Work Text:
For his sons, John will do anything. John will lie and steal and kill, if it means they'll see another day. He'll make that deal with Azazel and send his soul to Hell, just let Dean live.
For his brother, Dean will do anything. He's bull-headed when it comes to Sammy. He'll get himself captured by crazies who hunt people, he'll trade his own soul for a single year to live, and he'll take on the combined forces of Heaven and Hell, all so he and Sammy don't have to get dragged into their war. Dean has been looking out for his little brother for so long, it's second nature by now.
Sam knows he's fucked up along the way. More than a few times, if he's being brutally honest. He started the friggin' Apocalypse. He has to carry that weight. But he locked up Lucifer in a pit with Michael. He did his best to try and clean up his mess, so Dean could go and have a normal life with Lisa and Ben. Dean deserved that, after everything he'd been through.
Castiel never knew John Winchester. He'd heard stories from Sam and Dean, but he'd never met the man himself. He knew the Winchester men had lived a rough life, practically been raised on the road, and they hadn't always gotten along. But his sons, and Dean especially, will talk about him from time to time, and Castiel liked hearing the stories.
But it's been a long time since there have been any stories. Or, indeed, any Winchesters. They're all gone now, John and Mary, Sam and Dean. No one to carry on the family name. Castiel misses the two boys. There aren't even any graves to visit, they were given hunter's funerals, their bodies set upon pyres, sprinkled with salt, and burned. They didn't want to come back. Ever.
And while there might not be any graves, there's still a...memorial, of sorts. In Greenville Cemetery, where the grave of Mary Winchester rests, three stones have popped up beside it, bearing the names of her husband and sons. Castiel comes and just sits in the cemetery sometimes, not feeling the need to say anything. But it's fitting, he thinks. It may be only a symbolic reunion, but it feels...right, somehow, in a way he can't quite define. No one will ever know exactly how much the Winchesters did for the world, and maybe that's good, maybe it's bad. Castiel can't say for sure. All he knows is that his friends are gone, but he'll carry their memories with him always. And perhaps, if someone asks, he can tell them of the Winchesters. He can tell them of their intelligence, of their courage, and most important of all, he can tell them of their love.