Kiss Bingo: Location: Sunset
Title: All Suns Set
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Lengh:~1,500
Warnings: (highlight to read) Character death.
Summary: Dean never expected to get old, but he did.
"Hello, Dean."
Rinsing the last of the suds from his frying pan, Dean set it on top of a dish towel to dry before turning around. "Hello, Cas."
"It's good to see you," Cas said with one of his trademark almost smiles, eyes brimming with affection.
It had been a while since Dean had seen that look, but that had been his choice not Cas's. "How's heaven?"
"Dull. How are you?"
His right leg ached almost constantly from where he'd lost a chunk of muscle to a fucking werewolf, and his shoulder, the one where he'd been shot, always seemed to ache just before it rained. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a cheeseburger without regretting it afterward. Damned acid reflux. "Fine."
Cas looked doubtful, but he didn't argue.
"So what brings you by?" Dean asked, turning and opening his fridge, taking out a beer. He wasn't really thirsty, but it beat looking at Cas, who still looked the way he had when they'd first met, when he'd informed Dean that he was the one who had gripped Dean tight and pulled him from perdition. But Dean didn't look anything like the guy who'd responded by stabbing Cas in the heart. He was old now. Decrepit. He'd expected to die before he got old, but he hadn't.
"I missed you."
"You're a terrible liar," Dean said, unscrewing the top from his beer and taking a long drink.
"You don't believe I miss you?"
Cas missed him, of that Dean had no doubt. He certainly missed Cas. But getting old while Cas stayed Cas had sucked in a really big way. Dean didn't get the guys who wanted to have sex with people half their age. All falling into bed with a still young-looking Cas had made him feel was inadequate. "I know you miss me, but that isn't the only reason you're here."
"No, it isn't."
Dean nodded. "Where's the reaper?"
"There isn't one."
Dean had to smile at that, at the tone that said no mere reaper was going to touch Dean's soul, not if Cas had anything to say about it, and he had a lot to say about it. "Can I see Sam first, say good-bye?"
"Of course," Cas said, and crossed the small kitchen, lifting his hand to Dean's forehead.
Cas zapped them straight into Sam's living room in Maryland. Sam was sitting in a rocking chair, a baby in his arms. Scott's new son, the one Dean hadn't met yet.
"Hey," Sam said, unfazed, as if they still traveled the world via angel every day.
"Babysitting?" Dean asked.
"Scott and Lacy went out to dinner and Susan has her book club tonight, so it's just me and little Jason here." Sam looked past Dean to Cas. "Hello, Castiel."
"Sam, it's good to see you."
Sam had gotten out of hunting a couple of years after the apocalypse, met a woman, settled down, raised a family. He'd aged well. Where Dean looked worn out, Sam just looked distinguished. He could probably get away with having an affair with someone half his age, not that he would.
Dean's eyes settled on the baby. He wondered who would teach him to shoot. Dean had taught Scott, over Sam's objections, which had officially made him the coolest uncle ever.
Seeing where Dean was looking, Sam stood and held out the baby. "Want to take him? My arms could use a break."
"Sure." Dean hadn't held a baby since Scott had been this age, but it wasn't something you forgot. Carefully cradling Jason's head in the crook of his arm, he studied the little face. His eyes hadn't even changed from blue to whatever color they were going to be, but Dean was certain he could see some Winchester in the boy.
"He's beautiful," Cas said, moving closer. Cas thought all humans were beautiful, even the ones who worshiped demons. Cas was weird that way.
"Yeah." Suddenly, Dean regretted that he wasn't going to be here to see what the small person in his arms would become.
His gaze on the baby, Cas began speaking in Latin, the words low and steady. The room seemed to thrum with power. When he was done, Cas leaned down and brushed his lips across Jason's forehead.
"Thank you," Sam said, looking awed. It was funny how Cas could still have that affect on Sam after all this time.
"May I hold him?" Cas asked.
"You don't need to ask, Cas," Sam said.
Cas moved in front of him and Dean transferred the baby to Cas's arms. "You have to be careful with the head. He can't hold it up on his own yet."
"He tries though," Sam said.
"He's a Winchester," Dean answered, as if that explained everything.
Sam was watching him and Sam had always been far too observant. Even as a kid, he'd watched and put the pieces together, ferreting out the things Dean had tried to protect him from. "This is good-bye, isn't it?"
"My time's up, Sammy." He hadn't meant to sound scared. After all, he had nothing to be scared of. He had a personal escort to the pearly gates, an archangel no less. No risk of hellfire for him, just peace and fluffy clouds and harps all the way.
But he wasn't ready to go. There was still too much to do. Somebody was going to have to teach Jason the ways of the world. And there were still monsters to fight, the occasional demon, and the world created new pissed off spirits every day. Sure Dean had moved from the field to the sidelines, but every player needed a coach, and the other hunters needed the benefit of his experience.
"Dean," Sam said. No one had ever been able to say as much with that one word as Sam could. Over the years he'd said everything from 'thank God you're alive,' to 'you're an embarrassment not just to me but to the entire human race,' to 'get your head out of your ass,' with that word.
Right now all Dean could hear in that word was loss.
He closed the space between them in just two steps. This hug was almost as fierce as the one they'd had when he'd come back from hell. "Look at it this way," Dean said, not letting go, "you'll finally get to be the man of the family."
"Jerk," Sam whispered.
"Bitch."
"Just so you're aware, most humans do not use words like 'jerk' and 'bitch' as terms of affection," Cas said.
Laughing, Dean let go of Sam and turned to look at Cas, who was gazing down at the baby.
"He needs someone to tell him these things," Cas said, "otherwise he could end up as poorly socialized as you are."
Sam covered his mouth to try and contain his laugh. Dean didn't bother.
Cas looked bewildered.
Choking back the last of his laughter, Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder. "Guess that means you'll have to check on him."
The look Cas gave him made it clear Dean's suggestion was completely unnecessary, and Dean wondered how much time Cas had spent checking in on him over the years, how much Cas had seen. It hadn't been as if Dean hadn't known Cas could see, but Cas had had responsibilities and Dean had been Dean.
None of the people Dean had filled the time with had mattered, not the way Cas mattered.
"We need to go," Cas said.
Placing a hand on the baby's head, Dean stroked his grand-nephew's forehead with his thumb. Once upon a time, he'd have wanted this child to grow up and join the family business. Now he just wanted him to have a good life.
Dean stepped aside and Cas transferred the baby to Sam.
"Take care of him," Sam said, as if Cas hadn't been doing exactly that for forty years.
"For as long as I live," Cas answered.
Cas stepped back to Dean's side. There were tears in Sam's eyes, but then Sam had always cried too easily, and if there were answering tears in Dean's eyes, that was just his body copying Sam's, the way seeing someone yawn made you want to yawn.
"I'll see you," Sam said.
"Take your time," Dean answered.
Then Cas touched him and they were back in Dean's house, although the place still felt like Bobby's. Half the time Dean expected to come downstairs and find him sitting in the kitchen.
"So," Dean said, "where do you want to do this?"
"It's your choice."
He was tempted to go to the bedroom, but it wasn't like he was going to be found in bed with a pretty blonde. "The den." It was where he'd found Bobby.
Dean led the way into the den and sat behind Bobby's desk.
"It won't hurt," Cas said, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning over Dean. "Your heart will stop and then you'll be out of your body, and we'll go."
"Just do it."
Cas pressed his lips to Dean's.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Lengh:~1,500
Warnings: (highlight to read) Character death.
Summary: Dean never expected to get old, but he did.
"Hello, Dean."
Rinsing the last of the suds from his frying pan, Dean set it on top of a dish towel to dry before turning around. "Hello, Cas."
"It's good to see you," Cas said with one of his trademark almost smiles, eyes brimming with affection.
It had been a while since Dean had seen that look, but that had been his choice not Cas's. "How's heaven?"
"Dull. How are you?"
His right leg ached almost constantly from where he'd lost a chunk of muscle to a fucking werewolf, and his shoulder, the one where he'd been shot, always seemed to ache just before it rained. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a cheeseburger without regretting it afterward. Damned acid reflux. "Fine."
Cas looked doubtful, but he didn't argue.
"So what brings you by?" Dean asked, turning and opening his fridge, taking out a beer. He wasn't really thirsty, but it beat looking at Cas, who still looked the way he had when they'd first met, when he'd informed Dean that he was the one who had gripped Dean tight and pulled him from perdition. But Dean didn't look anything like the guy who'd responded by stabbing Cas in the heart. He was old now. Decrepit. He'd expected to die before he got old, but he hadn't.
"I missed you."
"You're a terrible liar," Dean said, unscrewing the top from his beer and taking a long drink.
"You don't believe I miss you?"
Cas missed him, of that Dean had no doubt. He certainly missed Cas. But getting old while Cas stayed Cas had sucked in a really big way. Dean didn't get the guys who wanted to have sex with people half their age. All falling into bed with a still young-looking Cas had made him feel was inadequate. "I know you miss me, but that isn't the only reason you're here."
"No, it isn't."
Dean nodded. "Where's the reaper?"
"There isn't one."
Dean had to smile at that, at the tone that said no mere reaper was going to touch Dean's soul, not if Cas had anything to say about it, and he had a lot to say about it. "Can I see Sam first, say good-bye?"
"Of course," Cas said, and crossed the small kitchen, lifting his hand to Dean's forehead.
Cas zapped them straight into Sam's living room in Maryland. Sam was sitting in a rocking chair, a baby in his arms. Scott's new son, the one Dean hadn't met yet.
"Hey," Sam said, unfazed, as if they still traveled the world via angel every day.
"Babysitting?" Dean asked.
"Scott and Lacy went out to dinner and Susan has her book club tonight, so it's just me and little Jason here." Sam looked past Dean to Cas. "Hello, Castiel."
"Sam, it's good to see you."
Sam had gotten out of hunting a couple of years after the apocalypse, met a woman, settled down, raised a family. He'd aged well. Where Dean looked worn out, Sam just looked distinguished. He could probably get away with having an affair with someone half his age, not that he would.
Dean's eyes settled on the baby. He wondered who would teach him to shoot. Dean had taught Scott, over Sam's objections, which had officially made him the coolest uncle ever.
Seeing where Dean was looking, Sam stood and held out the baby. "Want to take him? My arms could use a break."
"Sure." Dean hadn't held a baby since Scott had been this age, but it wasn't something you forgot. Carefully cradling Jason's head in the crook of his arm, he studied the little face. His eyes hadn't even changed from blue to whatever color they were going to be, but Dean was certain he could see some Winchester in the boy.
"He's beautiful," Cas said, moving closer. Cas thought all humans were beautiful, even the ones who worshiped demons. Cas was weird that way.
"Yeah." Suddenly, Dean regretted that he wasn't going to be here to see what the small person in his arms would become.
His gaze on the baby, Cas began speaking in Latin, the words low and steady. The room seemed to thrum with power. When he was done, Cas leaned down and brushed his lips across Jason's forehead.
"Thank you," Sam said, looking awed. It was funny how Cas could still have that affect on Sam after all this time.
"May I hold him?" Cas asked.
"You don't need to ask, Cas," Sam said.
Cas moved in front of him and Dean transferred the baby to Cas's arms. "You have to be careful with the head. He can't hold it up on his own yet."
"He tries though," Sam said.
"He's a Winchester," Dean answered, as if that explained everything.
Sam was watching him and Sam had always been far too observant. Even as a kid, he'd watched and put the pieces together, ferreting out the things Dean had tried to protect him from. "This is good-bye, isn't it?"
"My time's up, Sammy." He hadn't meant to sound scared. After all, he had nothing to be scared of. He had a personal escort to the pearly gates, an archangel no less. No risk of hellfire for him, just peace and fluffy clouds and harps all the way.
But he wasn't ready to go. There was still too much to do. Somebody was going to have to teach Jason the ways of the world. And there were still monsters to fight, the occasional demon, and the world created new pissed off spirits every day. Sure Dean had moved from the field to the sidelines, but every player needed a coach, and the other hunters needed the benefit of his experience.
"Dean," Sam said. No one had ever been able to say as much with that one word as Sam could. Over the years he'd said everything from 'thank God you're alive,' to 'you're an embarrassment not just to me but to the entire human race,' to 'get your head out of your ass,' with that word.
Right now all Dean could hear in that word was loss.
He closed the space between them in just two steps. This hug was almost as fierce as the one they'd had when he'd come back from hell. "Look at it this way," Dean said, not letting go, "you'll finally get to be the man of the family."
"Jerk," Sam whispered.
"Bitch."
"Just so you're aware, most humans do not use words like 'jerk' and 'bitch' as terms of affection," Cas said.
Laughing, Dean let go of Sam and turned to look at Cas, who was gazing down at the baby.
"He needs someone to tell him these things," Cas said, "otherwise he could end up as poorly socialized as you are."
Sam covered his mouth to try and contain his laugh. Dean didn't bother.
Cas looked bewildered.
Choking back the last of his laughter, Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder. "Guess that means you'll have to check on him."
The look Cas gave him made it clear Dean's suggestion was completely unnecessary, and Dean wondered how much time Cas had spent checking in on him over the years, how much Cas had seen. It hadn't been as if Dean hadn't known Cas could see, but Cas had had responsibilities and Dean had been Dean.
None of the people Dean had filled the time with had mattered, not the way Cas mattered.
"We need to go," Cas said.
Placing a hand on the baby's head, Dean stroked his grand-nephew's forehead with his thumb. Once upon a time, he'd have wanted this child to grow up and join the family business. Now he just wanted him to have a good life.
Dean stepped aside and Cas transferred the baby to Sam.
"Take care of him," Sam said, as if Cas hadn't been doing exactly that for forty years.
"For as long as I live," Cas answered.
Cas stepped back to Dean's side. There were tears in Sam's eyes, but then Sam had always cried too easily, and if there were answering tears in Dean's eyes, that was just his body copying Sam's, the way seeing someone yawn made you want to yawn.
"I'll see you," Sam said.
"Take your time," Dean answered.
Then Cas touched him and they were back in Dean's house, although the place still felt like Bobby's. Half the time Dean expected to come downstairs and find him sitting in the kitchen.
"So," Dean said, "where do you want to do this?"
"It's your choice."
He was tempted to go to the bedroom, but it wasn't like he was going to be found in bed with a pretty blonde. "The den." It was where he'd found Bobby.
Dean led the way into the den and sat behind Bobby's desk.
"It won't hurt," Cas said, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning over Dean. "Your heart will stop and then you'll be out of your body, and we'll go."
"Just do it."
Cas pressed his lips to Dean's.