matter of seconds, frantically looking around. His stomach feels tight and his heart is beating fast and loud. Dean would not believe his eyes if he were to see him in this state.

All thoughts of Dean flee Castiel’s head when he notices a woman in front of him.

“Hello, Castiel,” she says and smiles.

Castiel stares.

The woman rolls her eyes. “Really? Is this how you meet your maker?”

“My… my maker?” Castiel stutters, overwhelmed.

“Well, if you don’t like the word maker, we can use supervisor,” the woman says. She’s smiling widely, as if Castiel’s confusion makes her happy.

“I… don’t understand,” Castiel says.

The woman lets out a deep sigh. “Okay, then. How about boss? I thought you spoke English.”

“I do,” Castiel says. “I understand your words, I just have no idea what you mean by them.”

“Let me start again, then,” she says. “Name’s Billie. I’m a reaper. I assume you’ve heard of us?”

Castiel swallows hard. “I have, a little bit.”

“Excellent,” Billie says, smiling. “That should make things easier. Do you know why I’m here?”

“I’m guessing you want to… talk to me,” Castiel hesitates. “Considering you’re my boss, as you put it.”

“I’m here with a question,” Billie says.

“A question?”

“Well. The question.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Castiel says.

Billie lets out a long sigh. “Okay, so you’re one of those. Fine. Castiel, a few questions for you: why are you here?”

Castiel blinks. “I’m the guardian of this cemetery.”

“Amazing,” Billie says with a rough smirk. “But why you?”

Castiel shrugs and wants to say he doesn’t know, but then he remembers one of his conversations with Dean. “Because I was buried here.”

Billie looks mildly surprised. “That is true. Have you managed to find your grave already?”

Once again, Castiel is ready to shake his head no, but he stops at the very last second. Eyes wide, he looks towards his favourite mausoleum, still visible from where they are standing.

“Novak,” he says under his breath. He can’t see the inscription on the crypt from here, but he has read it a thousand times before. “It’s my grave,” he says in wonderment.

Billie nods, seemingly glad. “Congratulations. The fact that you’ve found your place of rest only means that you’re one step closer to the next level.”

Castiel whips his head back towards Billie. “There’s a next level?” he asks.

“Of course there is. We can’t expect you to guard this place for eternity. You’ve done enough, it’s time to call on someone else and let you get some well-earned peace.”

Castiel doesn’t answer for a moment, still trying to comprehend all of Billie’s words.

“Do you mean there was another guardian before me? And there will be another after I’m gone?” he finally asks.

“You didn’t seriously think we would burden just one person with it,” Billie says, eyebrows raised. “There comes a time in every guardian’s existence when they start getting restless. For some, it means almost completely abandoning their post and becoming more and more absent with each day. For others, it means even more focus, more awareness, more—”

“...humanity,” Castiel finishes. When Billie doesn’t correct him, just nods slowly, he exhales loudly. “I think I know which category I belong to.”

He has never felt more human that he does nowadays. He thought it was Dean’s fault before, but maybe he was wrong — maybe it’s just his time running out.

That would also explain why he doesn’t really remember how it all started in the first place.

He squares his shoulders and looks up at Billie. “What happens next, then?”

Billie smiles. “You’ve got two choices, Castiel.”

“I’m listening,” Castiel says.

“The first one is quite obvious: you leave and get your peace. I can’t tell you what it means exactly, that’s for you to find out. Heaven, hell, other kind of paradise? Could be everything. You’ll be relieved from your responsibilities here on Earth and allowed to pass on to whatever is waiting for you in the next life.”

Castiel nods slowly, but doesn’t say anything.

Billie sends him a curious look and then continues, “I’m guessing you want to hear the second option?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Castiel asks, surprised.

“Some don’t,” Billie says. “They’re perfectly content with whatever is offered for them.”

“I’m not saying I’m not content,” Castiel says. “I just want to hear the second option.”

Billie raises a brow at him, but doesn’t comment. Instead, she says, “In the second scenario, you are sent back to Earth in whatever form, age, or place you wish for.”

“Back to Earth?” Castiel asks, breathless. “Do you mean… as a human being?”

“Yes,” Billie says, a serious note in her voice. “A second life. A reincarnation, so to say. As a reward for all you’ve done during your time as a guardian. Only if you want it, though.”

Castiel looks at her and stays silent. He could come back to life. He could choose to live among humans yet again, to try to remember all his experiences from his previous life, or live through them for the first time. He could do so much…

And he would be completely alone in that.

He’s been to his mausoleum enough time to remember the time of his death. James C. Novak, the grave says, born September 18, 1940, died May 18, 1969. May his dear soul rest in peace.

It’s been almost fifty years since he died. Most of the people he used to know and love are probably gone themselves, and those who are still alive wouldn’t remember Castiel at all.

He would have to start anew, without anyone’s help.

Castiel rubs at his face tiredly and looks up at Billie again. She’s watching him with a sad smile on her lips.

“How much time do I have to decide?”

✚✚✚

Castiel spends the next three days thinking.

Billie gave him time to consider everything and promised to be back to grant whatever wish he would choose. He never thought he would have to face such a hard choice in his life ever again. It seems impossible – both options have merits, but both have serious disadvantages, as well. For one, Castiel has no idea what could await him in the ‘next life’ Billie mentioned. And considering the fact that Dean hasn’t visited him for over a week, Castiel should stop imagining returning to life and spending it with Dean… no matter how much he hopes he could.

Deep in thought, Castiel barely pays any attention to what goes on around him. He misses at least two funerals and ignores the cat meowing at him. The cat keeps coming back to the mausoleum and running out again, and Castiel thinks he can hear him playing with something just outside the crypt, but he refuses to go out and join in on the fun.

Not anymore.

He walks outside at sundown and gazes towards the horizon, savouring each second, admiring the shadows and the golden rays, closing his eyes against the soft evening wind. The sky is clear for once, and Castiel is glad his last sunset on Earth turns out to be so calm and beautiful.

When he goes back inside the crypt and sits down, he’s ready.

Billie appears precisely on time, and the cat flees the second he sees her. Castiel sends him one last wave and stands up to greet the reaper.

“Hello, Castiel,” Billie says. “Glad to see you here. Have you made up your mind?”

Castiel doesn’t let his voice to waver. “Yes. I’ve decided to pass onto whatever is next for me,” he says.

Billie smiles, but it’s not particularly happy. “Of course.”

“Can I just ask—” When Billie doesn’t interrupt, he sighs heavily and continues. “I was just curious. What is the usual decision of the guardians that you visit? Do they often choose to go back to Earth?”

Billie shakes her head. “No, Castiel. It almost never happens.”

Something in Castiel’s chest tightens unpleasantly. He doesn’t need to ask for reasons — he has enough of them himself. Going back to Earth would be a terrible idea for someone like him. Someone so out of touch with reality, with humanity. It will be better for everyone, and mostly for him, to pass away. For good this time.

He takes a deep breath.

“Alright. I’m ready,” he says.

Billie nods and steps closer to him, one hand outstretched. “First, I’m going to have to remove your powers as a guardian,” she explains, voice steady. “It might feel strange, it might feel as if you stopped existing for a moment. You will no longer be tethered to this cemetery, and that sensation will last for as long as it takes to push you over to the next step.”

Castiel’s throat is dry when he speaks. “What will happen to my cemetery? Do you know who’s going to guard it after I’m gone?”

Billie sends him a small smile. “I will know soon enough,” she says. “For a little while, it will be unguarded — but don’t worry, it won’t take long for another soul to take your place.”

Castiel wants to say it doesn’t really makes him feel any better, but decides against it. Billie’s face looks calm and he forces himself to relax, too. If these are his final moments as the guardian of this cemetery, he wishes to spend them with his mind at peace.

“Shall we continue?” Billie asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Please, do it,” Castiel says and closes his eyes.

He feels Billie’s surprisingly warm hand cover his forehead and can’t help but gasp when a powerful force tugs at him, as if something wanted to let itself loose from inside of him. He struggles against it, but then Billie’s other hand touches his shoulder and squeezes lightly, urging him to let go.

He exhales, letting his body sag, and sets it free.

The world quiets around him. He feels light, weightless, unburdened. Without even opening his eyes, he knows he’s no longer in the crypt, but somewhere far, far away. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this relaxed, this at peace with everything that surrounds him. If this is what it feels like to be free of the Earth, he never wants to move forward. Staying right here, in this moment, in this place that feels like nothing he’s ever experienced, seems like the best closure he could wish for.

Billie’s touch on his shoulder grounds him, reminding him that this isn’t the end. Not yet.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Billie says quietly. Her voice echoes around Castiel, making him shiver with anticipation.

I’m ready, he thinks, and he knows Billie has heard him when he feels her hand on his forehead again.

“Safe travels, guardian,” Billie says.

Castiel smiles.

And that’s when he hears it.

It’s faint at first, as if coming from somewhere far away, from across the world… from beyond the grave. Castiel ignores it at first, bracing himself for Billie’s powers to send him over the edge.

But then the voice sounds louder, more desperate.

“Cas!”

Castiel opens his eyes.

He can’t see anything except for grey fog surrounding him. He can’t even see Billie, though he can still feel her touch. He’s not even sure his feet are touching the ground anymore.

But Dean’s voice sounds clear as a bell in his ears.

“Cas, are you here?”

“Dean,” Castiel whispers. And then he reaches out and catches Billie’s hand that’s resting on his head. “Wait. Please.”

“Castiel…?” Billie asks, voice shocked.

“Wait,” Castiel says, breathless.

He looks around, but still can’t see anything. He feels disconnected and unreal, but he knows now that Dean is down there, in his cemetery, looking for him. He came back.

“Castiel.” He feels Billie’s voice more than he hears it. “You have to stay focused.”

Castiel takes a shaky breath. Billie’s right. His decision is final, no matter what happens down on Earth. It shouldn’t matter to him that Dean is back. Castiel deserves peace, and this is what he’s going to get.

“Please continue,” he whispers, closing his eyes and ignoring the way something painful tugs at his heart.

Billie places both her hands on his head. That’s when he hears Dean’s scream.

His eyes fly open again, and there she is again, right in front of him. Billie stares down at him, face stony.

“Castiel,” she warns.

Castiel’s voice shakes. He shakes his head frantically, already noticing the details of the inside of the crypt shaping themselves in between the grey fog. He swears he hears the soles of his feet thump against the ground.

“I can’t,” he says. “I’ve got to go.”

“There’s no going back,” Billie says seriously.

Castiel hears Dean’s groan of pain just outside the crypt. He steps back, out of Billie’s reach.

“I have to help him,” he says quietly.

Billie heaves out a sigh. “There’s no going back,” she repeats. “You will never be a guardian again. This is your last chance.”

Something heavy bangs against the side of the mausoleum. Castiel feels strangely light as he meets Billie’s eyes one last time.

“Goodbye, Billie,” he says.

And then he runs out of the crypt.

His body feels clumsy and too big, but he’s light on his feet as he jumps down the stairs and rounds the building just in time to see a tall being throw Dean against the stony wall. Dean slides down to the ground with a groan and doesn’t move again.

Castiel lets out a cry and charges towards the creature.

It notices him at the last moment and tries to throw a punch at him, but Castiel hits it first. With an inhuman yelp, it crumbles to the ground, only to rise up just as quickly, its enormous teeth bared. Castiel is ready, though, and he uses all of his strength to push the creature down to the ground again.

He hears Dean call out his name weakly, but he can’t afford to look away from the thing currently thrashing against him. With a loud groan, Castiel punches its head repeatedly, but isn’t strong enough to stop the creature from lunging up at him and tackling him to the ground instead.

Teeth snap dangerously close to his throat, the creature’s yellow eyes shining furiously. Castiel scrambles beneath the werewolf, but can barely move under its weight and rage. What he can do, though, is reach out, grab the closest rock from the ground, and smash it into the monster’s head. With a shocked whimper, the werewolf falls back down.

Castiel has mere seconds to recover and try to attack before Dean calls out his name again.

“Stay where you are!” Dean orders, and then Castiel watches in horror as he jumps at the werewolf and sinks a knife deep in the monster’s chest. The werewolf howls, jerks its limbs, and freezes beneath Dean’s hands.

Only then does Castiel dare to breathe out and sit down on the grass.

Dean throws the knife to the ground and swirls to look at Castiel. He looks alarmed, but unharmed.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Castiel huffs out a quiet laugh and slowly stands up. “A little bruised, probably, but otherwise fine.”

Dean stares at him, speechless for a long moment, and then shakes his head. “Why— What just happened? I don’t understand.”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder, not brave enough to come closer, even though he really wants to. “I think we just killed a werewolf.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “but why?”

Castiel frowns. “How do you mean? I believe it was a silver knife. I’m really happy you happened to have it on you.”

Dean shakes his head again. “But Cas, why was it even here? I thought you said there were no monsters in your cemetery. What was it doing here?”

Castiel looks down. He realises the monster must have been here for a few days now, but Castiel was too distant to realise the danger. That’s probably why the cat seemed so agitated recently. And when Billie took away Castiel’s powers, the werewolf suddenly felt free to attack. It was the worst of luck that he stumbled upon Dean, almost entirely defenseless, just when Castiel left.

When Castiel doesn’t answer, Dean steps closer and asks again, “What was it doing here, Cas? And why didn’t you use your powers to stop it?”

Castiel looks up at him with a sad smile. “A lot has changed since you were here last, Dean,” he says quietly.

Dean frowns. “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, the realisation falls on Castiel heavy as the stone he used to fight the monster: he’s human now. His chance to leave is gone. He has no way of contacting Billie again.

His knees buckle tiredly. Dean rushes over to him and catches him just when he’s about to fall back to the ground again.

“Cas?” Dean asks, voice worried. “What happened? Talk to me, buddy.”

Dean helps him limp towards the crypt’s stairs and sits him down. Castiel looks up and pats the place beside him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean asks as he lowers himself beside Castiel.

Castiel sighs heavily. “More or less. I will be okay, I think. It’s just a lot to process.”

“What is?” Dean asks.

Castiel sends him a small smile. “I’m not a guardian anymore, Dean.”

Dean blinks, and then his eyes widen. “You chose life?” he asks, shocked.

Castiel baulks. “What— How do you know about that?”

“My research!” Dean says. “That’s actually why I came here in the first place. I found more lore about you, Cas, and I realised your time must be coming to an end, what with the way you behaved and how you chose to hang out around your grave all the time.”

“My grave,” Castiel repeats, looking up at the name inscribed in the stone above them. “How did you know it was my grave?”

Dean smiles. “Told you: research. You can find a lot on the Internet these days, believe it or not.”

“So you know about the reaper?” Castiel asks.

“The reaper?” Dean frowns. “I dunno. There weren’t many details in the lore, to be honest. But I managed to find out that guardians tend to disappear from time to time, never to be seen again. I also found out some stuff about guardians coming back to life… As you can probably imagine, it was pretty hard to believe.” Dean meets his eyes and slowly shakes his head. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” Castiel confirms.

“And you basically saved my life,” Dean adds.

Castiel can’t help himself — he reaches out and gently touches Dean’s hand, just to make sure they are both really here. “I didn’t. You killed the monster, not me.”

“But you helped, a lot,” Dean says. His green eyes are wide and smiling when they stare at Castiel’s face. “It was awesome. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be talking right now.”

Dean’s hand shifts and closes over Castiel’s fingers, slowly, hesitantly.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he says.

Castiel takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t supposed to be,” he says quietly.

He can’t keep it secret, he doesn’t want to. What felt like a wasted chance just a few moments ago is starting to bloom into something more exciting, something hopeful, as he holds Dean’s hand and looks into his eyes.

“What?” Dean asks. “What do you mean?”

Castiel lets out a sigh. “I almost said yes. I was inside, with Billie, the reaper, ready to go away, when I heard your voice.”

Dean’s face stays carefully blank. “You… wanted to go away?”

Castiel looks away, over at the familiar display of tombstones bathed in the soft darkness. He smiles to himself.

“I didn’t want to. But I felt it was the only reasonable choice for me,” he says.

“How so?” Dean asks carefully.

“I’m alone, Dean,” Castiel says. “I’ve been dead for over forty years and I have no idea how to function in today’s world. Going away felt like the safest and most reasonable option.”

Dean swallows loudly. “What about me? You thought I would just leave you?”

“You barely know me, Dean,” Castiel says, even though he can feel something warm and wonderful spreading inside his chest. He smiles when he looks into Dean’s eyes. “And I would never expect you to throw your life away just to look after me.”

“We’re friends,” Dean says, voice certain. “I wouldn’t be throwing my life away, I would be inviting you into it.”

Castiel sighs deeply. “Dean…”

Dean lets go of Castiel’s hand and turns away slowly. “But this is wrong.”

Castiel freezes. “Dean?”

“I can’t do it now,” Dean says. Castiel feels his heart stop in his chest at his words. “Not when I know you could be at peace now instead of being stuck here with me just because I couldn’t take care of myself.”

“What are you talking about?” Castiel asks.

Dean doesn’t meet his eyes. “You said it, Cas. You were ready to leave but you heard me and gave it up. I can’t— I don’t know if I can—”

“Dean,” Castiel breathes out. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and touches Dean’s face. “Please look at me.”

Dean looks up, but it’s cautious.

“That’s not what I meant. This was my choice, Dean. I didn’t hesitate. I heard you and I knew — I knew — I had to see you again. I waited for you but you never showed, so I thought it would be best to leave. But then you came back and I just couldn’t waste that chance.”

“You waited?” Dean repeats, voice small.

Castiel nods. “I’m sorry for what happened the last time we saw each other. I never meant for you to leave.”

“I didn’t,” Dean says. “Not forever. It’s just. My dad called me, out of nowhere, so I went to him and I thought it would do us good to just spend some time apart. But then I read all that stuff about the guardians and I got scared that you would actually leave. Turns out I was right.”

“But I’m here,” Castiel says. He moves to withdraw his hand, but Dean catches it and presses it against his face.

“You are,” Dean says quietly. “You really are.”

“And I’m happy,” Castiel says. He needs Dean to understand. “I would never choose anything over this.”

“You wouldn’t?” Dean asks hopefully.

“No,” Castiel says. “Now, Dean, please know that I don’t want to burden you. I know I said I don’t know anyone or anything, but it doesn’t mean you will have to take care of me. I will leave you alone if you want. I wouldn’t want to impede on your life—”

Dean makes a low sound deep in his throat, then strengthens his grip on Castiel’s hand, moves forward, and places a kiss on Castiel’s lips.

Castiel sighs, surprised, but then immediately melts into it, his other hand moving up to cradle Dean’s head. Dean hums happily and winds his arms around Castiel’s waist to pull him in closer.

“You’re not gonna impede on anything,” he murmurs when they break apart. “And you’re not leaving me alone.”

Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s, eyes never leaving Dean’s. “Alright.”

“I’m not saying we should, like, move in together or something,” Dean says, the tips of his ears turning pink. Castiel leans in and brushes his lips against Dean’s. “But we should definitely hang out. Like, all the time.”

“Whatever you want,” Castiel whispers into the space between their lips. “I don’t really have any other ideas anyway.”

“I’ll tell you all about hunting,” Dean says. “Even though you seem to have a pretty good grasp on it already.”

“That’s your doing,” Castiel says. “I spent a lot of time watching you hunt.”

“Oh, right,” Dean murmurs. “I’ll also tell you all about my brother and dad and all. They’re actually a reason I was here in the first place, so I guess it’s kinda important.”

Castiel closes his eyes and lets his head fall against Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dean says with a laugh while his fingers comb softly through Castiel’s hair. “You may end up regretting it all.”

“I won’t,” Castiel says.

Dean doesn’t answer, just hugs Castiel closer to his chest. They stay like that for a long moment, happy to be in each other’s presence, unbothered by anything supernatural or human. Castiel revels in the feeling of Dean’s strong arms around him and can’t believe he actually gets to have it now. Weeks ago, he would have never dreamt of such an ending. Today, he can’t imagine anything better.

At least not until something soft brushes against his leg. With a quiet gasp, he pulls out of Dean’s embrace and looks down.

The cat stares up at him, his dark eyes wide and unafraid. With a chuckle, Castiel reaches down and takes the cat into his arms.

“And you said you’d be alone,” Dean says.

Castiel looks at him and is relieved to see him smiling. He smiles back, especially when the cat arches up and brushes his head against Castiel’s face.

“I think I’m going to keep him,” Castiel says. He worried he would never see the cat again, either, and is relieved to see him respond so well to him even in his newly human form.

It’s even better when the cat starts purring.

“You can do whatever you want now,” Dean says. Castiel lifts his eyes to him and they both smile. “Welcome back, Cas.”

Castiel reaches out and takes Dean’s hand.

He thinks he’s going to like it here, after all.