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spent my whole life looking back and wondering who i was
something changed the day you left and i'll never know just what
spent my whole life looking up and wondering who i am
something tells me you and i will never meet again
The water is calm today.
Dean steps out further onto the porch, steaming mug of coffee in hand. The sun is just rising above the tree tops and it's looking like this may be the first sunny day in a while.
He takes a sip of coffee, ignoring the way his chest stings at that. Today of all days.
Good thing he has work to do on the shed. The roof has a gaping hole in it, courtesy of a tree branch and the storm on Thursday and he needs to patch that up before all the firewood goes damp. The days are cold still, nights even colder.
The door creaks open behind him and Miracle's footsteps approach. They're getting slower every day.
"Hey, buddy," Dean greets her, reaching down to pet her. Miracle's tail wags excitedly, despite her age and she looks at Dean like he hung the moon. He can't help but smile.
She lies down beside him. Dean remembers how she used to chase after the bees and squirrels when he first moved here five years ago. Things change.
The pines lining the lake across from his little cottage sway softly in the wind and it is completely silent save for the cawing of a couple of crows in the woods. Dean leans against the porch railing and closes his eyes. He feels the wind ruffle his hair and it tickles the front of his nose. He runs a hand through it. It's so long now, Sammy would probably make fun of him for it.
Five years.
Sometimes the realisation just catches up to him and today, apparently, is one of those days. Dean is trying not to think about why that might be.
He opens his eyes again and looks up at the sky.
"Morning," he says quietly.
The world falls perfectly still.
"I, um," he pauses and runs a hand over his mouth - through his beard, "It's been more than five years now. Isn't that crazy?"
The sun peaks over the top of the pines.
"Yeah… it's Valentine's Day actually," Dean chuckles, but there's no humour in it. The smile doesn't reach his eyes and Dean knows he has more lines between his eyebrows than at the corner of his eyes and mouth now.
"You remember that case we worked on Valentine's Day like… 16 years ago? The famine thing?"
He waits. There's no answer of course, there never is.
"Seems like a lifetime ago."
Today, he decides, he's going to let himself think about it.
He doesn't really remember the case, exactly. Ever since he stopped hunting, those stories gradually slipped out of his mind. He supposes it's because he doesn't have to keep track of monsters he's fought when he doesn't fight them at all anymore.
At least, not physically.
He dreams of them often, though. Mostly just the one. Thick, black ooze materializing through the bunker's wall, blue eyes, red-rimmed and filled with tears. A blurry hand reaching out to him, grabbing his shoulder, pushing him away. That final gasp, the exhale. Then, nothing.
Like he was never even there at all.
He never even had a funeral.
Dean thinks of Valentine's Day some 16 odd years ago and of how Famine told him he was so numb he couldn't even get hungry anymore. He remembers how Cas had eaten about a thousand burgers and how he'd stolen Dean's food. How he'd grinned at him in the car. And he thinks of a thousand unnamed days and nights after, conversations he'd forgotten, drives to no where arguing about the job, movies he'd watched a thousand times and who he should've watched instead. Wanting had become so second nature to him that Famine had mistaken that for emptiness. Dean was used to being famished.
He inhales shakily and lets the cold air sting in his lungs. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one. He doesn't know when he started smoking again. Probably five years ago.
"Anyway," he says and takes a drag, "Eileen's pregnant. Sammy's gonna be a dad!"
The wind picks up a little.
"I'm really happy for 'em, you know? They're gonna be great parents. Thought you should know."
For a while he just stands there, smoking his cigarette. The first rays of sun hit the lake's surface and the previously grey water sparkles and glitters blue. A gentle breeze caresses his face.
"I love you," Dean whispers to the wind and, somehow, he knows he's not alone.
The pines rustle again and if Dean closes his eyes it's almost as if Cas is whispering back.
I love you, too.