ONE MONTH LATER

Dean had been officially unemployed for a week. After his letter of resignation, Zach was so distraught that Dean agreed to work three more weeks before he found his replacement.

Dean wasn't able to get out of his apartment lease without an enormous fee, but he agreed to pay it. The lease was his last string of attachment before leaving.

Last time he'd gone to visit John, he was having a BBQ with a few old friends, including Bobby. John didn't even look upset over losing Adam's statue anymore. Charlie was always there nowadays, keeping him company. Dean was happy to see how John treated her like the daughter he never had. He knew they were safe there because Charlie apparently had an archangel on her shoulders to protect her.

It was Sam who he still owed a goodbye to. He knew Sam disapproved of his future plans, but Dean wouldn't be talked out of it. His mind was made up, his Prius was traded for a classic '66 Mustang in a shiny coat of red, and he was ready to hit the road.

Sam opened the door, having expected Dean, letting him in. "How are you?"

Dean sighed, flopping down on the couch. "Honestly? A little excited."

"Excited? Dean, you can't be serious." Sam joined him on the couch, shaking his head stubbornly.

"Sam, loosen up," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I will pop in every now and then, enough so that you don't forget me."

Sam frowned. "I worry for you, I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to," Dean said. "Thank you, though. It's nice to know someone out there gives a damn about me."

Sam's frown deepened. "Have you heard anything from him?"

Dean wasn't prepared to speak of the subject, but he allowed himself the chance to vent to Sam. He was the only person who would really listen. "When I look back to it, I realize it was all so rushed. I mean, at the time I knew we were mostly acting on impulse. We thought our days were counted, maybe to him it was just a way to forget, to let go of his past." Dean looked down at his hands, his palms were sweaty. "I told him I loved him." Dean took a breath and a small pause. "And I think I still do."

Sam watched him intently. He'd never told him this before. He considered if maybe this would be awkward for Sam, but he didn't look discomforted. "Dean, I don't know what to tell you. He risked everything with you. He never abandoned you when it came to near-death situations, and maybe that's what you should remember."

Dean snorted. "I was so stupid, telling him we could get a place of our own somewhere, get a fish. He probably planned to leave all along." Dean smiled, despite himself. "We were going to teach poetry to a fish."

Sam snickered. "Lighten up, Dean. You're young."

"And sexy."

Sam laughed, and it was so pure and childlike that it made Dean smile again.

"Anyway, how are things with Jess?" Dean wondered. Sam had been private about that lately.

"Ah, well, we have another date tomorrow," Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. "We're taking things slow."

"Too slow," Dean said.

"I just want her to get used to my way of life," Sam said. "I know it got in between us, and I don't want that to happen with her. I really like her."

Dean grinned. "It's good to see you happy, Sammy. You deserve it."

"Thanks." Sam hugged him one last time.

"I guess I'll see you later, then," Dean said, walking to the front door.

Sam eyes him skeptically. "When you say later do you mean weeks, months, years…?"

Dean chuckled. "We'll see, Sammy. Wish me luck."

"Does 'don't get killed' count as good luck?" Sam said, laughing again as Dean turned on the hallway and out of sight.

Dean's first hunt went better than expected. He'd looked online for weird news stories and came upon a poltergeist. He got rid of the bothersome spirit after a thorough investigation. It was a new experience, working alone. But he knew he could do it. The family he helped was incredibly thankful, and Dean felt that warm feeling inside him he never had enough of.

But since he was kind of new to the whole thing and could use a pick-me-up, he went to the Roadhouse. He could use the familiar faces and an ice cold beer.

The place was packed, as usual, there was hardly any space left to park. Dean was glad to spot Jo mixing drinks at the bar. He walked in, shoving people aside with confidence because he was dressed like one of them, and he felt like one of them. He found an empty stool near the bar and he took it before anyone else got the chance.

Jo noticed him and quickly sent him a big smile. "Hey, long time no see."

Dean nodded, grinning as naturally as he could.

She pushed a bowl of peanuts towards him, Dean could kiss her. "And one beer," she said, sliding the glass across the counter.

"Thanks, Jo." Dean took a long sip and stuffed his mouth with the salty peanuts. Dean felt a strange sense of melancholy and loss. He was back at the Roadhouse. First time he stepped in here with Cas, he felt like an outsider. He was one, nonetheless. And now that he was here, alone, he still felt like he didn't belong.

He had the clothes, and the job, and even the car, but he was still missing something. He took another sip of his beer, trying to change his train of thought with alcohol.

Dean noticed Ellen stepping out of the back room, the part that became her house. She was yelling at the top of her lung, probably to be heard over the music, but she sounded furious.

"You lazy ass jerk!" Ellen cried back into the room. "If you want a song come put a damn dollar in the damn machine. I'm not your fucking servant!"

Dean blinked, shocked to see Ellen behaving this way in front of all her patrons. He decided to return back to his bowl of peanuts and his beer, making a mental note of saying hi to Ellen before leaving.

Jo rolled her eyes as her mom stomped her way to the restrooms. "She's been like this ever since—"

But Dean was prominently distracted from Jo when he heard a particular song playing on the jukebox, the sound entirely filling the room.

A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…

Dean felt his heart thrumming in his chest, but he was terrified of looking to the jukebox, afraid of whom he'd find there. Even more afraid of not finding him there.

When he gained the courage to glance over in that direction, Cas was already staring at him. Heavily bearded Cas, in dirty ragged clothes with blood-red eyes and long spiked hair.

People walked in front of Cas, but it didn't help in breaking their eye-contact. Except, neither of them moved. Dean didn't know if Cas would even want to see him, maybe he was just surprised Dean found him when he fought so hard to be unfound.

Singing this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die.

Cas cocked his head, squinting his eyes. The gesture was so familiar that it made Dean squishy like a marshmallow. Cas was trembling now, his lower lip was quivering. Dean could resist no longer, making his way to him whether his presence was desired or not.

Dean stopped a couple feet away from Cas, fisting his hands to prevent himself from touching him from the tip of his head to the tip of his toe.

And in the streets, the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed.

Cas shook his head, a tear fell and rolled down his cheek. Dean thought of being up in that building, he thought of Cas pinned against the wall, of him being able to break through Euryale's hold by the sound of Castiel's voice, and he decided nothing was worse than being this close to Cas without being able to embrace him, to kiss him and feel him dissolve under his arms.

So he kissed him.

Cas gripped his hands around Dean's jacket, knitting on Dean's back, and he kissed him back fiercely and unreserved, as though he'd never left.

Dean threated his fingers through Cas' tangled hair. Cas was a mess, but Dean had never wanted to kiss him so badly.

When Dean finally pulled back, the song had ended, and he could feel a few eyes peering at them from around the place. Cas didn't loosen his grip on him, his hands were making circles on Dean's back.

Dean leaned forward to whisper in Cas' ear, "Can we go outside?" Cas pressed his lips to Dean's cheek before Dean pulled back.

"Yeah," Cas said, and they both headed outside. Cas still had an arm around him as they walked, and when they made it outside, Cas pressed him against the wall of the Roadhouse and kissed chastely at his neck. "Dean. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry," Cas mumbled between kisses.

Dean cupped Cas' face in his hands, wanting more than anything to look at his bright blue eyes. "Cas, why the hell did you disappear like that? What happened to you?"

Cas frowned, looking away. Dean picked up his face again, waiting patiently for a response.

"I'm sorry," Cas sobbed. "I panicked, Dean."

"Panicked about us?"

Cas shook his head. "No. No, Dean, never that. When I saw you in Euryale's arms, falling into her web I thought I'd lost you. And when I told you I needed you, Dean, I didn't mean I needed you to save me. I needed you to survive, to live. I needed you to be somewhere safe, away from the danger. I thought that if I left you'd give up on hunting, that you'd go back to your old job, find someone a little less pathetic.

"I never counted on what any of this would do to me, though," Cas said, dropping his forehead onto Dean's chest. "I lasted one week on my own before coming back here, being nothing but a burden on everyone. Fucking pathetic!"

Dean picked up Cas' head, holding his face between his hands again. "You're not pathetic, Cas, but you are an idiot." Cas chuckled and Dean gave him another kiss. "Cas, listen to me, what I do or don't do with my life is my decision, and I've decided. I want to hunt. I like having the ability of helping others. It's a worthwhile way of living, despite its risks."

Another tear rolled down Castiel's eye and he sniffed. "I'm sorry I left, Dean. And I'm sorry I look like a hobo right now."

Dean laughed and kissed him again and again, until they were both breathless.

Dean tapped on the large fish tank with his finger. The big blue fish inside it swam away to hide in the Spongebob pineapple house Dean picked out. Dean looked at Cas, smirking.

"Told you he'd like it," Dean said.

Cas rolled his eyes, pouring the necessary amount of fish food into the tank. "Dean, I told you that we really don't have to do this. The fish can't hear us."

"Yes, but what if this fish is supernatural? What if this particular fish actually speaks English? You said so yourself, there are talking cats out in the world." Cas sighed.

"Dean," he said, his eyes soft and a smile already in the process of forming across his recently shaved face. "I told you that one time, as I walked away from a cat in an empty street, I heard him say something. I didn't say that animals have the ability to speak. That is scientifically impossible."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Don't get all Scully on me." He pulled their new loveseat closer to the fish tank and sat on it. He patted the empty space beside him. "Sit with me. I printed a poem out."

"Which poem?" Cas wondered, squeezing into the loveseat, resting his legs over Dean's.

Dean hid the poem from Cas, skipping down to the middle, the part he liked the most. "If you think it long and mad/ the wind and the banners/ that passes through my life/ and you decide/ to leave me at the shore/ of the heart where I have roots/ remember/ that on that day/ at that hour/ I shall lift my arms/ and my roots will set off/ to seek another land."

Cas stared at Dean, and then he snatched the paper from his hands. "Give me that. Oooh Neruda." He cleared his throat. "But/ if each day/ each hour/ you feel that you are destined for me/ with implacable sweetness/ if each day a flower/ climbs up to your lips to seek me/ ah my love, ah my own/ in me all that fire is repeated/ in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten/ my love feeds on your love, beloved/ and as long as you live it will be in your arms/ without leaving mine."

Dean kissed Cas, unable to resist his lips in motion. "You sound so sexy reading poetry."

Cas rolled his eyes and glanced over at fish that stood, still, outside of his pineapple house. "Huh. It looks like he's actually listening."

"Or maybe he's just a creep who wants to watch us making out."

Cas laughed, hanging an arm around Dean's neck. "Should his name be Dean, then?"

Dean smiled. "That's right. Dean Junior. And if he dies, the next one will be Cas Junior."

"Don't scare the poor fish," Cas said, running his other hand through Dean's hair. "But maybe we should get him another fish to play with."

"I'm sure Dean Junior will be very happy to have a little Cas in there to mate with."

"Dean," Cas said. Dean laughed.

Cas kissed him, and Dean felt his lips quirking up.

"Home sweet home," Dean said, resting his forehead against Castiel's.