Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One

A wishing tree, according to various ancient lore, possesses a special religious or spiritual value. Often, votive offerings are made in the hopes of having a wish granted, or a prayer answered. Near the Tin Hau Temple in Lam Tsu, during the lunar new year, patrons tie joss paper to oranges and toss them into the branches, believing their wishes will come true if the paper successfully clings to a branch.

In the Hidden Gardens of Glasgow, there are several wishing trees for people to tie simple white labels with their wishes upon. There is an infamous oak in Loch Maree made famous by Queen Victoria, and festooned with hammered-in coins. Yoko Ono has even included wishing trees in her art pieces featured in exhibits in New York and Washington, D.C.

And in Lebanon, Kansas, there is a lone cedar along the city limits, standing out as it is surrounded by the beauty of nature, and said to be a place to whisper messages to lost loved ones. But what humans are not privy to is the fact that this tree is actually a former doorway to Heaven, one of the thinnest spaces between earth and the veil.

Not that Dean Winchester would know any of that.

All Dean knows is Cas had brought him here a few times. He told Dean it was a peaceful place, comparable to his favorite Heaven of the autistic man who drowned in his bathtub. 

Dean braces his hand on the sturdy trunk before moving to sit at the tree’s roots, leaning against the trunk as he toys with some overgrown grass. He smiles as he pulls out a white dandelion and gently touches the seeds. He fondly recalls the first time Cas brought him here.

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Dean sighed as he shouldered the duffel bag filled with beers, PB and J’s, and other snacks Cas could eat. “If I’d known you were taking me on a damn hike, I would’ve brought less heavy crap.”

Cas turned to Dean, brow quirked in bemusement. “I offered to carry your bag for you. You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t need angels to carry my shit.’” The dick even made his voice higher.

Dean shoved Cas’s shoulder. “Dick.”

That was met with a small smirk. “You should learn a new word.”

Dean feigned a smile and flipped Cas off. 

When they reached the mouth of the forest, open in a yawn, Dean’s attention was immediately drawn to the large tree near the edge of a lush field of wildflowers and dandelions, ensconced by a pond. As he followed Cas, he realized the angel was just as drawn to the tree. When he reached it, he turned to Dean with a small smile. 

The guy didn’t smile enough.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

“A tree?” Dean asked, as he looked up at the large, overhanging branches that provided the perfect amount of shade.

Cas chuckled as he took off his trenchcoat and sprawled it out on the ground for them to sit on. And suddenly it clicked.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” he murmured as he rolled up his sleeves and moved to sit against the trunk.

Dean looked around, lips tilted in bemusement. “Are you taking me on a picnic?”

Cas didn’t appear ruffled, or even remotely guilt ridden. He merely shrugged and said, “Yes.”

The strange part was, Dean didn’t even question it. He dropped the duffel on the ground and moved to sit next to Cas under the tree. 

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On their third or fourth trip to this tree, Cas told him it brought him the same peace he felt in Heaven. Hearing the angel recant his experiences sometimes made Dean feel guilty… guilty for the fact that he was the main reason Cas wasn’t allowed back in Heaven. That was why he would never begrudge his friend the chance to talk about it.

He had so many stories, from times when he and the other angels explored different Heavens as fledglings, a bizarre sort of angel version of Hide and Seek. The friends he made, the humans he engaged in meaningful conversation.

Cas spoke of his past with such appreciation. There was no bitter resentment, no pain. Just a fondness for the place he used to call home, even though it had its imperfections.

Dean understood that on a profound level.

When Cas grew older, “grew into his wings,” as Cas liked to say, and had spent his time preparing for an oncoming war that none of them were really prepared for, he found solace in the peaceful Heaven of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953. He was in a beautiful garden, flying a red kite. 

Cas had told Dean the tranquility of this tree, this meadow, was the same he felt in that man’s Heaven. And considering how much shit had come at him, at all of them, since their fateful meeting in a barn all those years ago… Cas deserved some goddamn tranquility.

There were times, if they had a fight – or more accurately, if Dean did something to piss his friend off – he learned real quick that when Cas disappeared, the tree was where he disappeared to. 

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It was dusk, the Kansas sky a deep orange hue as the sun set on the sleepy town. Dean had his flashlight, but it was always easier to trek through a dense forest with natural light. The sky had turned a colder reddish purple by the time he reached the tree. 

Cas was sitting under it, eyes closed and hands braced on the grassy ground beneath him. When Dean was a few feet away, without opening his eyes, Cas sighed and said, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moved to sit next to Cas, ignoring the weird urge to reach out to him. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

For the first time, Cas opened his eyes, turning to give Dean an unreadable, calculating stare. “Mean what?”

Dean sighed. The bastard knew exactly what he was talking about. “You know.”

“I do. And I’m tired, Dean.” He returned to resting his head against the tree, eyes now closed again.

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. He leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. “What do you mean?”

The beat of silence that hung between them was suffocating. It took a lot of restraint to not shake Cas. Or beg him to say something. 

When Cas finally spoke, his voice was calm… too calm. “None of us are innocent. Under different influences, we have all done terrible things. Killed innocent people. Friends, family members whose deaths we are responsible for, all because we pulled them into our situation.” Cas opened his eyes and added, “Intentional or not, the pain we caused still remains. And I’m tired of feeling hurt by your careless words.”

Dean was literally stunned silent. He had come a long way over the years, but Dean was still reactionary when he spoke from a place of hurt, fear, anger… Not that it was fair, but it was a habit he had a lot of difficulty breaking. He honestly didn’t know what to say. How to make it right. After a beat of tense, deafening silence, he grabbed Cas’s hand and held it at their sides. “I would never mean it. The times you’ve died, I… I couldn’t…”

Cas stared down at their hands, brow quirked as he slowly looked up at Dean. “You couldn’t what?”

“I don’t know why I can’t stop myself.” Dean sighed and rifled a hand through his hair. “I just get so angry, and it’s not an excuse, I know it’s not an excuse, but goddamnit, Cas. Every time you’ve died, it feels like I’ve died too. S’why I don’t really… fight.”

That was met with a careful head tilt, blue eyes squinted, brow wrinkled. “What are you saying, Dean?”

Shit. He barely understood it himself. Dean allowed the silence to linger between them as he tried to find the words. After another beat and a deep breath, Dean finally said, “I’m saying, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He hated the way his voice cracked.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand and nodded as he turned to look back up at the sky. “So am I.”

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The last time they visited the tree together would be burned into Dean’s memory for as long as time could exist. He wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up as part of his Heaven when the moment finally came.

It was shortly after everything came to a head with Chuck. They got Jack back, and with the aid of Death and her reapers, a number of other Gods, Amara, and pissed off Bizarro versions of themselves, they were able to seal Chuck away. Killing him in a way that didn’t disrupt the balance in the universe.

For the first time in their lives, they were all free. After the first couple of weeks with an air of caution, because they weren’t stupid enough to just believe they were safe, it finally clicked. They didn’t have to keep looking over their shoulders.

Dean had packed mostly Cas’s favorite foods; PB and J, popcorn, rock candy… and a bottle of scotch he’d stolen from Crowley, that he was saving for a special occasion, and saving the damn universe felt like a pretty special occasion.

It was only right that they all shared this moment together, so Dean dragged Sam and Eileen out of their blissful honeymoon nesting, Jack from his new obsession with some stupid video game about hunting supernatural creatures (as though they didn’t get enough of that in their real lives), and made his way to a spot that had grown to become special to him over the past couple of years.

Sam, Eileen, and Jack were all taken aback by the sheer beauty and serenity of what Dean had come to think of as his and Cas’s spot. Dean had spent the cash he won hustling to buy a huge blanket, an actual white and red checkered picnic blanket no less. He pulled it out of the side pocket of his duffel and shook it out.

Cas met Dean’s gaze and flashed him a smile. “I thought you said, and I quote, ‘Picnic blankets are gay.’ Not that I understand how an inanimate object can have an identifiable sexual preference.”

Dean let out a soft laugh. “The five of us wouldn’t fit on your trench coat. We barely do,” he said as he waved from himself to Cas.

The angel wasted no time in helping Dean spread out the blanket and pull out the food. He held up the enormous bag of popcorn and chuckled. “Family size?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod in Jack’s direction, who was presently hunched over at the edge of the pond, attempting to conduct a conversation with a couple of ducks, who were more interested in the candy bar in his hand. “Your kid’s eating us out of house and home.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Convenient he’s mine alone when it comes to your feelings about food.”

Dean pulled out the bag of Powell’s rock candy and held it out to him. He quickly pulled it back. “Wait, should I give this to Jack, you know, to share?”

Without missing a beat, Cas snatched the bag from Dean’s grip. 

The laugh that escaped was genuine. A sort of contented camaraderie that Dean hadn’t felt before. Without the constant shadow of doom forcing them into the dark, this simple moment was almost breathtaking in its beauty. Dean reached out and opened the bag to grab one. He plopped it into the side of his mouth and grinned at the angel. “Greedy,” he teased.

Cas leaned forward and plucked the candy from his mouth. He looked at it for a moment before carefully licking the length of it. Cas sucked the end into his mouth and tilted his head with a hum of contentment. “Yeah.”

Maybe it was the way the sky was changing colors with the passage of time, perhaps it was knowing that maybe, just maybe, they were finally done. With evil plots, with being played by both sides, with all of the bullshit that had kept Dean stuck in a rut of self loathing and missed chances. Chances to explore feelings, experience them differently than he ever had before.

Dean leaned in close and snatched the candy from Cas’s mouth, holding it out of reach. As Cas reached forward, he took the opportunity to capture Cas’s lips in a kiss. 

The angel drew back, shock evident in bright blue eyes. He slowly touched his finger to his own lips, that curled up in a soft smile. Cas chuckled.

Dean couldn’t help but share the laugh, the moment leaving him a little fuzzy, a little giddy. There was only a moment’s hesitation before he gave Cas a little nod, murmured a soft, “C’mere,” and drew him in for another kiss.

And another. And another.

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“Happy one year anniversary.” Dean lets out a mirthless laugh as he presses his back against the trunk of the Cedar, bark soft enough to rest his head against. “If I’d known that was the last time I’d get to see you…” He clears his throat before his voice cracks, angrily wiping away at a tear that managed to escape.

“I should have fucking known. Letting my guard down, just because I was arrogant enough to think that putting Chuck away was going to stop the universe from fucking with us…” Dean shakes his head as he pulls at a tuft of grass to his left.

After another sigh, he grabs another dandelion and blows the seeds off. “Oh, and I can’t remember if I told you… but, and I’m sure you’d be pissed to know this, but I needed to talk to Billie, and see what we could do to get you back, so I grabbed one of our heartattack kits…”

Dean crosses his legs and leans forward. “She showed up right before I plunged the syringe into my chest… again. And she told me everything. About the deal you made, and I wanna be mad… fuck, Cas. I wanna be so fucking angry with you, but she explained how it was for Jack… to keep the kid safe, and like… I can’t be mad. Any of us would’ve made the same goddamn deal.” 

He scoffs. “Hell, we have made that deal.”

There is still a rush of anger that courses through Dean, but not anger at Cas, or even the friggin’ Empty. Dean is angry for barely getting to scratch the surface of something good, something purely for himself, a chance at maybe the kind of happiness that only exists in fairy tales. Or maybe it all would have gone to shit, but the fact of the matter is, they never even got a chance to find out.

“I demanded she bring you back. I demanded Death fucking violate the rules of the universe, or whatever. And boy did she lay into me. Oh, she bitched me out like a dog caught pissin’ on the rug. Probably should’ve struck me down like she had every goddamn right to do, but she didn’t. She didn’t, Cas.”

Dean uncrosses his legs, bending them at the knee as he leans back. He braces his elbows against his knees as he lets his head drop back against the trunk. “Instead she told me how she talked shit out with the Empty. And that she convinced it to let you just spend eternity in Heaven. Unable to leave, unable to ever come back to earth, but you’re gonna be helping the few angels try to rebuild what you can. And I…” 

Dean swallows dryly and tries to blink the tears away. “I can’t take that away from you. I know you missed being home, missed being part of something bigger than yourself. And she made a good point, at least you weren’t being tortured by an angry entity for all eternity.” Dean is no longer fighting the tears, and allows them to fall freely, cold against the heat of his cheeks. “And she said you begged her to tell me to not do something stupid. To just… live the rest of my life.”

Dean turns his gaze skyward. “Fuck you, by the way. Like I can just move on…” He scoffs again. “I promise. I won’t do anything stupid. Jack’s in a mechanic trade school after getting his GED. And Sammy is working on finishing his degree at Lebanon community college. Eileen’s been working with the hunter network, building an information hub out of the bunker…”

Once a week Dean comes to this tree. Sometimes his time is spent in silence, other than the wind competing with the rhythm of the cicadas. Other times, he talks to Castiel. Or rather, to a tree that the angel loved because it makes Dean feel somehow closer to Cas. And it’s stupid, he knows that, but when brief escapes from grief present themselves, he isn’t going to say no.

Today he’s updating Cas on what’s been happening for all of them. “I’ve got a meeting next week with a bank. I’m, uh… I’m applying for a small business loan, for a, uh… it’s an old bar that needs some work, but…” Dean lets out a deep sigh. “I wish you were here, man. It’s so stupid, but I think you’d be so damn proud of me. Of all of us. And you’d be here by my side. Maybe we could run the bar together…”

Dean’s voice keeps cracking from the quite literal sensation of being choked up. Grief strangling the breath from his lungs and causing his vocal cords to strain. “You should be here. And it’s not fair. It’s so unfucking fair, Cas, that you aren’t.”

The silence arrives and he welcomes it, watching as the sun sets, occasionally looking to an empty spot that should be occupied by an angel. Dean waits until his vision is no longer obscured by the tears before he stands up. 

It’s funny, but he can swear he hears a soft, “Hello, Dean,” carried on the wind. Dean looks around, and hates himself for being disappointed by the nothing that greets him.

Chapter Text

Part Two

Castiel doesn’t mean to wander off. Since his readmittance to Heaven, he’s been doing his best to play by the rules. He does what he can to occupy himself with as many tasks as he can. The silence can be unbearable at times. Forced with his final memory before everything came to a screeching halt.

The exact moment he felt true happiness, in the playful kisses from the lips of a hunter who irrevocably changed everything for Castiel. Dean Winchester, the righteous man, the hunter, the human who taught an angel what unconditional, unwavering love is.

After a quick respite in his favorite Heaven, Castiel finds himself along the outreaches of an awe-inspiring forest. That is when he happens upon a comfortingly familiar stretch of meadow encasing a small pond, reminiscent of the spot that became a catalyst in the inevitability of his existence. 

Castiel braces his hands upon a large cedar and feels the remnants of former use as a portal. A former doorway, now simply a mirror. 

His favorite spot.

At first, Castiel tried to avoid the tree. For all of the memories it would stir, the dull ache it would cause in his heart every time he would find himself alone… in their spot. 

It isn’t lost on Castiel, the irony of no longer appreciating his solitude. Even though Dean too often found ways to exacerbate, and even annoy him, Castiel finds he misses him most during the quiet times. 

Today is no different. Working in harmonious silence used to be fulfilling, and now it brings Castiel a profound pain that used to be beyond an angel’s reach. A grief, a specific type of incredibly human loss. After completing the tasks Naomi set, again he finds himself gravitating to that spot.

Castiel is unsure how much of his time is spent sitting against the bark of a tree that means more to him than is logical. Minutes, hours, days… time begins to bleed together, and he can swear he hears Dean’s voice.

Dean's voice recanting and updating Castiel of all of their moments, their movements forward on the linear timeline that no longer includes him. Castiel frantically looks around, as though he is expecting Dean to appear, crossing the expansive meadow toward him at any moment. 

The voice is too far, almost like an echo. And that’s when it clicks. Dean is here, well, not in Heaven, but in their spot. Castiel circles the tree and sees a pale, ethereal version of the human that changed him for good, for the better. Dean is walking away from their spot, and the first words that pop into his head are,

“Hello, Dean.”

He feels helpless as Dean turns to look around and obviously doesn’t see him. Castiel reaches out, a fruitless endeavor, for Dean is fading with his distance and there is no way to reach through the veil like that. 

“Dean!” he cries out, his voice echoing around him, as though to mock him.

Dean stops and Castiel’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“Cas?” he asks carefully, eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and turns on his flashlight. 

If Castiel still had a human body, he is certain he would sob with relief. “Yes, Dean. I’m here.”

Dean looks around again. “I can’t see you.”

Castiel lets out a soft laugh. “You… probably won’t. I’m… I’m in Heaven.”

There is a beat of unbearable silence, as Dean appears contemplative, even suspicious. And with good reason, considering the Winchesters' knack for angering their fair share of humans and monsters alike.

“This is our spot,” he almost whispers, wanting to prove to Dean he isn’t ‘messing’ with him. “I brought you here the first time for a picnic. You asked me once what I liked about this spot, how it reminded me of the autistic man’s Heaven of an eternal Tuesday in a garden.”

Dean draws closer, eyes shimmering as he looks around the trunk of the tree. “It is you,” he murmurs.

Castiel lets out an almost choked laugh as he reaches out to caress Dean’s cheek. He hates that he cannot feel anything. Skin, warmth… At least he can still see his freckles. “It’s so good to see you.”

Dean nods and lets out a sigh. “It’s not fair that it doesn’t go both ways.” 

He can’t help but agree with his sentiment. Castiel shakes his head, even though his human can’t see it. “How are you, Dean?”

“Better. A lot better, Cas,” he breathes out with a soft, shaky laugh.

Castiel can’t help but agree with that sentiment too. 

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Time was a little difficult to navigate in Heaven. Castiel and Dean had come to an agreement to meet once a week. What was the Heaven equivalent of two o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday, central daylight time in the state of Kansas in North America? 

In the beginning, it took Castiel some real guesswork to leave either of them without having to wait. Occasionally, Dean or Castiel would end up having to wait for the other, but they always did. Wait. 

The week after Dean had applied for the small business loan found Castiel particularly antsy to see his… his human. To hear how it went. To find out if his dream would soon become a reality. 

Thankfully, Castiel only ended up waiting the earth equivalent of two hours when Dean’s visage appeared through the veil. 

“What happened?” Castiel asked, unable to contain his excitement.

Dean barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Can a guy catch his breath?” 

Castiel wished he could reach out and punch the man in his shoulder. “Dean,” he chastised.

There were plenty of things he missed about earth; what was surprising was how many of them would likely appear mundane to the untrained eye. Things like the taste of popcorn, or the way Dean’s eyes would crinkle and lips would purse when he was mildly annoyed. 

Dean moved to sit down, a few groans of age managing to escape as he pressed his back against the trunk of their tree and said, “You want the good news, or the bad news first?”

This time, Castiel wished he could reach out and hug Dean. “Oh, Dean. I… the bad news first?” He had grown tired of bad news.

There was a beat of silence as Dean said, “I might have to cut down how often I come out here. Maybe every other week.”

Castiel hated how much sadness that statement brought him. Not that he should have expected anything else. Dean was very much alive, and deserved to live out his life. A life filled with failures, successes, downs, ups, heartbreak… love. It wouldn’t be fair for Castiel to expect the man to put his entire life on hold, and it was probably better he learn to accept that fact sooner rather than later.

“I understand,” Castiel said dutifully.

Dean’s lips quirked up in a smile that made it all the more painful. “Only ‘cause I’m gonna be putting a lot of hours into my bar. You know, fixing it up,” he said as he pulled out his keys and dangled them.

It took a moment for Dean’s exact implication to dawn on Castiel. The moment it did, he couldn’t contain the smile. “Dean, that’s wonderful!”

Dean nodded and laughed, before he proceeded to go into extensive detail of his plans for the bar. 

Castiel didn’t comment on the fact that Dean kept referring to it as “our” bar.

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The day Dean came to tell him about Sam and Eileen’s engagement was one of his favorites to date. Their weekly, and sometimes biweekly, conversations were never tiresome, even if they grew to be repetitive. Castiel had grown to appreciate that repetition. 

When Dean would complain about a rude patron at their bar. When he’d give Castiel a complete breakdown of a film plot Dean wished he could make him watch. When he would recant his fondest memories as a hunter.

Castiel appreciated the fact that at least half of those stories included himself.

When Castiel had arrived to their meeting spot, Dean was already waiting for him. That didn’t happen often, especially after the first two years. 

It was a nice surprise, and Castiel almost felt as though he had forgotten just how handsome this man was. Dean was wearing a simple button up shirt and tie with dark jeans. His hair was starting to gray on the sides. It suited him.

“You beat me,” Castiel said with a laugh.

Dean’s eyes lit up and he leaned against the trunk of the tree. “I’ve got the best news, Cas!”

The man’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “What is it, Dean?”

“Somebody’s getting married!” he sing-songed.

For a millisecond, Castiel felt his proverbial heart shatter into a million pieces. This was it. The moment he had been dreading. In three years of celestial wavelength level of long distance communication, not once had he asked Dean about his love life.

And not once had Dean volunteered any information.

It made sense, and again, it would be incredibly selfish of Castiel to expect otherwise. 

As Castiel attempted to feign excitement for Dean’s news, the man continued,

“Sammy finally popped the damn question,” he said with a laugh.

Castiel furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’m following.”

That was met with another laugh. “Sam asked Eileen to marry him the other night, and she said yes. They’re going to get married before they move to Lawrence, before he starts at KU Law in the fall. It’ll just be a small courthouse wedding, but… still. My baby brother’s getting married, Cas.”

The joy that consumed him was untenable. Castiel had never felt such a thing in his life, other than the first kiss he shared with the righteous man.

And if part of that joy he felt in that moment also correlated with the fact it wasn’t Dean who was engaged, well… Nobody needed to know. 

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The next striking news that brought Dean to their spot before Castiel occurred five years after that, with the announcement that Eileen had given birth to a healthy, baby girl. Dean was waiting at their tree, phone in hand.

When Castiel arrived, he smiled and said, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean wasted no time as he circled the tree and held out his phone. “You can see me, right?” he asked as he shoved an image of a newborn infant in Sam’s arms in his direction.

She was breathtaking. Castiel couldn’t help but feel sublime contentment at the youngest Winchester’s fortuitous path. “What’s her name?”

Dean used his finger to start swiping through dozens of photographs. “Mary,” he said almost breathlessly.

When he stopped on a photo of Jack holding her, his heart ached with the grief of his loss. Castiel took a deep breath. “I wish I could hold her.”

For the first time, Dean looked up from his phone. His lip trembled and he ended up tilting the phone away as he used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “Goddamn it, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Dean shook his head and licked his lips. “I wish you could too. Fuck…”

While it had never been discussed, Castiel and Dean had come to a silent agreement to not bring up the drastic distance between them. Occasionally they would break, one of them would say something that would spur them both into a melancholy that didn’t readily dissipate. 

“Are there more pictures?” Castiel asked, hoping Dean would take the out. Now was not the time to share in their loss, their grief. 

Dean was an uncle, Sam was a father. The Winchesters were living such normal lives, and it was all he had ever wanted for his family.

“Yeah,” he murmured as he pulled up his photo album again. “That was day one, now here’s day two…”

Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle as he settled in for a slide show of dozens of photos that looked virtually identical. Occasionally his gaze would stray to Dean’s face, soaking in the sheer pride exhibited in his expression. The love he could see in bottle green eyes, eyes that fast became the reason for Castiel’s favorite color. 

Like the way Dean looked at Castiel right before the Empty came for him.

Damnit. Castiel hated when he made himself sad.

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A decade had passed since the birth of Sam and Eileen’s first child. There had been significant moments in his family’s lives since. The arrival of a second child. Graduations. A series of human events, both good and bad, that were too often overlooked as anything other than boringly familiar. 

But then, other humans didn’t live the lives these hunters had. Normalcy was a rarity in the life, and watching his family embrace it in full was satisfying.

A point further made by Dean’s announcement that Jack and his long time girlfriend were planning a wedding. 

Castiel knew better than to express his longing to be fully present for this part of his son’s journey. Instead, and what possessed him to ask he would never understand, Castiel decided to try and steer the conversation in a different direction. “What about you?”

Instant regret, he believed Dean called this exact emotion. 

There was a beat of silence before Dean said, “What about me?”

It was this or confessing his profound sadness at not being present for this moment of Jack’s life, so Castiel clarified, “Have, uh… have you got someone special in your life?”

Dean almost scoffed and Castiel could practically feel the tenseness of his body language. “You’re joking, right?”

Castiel was certain Dean was being ironic, considering the man was more than aware of Castiel’s lack of levity, especially in highly emotional situations. “I… I am not.”

Even though he couldn’t see Castiel, Dean leaned over to look in his direction. “Yes,” he finally answered.

For once, Castiel was grateful Dean was unable to see him. See the sheer amount of pain that likely crossed his features. Again, he had brought it on himself. And at least there was a glimmer of happiness knowing that the human he loved with every single particle of his existence was not a victim to loneliness.

Castiel took a deep breath. “I’m happy for you, Dean.”

“You can’t possibly be this dumb,” he grumbled as he shifted onto his knees, looking at the space Castiel occupied with eerie accuracy. “It’s you, Cas. It’s always been you.”

He cursed the veil between them as he reached to grasp Dean’s hands, only to clutch at the nothingness of a visage that was beginning to feel more and more like a mirage. “Oh, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t, ‘oh, Dean,’ me. Trust me, I’ve gone through this damn conversation more times than I can count. People with misguided intentions, but I’m only gonna say this once. You were it. You were it for me. You are it for me. There is no friggin’ point in me trying to start any sort of relationship with anyone when my heart isn’t in it. I haven’t been looking because… damnit, what we share’s enough. It’s enough for me; I’m happy, Cas. Being able to sit here and talk to you every week or two… Fuck, it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. Our bar’s doing good, I’m an uncle to two awesome rugrats, our kid… our kid is doing amazing, Cas. Things have turned out better than any of us could’ve expected…”

It felt as though Dean was staring right at him. “I’m happy. You make me happy.”

Castiel would have given anything in that moment to be able to hold Dean in his arms. Thankfully, there weren’t any occult forces nearby hoping to put a broken angel in their employ for all eternity. 

“You’re an infuriating human, Dean Winchester,” Castiel breathed out through a waterlogged laugh.

Dean smiled. “S’why you love me.”

Castiel exhaled softly, his own lips curling upward. “One of the reasons, yes.”

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Their visits grow shorter with each passing couple of weeks. Not for lack of want, or time, but because it is becoming more and more difficult for Dean to traipse the terrain, especially with the use of a cane.

Castiel will never tell Dean, but he believes time has only made Dean more handsome. His freckles darkened against his skin, and his hair turned a very angelic white. His wrinkles demonstrated a life well lived. Jack helps Dean with the bar, and he intends on making him a partner.

In fact, that’s what Castiel is waiting for as he sits in their spot. To watch the man he loves make his way towards him, to let him know if Jack said yes or not. The thought of Dean’s excitement brings Castiel unending joy, and he cannot wait to see surprisingly bright green eyes. The only feature that didn’t dim with age.

Another twenty years from the moment that shifted their connection to each other. Castiel misses Dean, he misses being near him physically. Smelling his aftershave. The scratch of his stubble against his palm the one time he was permitted to touch Dean’s cheek in a less than platonic manner. All of the tiny details that a majority of humans take for granted. 

Castiel chuckles as he sits on the soft ground and leans his back against the tree. He waits to hear familiar rustling, turning his gaze skyward as he waits for a man he has grown to think of as his husband over the past decade.

They would fight from time to time, usually about Dean’s wasted years, but ten years ago, Dean called Castiel his husband in the heat of a volatile argument, and it silenced them both.

Dean has gotten grumpier over the years, but Castiel finds it rather endearing. Particularly seeing the man he loves become a grumpy old man in the first place. He only wishes he were able to share in that aspect of humanity with him. 

Castiel pulls one of the dandelions from near the massive cedar’s roots and gently reaches out to touch the pappi. He smiles at the flower and recalls when Dean pulled one out and told him to make a wish. 

Humans truly are bizarre creatures, but he abided his friend’s request, and wished for the permanence of their present moment. He cast a smile and whispered, “I wish for this.”

Dean then proceeded to spend several minutes explaining how that wasn’t how wishes worked.

Castiel takes a deep breath and blows the seeds from the stem. As he slowly opens his eyes, the colors of the sky shift. Which means in human time, Dean is five days late. 

Well… it isn’t like Castiel doesn’t have eternity to wait.

Chapter Text

Part Three

Castiel is unsure how much time passes before he is approached by Naomi. Still perched against the trunk of the cedar, he opens his eyes to her silhouette. He looks up to the stern features of one of the few angels left, arms crossed over her chest in obvious annoyance.

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Entirely uninterested in playing any of her games, Castiel lets out a sigh and closes his eyes again. “You and I both know that nothing that occurs within the confines of Heaven isn’t common knowledge. Which means you have been aware of these weekly transgressions I’ve shared with Dean Winchester for several decades and have chosen to allow it to continue. So, yes, I’m exactly where you knew I would be.”

Naomi lets out a scoff. “You’ve grown more brazen. I blame your human.”

Castiel opens his eyes again. “What do you want, Naomi?”

“I’m just curious how much longer you plan on sitting under this tree? It’s been… two human weeks.”

The problem with Naomi being, well… Naomi, is she has been inside of the head of every angel in Heaven. Which means she knows exactly how to stick the angel blade in deepest. “Until Dean arrives. He’s not usually this late, and I’d hate to miss him.”

“Castiel,” she says, intonation almost chastising, as though he were still a fledgling.

Castiel exhales and turns to look up at her again. “Please. Just a few more human days.”

Naomi shakes her head. “No, that’s really not going to work for me.”

Before Castiel can even think about reluctantly pushing himself to his feet, she steps aside and Castiel has to blink a few times to ground himself.

Across the field, on his side of the veil, Dean is standing, looking around in awe.

“You owe me,” Naomi says as she disappears among the trees.

In that moment, Dean spots Castiel, and with all the youth of the moment they first met, he barrels forward. “Cas!”

Castiel is unable to hold back the soft gasp as he runs to meet the man halfway. 

They collide among the overgrown wildflowers, and Dean lifts him into his arms with a spin, like in one of his favorite movies no one is supposed to know Dean loves.

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and allows himself to get lost in unending green that puts all the grass of the Garden to shame. “You’re late,” he chastises.

Dean chuckles as he cards his hand through Castiel’s hair. “Well… better late than never.”

The End.