Alright, just like chapter 30, I had this planned from the very start too ;)

This is it, guys. The final stretch. I don't want to let go of this quite yet…

I'll always love this story 3

March 5, 2016

It was a sunny day. Bright, full of laughter and warmth. A kind of warmth given off by people and not the burning flames of fire. Castiel only wished he could enjoy it. Everyone else around him obviously was. The bitterness of winter had finally slipped into the renewal of spring. Flowers bloomed. The grass became a vibrant green as birds flew above head with life filled songs.

Cas hadn't been able to find joy since October. Any faith he had previously he had once tried to hold onto. Now, it was nowhere to be seen.

On this jubilant spring day, Castiel sat on a park bench, watching as the rest of the world still revolved without his husband. How he was being dragged along with it. Hands clasped in front of him and elbows on his knees. No one had told Cas about Dean's death. Not even mentioning a funeral. Hardly anyone was speaking to him.

Sam hadn't called him since before the office fire. Adam… Adam had been crushed. Mary had gone radio silent once again. Benny had tried. He had come over a few times. He'd gone so far as to drag Cas home to have supper with him and Andrea. Benny had called Cas the day he had proposed. Though all interactions had some form of strain. As if every relationship had changed since Dean had been gone. It seemed all the more real that Castiel didn't have much of Dean's favorite things. He didn't have the amulet. Not even the Impala. It was driving him up a wall. He couldn't even look at their wedding photo anymore.

Cas didn't even understand while he still came here. This was an outing he and Dean would have taken. How could the world be so cruel? How did a single soul continue to walk with such normality? Why hasn't anyone bothered to tell him about Dean?

Then again Castiel was insignificant compared to the raging war that had to be taking place inside the courthouse. Azazel Demon hadn't been caught until the month before in early February. The system was determined to put this man away for the rest of his life, and came up with a court date that was as close as legally possible. Castiel didn't know much, but he knew Dean's actions had had a major role in that. Collecting evidence that should catch this demon of a man in cold blood. Not to forget Alastair Nomed, the alleged partner. He was already in prison. They dragged him and Gordon walker back on trial yesterday to sit with the devil himself. There were federal agents all over this case. One of whom had interrupted Dean once during their lunch. Davies was his name. They had several speakers under their care that were involved in this case. One apparently who could end it all with a single testimony. An expert and star witness they had been proclaimed. That single testimony from the slew of others was the case-closer.

Today, in the aftermath of the trial, there was a ceremony being held. Those of Truck 67 and majority of the other firehouses were attending as a fellow firefighter was awarded for bravery shown at the office fire. They were also saluting their brothers and sisters who had fallen.

Cas didn't want to find out what kind of reaction he'd have if he stepped close to the place his husband once worked at. To see the faces of the other family and loved ones he held close all in one place.

No, here he sat on a park bench. He was wondering when they'd tell him his husband was dead. Or had hey forgotten like Dean did? Or, had, Dean remembered by the end. Now that the case was closed, he questioned when they'd have a funeral.

As far as he knew, he had no tears left to cry. He left them tucked away with October and November.

Castiel would get his answer moments later.

He could spot the Class A uniform from a mile away. A man in uniform when concerning another was never good. Dean had taught him that. This fireman moved determinedly the concrete path in Castiel's direction. Cas couldn't take it. He blatantly ignored the first responder heading his way. He even thought about walking away. By the time he was about to stand, the other man sat heavily on the bench beside him. Cas refused to look his way as the man set his cap between them.

"Y'know, I've had a lot of time to think," that voice was rough and gravelly. As if he'd been talking and laughing all day. Then again anyone wearing a uniform like that would sound like that to Cas. "You never answered my question."

Cas decided to bite, "what was that?"

"If it hurt when you fell from Heaven."

Any previous ability to breathe was suddenly gone. This couldn't be. It was just too perfect to be real. It couldn't plausibly be real. Though the intensity of the green eyes that burned into his soul begged to differ.

"Also during that time I played this out over and over in my head, and came up with another question I'd like to know the answer to." The Dean in front of him levered himself up from the bench. He shuffled away, favoring his right. He lowered to his knees. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a golden ring. "Will you come rescue me one more time, Angel?"

It was real. Oh good God, it was real. Only Dean, the hater of anything so chick flick worthy could come up with something like that. The tears that he had thought were long ago dried up came springing to his eyes. Castiel threw himself to the ground and encased Dean in his arms.

"I couldn't feel it." He was holding back full on sobs now. "Because I had been falling for you."

"Who woulda thunk… Took me eight years to finally get a straight answer out of you. Besides 'I do.'"

"Who woulda thunk," Cas repeated with a tear-stained laugh. "Shut up and kiss me already."

Without another word, Dean captured Cas's mouth with his lips. The amount of relief that flooded through him caused him to lean on the fireman a bit more.

October 19, 2015

You can let go. It's alright. You can let go.

His lungs were heavy, sprawled out beside all the other rubble. His vision was greying. He could feel it pulling at him now. It was okay. Cas said it was okay for him to let go.

The wall at his back shook. He swore he felt the chilling October air brush over him. A cold was tapped into him over the heat that encased where he was trapped.

A frozen brush that kept coming. There was a minuscule light that was enlarging itself.

And suddenly, letting go wasn't so easy anymore.

He could breathe. The light contrasted to that of the flames that were engulfing the room. Dean knew it now, it was sunlight. He reached behind him as if he could touch it, and he did. Tears rolled over the bridge of his nose. His fingers found the crack in the wall. The opening that had been weakened by his own hand. It was hope. Dean pulled at the drywall, turning himself over. A cry of joy turned to a yelp when his leg shifted. His head felt light, but his hands deftly grabbed for the wall, for the alleyway beyond him. A metal rod became a tool to help tare his way out. By the time he made a dent, the jacket around his leg had caught fire. He was really out of time now. Dean jerked off his heavy turnout coat, trying to pat out the fire. The scream that ripped through his throat was weak. Blood and sweat started to sting his eye as he took the suspenders to make an improvised tourniquet. Fire lashed at the heels of his boots, causing him to leave his heavy coat where it lay as he forced himself through the hole into the outside world. His lungs inflated immediately with fresh air. With power in his lungs he coughed until he was gasping. Still he pulled himself away as much as he could. The adrenaline wore off alarmingly fast. Siding and several other materials lay around him. He could hear shouting voices, the thunder of several hoses opening fire on the assault to save the building. Or by now, the ones around it. There was the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. It must have been called in for a really bad case. The ambos have to be overrun with how bad this fire was.

The flashing red and blue spilled into the ally he lay in. It was all starting to blur. Dean picked up the nearest chunk of debris throwing it a few feet away from where he lay. He tried again, making it farther. The third try only hit the wall of the law office. His limbs were becoming heavy. He was so close. So fucking close.

Numb fingers ghosted over his pocket, releasing an object that he tossed weakly. The quarter clinked against the pavement and rolled on. In fact, in rolled right into someone's foot. A figure who in their own distress had to walk away from the scene. This person would be Charlie Bradbury. Dean watched as the familiar build rushed to his side. Before he could blink -or, maybe he had- another joined in. This man was much bigger than Charlie's stature. His skin dark, and shoulders broad.

"You can't tell them." He grunted. Charlie peaked at the wrapped wound. This caused Dean to jerk and rasp a cry.

"Why the hell not?"

"If Azazel finds out…" Victor didn't have to finish.

Charlie picked up her radio. "Tessa grab a stretcher. Take a bag, we need that 'copter. The agent found a bad one from another building. Hurry."

There was the creaking of wheels. The pounding of footsteps.

He couldn't breathe.

"Tess get over here! We need to intubate, he's choking-"

The world blurred around him. Something slid into his throat. Air entered his lungs.

"We need your help to get him to get him to the airlift." They were moving him, but he couldn't make a sound anymore. "Put the shock blanket over his legs,"

Whatever was draped over him. Dean hadn't even noticed how cold it was.

"Hang on. Just hang in there, Dean." Charlie. He wanted to smile for her, show that it was alright. It would all be fine. He was lifted up. Charlie climbed up with him, straddling his torso.

"I need you there just in case he gets worse. And you, agent, help push the stretcher. We'll get to the helicopter faster. Ready?"

Whatever Tessa was planning, Dean could get behind. Somewhere in his muddled mind, he made a mental note never to get in her way. At least he assumed he had.

"Stay with us Dean, we're almost there."

When had they started moving?

Dean saw it then, the sunset. He knew there was a large group of people to his left, but he looked right. The blending colors of the fading sun made him tired. It was peaceful.

It's okay, it's alright. You can let go. You can let go.

"No, no, no… Dean," Charlie whimpered.

He was fading. He was letting go. He suddenly had the urge to brush those red strands out of her face. When had he closed his eyes? Oh well, that didn't matter. There was a pressure that pushed the air from his lungs in intervals. Then the air was pushed back in. One of his ribs cracked from the compressions delivered to his chest.

"Fight dammit!" Charlie cried. "Fight, Dean. Please." She begged. He was lifted again, something small, cold and round placed in his hands. A door was slammed shut.

It's okay. It's okay. He couldn't see the sunset anymore, but that was okay.

He was going home to Cas.

"Dean!"

Cas said it was okay. That he could come home. He'd see his angel.

March 5, 2016

"Cas," Dean murmured into his husband's dark mussed hair.

"Oh! Sorry, was I holding too tight?" Cas pulled himself away, assessing Dean for damage.

Dean's lips curled. "No, no Cas, not that. You're gonna have to help me up."

Castiel's brows furrowed.

"My leg, it's busted. That's why I have the cane."

Cas blushed, looking away sheepily. "I didn't see that."

"Yeah, I noticed. But seriously, we should get back up."

Cas stood, reaching down for his arm. "What happened?"

Dean grunted as he stood, before hobbling to the bench. Once there he shifted his leg so it was outstretched.

Cas hesitantly sat beside him, setting the cap on his lap.

"Bone snapped, my knee popped from its socket."

Castiel nodded, hands running the rim of the hat.

"I-I didn't know that they still hadn't told you. Mick said that you'd be notified when the case went to trial. That started two days ago." He shook his head.

"Michael told me you weren't here."

Dean was jerked from his direction, finding more tears in his husband's eyes. "He was right." Their shoulders touched. "They airlifted me to Saint Mary's in Blue Springs. They were headed for Kansas City, but Saint Mary's answered a lot faster. Out of what Henriksen told me it was better that way. There wasn't much attention drawn to me in a smaller place like Blue Springs. It was there I became a 'Hunter.' Part of some super secret Federal agent book club."

"You were gone so long," Cas whispered, holding the cap to his chest, and feeling the ring rest on his finger.

"I wasn't awake when all these decisions were made for me. Trust me if I was I would have kicked somebody's ass. When I actually was, it wasn't safe for me or anyone here. Azazel would have come after me, you, Sam… Adam or Mom. I couldn't stand the thought of that. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

"What?" Those blue eyes widened. Cas's mind had latched onto the first few words

"Docs put me in a medically induced coma. I was fighting a little too hard. I didn't wake up until… around the middle of January." Dean scooted so he faced Cas more. "Technically I went against Doc's orders by walking here. But I couldn't take it anymore." He gave a lopsided grin. "And I wanted my husband to accompany me to my retirement party."

"Dean-" The scold was on the tip of Castiel's lips. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed heavily. "I have metal pins in my leg now. Range of motion is limited. I'll be really lucky if I don't have a limp for the rest of my life. I can't fight fires like that. My knee, hell my whole leg is too screwed up." Dean shook his head. "It's gonna kill me, but that's the way things are gonna be." His laugh was flooded with mixed feelings. "Bobby always wanted an extra hand at the shop. He was joking the other day that he'd change the sign to Singer and Son."

Cas had been watching him as he spoke. Those blue eyes taking in every little detail. When Dean was finished, the pad of Cas's finger smoothed over the newest pin. Newest medal.

"They're callin' me a hero, for my actions in the law office fire." Dean took up Castiel's hand. "I'm still going to be a first responder, maybe even help out the department every now and then. Nothing will change that. But- but maybe this is a chance. That fate bullshit that you always go on about. How things always right themselves in the end."

"Emerson said that."

Dean scoffed light-heartedly. "You gonna go all Shakespeare on me now?"

"I can definitely go Botticelli and Dürer on you."

"No Michelangelo?"

Cas snorts, "hell no. Michelangelo may have been a sculpting genius, but he was an absolute dick of a person. He had already been paid for a job before he skipped out and went to paint the Sistine Chapel. But thank God he did, or Botticelli wouldn't have had the start he did."

Dean smiled. "I have no fucking clue what you just said, but I'll take that as a yes."

It took a while, a very long while for Dean to get situated. To create a new habit that didn't involve going to the firehouse every day. Of course, the crew welcomed him whenever he did. He and Bobby were in charge of tuning up the rigs -at least what the firemen and women couldn't do themselves. The Winchester household busied with weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries. Of course when the time came, welcoming children. Jack was the first to come home with them right before their niece was born. Sam had been so proud that day. The next was little Emma. Jack had taken to her right away, sometimes helping her with schoolwork. It wasn't always an apple pie life. He and Cas still had an argument or two here and there. Some days his knee bothered him more than others, though, his family always seemed to push him out of and dips he managed to fall into.

The kids certainly kept him on his toes. Work could be a handful at times too, now that Bobby took on the cruisers and anyone else who had the sense to do business with Singer and Son. Not to forget his first summer of just being a first responder it had rained like hell. Dean was right there with the best of them figuring out flood control.

Cas was content where he was teaching Art and Art History. Dean makes sure they have Sunday morning coffee a few Sundays a month. He would never admit it, but every once and a while he'll order a Milk and Cookies.

Every now and then he'd catch the wail of a siren. The honk of the engine's horn. He knew they'd be pulling out on another round. To save a building, pull people out of wrecked cars. They'd be jumping off the truck as if it was still him giving orders. Even if it was Benny who stepped up to the plate. All their fallen brothers and sisters standing beside them as they run into another burning building. Dean could never help the smile that curled his mouth.

But he had already sparked his own fire. He finally did catch a flame, the very one he'd be damned to ever let go out again. A blaze of memory and life. He still had a long life ahead of him. He only hoped that he'd be able to pass a lot of that down to his children. That maybe one day, they'd catch a flame of their own.

The happily ever after (with a mound of tissues)

Oh, yes... guys I got something to tell you: This was my very first Destiel story ever ;)

If you liked this one, I've mentioned it once before, but I'm planning another Destiel story that I'm calling Faultless. Stay tuned with my works for whenever it'll come out - not sure yet, I still have to survive my busy summer first xD

I'm currently working on the Prologue of Faultless, I'll set a poll up if you're interested in when I might be posting that...

I honest to everything wish I didn't write this so I could read it and not know every single thing that was about to happen. Truthfully, I wrote this to be the kind of story that I might read when I was really in an angsty mood. I think that's what's different about this one for me, is that I was taking on more of my emotions as a reader while writing it -though that kicked in more towards the end. Looking over this, how the plot has evolved - all of your reactions… it makes me wonder about my "up next" projects and ideas. How far I could actually take them, and how committed readers can be.

This book is my epiphany to how I've grown as a writer. To my writing in general. You guys triggered that. My English teachers through my years of schooling from middle school to high school have all pushed me to write in some way. They all told me I was good at writing, and whenever someone told me that I'd just shrug. I knew I was better than a lot of people in my grade, but I never believed I was THAT good.

This story is at (5K on Ao3) here... were nearly at 7K and it's not even a year old. I'm a very wordy person -if you haven't noticed by my writing- and I have nothing that can even come close to how thankful I am for each and every one of you. (yeah, chick flick moments… bla bla. And cliche be damned)

Thank you all, I love you guys 3

I use to have a motto that I used all the time, and right now is the moment to bring it back.

Dream, create, inspire.

~ Ty