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Dean had met Castiel in the grocery store. He had just moved back after being gone for ten years, not exactly sure what he was going to do with his life. They hit it off right away, flirting as Castiel rung him up and taking his money and phone number. Dean was so excited to meet somebody after the last person he dated.
They had been dating a total of five months and six days when they had their first major fight. It was the one that caused doors to slam and glass to break.
“What do you want, Dean? All I want to know is what do want from this, from us?” Castiel yelled out.
“I want you to just let me come to terms with everything, Cass! What’s so hard about that?” Dean was more than furious at that point. Cass had accused him of not loving him, of not wanting anything from him except sex.
“Dean, he’s been gone for how long now? Why do you let him to keep ruling your life?”
“Oh, now it’s back to Benny!” he yelled, exasperated. “Why does it always come back to him?”
“I don’t know,” Cass said with sarcasm dripping from each word, “maybe because it’s because of him you can’t handle a relationship!” Dean was dumbfounded, anger and sadness mixed together deep within him as he watched Cass storm out with his jacket in hand. The front door slammed and Dean took the couch that night. Within a few days they had worked it out, living happily again.
They had been dating a total of thirteen months three weeks and two days when they were on their way home from dinner, elated. Dean had proposed, both men so excited of what was to come from the marriage. Cass had been a bit grumpy before-hand, and now that he was driving he was allowing his thoughts to take over his mind.
“You okay, ba-.” Dean saw the headlights of a semi coming towards Cass. There was nothing he could do at that point.
It had been three days seventeen hours and thirty-one minutes since the accident. Dean was standing in a cemetery, watching the pallbearers carry Cass’ casket to the grave. He looked at the white flowers on top, remembering they were his favorite. He stood throughout the entire service, nobody knowing who he was to Cass.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he told one of Cass’ brothers, Gabriel, before leaving.
“Wait!” he called out to Dean as he was walking away. He turned to face the man as he rushed to Dean. “H-How did you know, Castiel?”
“I was his fiancé. We had gotten engaged that night.”
“Why didn’t he tell us about you?”
“Because he was ashamed of being gay, considering the religious background that’s enforced in your family.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry for your loss too. Here’s my number, keep in touch. I’m Gabriel,” he said as he handed Dean a card with an e-mail and cell phone number.
“Dean,” he told him, taking the card and walking away.
It had been four months seven hours and five minutes since Castiel’s funeral. Dean knew he could never move on from him, but he felt like Cass was always there with him. He was fixing the Impala when a wave of anger and grief washed over him. Crowbar in hand, he managed to dent most of the new shell of the once beloved car. He couldn’t live without Cass.
Seven years three months and eight days since he gave up on the Impala, he drank himself into oblivion. Nobody knew what he hid inside after Castiel had died, keeping to himself. He had kept in touch with Gabriel, learning more about Castiel’s life than Cass had shared with him.
“You okay, babe?” he asked Castiel, turning to face him from the passenger seat.
“I’m fine. Let’s go home.” A smile graced Cass’ lips, one hand on Dean’s leg and the other on the wheel to take them home.