Work Text:
Freedom was supposed to feel better than this.
Chuck wasn’t writing the story anymore.
Everyone he zapped away was returned.
But freedom felt more like the darkest night—shapeless, vast, lonely.
And no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn’t see the light.
They started with a road trip—just them and the open road, no one telling them what to do or how to do it.
That lasted a day and a half before Dean had to do something.
So they found a hunt.
As they confronted a nest of vamps in a rundown barn, though, Dean felt the futility in it all. The foolishness. Why were they even dealing with these things anymore? And so he said it.
“You know, guys, God’s been writing you as the enemy for years now, makin’ us hunt you down and kill you. But that guy’s gone now. Why are we doing this? Why don’t we agree to leave each other alone? As long as you don’t hurt anyone, we’re good. Thoughts?”
The vamps stared at him, and Dean stared blankly back, the exhaustion of another day, another hunt too much for him now. He hoped with all his being that they agreed because he didn’t think he could take any more.
They agreed.
Dean walked away, eyes trained on the floor so he wouldn’t have to take in the surroundings that reminded him much too much of Cas.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Fine,” Dean lied, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I’m peachy. Where to?”
They ended up on a road trip again, but this time with a purpose. Ostensibly, it was to check on their friends and to do the things they never got to do when they were saving people and hunting things—eating at restaurants with leather-bound menus, visiting stupid museums that Sam wanted to see, overpaying for movie tickets, and staying at motels that were slightly better than their usual (they deserved the pool, damn it). Really, it was just an excuse to keep Dean from thinking. It didn’t work for long, so Dean inevitably turned to what did. He drank from the time they stopped for the night until he passed out and sometimes in between.
Yet his brother still asked him if he was fine. And Dean still answered that he was.
“We could...I mean, you can talk to—”
“No.”
Sam sighed harshly. “He was my friend, too.”
Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. His jaw ached; his eyes burned. “I already told you.”
“You didn’t tell me everything.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to tell.”
“Your denial only tells me that there is.”
“Well, maybe what I got to say isn’t for you.”
A pause, then, “Dean—”
“Leave it. Now where are we going?”
Sam cleared his throat. “Okay. Um, Eileen texted me. She’s ready to see me, so I was hoping maybe we could—”
“Fine. Great. Let’s go.”
“If you don’t want to—”
“No, it’s great. You should see her. Let’s go.”
Dean felt eyes on him, but his own attentions were far, far away.
This heartfelt reunion was the worst one yet.
After all the hugs (he swears he’s never hugged so much in his entire life), most of their friends expressed relief that it was over. A few of them didn’t even realize they’d been poofed away. But Eileen...she knew the terror of being separated from the man she loved, the man she thought was destined to be killed by Chuck, and now she knew the joy of being with him again and she was telling and showing him, in no uncertain terms, how she felt. Sam was, of course, reciprocating.
He was happy for his brother.
But Dean could feel neither joy nor relief. He wasn’t even lucky enough to be oblivious.
He only felt the pain of an open wound that couldn’t close.
“Hi Dean,” Eileen greeted him. Her eyes were soft, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She knew. Sam must’ve told her.
“Hi Eileen.” He mustered a wave and a tight smile.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. What else was there to say? Everyone was sorry. But no one could do a damn thing about it.
Dean only made it two drunken nights before he couldn’t take it anymore.
They were so in love. They cooked together, drank (moderately) together, sat close together. He hadn’t seen his brother smile like that in years. Maybe ever.
Sam deserved it. And this was his chance to finally have it.
So in the morning, he packed his bag.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked when he dropped it by the door.
“Not we. Me.” He poured himself a cup of coffee, then plopped into a chair, exhausted even though he just woke up.
“Oh.” He swore he heard relief in Sam’s voice, and he sure as hell didn’t blame him. “Where are you going, then?”
“Don’t know. Somewhere.”
Sam, clad only in sweatpants, leaned back against the counter. “You sure you’re in shape to go off on your own right now?”
Dean looked up from his coffee. “I’m great.” He tipped his head with a smile as he lifted his cup. “The world’s not ending, Jack is God, Rowena’s got Hell on lock, we’re free, you’re happy. What else could I want?”
Sam frowned. “To be happy?”
“Yeah, well, can’t have everything.” He dropped his smile and stared at his coffee again. It was dark, like his mood, like his thoughts, like the Empty goo that—
He stood and dumped the coffee into the sink. The cup rattled against the stainless steel tub as it followed the drink.
“Dean.”
“What?” He gripped the edge of the sink as he glared at the drain. The drain, dark, bottomless, swallowing it up, swallowing HIM up—
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk, Sam.”
“You do this all the time, you shut me out. If you’d just talk—”
“I can’t talk. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Dean whirled on him. “You remember what you said when we found out Eileen was gone, huh? That if you let yourself go there, you’d lose your mind? This is me trying not to lose my friggin’ mind.” He rubbed his cheek, then his hair, pulling at it to distract himself.
Sam shuffled closer. “Whatever Cas did to save you, I’m sure he did because he wanted to.”
Dean blinked rapidly, choking back tears. I’ll go with you. I’ve got you. I love you. “Yeah. I know. Tell Eileen I said bye, okay?” He pushed away from the sink, headed for the door.
“Dean, wait.” Sam grabbed his arm.
“What?” he barked, eyeing at the bag at his feet, itching to get away.
“I—I don’t know what to say to make it better. I can’t, I guess. But you said he saved your life. He gave you the chance to be happy.”
Meeting his brother's eyes, he croaked, “Happy? He’s dead and I’m supposed to be happy? He told me…” Dean gritted his teeth and shook his head. “He told me things, and I couldn’t say anything back, and it wouldn’t have mattered because we didn’t have time. I didn’t need a chance. We needed a chance. And we didn’t get one.”
Realization dawned on Sam’s face. “Dean.”
Dean swallowed and turned away. If he could just get out of here, if Sam would just let him go and stop breathing like that and looking at him like that and making that little noise like that, Dean could put in some miles, find some liquor, and forget his biggest regret again.
Sam squeezed his bicep. “Dean. If he lo—”
“He did. And he was happy about it. The dumb son of a bitch was happy just to say it. To feel it. To save me again. Even he got to be happy. But me? Not even close. Guess Chuck got what he wanted after all.”
Dean bent down to pick up his bag, gave his brother a quick hug and a “call me if you need to,” and didn’t look back.
He didn’t want his brother to see him cry.
The open road used to bring him comfort.
It was his home, after all.
But it wasn’t home anymore.
He thought back to his father telling him he never wanted him to stay in this life, and he got angry. He never wanted to be in this life. Chuck put him in it, and everyone played their roles.
Everyone but Cas.
Dean stepped on the gas a little harder.
He found himself in a little town that seemed to have its priorities straight—they sold liquor right at the grocery store. He grabbed some Jim Beam and a package of chicken tenders sitting under a heat lamp and took them back to the first seedy motel he could find.
He stayed there for five days. Or six. He really didn’t know anymore. And did it really matter? After all, he was free.
Sam texted him. Of course he did.
Other friends did, too, probably prompted by Sam.
But there was only one person he wanted to talk to, and he couldn’t.
He went back to the bunker.
It was home, and it was the last place he saw Cas.
He put on his jacket with the bloody handprint he couldn’t bear to wash. Not yet. Though he knew that even when he did, the stain would remain.
Just like the stain on his heart.
He drank a lot. He watched horror movies. He listened to music. But not that music. Not that mix.
And eventually, he wandered to the last place he ever saw Cas. The last place he heard his voice. The last place he remembered his heart beating.
“I hate you,” he whispered to the room. “I hate you, Chuck. I hate you and your shitty ending of eternal suffering and loneliness. I hate you and your stupid plot. I hate how even though you lost, I lost, too. I hate that you get to grow old, and get sick, and you’ll die, forgotten and alone. Because I’m gonna be you.”
A sob wrenched free from deep in Dean’s chest.
“I don’t get to write my own ending.”
Dean wept.
Sam was doing well, he said.
He asked how Dean was doing.
Dean said he was doing much better.
There were a few days when he got hopeful. He had an entire supernatural library around him, after all. There had to be a way to get to the Empty and get Cas back, right?
He couldn’t find one.
He plunged back into despair.
Hello darkness, my old friend.
In a last-ditch effort, he prayed to Jack, because what else did he have left, really?
“Hey, kid...uh, Jack...uh, whatever we call you now. So, uh, it’s weird to pray to you when I saw you naked after you were born and taught you how to drive. And I guess after how I treated you, I don’t really deserve to ask you for anything. But, uh, Cas did this thing for you to save you and I, I hoped maybe you could save him. From the Empty. I mean, I know he made a deal, but you’re God, right? Phenomenal cosmic powers and all. So I figured, you know, you could help. I mean, we both know that Cas got screwed, right? He always gets screwed. He always…” Dean trailed off as his throat began to tighten. He wiped his eyes. “I don’t know if you have eternal knowledge of everything that happened through all of time now that you’re God, but if not, uh, here’s what you need to know. See, Cas, he’s never done what he was supposed to. He always did stuff to help me, to help the world. And he told me that was because I loved the world, that I changed him, but...but he...he rebelled. He chose love. And look where it got him. And I don’t think that’s right. So, if you can help, please...please help. If not for me—and hell, I wouldn’t blame you for that—then for him, because he doesn’t deserve what he got.”
There was no answer.
Until there was.
The answer came to him the following morning, a heart-thought he stumbled on in the hour of sobriety he forced himself to have each day before he allowed himself to escape again.
It couldn’t be that simple, he thought as he filled his belly with coffee and toast.
But maybe it was.
He tried to talk himself out of his newfound optimism, out of his far-fetched hope that this would actually work. But through his breakfast, through his shower, through his walk down to the room where Dean spent days reliving his worst nightmare, he couldn’t shake the rightness of this plan.
Jack told him once that he overheard Dean and Sam arguing and it caused him to reach out to Cas in the Empty, which woke him up. Cas then “annoyed” the Shadow until it kicked him back to Earth. They always thought it was Jack’s natural abilities that allowed him to reach out to Cas, but what if...what if that ability had to be fueled by something? Maybe it was guilt, but in Dean’s experience, guilt didn’t bring good things. So what if that fuel wasn’t guilt, but was Dean’s own feelings for Cas, channeled through Jack?
And what if he could do that again on his own?
Cas said that happiness wasn’t in the having, it was in the being, in the saying. Speaking the truth out loud. He seemed to be right, because the smile on his face, the relief and utter contentment he felt radiating off Cas, it was beautiful. It felt like freedom.
Maybe Dean’s freedom could free Cas.
Dean stood in the center of the room. He took a few breaths. Then he spoke.
“Cas, I love you.”
Nothing happened…nothing except that the pressure around his heart abated...and tears slipped from his eyes...and he smiled for the first time in a long time.
It really was freedom to say it.
“I love you.”
He swallowed.
“I love you.”
He took in a big gulp of air and released it slowly through pursed lips.
Cas didn’t show up.
Dean got angry, throwing the lone chair against the wall.
But then he remembered— It's in the being. It’s in just saying it.
Anger was not all he knew. He could be loving. He could say loving things.
Though for him, it wasn’t just in the being, or in the saying. It was in the doing.
So he could do loving things, too.
He felt his love for Cas inside him neutralizing the anger, burning it out.
He’d come back and try again tomorrow. And tomorrow. And every tomorrow, until he got Cas back. He would be. He would say. He would do his best, because when people had to be their best, they could be. Just like Jack said.
He would save Cas.
*
“I said I’d never do this. Never fall in love. It was too dangerous. But sometimes you can’t help it. Sometimes someone comes along and makes you wanna break all the rules. Someone comes along and makes you want to fight harder, keep trying, open yourself up, change. Sometimes someone sees you so deeply that you...that you see yourself differently. That’s you, Cas. You’re that someone. You’re my someone.”
*
“You said that you wanted something you couldn't have. And maybe, if you’d asked me years ago, I would’ve told you that was true. But not for the reason you probably think. I am...um, I’m bisexual. Can’t believe I even said that out loud, but hell, this is my story, right? So yeah. It wasn’t a thing I could admit to myself easily, growing up in the time I did and in the life I did. And sometimes...well, I had to do stuff, Cas, when money got tight and Dad was gone. I had to do stuff that I didn’t wanna do, but my feelings...they confused me. Being with a guy was something I was supposed to have to do, and when those times came when I was attracted to one, I...I didn’t know what to do with it. So, like everything else, I pushed it down. But I am...I am bi. So yeah, a few years ago I would’ve told you we couldn’t, but not because I wasn’t attracted to guys...to you, in particular. I would’ve told you that because it took me a long time to come to terms with it. But I think I’m good. I’m good now.”
He shivered as sweat pooled under his arms and along his hairline. But he smiled, too, because it was really out there. He said it.
“And the other thing was...well, you know how I saw myself. How could I be with anyone when I was like that? When I was so angry? When I was a killer? I tried it once and it didn’t go well. I was there, but I wasn’t really there with her, with them. I knew it then, and I know it even more now, ‘cause what you and I have…”
Dean’s breath caught on a sob as he sunk to the floor.
“...What you and I had...what we could’ve had...it’s my biggest regret, Cas. I wasted so much time being angry, denying myself, denying both of us. I wasted so much time.”
*
“If—when you come back to me, I promise...I promise I’ll show you every day. Fight, Cas. If you love me, fight. And I’ll keep fighting for you.”
*
“Brought my laptop today to watch a movie. You remember Tombstone, right? Yeah, that one. ‘I’m your huckleberry.’ Yeah. You know, you could see this a lot better if you found your way out of that black tar.
“Heh. When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the La Brea Tar Pits. Ice Age fossils and shit, you know? Never did go. We could do that. Guess you probably saw ‘em when they were still walkin’ around, though, so. That’s okay. We’ll do whatever you want once I get you back. Because I’m gonna get you back.”
*
Sam came home with Eileen.
He asked him how he was doing.
Dean admitted he wasn’t doing well, but he was going to keep going. He wasn’t giving up. He would never give up.
Sam and Eileen offered to do more research. Dean accepted.
*
“Cas? Cas, we can’t find a spell or anything. It’s on you and me to do this.”
*
“Damn it, Cas, it’s not fair that you got to say it and I didn’t. Get back here so I can kick your ass.”
*
“Jackkkk…he said he’s...in ev’rything, he’s...in our hearts...and...I thought m-maybe…you were...I could find you in...m’heart…”
*
“I love you.”
Dean sobbed.
“Damn it, I love you and I won’t give up on you. I have faith.”
*
“Okay, Cas, I brought some food and the chessboard. Kind of a date night. Yeah, I know, I have an unfair advantage, but maybe I’ll go easy on you. Probably not, though.” Dean grinned. “So—”
The chess pieces rattled as the entire room shook. Dean got to his feet quickly, brandishing a gun, though he knew immediately that his gun would have no power over the thing forming in front of him. The vague, oily humanoid form became...him.
“Stop,” it hissed. “You’re making it loud, and I want to sleep. I need to sleep.”
This had to be the Shadow. Dean jutted his chin defiantly. “No.”
“It won’t work.”
“It is working. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
The Shadow folded its arms. “He’s mine.”
“No,” Dean growled. “He’s mine.”
It snarled. “Why are you doing this?”
“For love, like I’ve done everything else in my life. For Cas. For our happy ending.”
“You don’t deserve a happy ending. You’re nothing but a—”
“I know what I am and who I am. Cas told me. So don’t bother.”
“He doesn’t want you.”
“Yes, he does. Listen, Fake Me, you can’t say anything I haven’t said to myself already, so like I said, don’t bother.”
For a long time, the Shadow simply stared at him. “I should kill you. Just to shut you up.”
“You can’t. You would’ve done it already if you could.” That was a shot in the dark, but it was all he had.
“You can’t keep it up forever. Eventually, you’ll grow tired of waiting around for a ghost.”
“I won’t. I’ll do this every day until I die. And if you think I won’t, man, you don’t know me at all.” He prowled toward the figure wearing his face. “In fact, I’ll do it more. I’ll ramp things right up until it’s so loud, I’ll wake up not only him, but everyone. And once Cas is awake...well, I hear he’s kind of annoying. Won’t shut up. Loud.”
The Shadow’s jaw twitched.
Dean refrained from cheering. Instead, he continued, “Or hey, I could take him off your hands and it’ll be quiet again. Nice and quiet.”
“We made a deal.”
“You’re a cosmic being, you can break a deal, can’t you? You made it. Break it.”
The Shadow shook its head. “You Winchesters are a pain in my metaphorical ass, you know that?” It turned and opened a dark portal in the wall, the same portal Cas had been sucked into. “If you can find him and wake him, you can take him.” It smirked. “Don’t get lost.”
And with that, Dean was shoved into the abyss.
“Dark” didn’t begin to describe it.
But Dean knew dark.
“Cas?” he shouted.
His call echoed back at him.
“Dean!”
Dean turned toward his brother’s voice. “What the hell—”
“I came to check on you and saw...uh, you throw you into here.”
“You should’ve stayed back.”
“After all you’ve done for me? No way. We’re gonna find Cas and bring him home.”
And with a mutual nod, they kept going.
“Cas!”
Dean didn’t know how long they searched before he thought to turn on the figurative flashlight.
“Cas? Come on, man. We gotta talk. We got a life to live together, and it ain’t gonna be in this friggin’ funhouse. You gotta throw me a line, man. Where are you?”
Like heat coming from the sidewalk, the air shimmered, and soon he was faced with himself again—this time with Cas. A conversation from long ago played out before them.
“For what it’s worth, I’d give anything not to have you do this.”
He turned to Sam. “We’re close.”
Sam nodded.
They waded through what had to be Cas’ memories—Leviathan, Cas’ time as God, working with Crowley.
And then.
“What the hell?” he muttered as he stepped around multitudes of himself dead on the floor. “Cas? Cas, whatever this is, you didn’t do this. I’m here, I’m alive because of you, and I’m coming to get you. Show me how to get to you.”
A faint “Dean?” echoed through the dark.
Cas.
“We’re comin’, Cas! Keep calling, all right?”
“Dean!” he heard again, more determined now.
They trampled through bad decisions, fights, and longing looks that made Dean pause. Denial made him so blind. Not anymore.
“Keep yelling, Cas! Make it loud!” he shouted.
Cas’ voice did indeed get louder and louder until...there. He was right there.
And so was the Shadow, in his face and screaming for Cas to shut up.
“Cas!”
Cas turned. “Dean!”
“You’re nothing but a failure,” the Shadow hissed at Cas, grabbing his chin to get his attention. “You have failed, you will keep failing, he doesn’t want—”
“Cas! Don’t listen to that. Listen to me. I know you don’t always see yourself in the best light. But you aren’t the awful things you think, trust me. You aren’t your failures. You’re good. You’re the best guy I’ve ever known. You always try to do what’s right, and you did everything you did for love, just like I did. There’s nothing greater than that.”
“Don’t listen to—”
“And just in case you didn’t know, in case you couldn’t hear me, I love you. It’s how I got here. I love you enough to make some noise in here. So come with me. Come home with me.”
“I—I don’t know if I—”
“Don’t make me pull out some ‘we can do anything with the power of love’ shit. Come on.”
“But—but my deal—”
“Broken. Know why? ‘Cause otherwise we’re gonna make Fake Me so miserable that it’ll never be able to sleep again.” He turned toward the entity. “Right?”
The Shadow arched a brow. “Very well. But first…” It tore at Cas’ jugular and sucked out the blue light that emanated from him, then shoved him into the void. “And don’t come back,” it said to the space left behind
“What’d you do?” Sam shouted while Dean stood there, horrified, mouth agape.
“He’s fine. I’m sure he’ll call. But do me a favor and don’t call me again.”
Then they were hurtling through space.
Dean’s phone was ringing as he opened his eyes. He pawed at his jacket and pants until he found it. With only a second of hesitation (because what if it wasn’t him, what if it was one of their friends, or something about some new monster, or what if everything was just a drunken dream and he’s lying in his own vomit), he looked at the display.
Quickly, he pressed the phone to his ear. “Cas?”
“Dean? I’m...back.”
Dean blew a relieved breath into the speaker. “Talk to me.”
A few minutes later, he raced out of the house, coordinates in hand and a promise to call Sam on his lips (“I gotta do this alone, Sammy”).
He’d never driven so fast in his life.
Hours later, he pulled alongside a field. A figure stood up.
Cas.
And though he’d driven fast, he ran even faster. Soon, Cas was in his arms, shaking but here.
“You saved me,” Cas whispered.
Dean leaned back just enough to look at Cas properly. “What? You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”
Cas shot him a dour look that did nothing to disguise the fondness and gratitude in his eyes.
“You’ve saved me over and over, Cas. Just payin’ one back.”
“No repayment was necessary.”
“Yeah, well, I needed you back here so I could kick your ass properly.”
At that, the slight smile Cas had been wearing dropped and he began to back away, but Dean held him firmly.
“Tellin’ me you love me right before you’re about to die? Not cool, man. Didn’t even give me a chance to say it back.”
He wetted his lips. “Dean, you—you know what kind of love I meant, ri—”
“Yeah, Cas. Me too. Me too. You can have what you want.”
Cas’ mouth and eyes widened. “I didn’t know.”
“I know. Maybe it’s time we stop hiding things from each other, huh?”
Cas nodded, then replied, “It’s not that I wanted to hide it. I—I didn’t think you felt that way about me. I thought I was your...your brother.”
Dean huffed. “Yeah, well, I had stuff to work out in myself. Plus, I didn’t think angels exactly got the whole falling in love thing. I mean, I knew it happened once or twice, but I thought those were the exception. Though I guess you’ve always been the exception too, huh? Didn’t do what you were told, crack in your chassis, all that. But even with all that, falling in love with me...I mean, come on. Didn’t seem possible. And then to find out God was orchestrating my whole life...I didn’t know what was real.” Dean bumped his forehead against Cas’. “But then you told me. You told me what was real.”
Tears welled in Cas’ eyes, but he was smiling and here and no one was going to take him away. “I’m glad you believed me.” He pressed a chilled hand against Dean’s chest. “I can...have what I want?”
“Yeah. I love you, Cas. And we got nothin’ to stop us now. We’re free.”
Cas gasped. “Chuck, he’s been...neutralized? It’s over?”
“Yeah. It’s over.”
“So you came for me…”
“For you. Only you. Because this angel told me once that good things happen, and I thought, you know, he’s right, but sometimes we gotta make ‘em happen.”
Cas nodded, then asked, “Jack?”
“He’s God now.”
“Oh,” Cas uttered, confused. “I missed some things.”
Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, a few. I’ll catch you up in the car, okay? And I’ll fill you in on all the stuff I said to you while you were on the other side, ‘cause I want you to hear it. But first…” He slid a hand against Cas’ jaw and asked permission with his eyes. Cas granted it by leaning in. Neither was breathing as their lips touched, then sealed together.
They held each other tenderly and reverently as their mouths moved against one another’s for the first time. It was monumental, transcendental...and normal. Right. The most authentic and alive Dean’s felt in years. Maybe ever.
When they parted, they were both smiling.
“I’m cold, Dean.”
The light. His grace. He’s human.
Guilt weighed down Dean’s heart. He still got screwed.
“The Shadow took your grace. That was the cost of breaking the deal. Cas, I’m—”
“If you’re about to apologize, I will kick your ass.”
His squinty, deadpan delivery buoyed Dean, just a little. “But—”
“Dean, I would have chosen this anyway. What I want is to be with you, to grow old with you and share a heaven with you when this life is over. That’s what I want my story to be.”
Bright hopefulness filled Dean’s chest. “Now that’s a story I wanna be in.” He kissed him once more, gently, then rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you warmed up, all right?”
He guided Cas to Baby and helped him in, then slid in beside him in the driver’s seat. “What d’you say to a motel tonight, huh? And then tomorrow, we can go wherever the road takes us.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah. I wanna introduce you to the pleasures of being human.”
Cas raised his brows. Dean twisted his mouth as heat filled his cheeks.
“I meant nachos and sweatpants and stuff.”
“Hmm. Well, I look forward to sharing all of the pleasures of being human with you.”
Dean side-eyed Cas, who was smiling softly at him, amusement dancing in his entire being. He smiled back, thinking about all the pleasures he’ll finally get to feel, too, pleasures that never felt all that pleasurable before but had so much potential now. “How do you feel about umbrella drinks?”
“Favorable.”
“Good. I think we could use a vacation.”
“Will Sam and Eileen be joining us? You found her, I hope?”
“We did, and yeah, I guess they could use one, too.”
Dean grabbed his phone and texted his brother:
Dean 7:48pm: I’ve got Cas. Heading to the beach. Time to stick our toes in the sand. I’ll text you when we get there and you two can join us.
Dean 7:48pm: Wait a couple of days before you come, though.
Dean 7:49pm: And if there’s a sock on the door when you get there, you know what to do.
He chuckled as he dropped his phone beside him and took Cas’ hand. It felt perfect. Just then, a thought struck him. “Is this the paradise Jack showed you?”
Cas smiled widely. “The paradise he showed me is still to come. But this is the start.”
Returning his warm grin with one of his own, Dean said, “You’re damn right.”