Dean knew the house had been wrecked but man. The house was wrecked. "At least the foundation's still solid," Dean said, trying to put a good spin on things. "Otherwise I'd say torch it and collect the insurance."
"I don't have insurance," Cas said, looking at the hole one of the jerk angels had torn through his roof. "I never needed it. I could keep things in repair with my will."
"That's not gonna come back, huh."
Castiel shook his head. "The wards were a part of me. When they broke it was..." His lips pressed into a thin line. "It felt like they'd torn off one of my arms."
"You're alive and we've all got all our limbs. Let's keep this positive." He kept on surveying the room, the estimate in his head still ticking away. "And this can be fixed it's just...y'know, gonna take awhile. I can't do it all, but I'm guessing at least your funds are real."
Castiel nodded. "Knowing the future can be profitable at times. But I don't have as much as all of this would have suggested."
"Yeah, betting you have enough. Tell the world about one of those Van Goghs and we can build you a new money bin." The way Cas' wings went tight over his back told him what he thought of that idea. "Sam wants to bring Jess down so we'd better get this place together."
"How is Sam?"
"Quiet. All over his girl. Think his priorities got a little more centered." Dean fixed one of the tilted paintings. "Guess when you know there's nothing waiting after you die it makes you live in the moment."
"Is that what you think happened?"
"Isn't it? Got told by a pretty high source that we wouldn't go to Heaven. Rather think we'd not go anywhere than, y'know, downstairs."
"You don't understand." Cas had stopped looking mournfully at all of this wrecked things and was staring wide-eyed at him.
"Then tell me. You've been quiet, too."
Cas sat on the floor, leaning against what was left of the bench Dean had made him. "I don't know how – although I have a working theory as to who – but when Sam stabbed us it mixed your souls and my Grace together. My Grace was dying and your souls stabilized me. And in return I...we're all connected. You and Sam can't go to Heaven because you can't really die. I don't age. The two of you still will and you'll die eventually, but then you'll be reborn. You and Sam will always be brothers, Dean."
It felt like it took an eternity for Dean to feel like he could breathe again. "Hell, Cas. That sounds like Heaven to me." He knelt over and kissed him. "So we're really talking forever, then."
"With breaks. Reincarnation can be unpredictable." He closed his eyes, one hand over his chest. "If you hold your breath you may be able to feel the connection. I can."
Dean thought he could, too. "That's gonna suck for you, though. Watching that and all."
"I've seen worse. I've done worse."
"Here's the deal though." Cas' blue eyes looked up at him. "I get reborn, don't wait so fucking long to find me this time."
"You won't even remember me."
"Cas, if all this has proven anything it's that literal acts of God won't stop me remembering you. Find me."
"If you'll want me to."
Dean kissed him until he made that breathless little sound Dean could never get enough of. "Never say something that stupid again. You hear me?"
Cas nodded, that dazed smile on his face. Dean got up – the room was too big a mess to go at it there – and took a look at the bench Cas was leaning against. "I could fix that pretty easy, at least."
Castiel cast a bleak look at his piano. "We'd have to fix that first."
"So that's the priority." Castiel heaved himself to his feet and touched the keys, pulling out some ugly tones from the mangled instrument. He tried the sequence again, his brow furrowed and Dean leaned against the wall watching. "Y'know, Cas, you've got a little bit of soul now. You could try to write music yourself if you want."
Castiel's hand paused over the keys."What if I'm terrible at it?"
"Then I'll mock the hell out of you." When Cas glared at him Dean kissed him up against the wall, mostly to keep him from asking if Dean really would. "Seriously. No more hundreds of years locked up in here," he said. "I die, you wait, like twenty years and you come find me. Cause I'm gonna be looking for you."
Castiel nodded. "You have my word."
Dean buried his hands deep in Cas' feathers. "Anyway, we won't have to worry about that for, like fifty years, right?"
"If we're very lucky."
Dean kissed him hard enough to let him feel the promise of all the years ahead of him. "Cool. Now what do you say the two of us break in the backseat of one of your fancy cars?"
100 Years Later
Castiel leaned against the Impala's glossy hood. Dean had spared no time and effort teaching Castiel how to maintain his baby and the car was spotless, perfectly restored inside and out – although not exactly factory restored. Restored to an ideal level; a scratch on the fender here, a frayed upholstery seam there. There was a lifetime of memories in that car and Castiel didn't want to erase any of them.
The scheme had been Dean's. It was a good one, from what Castiel could see; he knew he might be looking at the last '67 Impala in existence and if there was something that could kindle something reckless in the soul of Dean Winchester, it would be this car.
Well, the last name wasn't Winchester anymore, Castiel knew he couldn't hope to be so lucky twice in a row. The first name was still Dean, though how and why were questions Castiel couldn't even begin to answer. If the picture was accurate Dean even looked like himself, complete with a younger brother who looked remarkably like Sam.
It had been two days since he'd sent the advertisement of an Impala for sale, and two months since he started searching in earnest. Before that he'd waited twenty-five years. Twenty-five had seemed like a good number.
Castiel didn't think he could wait one more day. "You said you would be looking," he said, stroking one hand fondly against the hood of the car. "And I've taken care of her the way I promised."
He crossed his arms, feeling the promise of life beginning again hovering almost within his grasp. "I've been waiting, Dean. Find me."