Note: Set sometime in Season 5.

"It's strange. You and your brother look so young." Castiel ran a finger delicately down the picture.

He was sitting with Dean on the couch at Bobby's. Dean had found a couple old scrapbooks Bobby had hidden away and Castiel had taken interest in the younger versions of his friends. So Dean had grabbed a beer and decided what the hell and started telling the angel some stories of his past.

"Yeah, that was Sammy's sixteenth birthday," Dean chuckled at the memory. "Dad got him a new shotgun."

"What did you get him?" Castiel asked, still looking at the photo.

"Ammo."

Castiel gave a small smile when Dean started laughing in earnest. Cas flipped the page and saw a picture of Sam and Dean standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the Impala.

"Oh man," Dean shook his head, still smiling. "That was only like five years ago. We had a case back in Lawrence, actually at our old house, and we had help from this psychic who knew our dad, Missouri Mosely. She wanted a picture of us before we left town, and she gave us this copy. I guess Sam left it here."

Cas nodded and studied the picture. Sam's hair was shorter and he was thinner; he had a toothy grin. Dean looked nearly the same, but he didn't have the worry lines he had now. His eyes… his eyes were clear and bright; a far cry from the haunted look he always seemed to carry since returning from Hell.

"I like seeing you like this," Cas mumbled. Dean glanced at him and Cas elaborated. "You look like you could have been happy then."

Cas put the scrapbook on the table and shrugged off his coat, something he rarely did. Dean watched him with confusion, even more so when Castiel opened a beer and sat heavily back down next Dean. They were silent for a while, simply drinking and sitting together.

"I know you are tired Dean." Castiel didn't look up as he whispered that statement. "I'm tired, too. All I want is peace. I want to be… happy. I want you to be happy as well."

Dean sighed and downed the rest of his beer before looking Cas in the eyes. "It doesn't really seem like an option at this point, does it? With all this crap hanging in the air," he shook his head, "Not exactly a warm and fuzzy moment."

Castiel didn't reply. They sat close enough that their knees pushed against each other solidly, and their elbows brushed with almost every movement. Dean was staring at nothing in particular and Cas felt something heavy in his human stomach.

"Give me your hand."

"What?" Dean furrowed a brow at the strange demand.

"Do you trust me?" Cas asked plainly. Dean nodded without thinking. He gripped the hand that was laying palm up on his knee. "Close your eyes."

A sudden heat washed over Dean, and his stomach jumped to his throat while his heart simultaneously dropped to his feet. His body tightened harshly for a long moment and his brain pulsed against his skull. He could feel his blood rushing through every vein in his body. He didn't realize how tightly he was squeezing Castiel's hand until it squeezed back and let go. Dean opened his eyes and he was standing in a field with Cas at his side, still sans trenchcoat.

"Where are we?" Dean's voice was raspy and he swallowed hard to clear his throat.

"We are in a memory." Cas looked around at their surroundings. "Your memory."

"My memory of what?" Dean ran a hand over his mouth, trying to remember.

Before the angel could reply, a deafening rumble broke the still air. The Impala drove up a few feet away from the pair. A younger Dean slid out of the driver's side, and a pre-teen Sam nearly flew out of the passenger seat.

"Holy shit." Dean's eyes widened a bit. "I remember this. I know where we are." Cas nodded. He was watching the younger versions of his friends intently. Dean started walking after them. It took a moment for him to realize Castiel wasn't following him. "You coming?" Castiel nodded, his lips quirked up at the corners when Dean rushed after the memories.

Memory Dean had a can of spray-paint in hand, and was painting a box on the grass while Memory Sam stood by grinning and holding a beat up soccer ball. Memory Dean smiled back and stood in front of the box and Memory Sam dropped the ball and kicked it at him.

Dean and Castiel stood off to the side, watching them play soccer. Memory Sam would run around and kick the ball between Memory Dean's feet, and he would chase him and tackle his brother gently, leading to a lot of play fighting and empty threats and name-calling before they would go back to kicking the ball. When the Memory brothers were red-faced and tired, Dean grabbed a couple sandwiches and sodas from the backseat and they ate and talked happily, never mentioning their father or anything he was hunting. When they climbed back into the Impala and took off, Castiel grabbed Dean's hand again.

This time it felt like Dean was falling through empty air, and he jerked forward when he felt the couch under him. He gasped for breath and looked at Castiel. Cas stared back unblinkingly.

"That…that," Dean closed his mouth, trying to think of the right words to describe the elation he felt, watching himself and his brother when they had no clue about angels or the apocalypse. "Thank you. I hadn't thought about that day in years. That was one of the few days where Sammy and I felt normal."

Cas shook his head and tightened his grip on the hand he was still holding. "I only wish to make you happy Dean."

Castiel smiled when Dean squeezed his hand back. He heard the silent reply and his stomach suddenly seemed much lighter.

"I believe I'm having a 'warm and fuzzy moment'."