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Dean sat on the bench that stood next to his front door. A ray of sunlight hitting his face, the heat luring him to the cold bottle of beer that rested on his hands. A calm feeling continuously washed over him in waves, synced to the slow balancing of the trees in front him. For some time now, although impossible for him to measure in units, he has felt these waves and not much of anything else. Peace, stillness, and the sensation of a job well done. These feelings always seem to run by him in pulses and the fact that they seem to be connected to the movements of the scene surrounding him, have piqued his curiosity. For the time being, though, he lets it go. He’s pleased. No remorse, no regrets, no guilt; just him, in heaven, finally at peace. He remembers the pain, physical and emotional, that was his life. From his mother burning on the ceiling to the cold, invasive feeling of that piece of rebar in his back. He knows the amount of suffering he went through in life, but as much as he tries, he isn't able to grab onto those emotions. Why does he try anyway? He debates himself, convinced that it must be some kind of “celestial roofie” and tries to let it go.
A familiar hand lays on his shoulder and a tall shadow casts itself on Dean’s eyes.
“You’re so tall, you’re blocking the wholeass sun.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll grow some more when you hit puberty.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
Sam has been with him for a while now, although time, in its earthly form, does not exist anymore; so his presence can only be measured in annoyance. Sam’s house is close to Dean’s, almost next to it and has a gigantic library of every topic that exists, even some books that have been destroyed on earth. A nod, from Jack. So he spends his days reading, going for runs through the deep green woods that surround their homes, taking in the scent of the fallen leaves, pines and soil. In the afternoons, he spends time with his brother, who always sits at the front porch, with a beer in his hand. They talk and banter and discuss their lives. Dean has become more transparent with time, opening up to him about certain experiences in hell, more (there is always more) trauma from his childhood and his plans and wishes that never came true. Sam was pleasantly surprised by their talks and attributed them to the fact that he couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He wasn't carrying the same responsibilities as he did on earth, so certain topics simply became easier to talk about. That day, while he sat on that bench pretending to drink a beer that Dean would eventually finish, a simple question popped in his head.
“Dean, why are you always sitting here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that every single day, you sit here. We’re in heaven, you have a garage full of tools, your favorite shows to watch and your car. You could be doing anything and everything but you don’t. Mom, dad, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, they all come visit you but you never go to them. Did you even realise that Jody’s here too?” He didn’t mean for his question to sound accusatory, but as he elaborated his reasoning, he realised how uncharacteristic his behaviour really was and his curiosity grew bigger.
“Jody’s here?” He asked, surprised, a warm feeling growing in his chest.
“Yeah, man. So why is it?”
“Sam, let it go.” He took a long and slow sip of his beer and finished it off, hoping that in those few seconds of avoidance Sam would let go of his question. Deep down though, he knew he wouldn’t so he tried, pointlessly, to come up with some vague answers that would get him off his back. Sam stared at him, recognising for the first time since meeting him in heaven those same earthly ways that, for decades, made up most of his personality. Then, easy as that, he knew. The thing is, Sam is specialist on Dean and his defense mechanisms most of all. Those two simple words, for him, were an open book.
“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?”
“Sam, quit it, everything is fine. I’ll go see Jody tomorrow.” He shifted in his chair, and placed one leg over the other, trying to assert some sense of power over the situation.
There was a name that Dean couldn’t dare to speak out loud. When Sam tried to talk about it, he would get defensive, change the subject or simply stay silent.
“Dean, you can’t sit here waiting on Cas for eternity, you don’t really know if he’s going to show up and there’s people who love you right here.” Sam tried to be as sensitive as he could.
After they defeated Chuck, Dean spent a week in bed, without eating or showering. When the situation became a public health issue, Sam had to physically drag him out of bed and into the shower, which resulted in a fist fight. A dislocated jaw and an eye swollen shut eventually got him to surrender, physical pain giving way to emotional. The iron in his blood mixed with the salt of his tears and Sam held him, on the floor of his bathroom, until he came clean of his heartbreak and filth. Loss and regret now unlocked, Dean came to terms with a new burden and returned to reality. Shortly after, death separated the brothers and heaven reunited them again in what felt like mere hours to him. That was the one time he dared to speak his name out loud: “Cas made this heaven for us”.
“He’ll show Sam. He has to, okay?” There it was: the feelings that laid in between the waves of stillness and peace. The negative space; quite literally.
“Maybe he will, Dean, but you don’t need to sit here forever, waiting. He can find you”
“I know he can Sam, that’s not the point, don’t you get it?” Ironic, Sam thought, since he had explained virtually nothing. He paused a second to make space for a sigh and his trademarked thousand-yard stare, and continued:
“How does it feel for ya Sammy? Heaven?”
Sam stayed silent for a few seconds. He meditated his answer carefully. He realized he had never stopped to think about his feelings anymore. Although emotions were present, they were tame and leveled. He wasn't able to process complex or borderline feelings like regret, envy or euphoria.
“I feel joy, I guess. A kind of joy I hadn’t felt in years. And peace. It’s so much more simple here.”
“It’s great that you feel that way, but I don’t. When the wind blows and the trees move, I get this, like, surge of peace? Maybe? And then those split seconds where everything is quiet, Sam-” He paused, pondering how honest he could let himself be. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel it. His hand on my shoulder, the tears on my face. When The Empty grabbed him it ripped me apart. The regret, the guilt, I feel all of it at once and then nothing, a wave of numbness”
Dean had left his bench and started pacing, an anxious feeling creeping up from the deepest point of his being. He had always trusted his instincts and this time wouldn’t be any different. He clung to the alarms that kept trying to come up the surface but continued to drown under a sea of nothing.
“I can’t stand it Sammy, this can’t be it for me. Something’s wrong, I’m telling you. He has to show. I pray to him every single day. I tell him everything I didn’t back then. So yes, Sam, I wait and I will keep waiting because one day, he will hear me and he will come and I will stop living this nightmare over and over again!” He yelled. A single tear tried to make his way through Dean’s cheek, but disappeared into thin air.
Now Sam was the one with the thousand-yard stare. He fixed his gaze on the floor. He wanted to worry. He knew he should be, but felt nothing. Not one thing was allowed to trouble his mind. Nonetheless, he gave his best effort and attempted to commiserate.
“Dean, why don’t you try going for a drive?”
Dean scoffed and turned his back to Sam, he ran his hand through his five o’clock shadow and made an effort not to snap at his brother for his ridiculous response. He was riled up, trying with all of his celestial soul to grab onto his pain and not be numbed by the energy of his own heaven. Sam’s question lingered in his head as his eyes widened.
“You know what Sammy? You’re right”
An electric feeling ran through his body as he grabbed Baby’s keys and jumped in the car, feeling maybe a little too alive for a soul of one dead, middle aged man and all. He pressed on the gas pedal with the conviction of someone who is ready to grab his desires by the neck. As Baby’s gauges reached their limit and the trees kept falling behind the rearview mirror, Dean screamed his demands with everything he had.
“Castiel, I am the soul you claimed. I am the soul that belongs to you. The one you raised from perdition. You lifted me up and made me yours and now I’m calling you. You have committed yourself to me. We are bonded for eternity, so you show up! Bring your ass over here right now!”
As the Impala reached its top speed, Dean pushed on the brakes as far as they could go and held on to the steering wheel, trying to keep it steady. In two seconds he’d gone from almost flying to full stop and a figure dressed in beige stood in front of him.
“Son of a bitch.”
He got out of the car, holding onto every single feeling he could. The pain, the need, the love. His fists white, his breaths quick and his celestial body, hungry. Pulling from the collar of Cas’ trench coat, he rammed his lips on the angel’s.
“Dean what-”
“I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry for not saying it. I’m sorry for letting you go. I’m sorry for not realising sooner that you saved in so many more ways than just raising me from perdition. You became my home, the only home I’ve ever had, because you protected me. I didn't know what that was like and I didn’t know what to do with it. You understand everything about me. I didn’t let myself believe that we could have something together, I was scared and I didn’t feel good enough for you. I’m so sorry Cas, for everything I put you through. I just need you to know. I love you, okay? I love you.”
Tears flowed from Dean’s eyes and as they traveled down his cheeks, they disappeared. A wave of relief ran through his spine, freeing him from a heaviness his soul had only known in hell. Now, there was space for joy. Cas stood there, in awe of the soul he fell in love with. His eyes widened like windows to the sky as he tried to find words that Dean could understand and not the enochian sonnet that was playing looped in his head. He managed to pull him into a hug that tried to fill every single inch of Dean’s body with his love and squeeze him tight enough for Cas to process the pain of watching him cry.
“My dearest Dean, there is nothing you need to apologize for. I love you. I will always come back for you.” He whispered.
Dean broke their embrace. As he placed his hand on Cas’ cheek, he kissed him, softly this time, trying to convey the explosion of love and devotion he felt for his angel, while wondering how their meeting came to be.
“Cas, I need to know. Did you hear my prayers? I called out for you… every single day. I waited. Bobby told me you were alive. I thought it wouldn’t be long ‘till I saw you again but you never showed.” He tried his best to conceal the heartbreak.
Castiel stared at the human he adored and listened, as he tried to make sense of it all.
“Dean, I am so sorry. I didn’t want to make things more complicated than they were, so when Jack brought me back, I stayed out of your life. When you died, I stopped listening for prayers. Yours were the only ones I cared about and here… you were supposed to forget about me. As far as I knew, you would never pray for me again.”
“I was supposed to forget about you? Why?” Dean placed a hand on his stomach, his voice cracking as he envisioned the possibility of forgetting Cas’ existence.
“I asked Jack to leave me out of the picture. I had no way of knowing if you wanted me here. Choosing to have a place here… it would have been a selfish decision.”
White knuckled and frozen as he debated an appropriate reaction to Cas’ reasoning, Dean maintained his composure, realizing that if Cas’ wasn't sure whether he would want him in his version of heaven, then it was his own god-damned fault. He held his angel close and explained, trying to leave absolutely no place for misunderstandings, that he has never wanted, nor will he ever want to be parted from him ever again. And just to be safe, stated that he loved him, just a few more times.
“Tell me you can stay. Tell me you don't have to go.”
“I have to help Jack however he needs me to, when he calls for me. Besides that, I'm yours. Forever.”
They held each other close until their pain felt diluted enough to move on. On the promise of reuniting with Sam, Cas climbed into Baby with Dean as they trailed through a woodsy road. As they grew closer, the sky’s “Castiel” blue started to pale, slowly becoming greyish and eventually offering an unexpected storm. Castiel sat quietly, a strange feeling starting to creep up the back of his head.
“What’s on your mind, angel?” Dean asked, feeling his partner tense up by the minute.
“I find it strange Dean”
“What?”
“I couldn't hear your prayers. I felt something could be wrong. The moment I claimed you we formed a bond not even I can’t completely understand. And I was right, you were, indeed, suffering. You should have been at peace, Dean. I don't know what went wrong and it worries me.”
“You said it yourself, Cas. We share a bond, a really strong one. Maybe heaven without you is just hell, no matter how perfectly designed it is.”
“How very romantic of you.”
Dean scoffed his vulnerability away as they kept driving in silence, both making an effort to push their uneasiness behind and enjoy being back together.
After the necessary reunions, Cas responded to Jack’s calling and left Dean to his own devices. With a well deserved burger and pie, he propped himself in bed and proceeded to watch his beloved cartoons. The rain continued getting louder, showing no signs of stopping for the night. Despite the fact that his eyelids grew heavier with each show, he recognized immediately the sounds coming from his TV and for a split second, he perked up. It was a Scooby Doo episode from the original show called “A Clue for Dean Winchester”. Wait, no. Confused, he rubbed his eyes and refocused, now reading “A Clue for Scooby-Doo”. He took a deep breath, confused by what had just happened. He attributed it to lack of sleep, and decided to turn off the TV. As he lay in bed, he thought of Castiel. A feeling of peace inundated his body, from his chest, through his stomach to his hands and feet. He slept, for the first time in his life, feeling complete.
The warmth coming through the clear skies made its way through the bedroom window and permeated his body as he felt a soft pressure applied on his cheek. He fluttered his eyes open, trying to focus on the dark figure sitting on his bed. Castiel smiled at him, reminiscing of the times when Dean would wake up angry and scared.
“Good morning, Dean.”
“I like the new look.”
Castiel sported a light blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a few buttons undone, exposing a bit of his chest.
“I wear the coat when I’m working with Jack. On Earth, I think it represented a war uniform for me. It didn’t seem appropriate to bring it here.”
“I taught you that trick.” Dean said, messing with the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “Are you trying to seduce me, feather boy?” He gave the angel a smirk.
“I think I already have” Cas clapped back.
Dean pulled Cas into a slow, romantic kiss that soon grew into more. A morning spent in between the sheets, he found himself tracing the angel’s back with his fingers, as he rested his head on Dean’s chest. A slim ray of sunlight made its way through the curtains of his bedroom, highlighting little specks of dust too light to ever touch the ground. The breeze could barely graze their abandoned clothes and a few birds, that had not been as lucky as those two, wished in singsong for a mate of their own.
The day went by in romantic inebriation, nesting on Dean’s favorite bench as they recounted their timeline, shared anecdotes and perspectives on the events that led the two together.
“I had my suspicions when watching me sleep became a regular thing, not gonna lie. But especially after you told Sam we shared a profound bond. Also, after ignoring Sammy for days, you come up with that? Gold, Cas. Gold. You should’ve seen his face. I had to take his side so you wouldn’t get punched in the face!”
“Well, he called me a son of a bitch. I did not like that.” He spat.
“I’ve called you an S.O.B. so many times, Cas. I’ve said such nasty things to you. I am so sorry, angel.” Dean used the arm that hung on Cas’ shoulder to bring him closer and placed a kiss on his temple.
“It’s alright, Dean. I did awful things to you too. You’ve more than made up for them.” Cas paused for a second, trying to find a specific scene in the movie of his life, then continued:
“Remember when you bought me a burger from that place you liked, in Lawrence? And we ate them looking at the stars, on the open road. I had lost so many brothers that day and you made it so much better.”
Dean’s face turned white. Once again, the feeling that something wasn’t right struck him like thunder, burning him from the inside. His breathing quickened as he removed his arm from Cas’ shoulder. One thing he had learned so far was not to let go of it. He knew that if he let himself notice the breeze, the movement of the trees or the dancing of the birds, he would go numb again.
“Cas, that never happened.” He said, stone-faced.
“Dean, my dear, of course it did. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, I remember alright. I remember dreaming about this years ago and never telling a living soul about it! There’s no way you could have known that” He paused, his heart rate quickening as he started to tie loose ends. “You’re not Castiel. What are you?” He screamed.
By this point, he was already up and walking towards Baby, determined to find answers. Castiel followed, trying to grasp and pull at Dean’s arms to get him to stay. He did everything he could to convince him of being the real Castiel. Eventually, as Dean put on his jacket, he turned to the angel with an icy stare.
“What was my present to you?”
“I-” Cas stared, baffled. One more glitch.
“You’re not my Cas. Stay the hell away from me or I swear, I will end you.”
He got in the car and blasted away, driving aimlessly. No plan, no answers, just questions. He drove as fast as he could through that never ending, straight road hoping he would, at some point, reach the ending. He figured he needed to find a way to break this reality he was trapped into. As he pressed on the gas pedal the woods surrounding the road started to become denser, he had no idea where he was, but continued his attempts to become a nuisance to whoever created this reality for him. The sky became smaller, covered by massive treetops. The changing scenery made Dean dizzy; he pressed his eyes shut for a second. Flashes of timber and filth appeared in his mind. He opened his eyes, quickly readjusting the steering wheel. He screamed and cursed as the same storm that had joined them before made itself known. The wind became wilder. A surge of pain gripped his head and neck, flashes of an unknown cabin appearing in his brain. His speed was too high at this point, he had lost too much control to be able to dodge the branches that were now falling, almost intentionally, in the middle of the road. As he crashed into one of them, Dean felt his head on the steering wheel. His limbs were heavy, his chest beaten and his eyesight, darkened.
“Dean, wake up. Cut the crap, we need to go.”
A voice called for him, far away. He felt pain everywhere in his body. “That checks out.” He thought. He made an effort to focus on his surroundings, finding himself on a chair, in a filthy, unknown cabin. A tattooed man laid dead on the floor, next to an equally dead woman. There were tools, bags and scattered trash all around. Coming to himself, he started to remember.
“Sammy?” He said, grabbing Sam’s arm to stand.
“Hey, you’re alright. Let’s go home” He pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder and started to carry him to their cars.
“What the hell happened?”
“You don’t remember? You got taken by a Djinn again, you dumbass,” Sam proclaimed in his usual exasperated tone.
“Goddammit, that’s embarrassing,” He said, getting into Baby’s passenger seat. “How long have I been gone?”
“Four days, I’ve been looking for you for the past two. I figured something went wrong after you stopped answering my texts.” Sam held onto the steering wheel and started their journey home.
“Shit, Sam, who’s watching Miracle?” He asked, suddenly remembering his fluffy roommate.
“Relax, did you think I’d leave him alone? He’s with Jody.”
Dean took a deep breath and relaxed into his beloved car’s seat. His eyes closed as he let the pain and exhaustion from his latest crusade sink into his body. Memories of the visions caused by the Djinn plagued his mind. The feeling of Cas’ skin under his fingertips, his lips, the release he felt after being able to say what he felt for him out loud. A wave of sadness crashed into his chest, remembering that his angel was no longer with him and instead, he slept eternally in The Empty. Tears ran across his cheek, this time reaching their destination.
“So,” Sam began. “What did you see this time?” his inquiring tone hid a shadow of worry. Dean, who was in no sharing mood, simply said “Heaven” and promptly fell asleep. Finally at home, he fixed himself a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich, showered and headed to bed, where Miracle had already settled. He took off his clothes, grunting as he stretched and tugged on sore spots, a kind of pain that felt not only familiar to him, but well deserved. Coming to reality, the guilt and regrets that carried his last moments with Cas had come back in full force and now, mixed with the false memories of what could have been. One more time, tears ran their course while he sat on his bed, staring at the wall, the same way he sat on that bench waiting for an angel of the lord to finally come by. He sighed, defeated, as he instinctively chose to do the one thing he promised never to do again. Pray.
“Cas, I know you're dead. I know you can't hear me, but if I don't say this out loud, I'm going to die. Before you left, I should have said how much I loved you. I should have thanked you. The things you did for me, I did for others. Never got them myself. You saved me, protected me and took care of me. You showed up when I needed you. You became so important to me, that no place felt like home without you, and every time I was a dick to you, you forgave me. You were the only one that knew my truth. I will always love you, Cas. I know I'm out of miracles, but if I had one left, I’d ask to see you one more time.”
Dean wiped his tears with his hands, roughly pressing them on his face. He sighed, feeling defeated, as a shadow casted itself next to him. Alert as always, he jumped off the bed and turned aggressively, ready for battle. In front of him stood a man in a light blue shirt. with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and his collar, unbuttoned.
“Hello, Dean.”