Thank you for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following. And once again, special thank you for my lovely beta Bethany

Chapter 17

It is a terrible day and the weather has gone crazy. The howling wind rattles the old house and its planks creak sorrowfully. Raging elements sweep and toss some dead leaves into a young man's face, who struggles with keys and a door handle. As soon as the door yields under his onslaught, Sam Winchester makes a satisfied sigh and steps inside.

There is a dead silence in the house and it's frightening. The young man looks around in an attempt to find his brother, but no one meets him with open arms.

"Dean?" Sam calls and starts to search for him.

Then he remembers their phone conversation. "Go to my bedroom" rings in his head like a bell.

Something dreadful and ominous starts to grow in Sam's mind. He feels that his feet have turned into cotton and it's impossible to move. The young man swallows hard and shakes his head to exile the fear that is sinking its claws into his very being.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam?" he huffs to himself, and forces himself to go to his brother's room.

The door is ajar and Sam can see the chink of sunlight shining through. His fingers tremble when he starts to push the door. A tree branch smacks the bedroom window and the sound makes the young man jump, startled. Sam finally manages to push the door open and steps in.

At first he can't see anything. The room is filled with a blinding cascade of yellow light. Sam squints and realizes that it's the sun's rays. They fill every inch of the room and hang in the air like a golden curtain. But there is something strange about them. They are not still. They move! The young man touches one of the rays and it slightly trembles.

Sam rubs his eyes and blames stress for this possible hallucination, but as the seconds pass, he realizes that it's not a hallucination. He follows the direction the rays are swaying and stops when his legs hit something solid. A bed.

That is the moment when the golden mist starts to disperse, revealing the sight before the younger Winchester's eyes.

"Dean?" he asks in horror.

Dean lies on the bed wearing formal attire. His eyes are closed, but there is a tiny, happy smile on his lips. He looks like he's fallen asleep and is dreaming of flying with angels.

Sam falls down on his knees near the bed and grabs his brother's face. Dean is cold. He's gone. His brother tries to find a pulse, but it's too late. All life force has left Dean Winchester.

Sam does not recognize immediately that the gut wrenching howling that fills the house is spilling from his own throat and mouth.

"You son of bitch! How could you do this to me? Dean… no… please… God… Nooooo!" Sam wails and grabs his brother's lifeless body. He rocks back and forth as his tears dampen Dean's face. "Why did you do this to me, you selfish bastard? What am I going to do without you? I don't have anyone left… Dean, why?"

The realization that he's left alone in this world hits Sam Winchester so hard that he's rendered speechless and falls into a stupor while he refuses to let go of his brother's body.

He sits on the floor, staring at the wall in distress and roaming through dark labyrinths of his tortured mind when a wall clock rings, announcing that it's 4 pm. It means that the younger Winchester has been sitting on the floor for six hours.

Sam very slowly and cautiously, as if afraid he might wake the other man, straightens and lays his brother back on the bed. That's when he notices a sheet of paper. His eyes are swollen and red and they hurt, but the young man picks it up and looks at the handwriting. It's his brother's.


I don't know how to begin this letter. I guess I should start with begging for your forgiveness. I swear to God, I've never wanted to cause you any pain, but please understand and forgive me.

If you're reading this letter, it means you found me. And I know you won't leave me there abandoned.

I'll tell you the truth and you have to believe me, no matter how unbelievable it may sound. I never thought that things like this were possible, but life is full of surprises.

I didn't tell you the whole truth about Castiel. When I told you he was an angel, it was true. But I never told you what type of an angel he was. The truth is that Cas was my reaper.

He was supposed to kill me lot earlier than he did, but he gave me time to finish the painting for Crowley. With this he broke one rule. When you got shot and he shifted your wounds from you to himself and changed your fate, he broke another rule and he was dragged to heaven and tortured. God, Sammy when he came back… I've never seen anyone in such a tremendous pain. They tortured him with the fire of Hell. That's the only thing that can hurt angels.

I tried to treat his wounds, but I didn't really need to, because he heals fast. Heh, feathery son of a bitch! And do you know what he did, Sammy? To inspire me to finish Crowley's painting, he took me to fucking ancient Rome! I witnessed a scene, with my Goddamned own eyes, of how the she- wolf nursed the twin brothers! Can you believe it? And I thought it was just a myth. Yeah, right. Myth, my ass!

I'm not afraid, Sammy. I know that Cas will be with me there. Yeah, about this… I don't know how it happened. It just did. For a long time I considered myself to be a ladies' man. I guess I'm angelsexual, or Cassexual to be precise.

Sammy, I know that I was not the best brother and there were times when I was too harsh and rude, or acted like an asshole (which I was, in fact), but you were the only thing that kept me going.

Promise me that you will try and do your best to be happy. You deserve this, little brother.

Love you, bitch.

Your idiot brother Dean."

Sam wipes the new stream of tears off his face and stands up with the letter in his hand. He casts his eyes at the ceiling. The voice is too hoarse, so he just hisses:

"Castiel… if you don't take care of my brother up there… Help me God, I will find and destroy you!"

It's such a soothing and comfortable feeling… Something warm and full of fondness brushes against his body… Someone holds him in arms… tender fingers caress his back… but there is something else too… feathers… soft feathers rustle as he's being carried away… a hushed voice murmurs thousands of words… "Dean, I am here"… "Feel no fear"…. and Dean smiles against the angel's chest… He is safe in his beautiful reaper's arms… He has found his shelter….

The moon shines brightly in the dark skies and illuminates the meadow below on the earth. Castiel goes through the grass covered in pearly drops of dew. His wings are unfurled and compared with the darkness of the angel's wings, the night feels ashamed.

Billions of the stars above coo and whisper sweet nothings to each other. And while they flirt with self-oblivion, there is the angel walking through the field with the most valuable burden in his embrace, getting closer to the path descending from heaven.

Castiel stops before stepping on the path made from the dust of stars and the moon's rays. He looks down at the sleeping soul of Dean Winchester and kisses his lips…

Dean does not remember how long he has been sleeping, but next minute he wakes up to find himself in a tremendous chamber. There is a massive, oak table and twelve grim faced figures are sitting at it. There are a lot of parchments, inks, and quills. The painter notices that a middle seat, golden chair, is empty.

The painter is slightly dazed and confused to realize what's going on. He looks at Castiel, who stands beside him and looks like he's going to faint any minute.

"Cas, what the hell is going on?" he whispers to the angel, but Castiel does not have time to reply as one of the red cloaked angels grabs his arm and drags the reaper to the other side of the chamber, away from Dean.

"What the fuck are you doing, you ass?" Dean yells at the angel who's dragging Castiel away and starts running after him, enraged, when a mighty roar sounds. It quakes the floor and the walls.

"Dean Winchester!" The voice pins the human to his place and he clutches his ears in pain at the volume. "Do you have any idea where you are? We are deciding your fate, so quit showing off and stand still!" another shout sends Dean to his knees.

"We know every small detail from your life. It has been all recorded here." A finger taps one of the parchments in front of him. "All your deeds, secrets, desires, wishes, thoughts. Everything! Do not assume that there is even a tiny piece left that we have not noticed. What a shameful life you've lived, you puny, miserable human." The voice is full of loathing and sarcasm.

Dean presses his hands against the cold floor and stands up. He takes a long, good look at the jurors and smirks cockily.

"You may know that I've sinned a lot through my life, but unlike you, I know what family and love mean. What the fuck do you know about my feelings? You have no hearts; human emotions are foreign to you. And I think you have no right to judge me, you arrogant, holy dick. You can put your celestial lips on my ass and kiss it!" Dean feels triumphant and grins widely as he glances at Castiel, who has turned deathly pale after Dean's speech.

There is a pause in the chamber, but one of the jurors clears his throat eventually.

"Let the voting begin."

Dean watches as twelve hands dip quills in the ink and write something on a small piece of paper, then fold it and put in a clay pot. When the last paper is thrown into the pot, one of the jurors, the most scary looking and definitely the oldest, grabs the pot and begins to take the papers out.

Dean swallows a lump in his throat, understanding pretty well that this voting decides where he goes to, heaven or hell.

The juror looks at the paper and smirks mockingly.

"Hell," he announces.

Another paper. "Hell."

"Heaven. Hm, interesting."

"Hell." Some chuckling insues.









Apparently souls have hearts too, because at the moment Dean's rams frantically against his ribcage. He stares at Castiel. He wants to stand beside his angel, but some invisible force holds him in place and all he can do is stare. The angel's lips are parted and tremble visibly.

"I hate to announce gentlemen, but we are not able to decide this human's fate. As you see, we have six heaven supporters and six hell supporters. We need one more. You all know what it means," the juror says. The rest of the celestial clerks nod and stand up.

They leave their seats and form a circle in the middle of the chamber. They hold each others' hands and kneel down. Latin litany starts pouring out and filling the chamber. It sounds divine. Everyone seems to be enchanted by the singing and no one notices a change in the chamber.

"Why have you called me?" a pleasant voice asks and Castiel makes a startled cry. The reaper's voice withdraws Dean from his stupor and turns his head to the direction of the voice. Dean gasps and his eyes widen.

There is a man sitting on a golden chair. He's old, but nice looking. He has a beard and long white hair that rests on his shoulders. But the most significant thing about this man is his eyes. They are bottomless and wise. These are the eyes that have witnessed the birth and downfall of empires, the beginning and ending of eras, wars, famine, cataclysms. These are the eyes of the….

Dean Winchester gapes at the man, closing and opening his mouth, unable to make a sound. The man just smiles at him and shifts his gaze from the human to his clerks.

The jurors stand up hurriedly and one of them begins, "We could not…" but a raised hand cuts him off.

The man looks down at the papers and frowns. He rubs his forehead, thinking about the final decision.

"Castiel, you can go now. Your job is finished." The chief juror says.

Dean flinches. He does not like what he hears and starts to panic.

"What? What do you mean he can go? He's not going anywhere!" Dean snarls.

"Castiel's job is finished and he will go to the special place where reapers go after their task is completed. He will join his other brothers in heaven," explains the voice patiently.

So, this is it? They are gonna take Cas away from him for good? Dean glances at Castiel. The reaper looks petrified. Their eyes meet and there are so much pain in Castiel's eyes that Dean all but loses his mind – if souls have a mind to lose. Something stirs and explodes in Dean. His eyes blaze and flash lightning. He is furious.

"Like Hell he is! He is not going anywhere!"

This tantrum catches the white haired man's attention and he stops playing with a quill in his hand.

"This is interesting," he laughs gently and arches his eyebrow curiously. "Come closer."

With unstable and shaky feet, Dean approaches the table and stops. The wooden furniture is the only thing separating them.

"What do you want, Dean Winchester?" God asks gently.

"I…I…" Dean begins, but his voice cracks and shakes and he feels like a coward. He feels too nervous to talk and it makes him angrier. He wants to say that he wants to be with Castiel, that he's in love with the angel, that they cannot take him away from him, but he can't. Tears of rage start to form in his eyes.

"Don't talk. Let me see it." God leans towards Dean and looks into his eyes. And sees everything. Everything that cannot be described with words.

The white haired man says nothing, just signals Dean to go back to his previous standing place and as the painter does so, he dips his quill in the ink.

"Here is the final verdict." He stands up and raises a piece of paper.

And then he's gone like a blow of a breeze. The paper flutters down on the table and jurors walk hurriedly to read the decision.

Fingers unfold the paper and hungry eyes almost devour the sheet. Whoever unfolded the paper folds it back and puts on the table.

The jurors shift their gazes from Dean to Castiel. Their faces are blank and unreadable.

"Dean Winchester, get ready," twelve voices say simultaneously and Dean closes his eyes, fearing the worst.

"Cas…" he chokes out before he hears a distant bell ringing, sending shivers down his spine.

Dean is still convulsing and screaming while clutching his head when someone gently shakes him.

"Dean, open your eyes, please."

Familiar voice. It sounds so familiar. Is it him? Or is it a dream?

Dean cracks his eyes open and the first thing he notices is the green. Green and wet. Wait, since when has Hell become a comfy place? He sits up and looks around. It's a field. A green field.

Dean turns his head and sees Castiel. The reaper is smiling at him.

"Cas? Are you here…. with me? Or is this just a cruel dream?" Dean whispers as he stands up and reaches his hand out to cup his angel's cheek.

"It's not a dream, Dean." Castiel leans into the touch and rubs his cheek against Dean's palm.

Dean is not ashamed even a bit when he makes an unmanly squealing noise and grabs the angel, pulling him closer and sealing their lips. Castiel hums happily into his mouth and tightens his embrace around his human.

After a while Dean pulls away and looks around. "Where are we, Cas?"

"Come with me, I will show you." The reaper takes his hand and points at the woods in front of them.

They head towards the forest. There is no need to hurry, they have eternity. Dean just takes pleasure in his surroundings. The colors and sounds are more vivid, unearthly. His attention is stolen by wild chamomiles and he does not notice as something huge and fuzzy rushes out of the forest and tackles him to the ground. Dean yells, terrified, when he feels a massive weight pinning him to the ground. And then there are teeth. White, sharp fangs. He awaits the inevitable bite that will rip his throat apart, but it never comes. Instead, there is a hot, wet tongue that licks his whole face, paws that scratch his shirt, and a whining. Dean glances at the angel, who chuckles and pats the creature. It moves aside, giving Dean the opportunity to sit up and take a look at it.

"Holy…" It's the only word that Dean cries out. It can't be true. But it is.

It's the she-wolf. The mother of the puppies and the twin brothers. The wolf waggles its tail, looking at the human.

"Come here, you big puppy," Dean says fondly and opens his arms. The wolf jumps at him and starts to lick him once again. The angel watches their playing with a happy glint in his blue eyes. Dean and the wolf roll on the ground, licking and patting each other. The human is happy. His laughter is sincere and merry.

"Come, Dean. This is not everything." Castiel resumes walking. Dean and the wolf follow him.

As they enter the forest, which should be dark from the denseness of the trees, but is laced with a golden light that makes it bright and happy, Dean notices a small, nice house in the depths. The wolf runs towards the house making some yipping sounds.

Dean stops. The angel follows suit and stands at his left. "Dean, this is your personal heaven. This is what you wanted." Castiel puts his hand on the human's shoulder.

The painter looks at the house, then at the wolf, and at Castiel. It's true. He always wanted a small house in the middle of nature, where he could have lived with the person he loved. Some pets would have been fine too, but the wolf is even more awesome.

Dean is happy. He is really happy. He's in his personal heaven and Castiel is beside him. For eternity. What else can he wish for? But there is this little splinter stuck deep in his heart that causes him pain.

"In 27 years," the angel says suddenly. "Sam will join you in 27 years." Castiel adds and gives him a reassuring smile.

"What about my parents? Are they here?" Dean asks hopefully.

Castiel nods. "Yes they are. And you can see them anytime you want."

The splinter in Dean's heart disappears, taking the pain away. The human puts his hands on the angel's hips, pulling him closer.

"Have I told you that I… that I… " he stutters.

"I know, Dean." Castiel smirks and catches the human's lips with his. His wings wrap around Dean protectively, caressing his back.

"We should go inside the house," Dean says hurriedly.

"What is the rush?" Castiel's brows knit together.

"Because, I want to make up for all the wasted time we spent not making love." He grins cheekily and taps the angel on the butt.

Castiel seems to consider the offer with a thoughtful face. "I like the idea," he announces seriously and Dean bursts into laughter.

He kisses, bites, and licks his reaper greedily. He can't get enough. He's Castiel-addicted, for sure. Reluctantly, he has to pull away.

"Alright, come on then. Let's test how strong the bed is." The human chuckles and pulls the angel towards the house.

Dean is sure that they will need way more beds than just one, because they have eternity. Eternity to spend together.

The End