Dean wasn't exactly sure what had happened.

In the midst of the celestial fight between Cas and...well, who ever he was...Dean reached out to help. He couldn't stand by and watch his friend die. Again. But just as his hand brushed over Cas's arm, there was a white blast.

And he was suddenly standing in his childhood home.

He was between the kitchen and dinning room. The whole place was full of light. Dean blinked and looked around. How did he get here? What happened to Cas and the other angel?

"Dean,"

The hairs on Dean's skin stood on end as he spun around. His mother walked into the room, passing him to get to the oven. Dean stared at her in shock. Her pale, golden hair was elegantly pulled back, showing her familiar face – though it looked older; much older than he remembered.

"M – mom?" he breathed.

"It's almost ready!" she called, as if speaking to someone in another room.

A little girl ran into the room, a little boy chasing her as they both giggled. Dean backed up to keep from getting trampled by them. Dean didn't know them, but they somehow looked familiar.

"Quit chasing your sister, Tyler,"

Dean turned around again. Sammy walked in from a different room as he called to the kids. Sam looked the same as ever, though maybe a little scruffy. Dean was shocked to see Jess, his old girlfriend, walking beside him.

"Listen to your daddy, Sweetheart," Dean's mother said, "why don't you two go get uncle Dean?"

Sam was daddy? And he was uncle Dean? Dean looked closer at the kids as they ran passed him. Both of them had Sam's freckles and Jess's eyes...

"It smells great, Mary,"

Dean watched his father walk in as Sam and Jess walked out. He had never seen his father this way; nicely dressed, clear eyes, not even a whiff of alcohol on him. He looked...normal. Hell, they all looked normal. What the hell was going on here?

Dean's father walked up to his mother and hugged her from behind, planting a small kiss on her cheek. She smiled in return as she dished out some plates of food.

"Mom?" Dean asked again, louder, "Dad?"

Neither of them could hear him. They stayed in their embrace, smiling. Dean's heart ached. How long had he wanted to see them like this? So happy and together.

"Cas," his mother called, "the pies are ready."

Cas? Cas was here, too? Dean turned to watch Cas walk in. The first thing Dean noticed was his trench coat and jacket were missing, leaving his white shirt and loose, blue tie. The second, was that Cas was smiling – genuinely smiling – as he came up to the oven.

The third was that Dean, himself, was right behind him.

"I heard pie," Dean watched his other self grin, "and I smell it too."

"Please stand back," Cas said, opening the oven, "I do not wish to burn you, Dean."

Both Deans watched Cas pull out a pie. And then another. And then another. The other Dean reached around to pinch off a bite. His mother slapped his hand away.

"Not yet, young man," she smiled, picking up the pie, "Not 'til after we say grace."

Grace? His family say grace? Dean gulped as he watched everyone pick up a dish and head for the dinning room. He, of course, followed; not wanting to miss a minute. Bobby was already sitting at the table with Sam and Jess, as the two kids dashed around. Once the food was on the table, everyone claimed a seat. Dean's other self sat at the head of the table. His mother was on his left and Cas was on his right.

"Okay, pip squeaks," Dean smiled to the kids, "Settle down."

Both kids quieted. Dean watched himself hold an open hand out to Castiel and wink at him. Cas seemed to smile a little more as he took it with his own hand. Afterward, Dean held his other hand to his mother, who took it gingerly. Everyone joined hands and bowed their heads.

"Our father," Dean started, "Who art...well, down the street,...we give thanks as we -"

Dean had stopped listening as his other self talked on. What the hell did 'down the street' mean? Dean dashed to the nearest window and peered outside. Beyond the glass, the world almost glowed. The impala was parked in the driveway and the entire street was full of light. Was he dead? Was this...heaven? Paradise?

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. But before he could turn to see who it was, he was ripped from where he stood. It was almost like being shoved out of a flying airplane. Though, only seconds later, he felt solid ground again.

He opened his eyes, stumbling backward. Cas was standing in front of him, normal trench coat getup. They were in the motel they were staying in before. Dean tried to catch his breath as he looked up at the angel.

"Wh – what the hell was that?!" he asked.

"I'm very sorry you had to see that, Dean," Cas sighed, glancing downward.

Dean stood up straight, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"S – sorry?" he repeated, lost, "but, where was I?"

Cas brought his eyes back up.

"I don't know how you got there, but I can assure you it won't happen again."

"Cas," Dean said sternly, "What was it?"

Cas took a breath, his eyes flickering away again.

"You...accidentally stumbled into...something I requested of my father," he said quietly.

Dean waited for him to continue, as he stepped closer to hear him better. Cas seemed to be building up courage or something.

"I...suggested a few things; plans, if you will, for when your time on earth is finished."

Dean blinked at Cas. The angel had made arrangements for him in heaven? It made Dean feel sort of at peace. He smiled at Cas.

"You did...a damn good job, Cas," he said.

Cas looked back up to meet his eyes, surprise and awe written on his face.

"You approve?" he asked.

"Yes," he nodded, "And it seemed like you would enjoyed it, too. Is that what you want?" he smiled.

"All I want, Dean, is for you to be happy and to -" he stopped short, looking away.

Dean cleared the distance between them and placed his hands on Cas's shoulders. He knew, from the way they looked at each other at the dinner table in that perfect place, what Cas wanted to say. And he wanted to hear him say it.

"To what, Cas?" he urged.

Cas's throat quivered as he gulped. His eyes were glistening as they slowly came back to meet Dean's.

"...love me." He finished in almost a whisper.

Dean searched Cas's face, as if it was something beautiful he'd never really noticed before. His angelic soul was present in his blue eyes. All at once, Dean knew he felt the same.

Very slowly, Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips against Cas's. Cas stood, frozen, while Dean kissed him. When he pulled back, Cas was still a stone, though his eyes were large.

"You don't have to wait for heaven, Cas," he whispered, "I already love you."