Archive of Our Own ^beta

PART 1

March 2023

The heavy door of the motel room slamming itself behind Dean seems unreasonably loud in the stillness of the chill 2 a.m. air. Should it be this chilly? It’s the south in the spring.

He stands slightly swaying just inside the tiny, silent room that’s barely big enough for the one king-size bed and an old dresser that holds the TV, squinting in the darkness as he contemplates whether or not to bother with a shower. The hunt was easy, but he’s just so damn tired. He’s always tired. 

He already has another couple of nights paid up in this place, so he doesn’t have to rush out in the morning. He can shower then. Easier to toe his boots off and faceplant into the mattress now, so he does. At least it wasn’t a particularly dirty job. Just a poltergeist attached to an object rather than a set of bones. No digging involved. There isn’t much room for thought as sleep quickly pulls him under, but he does have time to be thankful the sheets won’t be full of dirt in the morning. 

Dean wakes up in the afternoon grateful for the deep, dreamless sleep of the exhausted, rested in a way but no less tired and achy as he drags himself from under the thin motel comforter. He ignores the buzzing from his phone in favor of that shower. Standing under the pitiful water pressure gives him time to be where he wants to be.

When he’s awake, he can dream what he wants to dream instead of the nightmares that usually haunt his sleep. 

Not that the places he goes even in his waking hours are all good, but at least he’s in control. When he’s awake, he can choose what memory to live in. What fantasy to step into. He can choose to willingly relive even the worst memories just to remember what Cas’s hand against his cheek felt like if he wants to. But at least it’s his choice. 

No bad memories today though. Dean steps into the shower and the loneliness drops away, just for a little while. He doesn’t have to be here. He’s in a different motel room, somewhere else, and Cas has gone for coffee, and last night they were together after a walk along a boardwalk on some beach. After having their toes in the sand all day. And those fingers warm against his cheek didn’t happen in the crypt years ago. It was last night and it was nothing more than a lead-in to a kiss and his muscles ache for different reasons. 

He hasn’t been the imaginative type. Not like this. Not since…before he can remember. He thinks, maybe, there was a time when he was very young that maybe…something about it feels familiar. But if it was ever a thing he did before, he learned very quickly not to. Hopes and dreams were something very rarely acknowledged. Something John Winchester had no use for, so neither could he. Bury them. Pretend they aren’t there. 

Now they’re all he has. 

After a lifetime of pushing them down, something broke in him when the Empty took Cas. The same things that always broke when Cas died, sure—his hope, his drive, his…everything—but somehow more than that this time. After what Cas said to him. The walls around those dreams shattered and melted away with everything else.

He doesn’t have anything left to fight them back anymore, and maybe it’s…okay.

Maybe they’re keeping him alive.

The texts he was ignoring before are still there when he emerges. Sam, telling him about a barbeque at Jodie’s tomorrow. 

I’m down in Alabama; wouldn’t make it back in time , he sends back. 

Maybe he could if he pulled an all-nighter. But there are reasons he’s been circling farther and farther away from Kansas. It makes for legitimate excuses not to go back to the bunker.

There are too many people there these days, too often. If he’s far enough away, he doesn’t have to be there. If he’s not there, he doesn’t have to force a smile he doesn’t feel or lie through his teeth about how he’s doing. He doesn’t have to see that look on Sam’s face. 

He doesn’t have to fight back the urge to tell his brother he’s only here anymore for him anyway. It may be the truth, but saying it would make him the asshole.

But even from afar, Dean can hear Sam’s voice in his head telling him to come out of his room, telling him not to hole up in his hotel, telling him to get some damn social interaction. He doesn’t want to listen but he finds himself getting dressed anyway, shoving his wallet and keys in his pockets and locking the room behind him to find food somewhere that has people. Somewhere he can sit in a corner or at the end of a bar and pretend he’s socializing. 

Maybe it won’t be all bad. Sometimes the cacophony and overlapping voices of a public place make it easier to disappear. Easier to go somewhere else in his mind where he’s not alone and Cas is beside him. 

He drives, not remembering if he’s even seen a bar in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere north Alabama. There are only two main roads, one highway running north-south and one running east-west. Where they meet is the busiest part of town, and he passes it to look for the bars on the outskirts. When he doesn’t find an obvious one, he reluctantly turns around to go back to the one burger joint near the crossroads that had half a dozen lit beer logos in the window. 

It’s close enough. He finds a bar inside at the back of the place, past the families at their tables and booths. He takes the seat at the end against the wall, away from the few guys already seated there. He doesn’t particularly want to invite conversation. 

He should have taken Cas to places like this more often. He should have taken him anywhere more often. There aren’t enough of the kind of memories he wants to live in—movie nights, game nights, pizza, burgers, being on the road when it wasn’t an emergency…any time together when they could just be. There wasn’t enough of it. Maybe that’s why he’s resorted to making up things that never happened. 

As he sips his beer to cover how he has to swallow back a lump in his throat, he wonders if it will get any easier. Almost three years…shouldn’t it have by now? And what happens when his memories fade? Part of him is sure they must have begun to, but he doesn’t plan to give them the chance to leave him. Dean traces every inch of him in his mind, holds the sound of Cas’s voice, and plays it over and over. 

Some things are so branded into his memory he doesn’t think he could ever forget them. The rumble in Cas’s voice every time he said “Hello, Dean.” That head tilt, the way he would squint. The way it sounded when he actually laughed, as rare as it was. 

So he can sit in a place like this and imagine Cas laughing beside him, and sometimes it can feel almost real, like it does now. So real that for a moment he’s smiling to himself and the lump is gone. He’s so used to it by now that it takes a long few seconds to realize this isn’t like the other times. 

That laugh is coming from the other end of the bar. 

Dean doesn’t realize his eyes had slipped shut until they snap open. He tries not to look too quickly, because he knows it must be just…someone that sounds like him when they laugh. That’s all. It’s more than possible. 

But when he looks, it’s…oh it’s so much worse than he possibly could have imagined.

It’s just a glimpse, at first, the man’s head ducking forward and back as he laughs, disappearing and reappearing from the other side of the line of people between them. Dark but graying hair, a brilliant grin, laugh lines around blue eyes squinted in merriment…enough to make his chest ache, because Cas never got the chance to age like that. To be happy like that. 

Oh, Cas aged when he was human, and more when he was operating on borrowed grace or low levels of grace. By those last couple of years or so a few gray hairs had even begun to sneak in at his temples and he’d looked visibly older and bulkier than the lanky, wild-haired angel that first appeared in that barn clad in a trenchcoat that was far too big for him. His face had softened with his…everything else about him. As he became a friend and then a father. As he became family. 

But even then Dean had known he wouldn’t grow old with them. Couldn’t grow old with them. Not like that. If he’d lived surely Jack would have made sure his grace was fully restored. Surely he would have had his wings back and his vessel would have stopped aging again. He never would have looked like this man. Aged and happy. 

But when the man stops moving so much and he gets a better look, it hits Dean just how much he looks like Cas, even though he’s a little older. It takes his breath away. Leaves him frozen for far too long a moment. Someone is definitely going to notice but for several long, agonizing seconds he can’t move. He can’t. 

Part of him is screaming that it can’t be a coincidence, but when he tries to focus on it the thought…slips away. Goes fuzzy. And it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it? Because it’s impossible. It’s not Cas, it’s just someone who looks a lot like Jimmy Novak. That’s all. So much like him that it feels like his chest is full of razor blades for a moment, but that’s it. That’s all it can be.

So Dean relaxes. Finally. With difficulty. Maybe it’s still hard sometimes to swallow with that laugh in the background and the low timbre of a voice that also sounds far too familiar, but at least he’s not being weird. Maybe no one saw him lose it. 

Of course he can’t get that lucky, can he?

He makes it through half of his burger and fries before the group at the end of the bar starts to disperse, going their separate ways for the evening. Dean stares doggedly at his plate, hoping by the time he ventures to look up again that the guy who shouldn’t look like that will be gone too. But that voice is still there, chatting back and forth with the bartender and…moving closer?

The barstool beside him squeaks.

“New around here?”

With the voice so close now, at such a familiar range, the part of him that knows this can’t just…be happening? It rears its head again at the impossibility of how much the man reminds him of Cas. Of how much he sounds the same. Laughs the same. A small part of Dean wonders if it’s not even so much the same after all and he’s just gone crazy from exhaustion and grief. Has the habit of fantasy come around to bite him in the ass?

But as quickly as the concern rises, it goes fuzzy again. Slipping away once more like so much sand between the cracks in his mind. 

Maybe it’s the way the guy is sitting, the way he carries himself. It feels familiar. It should be awkward to have a stranger sitting beside him—his hackles should be up, his trained senses looking for danger—but there’s nothing. The only anxiety he’s feeling is the realization that if he doesn’t say something soon, things are going to get awkward in an entirely different manner. 

He clears his throat. “No, I uh…just passing through for work.” He doesn’t quite look up, just getting a glimpse of the guy from the corners of his eyes. He thinks that’s probably about all he can handle. 

“I think that would still fall under the general umbrella of new .”

Dean snorts out something like a laugh, hiking an eyebrow at the guy. Giving him a bit of a longer glance as he smirks before he can stop himself. “Smartass.”

A chuckle. “So I’ve been told.”

“You are,” the bartender snaps back as she passes. It’s the good-natured kind of snapping. The kind that only comes through familiarity. Fondness. This man is well known and well-liked here, and no one is tense. 

Somehow it gives Dean the courage needed to say what he does next. “Look, sorry if it looked like I was staring earlier you just…remind me of someone, that’s all.”

“Someone you like remembering, I hope?” 

The complete lack of hesitation seems to confirm said staring didn’t go unnoticed. Dean can practically feel his cheeks going red, and that grin on the other man’s face just gets wider as he ducks his head. 

“Someone I lost,” he murmurs. And he doesn’t mean to kill the mood, he really doesn’t, but something in his chest won’t let him say anything other than the truth. He figures maybe the guy will leave him alone after that. Still, he tries not to look up too far because if he does he’ll be lost, in those impossibly blue eyes. And probably start pretending they’re someone else’s.

From his periphery he sees the playful grin soften into something wistful, but he doesn’t have time to wonder what or why before he’s thrown for another loop. 

“I’m sorry. Can I buy you a drink?” the guy asks instead. 

Dean blinks, focuses, and god he was right, he shouldn’t have looked. How is the guy doing that? How is that look so much like the one Cas used to give him when he was concerned or…or…

He stops that line of thought before it can get any farther. He should say no, he should get away from here right now , but he doesn’t. 

“Sure,” he manages.

Why should he have to run away? he reasons. Cas is never coming back. Dean can never have him back. He’ll never be happy, not really, so why can’t he have this? 

He’s pretty sure he missed the guy’s name in there somewhere. When everything was fuzzing out. Vaguely he recalls shoving a hand out briefly, but all he really remembers is a huge, warm hand around his. He wanted to melt into that feeling. But now the guy is talking about something and the bartender is chiming in again and it’s too awkward to ask now. But smiling back and jumping in doesn’t feel like so much work.

Even then, he tells himself it’s probably just the guy being nice. Southern hospitality. Something. They get more drinks and the guy orders himself a dessert that he ends up offering most of to Dean, claiming to be full from the dinner he’d had with his friends after a few bites.

Dean isn’t one to turn down a still-warm skillet cookie. “Friends from work, or…?”

“Work of a sort,” the guy shrugs. “It was a few of my colleagues from a community kitchen I volunteer with.”

Of course he’s a good guy like that. It just seems right. 

The fact that none of this feels strange should maybe be setting off its own alarms, but it doesn’t. It’s easy, and he’s fine with that. He’s been so tired, and this is easy, and that never happens anymore. 

It’s so easy Dean almost doesn’t realize the guy really isn’t just being nice until they’re outside at the end of the covered patio across the front of the burger joint, looking out at the first stars of the evening, and he hears himself saying there’s more beer back in the mini-fridge in his room. Until he gets a smile and a nod at that and there are headlights following him back to the motel.

He goes in first and leaves the door ajar for the other man close behind him, and it’s not until he’s standing there, staring at the mini fridge, that he realizes he never did make the usual convenience store run this time. There’s no beer here.

But Dean turns around and catches those blue eyes as the door closes behind the other man, and something about the way he looks at him gives him a feeling that’s not going to be a problem. 

***

Dean is so used to waking up alone—even after he’s spent a night so notably not alone—that he fully expects to be doing it again. He almost does, waking to someone with dark sleep-wild hair puttering around in the tiny space picking his clothes up from the floor. 

He knows it’s the man he met last night, but for a few moments, he pretends to still be sleeping and lets himself slip into imagining it really is Cas. Any moment now he’ll be calling to him, asking where they should go for breakfast. Or maybe he’ll slip out to get some to bring back to the room for them to share. The early morning light cuts through cracks in the curtains, falling on the scruff on his cheeks now that really isn’t helping Dean remember it’s someone else.

Those back muscles are a better thing to focus on, as he pulls his shirt over his head. Much better.

Once dressed, the man leans over the tiny desk in the corner by the door to scribble something on the poor excuse for a scratch pad, and when he glances back, his eyebrows go up to find Dean looking at him. Not in a way that makes it seem he minds being caught, though. He smiles sheepishly. 

“I have foster kittens to feed,” he explains. “They’ll feel extremely betrayed if I’m late with their breakfast.”

Dean laughs quietly, shoving up on an elbow to lever himself more upright. “I get it.”

“Have you had cats? 

“A dog. And a brother I practically raised.”

That smile goes soft again. Like it did more than once last night. In that way that almost makes Dean want to tell him to stop because it’s too much like Cas. It hurts. But he can’t look away, either.

“I’m sure they’re missing you,” he says.

Dean shrugs. Miracle may have started out as his dog, but at this point, he’s pretty sure if it came down to an Air Bud-style showdown, the dog would pick Eileen. She and Sam have always looked after him while Dean was on the road, but he has a bond with Eileen in particular.

Dean tells himself he’s glad for it. It’s probably better for him to be attached to Eileen anyway.

“Are you leaving today?”

He blinks; he hadn’t even realized he’d spaced out for a moment there. “Probably,” Dean says.

The guy snaps the cap back onto the motel’s cheap stick pen and lays it back on top of the thin pad of paper. “Do you think you’d ever have a reason to be back?”

Dean can’t help but smile, even if he can’t quite believe someone just asked him that question. Particularly someone who looks like…that. Last night still doesn’t quite seem real. 

He should say no. The likelihood of fucking something up with someone like him…someone kind, funny, beautiful, good …it would be far too high even without the doppelganger complication. But that’s not what comes out. 

“I might,” he says instead. He tries for teasing, but it comes out soft instead and he can’t be mad about it when he gets such a brilliant smile in return. 

“Then it’s a good thing I left this,” the other man says, tapping the pad he wrote on. Dean can’t read it from here, but there must be a phone number on it.

God, he is in so much trouble.

“Goodbye, Dean,” the man says. Which on one hand confirms he completely missed the name part of last night—something he will have to remedy if he ever uses that number—and on the other hand…

The pain of hearing his name in that voice makes him wonder if he’ll ever use the number after all. He wasn’t prepared for how much that would hurt. But he shoves that away, for now, determined to focus on the good for now because he can. On all of the memories of last night he can tuck away and use for his own purposes whether he ever sees the man again or not. Like the universe decided to give him a piece of Cas he can keep. 

So he’s still smiling to himself once he’s alone, while he showers and dresses and tries to decide if he should leave town today after all, and never comes to a conclusion because he’s distracted by the memory of that smile. 

He’s humming when he emerges from the bathroom and finally goes to the desk as he towels off his hair, reaching for the pad his companion from last night had written on out of curiosity. 

Dean drops the towel to stare at the note because the feeling that kept slipping away last night is back and it’s slamming down on him like an anvil. 

Just a phone number and a name, but he would recognize that handwriting anywhere , and it’s not possible. It’s not. He drops unsteadily into the too-small wooden chair at the desk. 

Cassian. The name staring back at him in black and white, in Cas’s handwriting, is fucking Cassian and it’s too much. What the hell? What the hell?

He can’t breathe. He’s so paralyzed the sound of wingbeats doesn’t even startle him and Jack is there, looking at him. Worried. Is he worried? He probably should be. Dean must be going insane. 

“Dean? Don’t be mad.”

***

January 2021

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Jack came to the bunker while Sam and Dean were on a case to do this in case something went wrong, but he didn’t expect it to.

He expected the Empty to be vindictive. He expected it to resist when he ripped into its’ realm to find Cas, take his Grace and make him human. He expected a fight, but he didn’t expect to find Cas so broken. He wasn’t prepared for the amount of damage. 

He tries to cover it, to make Cas forget just the bad that happened there as he pulls him out into the physical world and reconstructs his body, but it isn’t enough. And maybe some of it is that he’s coming from fighting the Empty to get him out at all but…but…

It doesn’t matter why. The portal closes behind them, leaving them in the cold dungeon, and the first sound Cas make is to scream. His damaged mind eating him alive, too much for his human body. Jack sinks to the floor with him, and he may be the new god now but that doesn’t mean he can’t cry.

“Cas, what do I do! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, what do I do?” he sobs.

Cas’s fingers are digging into his arms, and Jack isn’t even sure if he can really hear him, but when he reaches into his mind he knows Cas understands that he wants to help. The answer doesn’t come in so many words, and Jack isn’t even sure which of them it really comes from, but there’s no time to waste when it comes. 

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll get you back…”

Cas knows. He knows he will. Jack can feel the trust there, even if there isn’t much left of Cas’s rational mind at all right now. 

So he does what he has to do. To keep Cas from accessing any part of what’s hurting him, any memory at all, he shuts out everything.

***

March 2023

Cas is alive. It was Cas. It was him the whole damn time. Last night. Cas .

Jack is still talking, and Dean is only getting bits and pieces of it now between the rushing in his ears. “So…I had to set him up somewhere to keep him safe, and you never really came this far very often before, so I thought—I’m sorry. There weren’t any ghosts or monsters in this town when I first put him here…”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” It’s the first thing that’s come out of his mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so accusatory, but…well, no, maybe he does.

“At first I just wanted to wait until I could fix it, get rid of what was bad, and release the rest of his memories. I wanted Cas to be him when I brought him home,” Jack says, spreading his hands as if he’s pleading to be understood.

“Well…how much longer?” Dean questions. He can hear the desperation seeping into his voice, but there’s not much he can do about that either.

“I…” Jack shifts on his feet, staring at the floor for a moment.

“What?”

“I already fixed it.”

He blinks, confused. “But he doesn’t remember.” Jack just shakes his head. “Why not?” Dean demands. He pauses again, and something in his stomach flips. “Wait, what the hell did you mean at first?”

He doesn’t like the look on Jack’s face. Not even a little. 

“Jack…?”

The kid swallows and slowly lowers himself to the edge of the bed like he can’t say whatever he’s about to say and keep himself standing at the same time. Which seems crazy, because he’s god now. He shouldn’t have his legs going out from under him. That’s for messed-up humans like Dean.

“When I came to get rid of the memories of what the Empty had done to him, I took down all of the walls I’d put up as soon as I’d done it and it was safe, but…he didn’t want to come out.”

Dean just stares for a moment. “What?”

“He was happy. It took months to figure out how to get rid of them completely—because it was the Empty, and it was more complicated than just…it was hard because they happened somewhere I don’t have power—but he had a life here, and friends, and…things were simple? It’s hard to explain. It’s not like he said anything, I just…felt it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing left of my powers keeping him from remembering. There’s just a part of him that doesn’t want to.” 

“Then snap him the hell out of it!”

“I’m not going to do that! I could, but I won’t. He’s my father, Dean. I…I want him to be happy.” Jack swallows. “I mean, I understand. Sometimes I still wish I could have a normal life, too.”

Dean sits back in the little desk chair at that, a harsh breath going out of him. Jack’s hands tighten into fists beside him on the mattress, and Dean wants to be angry, but how can he when the kid is clearly in pain too? Years ago maybe that wouldn’t have stopped him, but it does now. The pressure in his chest is the part of him that still wants to go off. To blame, to not listen. But he can’t do it now. 

He thought he knew about pain before, but the last few years have taught him a new definition. The last thing he wants to do is contribute to anyone else’s. 

Certainly not when it’s the kid Cas would have wanted him to look out for. Even if that kid is the new god now. 

Dean gulps back a lump forming in his throat. He wants to ask if Cas even knew what he was deciding not remember. How it works. Something. But he doesn’t know if he wants to know.

“Then…what does he think?” he asks instead. “Who does he think he is?”

“Just…a normal person,” Jack says. “He thinks he had an accident two or three years ago that caused total amnesia. And he doesn’t remember when I tried to release his memories a few months into living here; I made sure of that at least. He does know I’m his son, and that my mother is dead, but he doesn’t know I’m anything other than a normal human myself.”

Dean peels himself up out of the too-small chair while Jack is talking, pacing away so he can try to process and not sure whether he’s coming anywhere near success. 

“How the hell did I not know?” he murmurs. He should have known. How could he just…?

He’s not sure if he meant for Jack to hear him, but behind him, Jack gets up again too. “It’s not your fault you didn’t realize it was him. I’m not doing anything to his mind anymore, but I still have a kind of…protective filter around him, I guess you could call it. So no one else would think too hard about it if anything seemed weird about him or anything like that. It was just supposed to make adjusting to life here easier, but it would have been enough to keep you from being sure.”

Dean glances back, eyebrows up, and Jack is holding up a hand toward him. “I can make it so it won’t affect you. If you want.”

Dean nods wordlessly, and it’s just a touch, barely a brush of Jack’s fingers against his forehead, but suddenly everything is different. Last night snaps into perspective and the moments his thoughts slipped away are suddenly clear. More than Jack telling him it was Cas, he knows it was Cas. Any fuzziness around the memories is gone and looking back…

It takes the breath out of him. He turns that face, that smile over in his mind and there’s no doubt anymore. He can’t fathom how there was no matter what Jack says about any stupid filter. He felt comfortable from the beginning because he was sitting beside his best friend. His friend that…should have been more. But he was an idiot.

“Dean?” Jack is saying. “Are you okay?”

No. No, he is not fucking okay. How could he be okay? Cas is alive and last night they…oh god, it’s all out of order. This morning last night seemed like a gift, but how is he supposed to feel about it now? 

It should have been different. They should have at least known it was each other . 

“I…” He stops to clear his throat, but his voice still comes out rough when he continues. “I just need some time, Jack, okay?”

***

Dean gets in the Impala, and he drives. Not to get away, just to go. To be on the road. To try to clear his head.

Jack finds him again parked on an overlook somewhere in Tennessee, but this time he waits for Dean to speak. 

“You named your dad after a Star Wars character?”

Jack tilts his head like he wasn’t expecting that to be the lead-in. It’s crazy how much he looks like Cas when he does that. 

“Well…there aren’t a lot of male human names that start with ‘Cas,’ and if he had started to remember anything I didn’t want there to be any cognitive dissonance to make it worse for him. More confusing. I…that could have been dangerous. It’s difficult to explain…”

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you, kid,” Dean sighs. It’s quiet again for a while after that. It takes some time for him to work up the courage to ask what he really wants to know. “Could he ever remember?”

Jack leans against the side of the car beside him. “Maybe. Or…if he doesn’t, he’ll remember everything when his human soul goes to heaven. I thought…I’m sorry, Dean. That I didn’t tell any of you about him. Things seem so different to me now. Time isn’t…a big deal anymore? I thought it would hurt you more to know he was alive on Earth but didn’t remember any of you. But I knew you could be together in heaven. That didn’t seem so bad. I hope you can understand.”

He wants to, but he doesn’t. Maybe someday he will, but right now all he can think about is Cas. All he can think about is how he’s been right here and— 

Dean’s hands are in fists at his side. It takes conscious effort to loosen them up. 

“But you know now that you should have told us. Right? You get that now?” 

He wants to do this right. He wants it so badly and he’s not even sure why. He’s not sure if he’s trying to prove something to himself, or to Cas…who doesn’t even know him right now. 

And how the hell is he supposed to deal with that?

“I think so,” Jack is saying. “I’m sorry.”

Dean just nods for a while, because his throat is tight and it’s stupid, but at least he didn’t upset the kid. He said what needed to be said and he didn’t shout about it. That’s something, right?

“So he’s not in any danger?” he asks, after a while.

“No,” Jack says quickly. “He’s safe now. Remembering is just…up to him now, that’s all.” He pauses, does the head tilt thing again. “It’s safe to be around him if that’s what you’re asking.”

Is that what he’s asking? Is it even a good idea?

***

He has to go back to the motel for the rest of his things. Dean tells himself he’s going to pack his shit and take some time to really think about this, but…

The paper is burning a hole in his pocket. He can’t stop pulling it out to stare at it, tracing the lines of the familiar handwriting with his eyes. He can’t stop seeing that smile. 

Turns out I don’t have to leave town for a few more days.

He hits send before he can think too much more. He only knows he can’t just leave. There has been no considering whether he can face Cas knowing it’s him without Cas knowing who he is. Again. It’s not the same this time.

Eleven-odd years ago he didn’t know he was in love with Daphne Allen’s amnesiac husband. 

Dots at the bottom of the screen pop up much sooner than expected, but they drag on forever, stopping and starting again at random until Dean is near grinding his jaw. He almost expects a novel to appear about how he’s reconsidered his invitation and they should go their separate ways as most brief encounters do. He’s stealing himself for it. And if that’s what Cas wants…

Tonight? We could do my place this time. 

Somehow Dean’s stomach drops even as his eyebrows go up and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

His thumbs hover over the screen for far too long, weighing the pros and cons of being alone with Cas the first time he sees him and knows. On one hand, dangerous for the part of him that wants exactly what Cas is clearly insinuating, but on the other nobody else to see it if he loses it somehow…

In the end, a strategic compromise.

I could bring dinner. What else is good around here?

***

The house is nothing spectacular, just a small one-story farmhouse on a county road a couple of miles outside of town with a little bit of land. It wouldn’t be remarkable at all but for the fact that it’s green. 

That gives Dean a moment of pause—of curiosity. Of strange hope as he sits in the Impala in the gravel driveway and stares. Most of him thinks it’s ridiculous to draw any sort of conclusion, but a small part wonders if, maybe, if Cas had choices, something about the rich green of the paint reminded him of…

He shakes his head and climbs out of the car, bringing the bag of food from the passenger’s seat with him up the steps to the creaking porch so he can knock on the door before he chickens out. 

He’s never going to be ready, so he might as well do this.

Dean expects to freeze in place when the door opens, but that isn’t what happens. That warm smile he’s been dreaming of for almost three years greets him, and instead, everything in his body relaxes like he’s come home and he’s smiling back like he was yesterday, all last night…

“Hello, Dean.”

There it is. There’s the pain. It sticks in his throat and he has to remind himself to keep the smile on his face because this Cas doesn’t know the history in those words.

“Hey…” Dean clears his throat and holds up the bag, more to distract himself than anything. “I come bearing barbeque.”

“Oh good, they were open! I’m never sure with that stand; they don’t seem to follow any logical schedule.”

Dean follows him inside when beckoned, across old but well-kept hardwood floors and through a living room lined with bookshelves to an eat-in kitchen with a small round table and a pair of mismatched wooden chairs. Cas stops by the table and turns back to face him, maybe a little too abruptly. Like he feels almost as strange about this as Dean did before the door opened. 

Maybe some of that is coming back already. He really wishes his mind would make up its…well, mind. Is he all right or isn’t he? Can he do this or can’t he?

What is this ?

“Dean,” Cas begins, slowly and not quite looking at him. “Just so you’re aware I’m…not sure how much… more I’m in the position for right now. For a number of reasons. As long as you’re all right with that.” He makes a face, sort of laughs at himself. “And believe me, I say that fully aware that I’m the one who left a number.”

Honestly, considering his life in general, Dean should have seen that one coming. 

“It’s…complicated sometimes,” he offers, still keeping his own smile carefully in place. He’s had more than enough practice.

Cas looks at him gratefully. “It is. There’s a lot I’m figuring out right now, but…something told me I couldn’t just let you leave.”

Something about the way he says that—maybe the confused wistfulness in his tone, or the sudden fondness on his face—gives Dean the same sort of feeling of strange hope he felt when he pulled up to a green house.  

His Cas is in there somewhere. And if casual is what this one wants right now…if that’s how he can be here with him…

He can do that. He can show him just how casual he can be. 

Dean makes a show of closing the distance between them and setting the bag of food down on the table, now eye-to-eye with Cas. “Hey, we can forget the food,” he says, with a carefully crafted smirk. 

Those eyes…god, they’re so blue. God how he missed them. 

Eyebrows that are very much playing along go up at him. “At least put it in the refrigerator so it doesn’t spoil.”

“Only took about ten minutes to get here after I picked it up. Meat’s good out for two hours, you think we’ll be longer than it has left? ”

Cas crowds him back against the edge of the table, and the look on his face brooks no argument. “Yes,” he rumbles.

Then Dean is kissing Cas, and he wasn’t going to do this. He wanted to start over, to do this right, to…he doesn’t know what he wanted, but this is how it is now. There’s so much he wants to say, and he can’t say it. This Cas wouldn’t understand.

There’s so much in him to give. So much that’s been bottled up for so long. And if he can’t take his time with this, if that’s not something this Cas can deal with right now, then Dean can do what he’s good at. Something he can’t fuck up like everything he’s fucked up so badly between them in the past. 

There’s no past here, no reasons why they can’t just be. He can be right here, with Cas in his arms, showing him how much he means to him in the only way he can right now. With his body. With his mouth. With his warmth. In whatever way Cas will let him. If it’s not everything Dean wanted, it’s fine. It’s more than he thought he would ever have. 

No one has to know a piece of him is breaking inside. 

PART 2

March 2024

How did he mess things up so badly again? He didn’t mean to. If he’d stayed away from the start, Cas wouldn’t be glaring at him like that through the screen door, and be perfectly justified in doing so. 

But it’s too late for that now. Far too late to just walk away. 

He tried that, and it wasn’t right. It only made things worse for both of them.

“Hey, Cas…"

“What are you doing here?” It comes out rough, but the glare is already slipping. 

“Would you let me in? Please?” he asks quietly. “Please just let me explain.”

Cas’s fist tightens around the doorknob. He looks so tired. But finally, he steps back and reaches for the screen door latch, pausing before he opens it and pinning Dean with a look that’s hard again. 

“This is the last time.”

***

March 2023

At some point during the night, the barbeque gets eaten, because one of them did manage to toss it into the refrigerator after all on the way to the bedroom the first time. No need to waste good food. By the time light starts to creep through the curtains, Dean isn’t sure how much sleep either of them actually got. 

He can tell it’s nice out here, even from inside and half buried under blankets and one of Cas’s legs. There are birds in the flowering bush outside the window, meowing coming from the closed door across the hall, and…sounds from some kind of animal coming from outside. He only caught a brief glimpse of the fenced area in the back, so he isn’t sure. 

Never mind, that’s definitely a goat. Maybe more than one. They may not be the only thing out there, but that’s definitely a goat. 

Cas likes goats? He knew he liked cats…

“It’s a little bit of a farm out there.”

Dean blinks, looking back down from his confused stare out the window to find Cas awake and looking at him in amusement.

“Farms are cool,” he says. Because he doesn’t know what else to say to that, and they are cool, and it makes Cas smile at him like that.

Cas pushes up on an elbow. “Since you actually called, I feel like I should warn you my brain is broken. In case you’d like to take that into consideration before choosing whether or not to visit again.”

Dean snorts, mostly in surprise. He didn’t really expect Cas to tell him this soon. “What?”

Cas shrugs. “About two and a half years ago I was in an accident, nearly died…I can’t remember anything from before that. Fortunately, I have my son to fill in some of the gaps, but…” He taps the side of his head and half-shrugs. “Broken.”

“Reverse 50 First Dates, huh?“ Cas just stares at him. “You haven’t seen that one? Well, I know what we’re watching when we get up.”

“After I feed everyone,” Cas says, nodding toward the meowing door and tossing a thumb over his shoulder toward the window at the same time. He pauses, tilts his head. “It doesn’t bother you then?”

“Why would it bother me? Anyway, so the other guy in the pictures in the hall isn’t your brother or something?”

“That’s generous, but no.”

Dean leans in closer, crowding him against the headboard. “I don’t think it’s generous, have you seen you?”

It takes a good several more minutes for the foster kittens, goats and, apparently, chickens, to all get their breakfast. It almost takes longer, but before things can get too serious, a ball of blue-gray fur jumps up onto the bed between them and starts to yowl insistently. 

“Did someone escape?” Dean laughs.

Cas shakes his head as he scratches behind the cat’s ears. “This is Val. She’s not a foster; she’s mine. The first companion I welcomed here after I started renting this place a couple of years ago, in fact.”

Val is still yelling at them—presumably for being late with her breakfast—but somehow she’s doing it while swishing back and forth under Cas’s chin, arching her back into his shoulder and her head into his hands as he pets her.

“She has many opinions, and isn’t afraid to make them known,” Cas says fondly.

When the cat looks his way, Dean is struck by her bright green eyes. 

***

May 2023

He thought the uncertainty would go away—that he would know for sure, eventually, whether he was doing the right thing—but it never does. Not entirely. Even while it’s so, so easy to get off a hunt and end up right back on Cas’s doorstep. Even when that feeling of right hits him every time Cas welcomes him into the little green house. 

Part of Dean never stops wondering if, this time, things will be different. Maybe this time Cas will answer the door and know him. Maybe this time he’ll roll over the next morning and the Cas looking back at him will be the one he lost. He tries not to think about it too much but the habit is already there. The impulse, as he pulls out of the gravel driveway and it hasn’t happened, to slip back into the fantasies that kept him going for so long. 

Maybe, as time, passes, it’s part of why he still goes on the road to hunt at all. To get away, for a while, from those eyes that are so familiar but don’t know him the way they used to. To gather himself so he doesn’t accidentally reference something that happened…before. Something this Cas wouldn’t know. 

To keep up the illusion of casual fun, too, but anyway.

Though maybe it’s a good thing that’s all he seems to want. Dean isn’t sure now if he could handle anything more with a Cas who doesn’t remember him. If he needs the time away now, how much more would he need it if this Cas was really trying to have a relationship with him? How much more would it hurt missing what he lost and wondering if he’s foolish for hoping he can get it back?

The afternoon Cas finally explains why he can’t only makes it all worse, somehow. 

It happens after he’s been roped into helping clean out the goat barn for the summer. Throwing piles of soiled hay into an old wheelbarrow with a pitchfork while Cas sweeps behind him. The half a dozen goats, unsurprisingly, are rescues. 

“From what I understand, my son’s mother died giving birth. But the accident…was a fire in our home. Something fell on our way out, hit my head, violá brain damage, but in any case…there are really no pictures left of her, Jack’s childhood…anything.”

“Damn…I’m sorry.” Really, Jack?  

But there had to be a reason there aren’t a lot of pictures and things—the things that would have made up a normal life. There aren't a lot of options that wouldn’t have seemed weird, so he lets it slide. 

Cas shrugs. “I can’t remember her to grieve for her…and I guess it’s been a long time. Jack is grown. I’m more concerned for him, really. Evidently, he never had a mother, and…whoever I was before the accident…the father who raised him…now he’s lost that person, too.”

Dean winces. It isn’t the first time their conversations have strayed into the serious. For attempting to be casual, sometimes neither of them is very good at it. What they’re doing right now is a case in point, really. 

Dean certainly doesn’t feel very good at it right now. He tries to breathe and it feels like everything hurts. Jack isn’t the only one who lost Cas.

“Jack has also explained that I told him Kelly and I were only ah…very close friends who happened to procreate, really, but I still feel as if I’m missing something else. Like I lost someone else who was…everything to me.” Cas shakes his head helplessly. “I keep hoping I’ll remember something, or at the very least maybe, someday, be able to shake that feeling but…I hope you understand.”

The way Cas is alternately looking at him or staring, eyes narrowed in thought, out at the goat pen, makes him want to scream.

It was me. It’s ME. I’m right here. He all but prays it, but Cas can’t hear his prayers anymore.

***

June 2023

It’s the first time he stays away for more than a week or two. Whether he’s just trying to give himself space to breathe or trying to convince himself he shouldn’t go back, he doesn’t know. 

But Dean does go back. After a month and a handful of missed calls and unread text messages—all of them sounding like Cas is trying to play it cool, but he’s pretty sure at least by the end there that there’s more than a little concern under the surface. 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t call back. He doesn’t message. Even though he wants to. He can’t talk to anyone about it either, because he hasn’t told any of them yet. Sam is going to be angry, eventually, when he finally works up to telling them. Eileen will forgive him immediately but give him an occasional hard time about it for months. And the whole thing is still so crazy he doesn’t want to deal with that yet. 

So he hunts. Because it’s the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself anymore. It’s been years since women were really an option—it just doesn’t feel right anymore—and drinking…well, he does do that. Maybe not as much as he used to, but he does. 

A day simply comes when he can’t stay away anymore, and he finds himself at Cas’s door. 

The door opens before he can even knock, and with Cas sans a shirt, and his mind grinds to an abrupt halt. 

The same seems to be true of Cas. With a bag over his shoulder and his keys in hand, he just stares for a moment before either of them speaks.

“Dean?”

“I…uh…” It’s not as if he hasn’t seen him without a shirt before, certainly, but out here? On the porch? In the sunlight? With the morning summer breeze ruffling his hair? That’s…something else. 

He expected the surprise. But he also expected annoyance, or maybe even anger. Something other than the relief and the smile breaking over Cas’s face. As if everything is better now. As if the last month of radio silence never happened.

“Have you been all right?” Cas is asking.

“I-I…yeah,” Dean says, clearing his throat quickly. “Fine. Sorry, just…work, you know. Got crazy.”

“Summer will do that. I’m actually…” He shifts the bags on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have to go or I’ll be late to the pool.”

That’s when Dean notices the bright red swim trunks. Not exactly Cas’s color, but it doesn’t really matter. Anything would look good on those thighs. 

Then he notices the symbol on them.

“Wait, you…you’re a lifeguard?”

“Volunteer, part-time during the summer. Last year the city was running short on funding in that area and I was one of a few who offered to take the necessary certifications and donate some of my time.” Cas tilts that head at him. He could never say no when Cas did that. “You could come with me if you’d like. My shift is only about four hours, and we have a supply of spare suits in the office if you want to swim.”

Dean sputters a little, but moments later he finds himself in Cas’s old truck on the way back into town anyway.

“What don’t you do around here?” he asks. Soup kitchen, fostering kittens, rescuing farm animals… “Do you have any jobs you actually get paid for?”

Not that he can say anything to that; he certainly doesn’t.

“Not anymore, apparently. I’m told I did something lucrative enough before that it doesn’t matter if I never do, as long as I handle what I have wisely.”

Well, that makes sense. That Jack wouldn’t want his father to have to worry for anything. 

Dean pats the dashboard affectionately. The truck is no Baby, but they’ve already had memorable moments here, too. “Wisely like the thrift store furniture and driving this hunk of junk?” he teases. 

“I like my truck, thank you very much.” Cas adjusts his mirror and raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve never understood the human tendency for unnecessary extravagance.”

And for a moment, the intervening years have dropped away and it’s just Cas, complaining about humans again with that amusingly exasperated expression. And the Empty never took him and they’ve been living here together since Chuck got his just deserts, and they’re happy. And it hurts because it isn’t real, but where else could he be other than here?

Just because it isn’t perfect doesn’t mean they can’t be happy, right? Since when the hell was anything ever perfect?

“You don’t know exactly what you did?” Dean asks.

“No…My son asked me if I wanted to know, and…I didn’t. If I remember someday, all right then. If not, well, I’ve had to build a new life anyway, so what good would that information have been to me if I couldn’t do anything with it?”

“Guess that makes sense…”

A new life. He can do that…

Can he do that?

***

“I knew something was off when you left this time.”

With Cas’s shift over, they’ve taken hot dogs and soda from the stand at the pool out into the adjacent park. The pine trees are tall, the shade cool and heavy over the winding paths paved between them.

“No, no, it’s not…”

“It’s all right, Dean. I tried to tell myself I’d done the right thing telling you what I told you, but…after long enough worrying about it, I realized it was all bullshit anyway.”

Dean slows to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

“The part about not being able to…pursue a relationship right now. Because of my memory, and whatever the hell else is going on up here,” Cas says, waggling fingers at his head for a moment. “That was stupid. I think maybe it was just fear.”

Dean freezes. “I…Cas, look, that’s wasn’t why I uhm…I don’t know if I…how much I can…”

He clears his throat, scrambling for something else to say because Cas’s face is falling but he’s trying to hide it and no, don’t do that, don’t be sad, he was sad enough before, he shouldn’t have to be now…

“I see…” Cas is saying.

“No, no, you don’t. Sorry. I just…look, I know I still want to be here. Okay? If you want me here.” He can’t not be here, but he doesn’t want to hurt Cas. 

“I want you here,” Cas says quickly. 

Dean swallows. “Then maybe we could just…figure it out from there?”

Long fingers slip between his and squeeze. “You’ve been understanding of me. It’s my turn to be understanding of you.”

They kiss there, under a tree in the breeze. It’s soft and deep and sincere and Dean clings to Cas and lets himself pretend things are the way he wishes they were.

***

“You can tell me about him, if you want,” Cas says, while the summer cicadas drone outside his darkening bedroom window. “You don’t have to, but if you wanted to…”

Dean doesn’t know if he wants to—it will be hard—but he has to take the opportunity. If just being around him hasn’t been enough to help Cas remember, maybe talking about him will help. He’s been afraid to do it without prompting, worried he’d make Cas too uncomfortable if he did. To Cas now, their past is just a story. Another person. 

And he can’t tell him how they really met. He can’t tell him a lot of things without sounding crazy. But he can say something that matters.

“Nothing ever actually…happened. Between us. And that was my fault. He was my best friend for more than a decade, and I let him down in more ways than I can count.” He rolls onto his side, facing Cas where they’re sprawled together in bed, and catches his gaze. “I wish I could tell him I was sorry.”

For a moment he thinks there’s a spark in Cas’s eyes. Certainly, he’s frowning just a little, in that sympathetic way he has, but for just a few seconds there’s something more there. Something like recognition trying to catch. But it dies too quickly. 

***

September 2023

He stays, more often than not, until the day after Cas ventures to ask him if his work would technically allow him to live anywhere. 

When he asks, Dean stumbles through some stupid excuse about how he isn’t sure, he’ll have to check, but he can see the hurt on Cas’s face before he even stops stammering. He’s quiet the rest of the night after that, and Dean hates it. It’s too much like before. Before when he was even worse a friend to Castiel than he is a somewhat-boyfriend to this Cas. 

The old voice creeps in, telling him again that Cas is better off without him, and what did he think he was doing trying to build a life here with someone he’s lying to? Because he’s lying every day, isn’t he? If Cas wanted to remember he would remember. But he doesn’t. He wants a normal life without any of the shit from the last one—he must—and that’s all Dean is. He’s part of the junk Cas didn’t want to keep. It’s not right for him to be here. 

The old voice nags until Dean is back on the road before dawn. His phone is already ringing by the time the light barely breaks over the horizon, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even dare to look at it. 

The road is already blurring in front of him, anyway. He probably wouldn’t be able to read the notifications on the phone screen if he looked.

At some point, Jack is just there, in the passenger’s seat, the way Cas used to appear sometimes back when he had his wings. Only it doesn’t startle him the way that used to, and he wonders if Jack did something to prevent it or if he’s just that tired. 

“Is he okay?” 

Somehow the middle of the day has already crept up on him, the road disappearing beneath his wheels. 

“I don’t know,” Jack says quietly. “I try not to intrude in anyone’s mind. I’m hoping he’ll call me soon since I can’t just show up there.”

“I should have just left him alone,” Dean huffs. He doesn’t know if he’s really talking to Jack, but it comes out anyway.

Jack shifts in his seat. “I don’t think that anymore. Maybe I did before you ran into each other, but he’s been so happy with you there… you’ve been happy.”

His hands grip the steering wheel even tighter. “But it’s a lie!”

“Is it? I don’t have to be in anyone’s head to know how happy you make each other, even without all of that history between you. I still keep an eye on him, you know. You too. You’re my family, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, and he doesn’t know if it’s more frustration or to hold back the lump in his throat. “And you’re sure you can’t just…?”

His phone ringing again interrupts him, but from the look on Jack’s face, he was going to give the same answer he had before anyway. 

“Maybe you should answer that,” Jack says instead. 

And he’s gone before Dean can protest.

“Just like his dad,” Dean mutters. 

It’s easy to find somewhere on the country road to pull over. He isn’t sure what state he’s in anymore, but they all have them. They still feel so familiar but…not like home anymore. For a long time the bunker was home, but now…

The phone has stopped ringing again, but after staring at it for a long few moments, wondering if it will ring again, he dials back. 

“ Dean? ”

“I’m sorry.”

Cas lets out a breath. “ I know I have no real…claim to you, I suppose, but…you left without a word. Usually I know you’re leaving for work. I just…want to know you’re all right .”

“I’m…I don’t know,” he admits. “I want to do this, but I don’t know if I can, man.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and something seems to click. “ You’re talking about what I asked you yesterday. ”

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“ Dean… ” Cas says gently. “ I wanted to ask, but if you’re not ready, I’m not going to hate you for saying no. That would be incredibly hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it? ”

And that’s some of it, but it’s not all of it. But he can’t explain the rest, and his chest feels like it’s going to tear itself apart. 

“I’m sorry. It’s…it’s been so good. You have no idea…”

When his brain isn’t fighting itself, it’s so easy. It’s so good to just be. He doesn’t even mind all of the cats. But he closes his eyes and he can still see Cas from the old days smiling at him across the bunker kitchen table or laughing from beside him in the Dean cave, and he doesn’t know if that ache will ever go away. 

“ But I’m not him, ” Cas murmurs. 

“I—” Dean’s voice catches in his throat. 

“ I know I’m not him ,” Cas says. And he isn’t pleading like someone else might be in that situation. There’s pain there, but it’s different. “ But I’m me. Does that mean something to you? ”

Dean takes an unsteady breath. “Of course it does.” 

“ Then that’s all I ask, Dean. I’m not asking you to stop loving him just like you’ve never asked me to completely let go of my own past and whatever it holds. ” He pauses. “ I think we need each other, but I understand if it’s too difficult .”

He starts to shake his head even though Cas can’t see him. “It wouldn’t be fair to y— ”

“ Do you still want to be here? Like you told me you did a few months ago? ”

“What? What does that even have to do with—? ”

“I t has to do with quite a bit. Because I still want you here, and I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions ,” Cas huffs. “ Don’t make me go over this ‘again.’ If you still want to be here, in any capacity, then you’re still welcome. You…you’re welcome wherever I am, Dean. Always. ”

Something cracks in him, or maybe more than one thing. A rush of guilt, because he never told Cas that before, when he should have. But he’s also never heard it from anyone else quite like that. He thinks maybe he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. 

“Okay,” he whispers, because he can’t get anything else out any louder or he might cry. “Okay, I uhm…just…I just need a few days. Okay?”

It’s time to tell the others where he’s been so often for the last few months. 

Especially if he’s going to be there even more often now. 

***

Things with Sam and Eileen go precisely as expected, and Dean hangs around the standard 3-5 business days until Sam calms down and they can talk like civilized people. Eileen is a gem as always, though she doesn’t let him off without a few good jabs. At least they both agree not to try to make contact with Cas…to let Dean decide how to handle things.

“But maybe we could visit at some point? Maybe seeing more people he used to know would help?” Sam suggests. “I mean, just let us know if want to try that…”

This time Dean texts on the way back to Alabama. Cas is waiting for him when he unlocks the door, ready to pull him into his arms and hold him tight before he can get any farther than the threshold.

It feels right. Cas may smell a bit different than he used to—with some added notes of hay, cat food, and chlorine—but he’s still Cas. Those arms still feel the same way around him. It’s the same warmth, even if that warmth is all mortal now. 

“Next time wake me up before you spiral so hard?” Cas says.

Dean just nods into the hollow of his shoulder. 

Beside them, Val jumps up onto the bench just inside the door and starts a loud, scolding stream of meows while she struts back and forth across it, swishing her tail at him when she comes close. 

Dean smirks, reaching out over Cas’s shoulder to let her nudge her head into his hand the next time she circles around. “Yeah, yeah I hear you. I’m an idiot.”

Cas laughs softly in his ear. 

PART 3

September 2023

“Dean, you don’t have to do all this…”

“Ah!” Dean smacks Cas’s hand away from the pans on the stove. He looked suspiciously like he was trying to move in to help. “ Yes , I do. If you can’t let me cook to myself, you can take your coffee out on the porch.”

He gets raises eyebrows in return. “So I’m being kicked out of my own house?”

Dean points toward the back door with his spatula. “Yes. It’s Tuesday, which means you’ve been on your feet feeding people at the community center all day. Go sit your ass down. I’ll bring dinner out when it’s ready.”

He doesn’t say that it’s the least he can do after being gone all week, making Cas worry about him after he took off. They may have talked the same day, but still…it’s been a stressful week for them both. 

Cas goes, but not before leaning in to peck his cheek with a kiss. Dean hears the closet by the back door open and close before the back door itself, and he’s alone to put the finishing touches on the burgers, fries, and potato salad. No, that is not too much starch, and screw anyone who says so. 

When everything is done he shoves two beers in his pockets and takes two plates out the way Cas went, backing through the back door onto the porch where old rocking chairs look out over the goat and chicken pens and the garden that Cas also somehow had time to start in his two or more years renting this place.

Really, it’s ridiculous how much he does. 

Cas is already snuggled into one of the rocking chairs, feet up on the porch railing, wrapped in a blue cardigan that must have been what he was getting from the closet. He looks up with a smile as Dean hands him his food and a beer, the blue of his eyes glinting against the blue of the sweater and the glow of the setting sun, and god how could he ever have thought about not coming back here? 

Maybe it can be fine. Even if Cas never remembers. Jack said he’d remember in heaven anyway, right? 

They eat in relative quiet at first, listening to the crickets ramp up their chirping as it gets dimmer.

“You seem so cool most of the time with not remembering most of your life. Do you really feel that way, or do you wonder what things might be like if you did?”

Cas shrugs. “It depends on the day, I suppose. Or the hour or the moment, sometimes.”

“You know I’m always behind you, right? If you ever decide you wanted to change your approach—try to figure it out.” He pauses. “No matter what the outcome might be.”

“It’s funny you should mention that now. While you were gone this week, I had some of the wildest dreams…nothing that would help with my memory, but you were in them. And they were ah…interesting, to say the least.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, his heart beating faster. “Oh?”

“If you’re really that curious I can tell you later; how did things go with Sam?”

Dean blinks. Cas doesn’t know exactly why he’s been hesitant to tell his brother about them so far, but he knows Dean was going back to Kansas this week to talk to him. 

“I uh…it went about like I thought. He was a little confused, but he’ll be fine.”

Something else Cas doesn’t realize, however, is that Dean has—very carefully—never mentioned his brother’s name to this Cas once. 

***

October 2023

Most of the lights in the house are off, except for a lamp in the living room and the TV they’re watching from the couch. The muted colors of old John Wayne movies wash over them as Cas dozes on his lap late on a Saturday night.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Dean teases when he catches him stirring. “What time are you supposed to be at the senior center in the morning?”

“Hmm? Oh…7:30.” Cas opens one eye to look up at him. “You should come with me; they were asking about you again last time. I promised I’d get you to sing for them someday. You can actually sing, as opposed to my meager attempts.”

“You’re not supposed to know that. And shut up, you sound fine.”

“I can hear you in the shower, Dean. Half the time I’m in there with you.”

Dean laughs quietly, letting his fingers spread across Cas’s chest to feel the rumble of his voice through his sweatshirt.

“So?” Cas asks. He smirks like he’s already won, and, well, of course he has.

“Fine, I’ll tag along. Those guys always have some good stories. No promises on the singing though.” 

Dean settles back into the cushions as Cas drifts again. The movie still drones on, but he never quite focuses in on it again. He’s just here, present, enjoying the peace and quiet and the sensation of Cas breathing against him, his fingers curling absently through Cas’s soft hair. He doesn’t want it to end. 

He realizes it doesn’t have to. Something, finally, settles in him, and he knows he could never leave for good. This Cas wants him here, and…and so would the one that he lost. This isn’t wrong, and it was stupid to think so.

And he didn’t lose him. Cas is right here…and someday, when they’re together in heaven, he’ll know it. Even if he never does here. 

And maybe there’s still hope that he will, but that’s not what’s important right now. 

Dean takes a breath. “Hey…” He has to stop, to clear his throat. “Hey, Cas?”

“Mm?” Cas blinks, eyes slowly clearing as he rouses again. 

“I can do it,” he whispers. 

“Do what?” Cas asks groggily. Dean smiles fondly and waits for him to finish waking up. By the time he’s really looking he seems to understand. He sits up slowly. “You’re sure?”

“I practically live here anyway.”

“I know it’s semantics at this point, but if those semantics make you more comfortable…”

“I’m sure.”

***

December 2023

When Cas’s truck disappears over the hill to get groceries for Christmas dinner Monday, Dean pulls his phone out to call Sam back after that missed call this morning. He probably has more questions, because of course he does.

His suspicions are correct. Sam starts grilling him about what they can bring up and what they can’t say. He paces back and forth in the kitchen and up and down the hallway, trying to answer them as patiently as he can. It’s hard when his chest is bubbling with excitement and Sam’s questions are trying to bring down anxiety he doesn’t want to deal with right now. 

“Look, there’s random stuff he ends up just…knowing, I guess, but it's safer to just assume he knows nothing, okay? And he definitely doesn’t know about anything outside of the natural. Or he doesn’t think he does. He’s had some dreams, but he thinks that’s all they are.”

“ You’re sure you want to do this so soon? It’s gonna be weird pretending we don’t know either of them. ”

“I’m sure! Besides, I figure we do this once, and then we all quote unquote know each other again, and we have less to worry about in the future. Seriously, do you know how many times I’ve almost screwed up? Especially bringing up stuff I know he likes—honey, bees, PB&J—he still likes all that! He’s still Cas , he just—you get it.”

“ Yeah… ” Sam trails.

“You’ll see when you get here. I know you’ve missed him too.” 

“I’m looking forward to seeing him, I’m just concerned about you, Dean. ”

He paces back up the hallway, nodding absently. “Don’t, okay? Everything’s gonna be—”

Dean stops coming into the kitchen, suddenly face-to-face with Cas, who’s in the doorway to the living room. Staring at him wide-eyed. His keys are dangling from his fingers beneath a small handful of library books that were on the coffee table moments ago.

“ Dean? ”

“I uh…I’ll have to call you back, Sammy,” he says faintly. Cas is silent as he slips his phone into his pocket, and Dean’s stomach is in his shoes.

“Cas…? What are you…?”

He holds up the books for a second or two. “Forgot these…”

Uncomfortable silence. There’s no point in asking him how much he heard; it was clearly enough. While Dean waits, in agony, for Cas to say something, he has enough time to decide he’s not going to lie.

“You…you knew me before?” Cas manages finally.

He swallows past the lump forming in his throat. “It’s not a bad thing, Cas, I swear to god.” And it doesn’t escape him that he can do that honestly now. Swear. To the current god. But that’s a whole other thing to deal with. And then he can only be thankful he didn’t have the phone on speaker and he couldn’t have heard him say anything about Jack. He won’t lie, but he won’t give Cas a reason to question his relationship with his son if he can help it. “I think you would have wanted me here; I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think—”

“Stop!” Cas says quickly. His voice is shaking. He’s not exactly moving backward but he seems to shrink anyway. To deflate a little where he stands. “Stop, Dean, what are you doing ?”

He blinks. “What am I….doing?” He doesn’t understand the question. 

Cas licks his lips quickly, eyes darting away like he’s trying to gather a thought. “Did…did you see the truck coming back? Is that why you…? Was your brother even really on the phone? If you’re having…second thoughts again, or—just tell me,” he pleads. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“That’s not what this is, Cas. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life—” He tries to take a small step forward, but even with the majority of the kitchen between them Cas takes a step back, and Dean cuts off, his chest aching. 

“If you’d known me before the accident that would mean you’ve been lying to me since we met after. Or you’re lying now, or you’re just…insane? Don’t do this. Don’t make things up to push me away.”

“I’m not!”

Cas holds up a hand, placating, almost like he’s desperately trying to calm a frightened animal. “I know your father did things like that, I know you told me how he pushed you away before he died, but you don’t have to—“

“I didn’t tell you that.” 

“What?”

If he’s not going to lie, he has to tell the truth. Maybe not all of it, and certainly not if he’s trying to avoid bringing Jack into it, but he’s seen the signs of the old Cas in there. If he can make him believe it’s all there maybe he’ll understand that it’s safe to remember.

“Not since we met here. Not since the accident you think you had. I told you we moved around a lot, that he was a drunk, but I haven’t told you that part yet this time around. You only know that because some part of you remembers!”

“That’s ridiculous…”

“I didn’t even tell you Sam’s name, Cas!” Dean says gently. “You just knew it one day when you were asking about him—back around September.”

“No, no…” He twists and walks away, out into the living room, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch. The books and his keys slip from his grasp onto the cushions. 

“Why are you doing this?” Cas asks. “I thought we were fine?”

“We are. We still can be, if you’ll trust me.”

He glares suddenly. “How am I supposed to trust you when you clearly don’t trust me in some way? It seems like you never have.”

Dean is already shaking his head. “I trust you more than anyone, Cas. This was just…complicated, okay? You were happy here, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, I…maybe I handled it wrong. But I can prove everything, if you let me, just…”

Cas isn’t listening. He plucks his keys from the couch with shaking hands and shoves past Dean while he’s talking, straight for the door. 

“I can’t listen to this, I—I need you to go, Dean.” His voice breaks, but his face is hard when he pauses at the door to look back.

“Just let me show you some things, you’ll understand. I know this is crazy, but it’ll be okay, I promise.”

But he’s already opening the door, “Please, just…I’ll go into town for a couple of hours…when I get home, please be gone.”

No. No no no, it can’t be falling apart again. They were happy. Why can’t they just be happy? 

“Cas, please…”

“Tell me you understand, and that you’ll go.” 

Dean just nods after a long stretch of silence, because everything hurts and he doesn’t know what he would say anyway. If Cas doesn’t want to believe him, doesn’t want to listen to him…what can he do?

He flinches at the screen door on the outside slapping itself shut by the springs. The tires on the gravel outside grate on his ears and it feels like the engine noise fading down the road is taking what’s left of his hope with it. 

At first, he can’t move—all he can do is sink onto the edge of the couch and stare. 

It’s not fair, and it seems even more cruel realizing that some part of Cas still does trust him, or he wouldn’t have left him alone in his house, with his animals and everything he owns. 

Val jumps up onto the couch beside him with a quiet, plaintive meow, pushing her head into his arm as if to comfort him. Dean gives in and pets her, because he isn’t ready to move yet. She doesn’t seem startled at all when Jack appears in the middle of the living room, and he wonders how much she understands.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I could—let me fix it. I could make it so when he comes back, he doesn’t remember what just happened.”

Dean closes his eyes, because he wants it so badly. He wants the future he imagined. He wants to be by Cas’s side. But…

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, kid. He’s been through enough, hasn’t he? He doesn’t need anyone messing with his head anymore…wouldn’t be right.”

Jack sits down on the other end of the couch, quiet for a while. Val figure-eights across the cushion between them, soliciting attention from them both. 

“I could talk to him when I’m here for Christmas on Monday,” Jack offers after a while. 

“Thanks…I mean, don’t push it; don’t upset him, but…”

“Maybe he’ll keep remembering things on his own?”

Maybe. Or maybe Dean was just never meant to be happy. 

Val crawls into his lap, and he picks her up and carries her with him for emotional support as he goes to pack. 

***

February 2024

It’s been harder, in recent years, to feel the joy Dean usually feels being with the people they’ve claimed as their family. 

Being at Jody’s and trying to live through an engagement party though…that’s even harder. He’s happy for Sam and Eileen, he really is—and of course Sam would propose on Valentine’s Day, the sap he is—but it feels so strange sitting here. Most of the people here don’t even know that Cas is alive, much less that Dean is mourning what could have been all over again. 

He doesn’t notice when the party dwindles, or when Claire plops down in the armchair beside the couch he’s been slumped on for hours.

“So that’s it? You’re giving up that easy?”

Dean blinks up at her. “What?”

“Cas, the whole tragic love story last year?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, because he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to respond to that. 

“Look, apparently Sam needed someone else to talk to about it at some point and spilled the beans, and Jody told me because of, you know, the possibility of running into somebody who looks like my dad suddenly being a thing again.”

Dean makes a face. “I swear we were gonna tell you anyway after that test run at Christmas. You still deserve to know even after what happened, but…”

She shrugs and hands him a fresh beer she was carrying now that he’s paying attention. “You were kinda distracted after that, I get it.”

He nods in thanks and takes a long swig to avoid having to think of anything to say for a bit, hoping maybe she’ll drop it. 

She doesn’t. While he’s drinking Claire just asks her question again. 

“So…? Giving up? What the fuck, Dean?”

“I’m not—it’s none of your business!” 

“Sure it is, that’s why Jody told me. The Cas being alive part, anyway. And I wasn’t gonna not tell Kaia, and…”

Dean lets his head roll back against the back of the sofa. “Everybody just knows now, don’t they?”

“Pretty much.”

He scrubs at his face. “I am gonna take Sam out, I swear…”

“He and Jody wanted to tell you, but I made them let me do it.”

Dean takes another swig from his beer before he straightens up enough to look at Claire again. “Why’d you want to do that?”

She sits forward over her knees to pin him in her gaze. “Because you need a good talking to and I didn’t think either of them were gonna do it right. Jody might have gotten closer, but what you really need is a kick in the ass.”

“Look, Claire…”

“I did look.” She sits back with a huff. “Did a couple of drivebys last week. Got curious.”

“You what ?”

“Just while he was in town! I didn’t stalk him to his house or anything. And don’t worry, Kaia was with me; she wouldn’t have let me do anything too stupid. He didn’t notice.”

“Jesus…what’s your point?” He wants to ask what she saw. He wants to know how Cas is doing, if he’s okay, if he even bothered to open the gifts Dean left under the tree or if he just threw them away…

“It was weird,” she says, more quietly. “I wanted to see what Cas living like a normal person would even look like…wondered if it would give me some kind of idea what my dad might have been like if he was still around. But, you know, it wasn’t him.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah.”

“I’m never gonna know what it would have been like if my dad was still alive, but Cas is right there . So why are you sitting here moping when you could be getting him back?”

“Because he thinks I’m either a liar or certifiable. Or both. Seems like a pretty good reason,” he grumbles, downing half of what’s left of his drink in one go immediately after. 

“And you could easily prove you’re neither of those things if you’d get off your ass and do it.”

“He wouldn't listen to me! There’s nothing I can do about that.”

Claire reaches out and snatches the bottle away before he can bring it back to his lips to finish it off. “So try again . It’s not like you not to. Hell, if you need emotional support or some shit, fine, I volunteer as tribute.”

Dean blinks at her, surprised. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She sets the drink she took from him on the coffee table and scrambles to her feet, not quite looking at him as she answers and quickly leaves him be. “Because…you two are the closest things I have left to a dad down here, okay? So sue me if I don’t want either of you to be miserable.”

***

March 2024

It takes a couple of weeks to finally work up the courage to head south—and maybe it also takes a mysterious missed call from Cas that no one answers when he tries to return it. But it’s what he needs to kick him into gear.

It could have been a butt dial, sure. But it could also mean Cas is still thinking about him the way Dean imagines he is. Hopes he is. 

The way he can’t glare for long after opening the door gives him hope, too.

“What are you doing here?”

“Would you let me in? Please?” Dean asks quietly. “Please just let me explain.”

He looks like he’s fighting with himself before he finally steps back and reaches for the screen door latch, pausing before he opens it. “This is the last time,” he says. But it doesn’t sound as hard as it could.

Dean follows him into the living room, but he doesn’t know where to start. “Why’d you let me in at all if you just think I’m crazy?”

Cas shrugs, shaking his head like he doesn’t know why they’re standing here. “I thought once you were gone that it would be easier…that in time the dreams would stop, that I wouldn’t feel like…”

“Like what?”

He finally stills, looking at Dean helplessly. “Like I felt before you came. Like I was missing something…something that was everything.”

Dean swallows. “You never told me that went away.”

“I wish I could tell you when it did; I wish I could explain, but I can’t. And maybe I was too harsh with you before. I’m sure you need some sort of help, or…” He shakes his head again, smirks. “God, or maybe I do.”

“The only help you need is getting your memories back. I could show you pictures, videos…” He holds out his phone, open to a picture of both of them in Tombstone after the last time Cas came back. Cas glances down, something in his face flickering when he sees it, but he doesn’t reach out. “This thing is full of so much stuff from over the years…I have a box of stuff in the car. But I don’t think that’s what you need, or even…want, really. Why are you afraid to remember?”

Cas’s eyes narrow and he takes the phone. “I’m not,” he says, even though he doesn’t look down once he has it. 

“But you are. Every time I asked about why you didn’t seem to care if you remembered you played it off or changed the subject. You’re not indifferent; you’re scared . And I know that because I know you .”

He can see it in his face now. It’s like they’re outside of that hospital all over again, and a Cas who thinks his name is Emmanuel is clearly terrified to find out what might happen if he admits he knows it isn’t. Afraid to find out what he’ll see if he looks inside for what’s missing. 

“Why?” Dean asks gently.

Cas looks down at the phone, catching it just before the screen goes dark to scroll through a handful of images. Some of them are from the last year, but some of them are much older.

When he looks up, he doesn’t seem any less scared. “If these are real, if…if any part of those dreams are real…” He’s shaking his head, handing back the phone. Dean has to catch it quickly to keep it from falling. “I just want you, Dean. I don’t want the rest of it.”

“Why?” Dean asks again.

“If you were there, you should know better than I do, don’t you? You know how much I—” He stops, frowns, like he’s lost what he was trying to say, or maybe he was never sure. Because he can’t remember, and he doesn’t want to.

And Dean knows why. He understands. He’s only asking because he’s hoping it will help. 

“Is that why you can’t slow down around here?”

“I just need to help people…”

“And I admire all the stuff you do in this town, Cas. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. But I am saying maybe you don’t have to do so much, and maybe the reason you feel like you have to is bullshit.”

Cas’s eyes drift shut; he looks like he’s in pain. “If the worst of these dreams are real, it’s hardly bullshit to feel like I should still be making up for a good number of things.”

Dean reaches out, tentatively taking his arms to ground him when he starts swaying a little in place. “Cas…”

Fingers dig into his arms like they’re holding a lifeline. “Can’t I just have you without the rest of it?” Cas whispers.

His heart is pounding, but this is where the rubber meets the road. 

“You can,” Dean says. “You’ve had me all year—when I wasn’t being fucking stupid, anyway. If you want me here, I’ll be here. You have me, Cas.”

“What if I never remember?”

“I’ll still be here. I made that decision months ago, okay? It’s your choice. All of it is.” He leans in to kiss Cas’s cheek. “My choice is, I love you.”

He didn’t realize he’d been waiting to say it, but maybe he had. And maybe that wasn’t the right choice. The way Cas is looking at him now…he should have said it before. Maybe that was a piece of what some part of him was waiting for.

Cas pulls in close, arms around him, face slotted against Dean’s and tipping down into his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Dean just holds on, because he doesn’t know exactly where they’re going from here, but he knows he’s not going anywhere again unless Cas asks him to.

He expects Cas to pull back at some point, to tell him what he wants. To give him an idea of what’s next. What he doesn’t expect is for Cas to go limp in his arms and start to slip. 

“Whoa, Cas? Hey, you okay?” He tightens his grip so he can lower him more easily, down to the couch, and thank god they’re so close to it. 

Dean slides down with him, crouching in front of him between his knees. But by then it’s clear he’s entirely out. His head flops back against the back cushion and starts to roll toward the arm, and Dean reaches up to catch it by the cheek, to swipe gently at the skin there. 

“Cas? Cas!”

What the hell?

He doesn’t have time to panic, or he very well might have. Another moment and Cas is blinking, making soft confused sounds as he picks his head up. 

“Cas?”

Dean’s hand is still up there, floating near Cas’s cheek, and at some point, the other found one of Cas’s against his leg and linked their fingers together. He doesn’t quite notice until Cas is squeezing back and those blue eyes are focusing on him.

And Dean knows. He knows before those eyes have even fully cleared, before Cas’s mouth even opens. He knows.

“Dean?” Cas croaks. 

And there’s just…so much. All he can say at first is, “Hey…”

Even that sticks in his throat, but it’s fine. It’s okay. Everything is okay now. He doesn’t know how, but he doesn’t care.

Cas links their other hands and presses them back to his cheek, staring down at him incredulously.

“You’re here,” he says. His eyes wander for a moment, processing. “You’ve been here, you…”

“I love you,” Dean says again. Because he needs him to know it’s real. It’s true. It’s not changing. It’s not a dream, or a fantasy. 

Maybe he needs to remind himself, too.

“I should have said it back then. I should have…god, Cas, when you told me back in September that I was always welcome with you…I should have told you that. So many times, so many years…”

“Dean…”

“I was thinking it, but it felt stupid to say it and that was just…stupid. I should have told you to stay.”

Cas doesn’t try to stop him from talking a second time. Dean registers that was what he was trying to do just as Cas seizes the front of his shirt and tugs him up from the floor where he’s still between his knees. 

Dean ends up straddling those knees instead, his own pressing into Cas’s hips just to be closer as he kisses him. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, when he can get a breath.

“For kicking me out? Come on, I sounded crazy; I don’t blame you.”

“Thank you…for not giving up on me.”

Dean smirks. “I’m not perfect. You can call Claire about that one.” He rests his forehead against Cas’s, and for a few moments, they’re quiet together. “How?” he asks eventually. “Did Jack…?”

“I don’t think so. I think I just…finally believed it was safe.” Cas’s thumbs run back and forth against his cheeks. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Would you stop apologizing and fucking kiss me? If anybody should be apologizing it’s me, for being an idiot.”

“I think you are allowed to have not handled an unprecedented situation perfectly,” Cas laughs. “But we have enough time to argue about it later.”

After that Cas does, in fact, kiss him again, but not without commentary from Val. The cat has jumped up onto the back of the couch by their heads, yelling as usual. Possibly scolding both of them, which is fair. They deserve it. 

At least from now on, they can deserve Val's ire together.