"Hey, Deano," Charlie says, clambering awkwardly onto the roof of the Impala to join him. It's been three weeks since Cas left. Halfway through week two Sam called Charlie, and told her what happened. She came immediately.

"Your highness," Dean says, nodding an acknowledgement and handing her a beer from the near-empty six pack beside him as she sits down. She takes it without question, opening it with some difficulty. "You know," he remarks, "I don't think I've ever seen you drink."

Charlie takes a swig and makes a face. "That's cuz I hate alcohol. Ick." She sets the bottle down.

Dean hums, not feeling like using actual words. He's been feeling like that a lot lately.

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Dean," Charlie begins hesitantly, "how...I mean, are you—,"

"I'm fine," Dean says sharply, cutting across her. But he's not.

He thinks, maybe, that he's always been in love with Cas. All the times he reached out to touch him under the pretext of comfort or assistance, it was just because he needed to touch him, to assure himself that Cas was real and there and his. Dean thought it was just because Cas was his best friend in the world aside from Sam. But now that he's felt Cas pressed up against him as they sleep, felt Cas's lips, wet and hot on his own, he knows. He knows that every time he told Cas "I need you," what he was really saying was "I love you."

But it's no use crying over spilled milk or lost angels. So, for all intents and purposes, he's fine.

He's fine.

He feels Charlie's hand, placed soothingly on the back of his neck, and leans into the touch. It's almost maternal, and it's soothing. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Charlie gasps.

"What?" Dean asks immediately, eyes snapping open and hand flying to where he normally has his gun shoved into his jeans, before realizing it isn't there. There has been barely any supernatural activity lately, with heaven and hell's new truce, so Dean had stopped carrying his gun.

As it turns out, though, he doesn't need it, because on the ground before him stands Cas, still wearing the AC/DC tee shirt that Dean had lent him on the day, three weeks ago, when Cas disappeared from his life. His hair is ruffled, like he's been in a strong wind, and bits of it are sticking up. He looks hesitant in a way he's never looked as an angel, and his hand appears frozen in the act of reaching for Dean.

Charlie slides of the hood when neither of the two men moves, holding out her hand to Cas. "I'm Charlie. Nice to finally meet you, Castiel."

"Thank you, Charlie," Cas says, snapping out of his state of inertia. And Dean thinks that his words mean more than they seem to at face value.

Charlie nods and heads back into the bunker, glancing worriedly back at Dean.

There is a moment of silence before Cas speaks.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas."

Cas smiles a little, climbing up to sit beside Dean.

"So, are you back?" Dean asks.

"Yes," Cas says with certainty.

Dean smiles a little sadly as he looks over at Cas, dreading the answer to his next question. "For good?"

Cas turns to him, taking Dean's hand and looking him directly in the eye in the piercing way he'd always had. "For good."

Dean can feel the euphoria and relief building in his chest, but he suppresses it. This is too good to be true. "And Ana?" he asks, watching Cas' face fall.

"I don't," Cas begins, and hesitates, "think...that she will return."

Dean nods. Poor Sammy.

"But I think Sam will be okay," Cas says, startling Dean. Cas knows him too well. "He is far stronger than I am. I could not bear the thought of being without you for all eternity."

Dean finally lets the well of happiness that's been mounting inside him fill up and spill over, grinning so wide that his face hurts and pulling Cas's lips to his by balling his fists in the soft fabric of his own shirt. He feels Cas's mouth against his and he knows; he knows that it's all okay.

When they eventually pull apart, Dean whispers, "Welcome home."

Cas's responding smile is brighter than his lost grace ever was.