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They arrive late at night.
It’s after a hunt, Sam is compromised - sick in the bunker - so it’s just Dean and Cas driving the long, empty roads. They’re hunting a pair of ghouls in Illinois, cruising down the back roads after they’ve finished, the thin light of the crescent moon perched on the horizon leading them down the broken pavement when-
“Stop.” Cas’s voice has Dean slamming on the breaks, looking around wildly until he spots it.
Halted in the middle of the road, they stare at an old barn, roof hanging on by a couple of nails, door half-open.
“Is that..?” Dean asks, but Cas nods and that’s all it takes for him to swerve onto the path, dirtying Baby as they bump down the gravel driveway and come screeching to a halt in front of it.
Cas is out of the Impala before Dean even has it turned off, sprinting towards the cracked doors with an expression the hunter can’t quite identify. He throws the car into park and darts out after him, spitting an apology out over his shoulder as the door closes harder than he intends. He chases after Cas in a haze of some sort of glee, a smile breaking out on his face that he can’t seem to stop, pausing at the entrance next to Cas to catch his breath. They exchange a glance and Cas pushes the door open even more, so they can both stare inside.
The moon lights up the inside of the barn as the door opens wider, revealing the markings scrawled on the walls, worn and faded, but just as chaotic as the day they were first painted. There is an air of reverence, like something big has happened and this ground won’t ever be the same, even if it has been years. This reverence is broken, however, as Cas steps inside, stirring up dust and leaving a new footprint in soil that has lain untouched for such a long time. He takes another step, looking back at Dean with imploring blue eyes, holding out his hand for the hunter to take. Dean, seemingly frozen at the edge, takes the angel’s hand, crossing the thresh hold and disturbing the soil even more.
They stand there, hand in hand, haloed by the moon for just a second, appreciating it for what it was, who they were then, and how far they’ve come.
“So, this is us, huh?” Dean says, words trailing into the empty air, hanging like a promise, dangling like a memory just out of reach and painting the walls with intent.
Blue eyes trace the edges of the room with something like regret. “I suppose it is. A lot has changed.” It sounds sad and remorseful to Dean.
He doesn’t like it.
“Hey, watch this,” Dean says, mirth dancing in his eyes, pulling away from Cas as he goes back outside, hiding behind one of the doors. Cas watches curiously, unsure what his hunter is going to do.
It takes a couple of seconds, but he hears Dean clear his throat, then walk around the edge of the door again, dawning a stern look. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” Dean says, his voice two octaves lower than it is normally and Cas laughs. This must’ve been the reaction Dean was going for because as soon as he hears it, he drops the act and joins in laughing as well. “Like, what the fuck, man.” Dean laughs, resting a hand on Cas’s shoulder to steady himself. “I don’t even know what that means. You were such a tight ass, anyway.” Dean continues, a bit more serious. “I like you much better now.”
Cas’s laughter trails off and he regards Dean with a similar tone. “Thank you.” And then, with a bit more playfulness. “Does this mean I should stab you in the chest?” He lets his angel blade slip into his hands, holding it up and waving it in the moonlight with a smirk.
Dean chuckles. “Hard pass,” and they devolve giggles once more. The angel blade gets tucked safely back away and Cas is drug into a searing kiss by the lapels of his trenchcoat.
“I have an idea,” Cas says when Dean pulls away to breathe. “Perhaps we could leave a more updated marking,” he suggests, fiddling in the deep pockets of his trenchcoat to withdraw a sharpie marker.
“What were you thinking?” Dean asks, and in lew of a proper response, Cas takes his hand once more and drags him deeper into the barn.
Barely lit by the silver light of the moon, Cas finds a gap between all the markings and places his hand on the cool metal. Dean watches curiously as he traces around it with the sharpie and scribbles something in the middle. He then hands the marker to Dean and takes a step back, leaving room for the hunter to add something next to it. He stares at what Cas had written in the middle of the handprint but it’s in Enochian and Dean wonders if it’s so no one else could understand it. He adds a heart next to the handprint, writing: D+C and the current date in the middle, feeling a bit like a high schooler with a crush, but as he hands the marker back to Cas, the angel smiles and Dean doesn’t feel so stupid anymore.
“What’s with the Enochian?” He asks, wrapping his arm around the angel’s waist as he pockets the marker once more.
“I simply cannot express our bond in English,” Cas says as if it’s nothing and Dean feels a little overwhelmed. “There’s just too much to say and not enough words to say it.”
“Wow, Cas,” Dean says, hating how watery his voice sounds. “I love you too.”