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The door parted with a thud. There was a flash of light outside, sparks flew from the bulbs. A man in a trenchcoat entered the shed. He crossed through all glyphs and protective charms as if it was nothing, while moving with such lightness that it was impossible to deny his grace. Dean had never before seen such a mighty being. And he has seen a good share of weird, hard-to-kill shit. This? This was different.
Cas, a name flitted somewhere in the background of his consciousness.
It meant nothing though and changed nothing. He had to try everything he could to get rid of the newcomer. And the most powerful weapon he possessed was a knife capable of killing demons, which now rested securely in his hand. A sweaty, painfully clenched hand.
The monster, that probably dragged his ass out of Hell, approached him with an innocent smile. It tilted its head when the silver blade dug into its chest. Nothing happened. The end did not come.
Dean took a deep breath. With a mixture of horror and admiration, he tore his gaze from the hilt embedded in the meat and redirected it to the newcomer's eyes. Drowning in the unearthly blue, he finally understood what should have been obvious from the start.
I died.
Suddenly the scene changed, although the memory of the look that penetrated the soul and heart remained.
I died, Dean repeated in his mind, staring at his own hands. They seemed to be transparent, and from behind them, Castiel smiled sadly. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening an imminent outpouring of feelings that, like a rushing river, no one could stop or turn back.
Feeling a painful prick in his chest, Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was in Bobby's cabin. Castiel was there too. Dressed in the damn coat, he sat on the edge of a chair with hands folded in his lap. Just from the rigid posture and the impression of cramped space, Dean could tell that these were Cas' beginnings among humanity.
"Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?”
“I just thought I'd sit here quietly.”
Oh. Dean remembered that evening. The timidity of the angel, his own sincere laugh. Heat spread in waves across Dean's chest, warming hardened, stiffened bones. A spark of something he could never understand. Not for years of friendship to come.
Cas is… was my best friend, Dean excused himself to his thoughts. He was family. He was. Home.
And now we are both dead.
It was an unpleasant thought that he would like to run away from as far as possible. So he woke up on the run, his heart pounding in his lifeless chest, his lungs sore from the effort. He was covered with mud, dust, and blood from head to toe. Behind him, there was Benny, not yet a friend but a helpful guide. And in front... Ahead of him, the thicket of trees was thinning to reveal a bit of open space by the riverbank, where an all-too-familiar figure crouched over the surface of the water.
Against all logic, Dean felt relieved, and his mouth immediately curved into a wide smile.
"CAS!"
In the blink of an eye, he was right next to the angel, enclosing him in a tight embrace. Was that the first time he hugged Castiel? Why did it take him so long? Now he had no desire to let go, afraid that the memory would fade too quickly. The warmth of the other body offered a comfort that was impossible to find in solitude. So Dean dug his fingers into the fabric of the rumpled, torn coat, pulling Castiel even closer. If only he could, he would meld into one with his friend, for eternity.
Instead, he just buried his face between the angel's neck and shoulder, inhaling the strikingly real scent of human skin. This way, at least, he could hide the tears in his eyes, the presence of which surprised him.
"Dean?" Cas spoke up in a trembling voice, just like back then, for the first time - not returning the hug.
Dean laughed. Let him be forgiven, but he didn't have the strength to look Castiel in the eye. Not this time.
I'm in Heaven, he just admitted silently in his mind.
Finally, calming his emotions, completely exhausted by the confusing tangle of all-too-real memories, he loosened his grip and fell to his knees. Inhale, exhale, and he dared to lift his eyelids, to look up. He already expected what sight would greet him.
Just as he had predicted, Cas was standing over him. A bloody blade gleamed in the angel's hand, and an incomprehensible emptiness reflected in his eyes. As he raised his hand for another hit, Dean just smiled.
Probably the outside observer would not understand the importance of this moment, would not understand why in his own Heaven, among happy memories, Dean allowed his best friend to grind his face again and again. But it was important. Very important. After all, back then... words were spoken. Not exactly the right ones, because they terrified Dean as soon as he tasted them on the tip of his tongue. So he quickly found something else, something a little less revealing. However, no less important.
"I need you." I love you. I am dead. I am in Heaven.
“Jack, that is inappropriate,” Cas' voice cut through the air, startling Dean's soul.
The world was trembling, the picture was blurring. The catacombs disappeared, the cold floor under his knees vanished, Castiel's soft hand - perfectly matched to Dean's cheek - faded away.
"No, no! He thinks it was an important moment for you two!” Jack's voice was a surprise that made Dean's head spin.
Didn't he tell me and Sam that Heaven shouldn't look like that anymore? Wait…
The hotel room was bathed in warm, soft colors. The wooden wall creaked under the pressure of his hand as Dean leaned over one of the many cowboy portraits. Behind the glass, a bearded, middle-aged man, with a beautifully crafted stetson on his head, smiled. But it was his own dim reflection on the smooth surface that caught Dean's attention more. A little bit scared, a little confused. With too bright smile for the life that offered little to no happiness at all.
Thoughts raced through his head, shouting over each other. On the one hand, something told him that all of this shouldn't be happening. On the other hand, behind his back was one of his happiest memories. And what would happen if he allowed himself to experience it again? After all, he wasn't alive anymore. The worst has already occurred. So he turned over his shoulder.
Sam was just leaving, promising to come back with snacks. Cas (happily back among the living after Dean had wrapped his cold body in white cloth and laid it on a pyre to give his friend a hunter's funeral, after Dean had scattered his ashes on a peaceful meadow where wildflowers bloomed forgotten by the rest of the world, where bees were singing their working song) sat at the table as if nothing of the sort has ever happened. He rested his handsome face on one hand, perpetually sad eyes boring into the young boy who sat across from him. There were sparks of pride in those shining blue mirrors that used to give all their attention to Dean. And after all these years, Dean was finally able to understand something he hadn't comprehended when experiencing that moment for the first time.
Jack deserved every kind word and look. He was just a frightened child who, against his will, had been involved in the games of Heaven, Earth and Hell. He wasn't a monster, he wasn't a Savior, he wasn't anything more than... a kid.
Dean's heart clenched uncomfortably as the memory of Jack lifted trusting eyes and gave him the most sincere smile the world had ever known. Following the kid, Castiel also looked at Dean. The angel didn't even have to smile for the warmth filled with understanding and forgiveness to spread throughout the room, squeezing into every nook and cranny.
"My family," Dean whispered under his breath, his eyelids stinging. "My family."
"Jack, I think that's enough."
"But Dad, I think he is beginning to see it!"
Dean didn't remember that conversation. But Hell, he used to be so angry at the kid for just existing. He probably didn't listen to him most of the time.
“Heaven wasn't supposed to be like that anymore. But if I get one more moment with you…” Tears were threatening to fall down his cheeks. “With the memory of you.”
“Jack,” there was urgency in Cas' voice this time.
And when Dean blinked, everything was gone. He was standing in a vast clearing, the crisp air filling his lungs and the warm wind ruffling his hair. He felt light as if he was about to float up and fly away with the birds far beyond the horizon, towards eternal peace.
All of that, those memories. Cas... But Cas was dead. Lost forever. How could Dean ever forget?
"I'm sorry, Dean. I wasn't aware of what Jack was doing. And when I found out… I should have ended it right away. That wasn't right."
He turned, drawn to the familiar voice like a moth to light. So what if he didn't recall this particular memory? The point was that once again he could look at Castiel. With this damn storm of eternally tangled hair, with eyes bluer than all the skies and oceans, with the worn-out coat that fluttered in the wind, replacing angel wings, with sadness inscribed in the core of being.
And with Jack by his side. Looking as if he had just been scolded by his father for spilling milk or something equally unimportant.
Dean's brow furrowed, without him consciously choosing to do so. But the shadow of a smile still lingered on his lips as the truth slowly dawned on him.
"I just thought it would be a good welcome..." Jack whispered shyly.
But before the kid could get lost in his own explanations, Dean sprang to his feet, enfolding his little family in an embrace as tears finally broke free from his hold and flowed in a torrent. At the same time, he laughed with all his chest, pressing the two angel hearts as close as possible to his own, dead, and yet, as if for the first time, truly beating.
But soon he stepped back to look at both of them. Then, very quickly, before he could question the desire, he placed a wet smooch on Jack's forehead and turned to face Castiel. For a few seconds, the entire universe stopped. The words died on the angel's lips.
Before Dean's eyes again stood the dungeon and that hastily shared confession.
He knew he should say something. But all at once his throat tightened and his hands trembled. He was not a man of words. He was a man of action.
And so he grabbed Cas' surprised face and pressed a wanting kiss to those soft, pink lips. They both relaxed, gasping into each other's mouths. The kiss was lasting and lasting, cause none of them had to breathe anymore.
Oh, they will make some new memories up here.
Sam could take his time before joining in. But they still had to get rid of the kid for some alone time. Not that family bonding wasn't on Dean's list. Just… there were other kinds of bonds he wanted to explore for a while first.
“I you too,” he whispered into Cas' mouth.
The angel smiled.