Trigger Warning: Issues of suicide raised.

"Charlie had mentioned that the end was exceedingly difficult for all of you." Benny had a glass of orange juice sitting in front of him. Charlie and Meg had gone out for coffee and conversation. "She told me about some of the most difficult times from after he passed."

"I'm surprised that she would. She tends to avoid that topic." Dean had a cup of coffee steaming away in front of him. He wrapped his hand around it, the warmth filling his palm, reminding him of Cas somewhat. Everything reminded him of Cas. "Did she talk about the pills?"

"Yes." Benny reached over and took Dean's other hand. "I'm glad she was there."

Dean didn't look at him, but he said, "Well, the jury's still out on whether or not I'm going to agree with that statement." He looked at Benny then. "Sorry. I know that it is harsh, but it's true."

"I understand. I'm still glad though." He took a sip of his juice and reached for his pack of cigarettes. He looked around the room, seeming to scout about for the best place to smoke. He eventually got up and walked over to the window. He pulled it open fully and sat next to it. Dean picked up his coffee and walked over to him. Dean sat across from him while he lit his cigarette, blowing the first cloud out the window. "I need to quit."

"Yes, you do." Dean took the cigarette from him and put it to his own lips. He took a long drag from it, then handed it back. "Me too." He leaned toward the window and blew the smoke out into the world. "I quit once for Charlie. I didn't really smoke much when Cas was alive. A little here and there, but not what I would call a habit. When he got the cancer, I gave it up entirely, not even an occasional slip. I didn't want to do anything that could make it worse for him."

"Did you pick the habit back up after he passed or something?" Benny leaned toward the window, watching Dean form his answer. Drag, exhale, and then Dean took the cigarette from him and did the same.

"It was never a habit. It was a choice, like the pills. I could have stopped at any time. I don't need to smoke this even now." He held the cigarette back out to Benny. "I'm addicted to what it means, what it could mean. It's the reason that Charlie doesn't want me doing this."

"What did it mean to you?" Benny stubbed out the cigarette on the inside of the window frame well before it was finished.

"It meant that I was giving up." Benny raised an eyebrow to him in question. "I thought that if I smoked enough that maybe I could follow in his footsteps."

"Was this after your other plans failed?"

"Yes. I believed that it would hurt Charlie less if I ended up getting sick. I know now that I was being stupid. Charlie set me right when she figured out what I was doing. No one should have to watch someone that they care about dying. We romanticize death in the movies and on T.V. I know; I've made enough of them. It is quick and those that are left behind grieve fast and furious before they move on. That's bullshit. I know what it is to grieve and I know that I can't do that to her or Meg. Even Sam had to be considered.

"Cas would have wanted you to live." Benny got up and moved back to the table where he finished off his juice.

"Yeah, he would. I wanted him to live too. We don't all get what we want."

"Were you always this cynical?" Benny asked in a way that wasn't accusatory, just inquisitive, so Dean answered.

"Not once Cas started living with me. He was a good influence, a role model even. I was also happy then, so it was easy to push aside my cynicism. I don't have to do that now."

"Will you tell me about the end?" Benny was watching Dean in a way that made Dean feel like there was only one answer, and honestly, he had already told so much. Might as well finish the story.

"Sure. Just don't expect much. I mean, it was just a long, slow death. No sudden final words or any of that. Just one day he was here and then he wasn't." Benny nodded at Dean and remained silent as Dean seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

Getting to the beach was going to be difficult. He had managed to slip out to the pharmacy earlier to pick up more meds. He worried that Cas would be in pain during the drive, not that his trip to the pharmacy really had anything to do with that. What he didn't count on was the encounter with Charlie as he walked in. It had been like she had been waiting for him.

"So, where have you been?" She walked up to him and pulled the bag from his hands. He tried to retrieve it, but she turned too swiftly. She looked in and pulled out the pill containers.

"I was just picking up meds for Cas. We're taking him to the beach, and I don't want him to hurt." Dean reached out for the bag, but Charlie did not hand it over.

"No, that is not what this is. That is not what this is by 500 miles, Dean." She started to pass him and go up the stairs.

"Where are you going? What the Hell, Charlie." He grabbed her arm and tried to spin her around. She did not turn though. She squirmed out of his grip and started rushing up the stairs. Dean looked up at her a little shocked, then he followed her. She stormed into his and Cas' room, and Dean felt a little panic rush up through him.

"Shit, shit, shit." He caught up with her in the room. Cas was sleeping, but when they entered he opened his eyes weakly.

He looked at Dean and was about to say something when he noticed Charlie. She was in the bathroom, pulling out the contents of the medicine cabinet. There were pill bottles flying out into the room. Dean tried to stop her. She looked like the personification of rage. Her face was tear streaked; her face was as red as her hair and the vast desert around them at sunset. She was fire and righteous indignation, and Dean was a little afraid of her in that moment. "You want to explain this, Dean? You want to talk about this?" She pushed past him into his closet and started shoving his clothes aside.

Dean knew where he had hidden them. She was looking in the wrong spot, so he had deniability on his side, and he channeled that into irritation when he spoke. "I don't know what you are up to, but this is ridiculous. You've woken up Cas and now you are throwing everything. I think that you need to leave and get your head screwed on straight." She moved then to the back of the closet and the tiny set of knick-knack drawers there. He sucked in a breath and moved into the closet with her. He reached for her as she pulled the drawer out, but he was too late.

She stood there with the drawer pulled out all the way and now hanging in her hand. The contents spilling onto the rug. More pill containers. She dropped it and pulled out the next one. Dean had given up fighting her now. There were a few more in there. He didn't know why he had gone so far overboard in his collecting of them. He knew that he wouldn't need so much, but he had done it just the same. He had figured that it might require a lot to be sure that it went as he wanted it to go. He felt movement behind him. He turned and there was Cas. He looked like he was struggling to stay upright, so Dean quickly threw an arm around him. Cas leaned into him.

"I don't understand. What's going on?" His voice was strained and tired. Dean kissed his head, breathing in through his hair. He hoped that Charlie would let the situation die. Explaining this to Cas was cruel. It was bad enough that he was slowly fading out of existence; he didn't need to know that Dean planned to fade out after him.

Charlie did not let it die though. She walked up close to the two of them and asked Cas, "How often do you need your pain meds?"

"Not often. Maybe once a month or so," Cas muttered out as his gaze seemed to take in the mess of pills. He had not put it together though, yet. Dean was holding onto a dim hope that he just wouldn't.

"Come on, Charlie. Let's go downstairs and talk about this. Cas doesn't need this drama." He started to pull Cas back into the room, to the bed. He could feel Cas stiffen though.

"Dean, what is happening here?" He lifted his hand weakly and held it out over the piles of orange containers heaped up at their feet.

"Nothing, Cas. It's nothing. Everything is fine. Charlie is just having a rough day." He tried again to pull Cas along. Charlie was shaking and crying, but she was not yelling anymore. Cas did not let himself get pulled. It must have taken a reserve of strength to resist Dean's pull. He could just reach down and scoop Cas up, carry him out of the space, but somehow he knew that that would be wrong.

Cas repeated his question from before, but this time his voice was shaking with the effort and perhaps the realization of what was happening. "Dean, what's happening here?"

Charlie slugged at Dean's arm and yelled into the intervening quiet of the room, "Answer him, Dean. Answer us, God damnit."

Dean moved Cas over to Charlie and she took him into her arms, held him up. Dean stepped away from them, back into the bedroom. He created distance, and now that Charlie had Cas, she couldn't hit him. "You already know. I don't need to say it. Is it really some great mystery? Did you really think that I would want to keep living after he was gone? I mean, my God, why would I want to do that?" He was looking at Charlie. He couldn't look at Cas.

"Damnit, Dean. Did it ever occur to you that you matter to a whole bunch of us. You matter to me, to Meg. What about Sam? You can't just leave us." Charlie was angry still when she spoke, but the tone was quieter now. Dean stole a look at Cas who was staring down at the pills. His breathing seemed to be labored.

"You'll be fine," he finally said.

She repeated, "You can't just leave us."

"I can if he can." He felt petty and stupid saying it, but it was a reflection of his decision making over the past several months.

Cas finally spoke. "No, Dean. You don't get to do that."

"You don't get a say in this." Dean turned away from him though. He couldn't take the look on his face.

"I think that I do. Charlie doesn't deserve this blatant disregard. You think that your life doesn't matter, that it is not worth preserving? You matter. Not just to me, to us, but to anyone that has met you. You don't get to do this. I need to know that you lived even if I am dying. I need to know that you kept on carrying me with you. It matters. Otherwise it is like what we had and have dies with us. I need you to live, please."

Dean marched out of the room. He couldn't lie to Cas. He couldn't tell him that he would live if he wouldn't. He couldn't tell him the truth either, though. So, he left. He went out the back door and into the desert. He practically threw himself down the path. He was breathing in ragged breaths with each step. It wasn't supposed to go this way. They weren't supposed to know. It would have been so much simpler. He had a plan. Fucking Charlie. He knew that he really had no right being angry with her. What she did was out of love. He couldn't handle it though. I made my God damn choice. He shook as he thought it and marched still farther along the path. He came to the edge of their property and considered going on. The path ended though, and the sand was loose. It would fill his shoes and be uncomfortable. The thought calmed him somehow, like getting sand in his shoes was really the biggest issue that he was facing.

He turned back to the house. He looked at the space around him. The little plants that Cas had tenderly placed here and there were flourishing. Some of the plants had magenta flowers on them. He was always surprised when the flowers bloomed in the desert. He couldn't help but thinking each time, they have no business here. Cas had nurtured them, and they had grown. Cas had nurtured him, and he had grown. He had not been out here in a while. He knew that Meg had been tending to the plants. She would read to Cas too. Sometimes Charlie would come out here with her. Things had become strained between them. Meg was growing quiet. She only seemed to perk up for Cas. It was something that Dean understood, and when Meg would drift out here, sometimes he would go too. They would brood in silence together.

Dean would have said that her brightness around Cas was an act, but it wasn't. She was genuine with him, otherwise he would call her on it, make her put on her real face. Cas didn't put up with bullshit. He knew that there would be Hell to pay once he went back in the house. His choices would not be ignored or accepted. Cas would beg. He would extract promises that Dean felt certain he couldn't keep. The guilt would be too much for him. He struggled to gain control of his emotions. He was angry and so entirely upset by the current situation. Watching Cas day in and day out as he slowly faded away was killing him slowly too. He felt his life draining out of him with each stumbling breath that Cas took. He listened to the air passing from him in the morning and at night. Sometimes he would just lay there for hours watching him breathe, counting out the moments in breaths rather than in seconds.

He would even do this when Cas was gone, he thought. He could imagine laying in the bed counting out the breaths that were no longer there. They would be his own now. He would count them as they slowed. He would count them through the tunnel of darkness that would frame his vision as he finally closed his eyes for the last time. He imagined this and, yet as he stood in Cas' garden, he felt guilty. It was a growing feeling, and he knew that it would have to be addressed. He slumped down into the path, legs curled up beneath him. He let time pass and did not move as the sun crept slowly along its path.

Meg came out of the back door, basket and garden tools in hand. She saw him, but came over anyway. She found a spot not far from him and began digging a little hole in the earth with her spade. "Planting a Dean tree in the path?"

"Yep."

"Hmm. Wanna help dig a hole or two?"

"Kay." He reached over and took the spare spade that she held out to him. "Charlie send you out here or was it Cas?"

"Neither. Why?" She looked at him a little confused.

"No reason." He dug out a six inch by six inch hole that dipped down about a foot and a half. She passed him one of her plants. He knew to loosen the roots as he pulled it from the plastic pot.

"You fightin' with Charlie and Cas or something? You look all sorts of guilty." She was loosening her own plant with gentle fingers.

"Not exactly." He knew that she would find out eventually, but he was reluctant to share. He'd rather avoid and have her find out behind his back.

"You know, Cas should get a pass for whatever has got you so angry. Dude has cancer." She pushed her plant into the hole and got up to go back toward the house for the soil bag.

Dean got up and moved ahead of her though. "Here, let me get it. And I'm not mad at Cas. I'm never mad at Cas." He walked off to the house and hefted the soil bag up onto his shoulder, little specks of dirt fell out of it onto his clean white tee shirt. He got back to Meg and tossed the bag down near where they were working.

"Sometimes I am." She looked at Dean with a serious crease to her brows.

"Sometimes you are what?" Dean sat back down beside her.

"Mad at him. Like why did he have to go and get cancer? Why did he have to smoke so damn much? Why is he leaving me and us? It's not fair." She rattled off the string of questions that Dean had dwelt on everyday since they had first learned of Cas' prognosis.

"It's not his fault."

"Doesn't matter. I'm still mad. I'm mad at him, because I have no one else that I could be mad at. Should I rail against the universe, the stars, a god that I don't even pray to? He is tangible and here, so I am mad at him." She scooped dirt out of the bag and tipped it from the spade onto the underside of the plant. She repeated the move.

"You don't tell him all of that do you?" Dean scooped as Meg did. His moves mirrored hers.

"Oh, hell no. You are the lucky winner of truth talk with Meg today. I can't even tell Charlie this shit. She is too wrapped up in protecting everyone and being her own brand of sad." She started digging another hole for a small flowering shrub. She nodded to the ground near Dean, telling him where to dig next. "She cries a lot. She's worried about you too. I told her that I want to move after all of this is over. She looked at me like I was crazy."

"Where would you go?"

"Anywhere. Not here."

Dean hadn't considered the fact that Cas' death changed the need for all of them living as they had. If they moved he would well and truly be alone. I could do what I want then. He dug the hole for the next plant. "I'm sorry. I know that it hasn't been easy."

She looked at him then. "Oh, Dean. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She stopped and just dug in the hole some more.

"Don't be sorry. This is the most normal conversation I've had in ages. I hate all of the everything is fine crap. I'm so done. I'm ready to just do what I need to do. Ya know?" He was going on, and he was digging roughly now.

"Dean?"

He stopped digging and looked up at her. "What?"

She was crying now. "I don't want him to die. I'd rather it was me a thousand times."

He moved over to her in one fluid motion and said, "I know. I know. I know." She was curled up into his chest. Her face was soaking the front of his shirt. Her gasps and sobs muffled by his body. He couldn't help but to cry a little with her.

"There's so much that we all need to do to see. You know. He needs to be here for all of it." She was choking on her words.

"I know," he mumbled out again. Then he added, "There's things that I wanna experience differently than I have before, or maybe for the first time. I wanna do those things with him. I want to share all of that with him, and I won't get that. It kills me, Meg. It kills me everyday."

She didn't move from his arms, but she looked up at him and said, "I know." It was as though it was her turn to comfort now. There was silence for a spell. Dean could feel his body shaking a little around her. It wasn't cold out, but he felt like his body couldn't take in any of the warmth. She whispered quietly, "We have to keep him alive for as long as we can."

"How long do you think that we can do that for? One month, maybe two at the outside if his body is any indication. He is dropping weight so fast, I don't know how he even gets enough energy to move out of bed."

"I'm willing to keep him alive for as long as I'm alive. I'm guessing I can give him a good forty or fifty years if I start living right. How 'bout you?" He looked at her, and saw what she was getting at. "I can't do it alone though. That's too much to carry alone. I wonder sometimes if that is why Charlie's sadness is so much more profound than any of us probably realized before. I think that she worries over how much she will have to carry alone."

He did not respond right away. Eventually, though, he took a long slow breath and said,"Yeah. I'm just starting to think that maybe there's more to it all than I thought." He rubbed her back a little in the space between her shoulder blades. She squeezed up against him closer now, resting her head on his chest and looking out past him to the desert. "I'm sorry Meg."

"Don't be sorry. Talk to Charlie, though. She needs you too."

"I'm afraid," he admitted in a quiet voice.

"I know." She reached out and held his free hand. They stayed like that for a time, and when the sun had begun to set, they slowly picked themselves up from the ground and walked back into the quiet, dark house.

He had not been able to talk to Benny about the last moments. They were there though, none the less, dancing about in his mind. Benny understood, and, for once, didn't press. He seemed to be willing to let Dean grieve and remember as he wished. He finished filming in Georgia and was on a plane home within two months. Benny had left some time before, but Meg and Charlie were there 'til the end.

Meg had decided that a trip out to California would be therapeutic and bought a plane ticket with Dean. Charlie would be traveling with them. Dean had worried that it might be awkward between them, but they talked with each other like old friends. Charlie even shared a little about Dorothy. Meg seemed comfortable with the way that things were. Gradually, Dean let go of his own worries about them.

When they got back to the house, Dean made his way, immediately, up to his room. there is nothing so comforting as one's own bed after a long stretch away from it. He walked around to his side and threw himself into his divot. "Georgia. Seriously, you never prepared me for the fuckin' humidity. I swear it was like 90% water I was breathing." He rolled over in the bed and stretched out his hand to the space at his side. "I went to Edlund's Bistro and ordered one of those sweet teas that you said were awesome, but I was like hell no; I'm not drinking one of those foo-foo girly teas." He laughed quietly. "They're hella good. You were right." He laughed a little and got up. He made his way out to the back yard through his veranda. He wandered down to the path and directly toward the garden.

As he walked he squeezed his hand open and closed at his side. "Yeah, it has been busy. I don't know if I want to make anymore movies." He walked up one rise and then down into a dip. The path wound around and then he was at the wall. He slipped in and walked to the bench. He took a seat there. "I'm going to take a road trip to South Dakota." He paused then continued. "I know, finally, huh. Gonna go see Rushmore and the big park with all of the buffalos that you went on about. I'll never get why you were so excited about them. They're just big fluffy cows." Dean rubbed his hands together in front of him. The silver ring caught the sunlight.

"Yeah, I'm wearing it. Sue me." He let out a little chuckle. "My gorgeous boyfriend got it for me." He fiddled with it a little. "Yep, even at the end. You were always beautiful to me." He looked at the spot beside him, like he was seeing something there. "Forever." And he reached out then and rested his hand there, where another hand should have been.

He thought of the last moments, of laying by his side. He thought about the promises that Cas managed to extract from him the day before the beach trip. "You have to live Dean. Promise me you'll live." And because it seemed the least selfish thing to do, he promised. He could have changed his mind later, and there were several containers of pills in his closet that left that option open, but he knew that he couldn't do that to Cas, or to the others. Promises matter. He promised Cas forever and he was sticking with it.

He let himself remember. It was not something that he allowed himself often. It was too much most days, but today, it seemed appropriate to think of the beach and Cas and how much it all meant.

Dean remembered watching him sleep on the last day. He had taken to doing that often. Cas was in pain, but he did not let it show. They had managed to get him to the beach. He had been so happy. Dean had rented a large van that could accommodate Cas' wheelchair. They had left in the early morning. Dean drove and Cas had been lifted into the passenger seat. Meg and Charlie sat behind them, and the wheelchair was in the back. Dean had overpacked. He had every conceivable object for Cas' comfort. On the way there, he had asked Cas what he most wanted to do.

"I want to feel the sand on my feet and hear the waves doing their wavy thing." Dean had laughed at him.

"Coulda given you sand at home, and a garden hose for the splashy sounds." Dean had smiled over at him to make sure that he didn't take it wrong.

"Nothing but trouble huh? Bet you didn't realize what you signed up for when you went out for burgers with me that night."

"Best decision ever." He had reached over and found Cas' hand. "Hopefully we can get a little tan on you."

"Yeah, I'm not sure that I am okay with this pasty look. Clearly, I spend too much time indoors." His eyes fluttered closed a little and Dean wondered if he had fallen asleep until he spoke again, "I'm going to try to rest up for the main event. Wake me when we get there."

"You got it." Dean had driven on, and Charlie and Meg had carried on their own quiet conversation in the back. They did not arrive at the beach for another hour and twenty. The early morning departure time seemed to aid in the travel time. The traffic would be much worse later. Dean found a spot to park the van. The whole lot faced out to the water. The beach was mostly empty. There were early morning surfers already out on the water and a few tell-tale signs of life here and there. A jogger passed the front of the van with a walkman strapped to her waistband.

"I should get one of those." Dean said out loud.

Cas was awake now and looking at him. "You're already replacing me? With a jogging woman?"

"No, a walkman. One that straps to your sweats."

"Replaced by technology then. Wow."

"Yep, Cas, it was only a matter of time." He unstrapped his seatbelt and asked, "You ready to go see your ocean?"

"Ready."

Dean got out and Charlie helped him unload the wheelchair. Meg lifted Cas out of the car. It didn't take much strength to manage him now. He weighed somewhere just shy of 100 pounds. She was careful with him as she brought him to the wheelchair and gently deposited him in it. "I could probably just carry you around the beach if you want. I don't see how we are going to push this thing in the sand."

"Never underestimate the power of a Winchester." Dean said as he took the handles of the chair and pushed the thing ahead. It immediately got stuck. They all laughed at the look of irritation forming on Dean's face. He was determined though and pushed harder, digging in the wheels with all of his effort.

Charlie had made her way to his side with a laugh. "The wheelchair is not going to work. We'll need to carry him."

"You mind taking care of the wheelchair while I carry him out to sea?" He leaned down to the front of the chair and rested his forehead against Cas'. "So gonna toss you in for this Novak."

"Like to see you try Winchester."

"Don't tempt me." He scooped up Cas and carried him out to the water. They stopped just shy of the waterline, and Dean gently set Cas down. He reached out to Cas' shoes and began unlacing them. He pulled them off and set them to the side. Cas wiggled his feet about in the sand. Dean smiled at him. He reached out with a handful of sand and slowly let it fall from his fingers over Cas' feet. They both watched the sand. Dean felt Mazatlan surrounding them despite the early morning cold that came with mornings on the California coast. He reached out to his own shoes and untied them. He toed them off and then set them next to Cas' shoes.

Cas wiggled his toes towards Dean's and brought their feet into contact beneath the sand. "I've missed these types of moments."

"Yeah. I'm glad you made us do this. You're a forceful bastard, but you were right." Dean was cascading sand onto Cas' hand now. "I love you."

"Love you too." They watched each other and occasionally the sand and surf. Charlie and Meg did not join them. They instead walked up the beach together.

A larger wave curled up onto the beach and crept slowly up the slope of sand. It stopped moving up just inches from their feet . It was a little exhilarating to sit there trusting that it wouldn't get all the way to them. "You doing okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Dean really looked at him then. I'm fine was rarely a truthful statement, but Cas actually looked fine. Dean moved over to his side and buried his hand in the sand next to Cas. He let his fingers scurry over to him from under the grains until they were twined up together.

"Maybe we should have bought a beach house." Dean mused out loud.

"Maybe."

"Any regrets?"

"A few. I'd rather not worry about those things though." He looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes carried a shine that reminded Dean of the ocean in a way. There was a depth there in that moment that made him feel like he could sink into them. A crisp wind blew in from the water. The thin wisps of wet air swirled up around them.

"Do you ever wish that I had been different?"

"That's a funny question."

"Not really. You know I come up with all sorts of funny ideas about things."

Cas looked at him like he was trying to read him. "I wish sometimes that I hadn't made you fall in love with me. That's a little difference, but I don't think of it often."

"Kinda glad you can't follow through on your silly wishes." Dean leaned over and rested his head on Cas' shoulder. He was careful not to put too much weight there. "I hope you know that you are it for me."

"I hope that's not true. I want you to be happy. You need people or at least one someone." He felt Cas push a kiss to his head.

"I've got Charlie and Meg. I'm fine." Dean couldn't imagine anyone filling Cas' role. It was sacred ground and it should not be tampered with.

"They might not be enough." Cas seemed to say on a sigh.

Dean tipped back and looked at Cas. "I don't need anyone filling the gap that you are going to leave behind." He reached out and felt Cas' arm. "You're cold. Here." He took off his coat and draped it over Cas' shoulders.

"Thanks, Dean."

The day at the beach ended up being the hour at the beach, and even that was likely too long. Dean carried Cas back up to their room and gently put him in the bed. He helped him get undressed and pulled the covers up to his chin like he always requested. Dean came around to his side and laid down there facing him. "You happy?"

"Hmm." Cas was already slipping off into sleep. "It was like Mazatlan, but with less swimming. We should go swimming next." Cas mumbled through barely parted lips. Dean reached out to him and ran his hand through Cas' hair.

"I should put in a pool for us."

"Nah, I want to swim in the ocean."

"Seriously, Cas, you're driving me mad."

Cas laughed a little with his eyes still closed. "Need to make sure you remember the important things. You need to carry the good things with you too. Otherwise, I'll just be the burden that I've been at the end."

Dean had felt his breathing hitch up in his chest. He slipped closer to Cas and wrapped an arm around him. "You've never been a burden. Never." Cas just smiled and slept. Dean eventually let him go and just watched him. He had counted the breaths. They slowed and then the pause between them became long. He reached out and put his hand to Cas' chest, feeling for the heartbeat that drummed out hope and promises. There was nothing. Instead of calling out, or trying for some miracle resurrection through C.P.R. he just curled up close to him, pulling Cas' arm over him. Dean breathed in and out into the space between his face and Cas' chest. He felt the first splash of a tear fall from his cheek. He breathed still more. He breathed for both of them now.

He gave the bench beside himself a little pat. Charlie was standing out on the veranda. "You coming in anytime soon, Dean? Benny's here."

Dean called back up to her, "Be in in a sec." He got up and slowly walked back to the house. It was the anniversary, two years since he passed. Dean still prayed to him, every night. It wasn't always sad though. Sometimes it was just his own random musings. It didn't matter so much though, what he talked about. What mattered was the talking, the living, the breathing. In those moments he shared all of that with Cas. He mounted the stairs to his home. He wandered through his room, down the hall and back down to the ground floor, where he heard their voices.

They had made a point of all being together tonight. Somehow it would make things easier for all of them. Meg already had the T.V. on. She had said that she couldn't watch the ceremony before. It had still been too fresh. Now they all sat in the living room waiting for Charlie to pop in the V.C.R tape of their speech from the awards ceremony.

She set the tape and then came back to the couch, wedging herself between Dean and Meg. Benny sat on Dean's other side. Charlie aimed the remote at the T.V. and hit play. The orchestra played them onto the stage. It was surreal watching himself walking with Charlie like that. He let his mind draw back a little from the screen. He felt Benny's hand move over his. It was enough of a distraction for him to get through this. He saw himself struggling with the speech, but Charlie took over. It was not likely obvious to the crowds that what they were seeing was different from what had been rehearsed.

Then the video played. He saw himself looking away. The camera cut from him and Charlie to just the video. A large picture of Cas was on the screen, beneath him were the words In Memoriam. There was music. He hadn't remembered the music. It played over a montage of stills from Cas' film career. There had been a video of him talking about falling in love. It had been about Dean, but the world awwed thinking it was about Meg. The world would know soon enough, just who Cas had been talking about. Benny had written their story. He had written truth, and it would be on the stands in the morning. Charlie leaned into him as the video of Cas came to a close. The camera cut back to Dean.

He spoke to the camera. Dean tuned it out and closed his eyes. He did not need to re-experience this moment. He knew what he felt. He knew that the words tomorrow would be far more true than a speech that moved an audience, a speech in which Dean called Cas his buddy and his friend. Benny had told him that he had seen more in that speech, a profound bond between Cas and Dean. Dean could not see how, but he accepted it none the less. He didn't quite tune out the last words though.

"They call us stars, but Cas really was. He was something bright and glorious lighting our nights, whether you saw him as his friends saw him, or in the dark, magical confines of the theater. He was an actor like no other. He brought us beauty and loneliness with just the slightest quirk of a brow. He would smile and you would all fall for whatever he was selling, be it cops or robbers, angels or demons. I am grateful that the world will get to revisit that smile again and again in his films. He brought us so much in such a short time. He left us too soon, but I for one, feel blessed that I met him, that he took the time for me." Dean raised his fingers to his lips and then held them up over his head. "I love you, buddy. See you soon."

Meg spoke to the screen, "See you in forty, Cas."

Charlie spoke then, "See you in fifty, Cas."

Meg looked at her. "It's not a competition ya know?" They laughed a little then. Dean got up. Charlie had paused the tape. The still image of Cas was frozen to the side of the screen. He walked up to it and pressed his hand to it. Years didn't matter. Time seemed to pass quickly. What was a year, two, ten, forty? It was all just days. He could feel them at his back. They loved him. He could feel Cas, still with him after all this time. He leaned toward the screen.

Dean whispered, "See you soon."

Review, Fav., Rec.

AN: Wow, it's done. Finally. I plan to throw it at the Destiel Fanfiction blog and would love it if you all threw a like at it over there when it shows up. Also, thanks so much for reading it and telling me your theories and feelings about it. I loved all of it. Thank you .Spnfangirl1965 for your thoughts on the parallels and for the tumblr follow. I had a lot of fun with the parallels. Cas' grace fading was supposed to be represented in the Cancer. His fall was also an obvious. I even managed to throw in some lines from last night's episode, "Paint it Black." Sorry for making you cry pyroleigh; although, I'm sure this chapter was worse. Rainystv, I'm sorry about your loss. Thanks for always being so kind and thoughtful in your comments. I hope that the end of this was what you had hoped for; although, I don't know how happy it really is. Also, as to people not knowing, I think that the public defaults to assumptions of heterosexuality even when it is obvious. This was set in the '80s too, so I think that it was even more like that then. AC Boo-Yah, I have to say, I've never gotten a review quite like that. I love that in your imagined universe, I studied under Crowley in order to provide this torture to you all. Hopefully, it wasn't all torture.

Well, if you read it all, throw down a comment and a fav. I'll feel special and such. Love ya all and see you in the next fic (back to Dean the Dangerous).