When Autumn Comes

By: Sarah Weller

A lumbering figure stumbled out of a creaky, black GMC truck. It had once been a sexy, glossy vehicle but was now corroded and warped from the man's many drunken adventures. He took short, stuttering footsteps to the door of the two story house. It had once been cared for, the sight of barbeques and well-kept flower gardens. Now, it was nothing more than a trash heap, surrounded by houses with similar tragic stories. Once they had been loved, but now, they were left-alone and overgrown.

The man took a long swig from his amber-filled bottle before throwing it at the neighbor's house. He blundered up the stairs, infuriated by the time he reached his boys' room. He stood and looked around the dark room before entering. The room was clearly divided into half, not that he noticed, nor cared. The younger boy's side was clean and clutter-free. He, unlike his older brother, had a small desk with a book lamp that was kept equally as tidy. The elder son's side, however, was strewn with clothes and a guitar case. The walls around his bed were littered with posters of bands and movies.

"Wake up, boy." The hulking man drunkenly stumbled to Dean's bed. "Now." He growled, grabbing Dean's sleeping form by the shoulder and nearly ripping it off in an effort to wake him up.

Dean snapped awake, sitting ramrod straight in his bed. He stole a glance at the bed next to him, to insure Sammy was still sleeping, before looking up at his father, John. He was a man nearly drunk all the time. Sometimes with liquor, sometimes with delusions of demons and monsters that killed his wife. Dean tried to keep the rumors about his father quiet, either by laughing it off or shutting the offender's mouth with a well-aimed punch. He thought it his duty to protect Sammy from being talked about in the town. Dean believed his brother had an honest-to-god shot at becoming something brilliant. A doctor, or maybe a lawyer or senator. As far as Dean was concerned, Sammy was the smartest thing to ever walk this Earth.

A sharp slap to Dean's right cheek sent him sprawling. "Dean!" His father roared. "Pay attention to your elders when they're talking!"

Dean covered his stinging cheek with his hand and sat up. "Sorry, sir. I-." Dean was sent flying again, this time with a blow that was sure to blacken an eye.

"Children are to be seen. Not heard," John snarled. Dean nodded numbly and stared at his lap. "Now." His father leaned back with a self-righteous sigh. Dean knew exactly what was coming and already started to reach for his wallet. "I need you and your good-for-nothing brother's rent."

Dean stiffened in anger but nodded. "Yes, sir." He handed John three-hundred dollars with shaking hands. Their "rent" was just John's way to fund his drinking escapades and "hunting trips," when he went off looking for the demons and/or monsters that killed his wife. Dean let out a sigh of relief when John turned and left, without saying another word. He shut their door and cast the room in darkness.

A small, timid voice broke the void. "Dean?"

Dean stood and took the blanket off his bed. He tucked it around Sam. "Go to sleep, Sammy. It'll be better in the morning." It was an empty, hollow promise that couldn't be filled, no matter how hard Dean tried. They both knew that John would be there in the morning, waiting for them.

Dean laid down and rubbed his face. It seemed that no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. He worked from 3:30 until 11:00 at night, every night at Singers Auto, trying desperately to pay the seemingly endless number of bills. However, any time he got the slightest bit ahead, their "rent" would go up another fifty dollars. Dean closed his eyes and tried to forget it all. Sleep seemed the only escape he had any more. Soon, his busy, overworked mind melted away into dreams.

Another mind, however, tossed and turned all night, worried for his brother, for his father, and for what the morning might hold for both of them.

"C'mon Sammy! We're gonna be late!" Dean called loudly from the bottom of the stairs, holding two slices of toast. Dean was in the best mood he'd been in weeks. Upon discovering that not only was he unbruised last night, but his father was also nowhere to be found, he decided that today was the day he'd save Sammy.

A very disgruntled and sleepy Sam Winchester poked his head down the stairs, a toothbrush sticking out of his foamy mouth as he put on a red plaid shirt. He disappeared for a moment to spit and put his toothbrush away before hopping down the stairs and running a hand through his messy brown locks. "No, we aren't?" Sam raised an eyebrow and pointed at their mother's old angel clock on the wall, one of the few things that had survived their father's rages. It clearly read 6:45. "School doesn't start until eight."

Dean chuckled and handed him the toast. "Just hurry up Slowpoke Sammy!" He chimed, ruffling Sam's hair before grabbing his keys and running out to his car.

"Sam." Sam muttered, shouldering his backpack and following Dean out with his toast.

She was pristine. Dean's four-door, black, '67 Chevy Impala. She shone like the sun and was the only love in his life, outside of Sammy. She was perfectly perfect, in Dean's opinion. Even Sam, who was not a fan of classic cars, or cars at all for that matter, had to admit she was gorgeous. He admittedly wished her heaters worked better in the winter.

Dean smiled at his baby fondly and planted his routine 'good morning' kiss on her roof before ducking in. Sam made a face and rolled his eyes before getting in. He watched Dean carefully, however. Dean had been abnormally…happy this morning. Besides, Dean had never once arrived at school until the first bell had already rung, unless, Sam had to go early, of course. But even then, he'd stay in the parking lot, jamming out to Zeppelin or Metallica until he was late. Dean never even carried a bag! Or books! Sam was rightfully concerned by his brother's proactive attitude this morning as they drove to school.

Sam watched the town fly by the windows of the impala. Soon brown grass turned green and houses got bigger and fancier. "So…what is this?" Sam finally spoke up and Dean turned down his Scorpions tape.

"Whatcha' mean, Sammy?" Dean grinned fondly at his younger brother and ruffled his hair again.

Sam smoothed it down and glared at Dean. "Dean, you jerk." Dean chuckled laughed at his brother's scowl. "Seriously though. Why are we going to school so early? Are you meeting with Lisa or something?" Lisa was the first girl Dean had spent more than two hurried hours with in the janitor's closet. She had somehow trapped his interest long enough to become his girlfriend of three months.

Dean shook his head and stared forward. "No."

"Then what, Dean?" Sam was persistent. "Jo? Ash? Benny?" He started listing off Dean's friends before pausing. "Castiel?"

"Enough!" Dean parked the car and turned off the ignition, running inside the school before Sam could say anything else.

Sam sat there in silence. Never once had Dean shut him out, or raised his voice at him angrily.

Naomi Novak, or Miss. Naomi, as her students called her, had the same schedule every morning. She woke up precisely at 4:30, showered, ate a whole grain bagel with no cream cheese, and arrived at work consistently at 6:45. She then turned on her computer, dusted her office, and rearranged the pillows on her couch and chairs. Miss. Naomi was the only counselor Lawrence High had to offer and the finest-if you asked her. She was a woman of appearances, always wearing a smart, tight bun and a pants suit with shiny heels that clicked sharply when she walked down the tiled halls of the school. Miss. Naomi was just sitting down at her desk and arranging her pencils according to size when none other but Dean Winchester lumbered in. He looked extremely nervous and flustered, and if she wasn't a woman in such control of her emotions and reactions, she might have just fainted right there of shock. Dean was not the sort of boy who would be seen in a counselor's office; he was a good for nothing slacker who, if she had better control of her nephew, would have nothing to do with Castiel. She didn't care that he was the star football player; he was no good as far as she was concerned.

"Ex-." He cleared his throat. "Ex-Excuse me?" Dean was shaking like a leaf. The false bravado that he had held true before was long gone.

She raised one pencil thin eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

Dean entered her office and sat down at a chair in front of her desk.

Miss. Naomi internally sighed. She'd have to clean that chair. She couldn't possibly expect anyone else to use it after Dean Winchester. She was not, after all, a monster! When she looked up and saw his face, she externally sighed. Miss. Naomi knew what was coming. In fact, if you'd have asked anyone in the town-they'd know too. Everyone knew of John Winchester and his shenanigans.

Dean took a deep shaky breath before starting. "Well I-." He was cut off by Miss. Naomi holding up her hand.

"I'm sorr,y Dean." She gave him a sugary sweet smile that was not sorry at all. "I have a meeting." Miss. Naomi gathered her purse and stood. "In fact, I'll be gone all day."

"Well couldn't I just-."

"Sorry, Dean!" She cut him off again and smiled wider. "I hope you have a great day." Miss. Naomi ushered him out and then left the school, her heels clicking loudly. After all, it wasn't her fault or her problem that his father knocked he and his brother around. Miss. Naomi unlocked her expensive Mercedees. Maybe she'd call in sick today…she had needed a good visit to the spa. Her thoughts had already left Dean and his problems.

Dean stood outside the counselor's office, dumbstruck.

Dean ran his hand through his hair as he walked down the hall. What did he expect? He was poor. No one liked helping poor boys with daddy issues. This wasn't the first time it happened, not in the least. It seemed like adults didn't seem to be too interested in helping him or his brother, for everyone he reached out to quickly shut their door or advised him to 'just take it for now. You only have a few more years.' But, they didn't get it! He didn't give a damn about himself. So what if Dean only had a year, Sammy had a good five more years of John! Dean couldn't just knowingly leave Sammy in a situation like that! Especially not alone and without any outside help.

In a fit of frustration, Dean turned and smacked a wall with his fist, bloodying his knuckles. Dean flexed his hand and winced as he heard a series of distinct popping noises.

A chorus of laughter followed his little scene. "Missed your target, Winchester!" Danny, a dumb football player he occasionally exchanged words with, taunted him. He was, of course, referring to the horrified Castiel who was staring at Dean with wide eyes. The punch had barely missed his head by inches, and he was shaken, not so much by what Dean did, but by what he thought would come.

"Sorry, man." Dean winced again and shook his hand. "I didn't see you there."

"Most people like you, don't," Cas said stoically. He had returned to his normal self, seeing that Dean didn't mean to harm him. Castiel turned and hung his tan trench coat in his neat locker.

"Man…I told you…" Dean ran his unhurt hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Those douchenozzles," he spat the word, "aren't my friends any more."

Weeks before the football team and the head cheerleaders had covered Cas's Porsche with profanities and insults in sharpie. They had ruined the paint with that and their 'keyed' notes, but that hadn't been enough. They had also broken off his side mirrors and dented his doors and broke his taillights with a baseball bat. Dean might consider himself dumb and worthless, but he was loyal. He had told his 'friends' what he thought of them and their actions, using very colorful language, and then offered to make payments to fix Cas's car. Cas, had, of course, refused. He and Dean were very close and he might have been the only other person in the world that knew about Dean's "rent" and his guilt about Sam.

Cas sighed before looking up at Dean and half-smiling. "Of course, Dean." He clasped him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry." Cas frowned when Dean winced and pulled away, confusion clouded his features. "What-?" Dean cast his eyes at his feet and Castiel nodded understandingly. "Again?"

Dean nodded. Castiel understood the urge to be loyal to a father who wasn't fathering. Castiel's own father had left the household when Cas was three-weeks-old and hadn't been back for more than a week since. He couldn't help but feel some amount of guilt; after all, Castiel, too, was an older sibling. Anna and Balthazar were both troubled and took to running off when their father was absent. Cas was the only one who took any care to watch over them.

"Dean," Cas' voice was deep and serious. "You must-."

He was interrupted by the very short-skirted and low v-necked, Lisa. Cas rolled his eyes and stepped back as she squeezed between them, cutting Cas's words off. She wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and pressed a long, sticky kiss to his lips, despite Dean's obvious protests. Castiel just gathered his books and looked away.

"Hey baby!" Lisa flashed her perfectly straightened white teeth at Dean. "You're picking me up at seven, right?"

Dean gawked at her. "For….?"

Lisa's eyes flashed angrily. "Don't tell me you forgot! The dance! I'm being crowned queen, remember?!"

Cas snorted quietly to himself. Of course, Dean didn't remember; besides, being crowned "queen" seemed so trivial compared to the demons Dean fought everyday.

Lisa turned on Cas. "What are you laughing at nerd?!" She huffed a laugh. "You know what that was? ME laughing at YOUR chances of ever getting a date! Or friends!"

Cas's cheeks heated, and he swallowed thickly, trying desperately to think of a comeback. He couldn't, though; he just stumbled backwards before turning and walking away quickly.

"Lisa!" Dean glared at her. "What was that for? He didn't do anything to you!"

She snorted. "He's a loser. What do you care?"

Dean tensed up. "That loser? That loser is my best friend."

"Yeah?" Lisa rolled her eyes and snapped her gum. "And I'm your girlfriend. I'm the best you'll ever get."

"Not anymore you're not." Dean shook his head and ran after Castiel. " Cas didn't deserve that," he murmured to himself.

Cas was sitting in the cafeteria alone. He was working on the English assignment that wasn't due for another three weeks. Dean found him. "Hey, Cas."

Cas looked up and smiled. "Hello, Dean." He seemed slightly apprehensive and looked behind Dean for any sign of Lisa.

"She's gone." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He sat down nervously. "Forever this time." Dean muttered. He was still upset by her actions.

"Dean." Cas reached for his shoulder. "What are you going to do about your father?"

He shook his head and looked away. "I don't know…" He huffed a sigh. "Do you want to skip school with me?"

Castiel considered saying no. He never had before. But Dean…needed him. Some small voice in his head told him that if he didn't, he'd regret it later. Cas nodded. "Let's go."

Dean and Castiel drove to the train tracks just outside of town. They weren't used any more and were overgrown with long grass, young trees, and vines that trailed up and wrapped the empty box cars in a lonely hug. The empty boxcars littered the small forest around the tracks. Dean parked his baby next to a faded red boxcar and got out. Cas followed suit and shaded his eyes as he gazed up at the rusty boxcar. The red paint was peeling off the warped metal. "I've never been here before."

Dean chuckled. "'I'm not surprised…many people haven't." His tone turned solemn as he approached the red boxcar and ran his fingers along its sides, paying his respects to the deceased metal. "Sammy and I used to come out here a lot."

Cas watched him curiously before he finally spoke up. "How long is he in town for this time?"

"I don't know…" He didn't look up from the metal. Dean's father often left for long periods of time to "hunt down" the demons and monsters responsible for killing Dean's mother. These were just figments of his distorted mind. Mary had died in a house fire. Dean turned and kicked the dirt violently with his toe. "I don't know, man….Cas, buddy, what do I do?"

Cas stared at Dean like a statue. "Stay with me."

"What?" Dean's head snapped up and he looked at Cas, genuine hope covering his features. Maybe this was the answer. Then he realized, he couldn't put that on Cas. "No." He shook his head and turned away. "I can't ask that of you."

Cas stepped in front of Dean; he was so close that Dean had no option but to look into his unwavering blue eyes. Blue. Dean almost laughed. That was the color that his sophomore English teacher had drilled into his head. "Blue is the color of peace, Dean. Peace." He didn't learn a thing that year except that blue meant peace, at least in poetry and those fancy pansy novels she had them read. No, this was different. There was no peace to be had on this Earth.

Dean picked up the amulet and held it between his fingers. It had hung there for nearly ten years, never once removed. It was a gift from Sammy-Sammy, who didn't deserve this life. Dean gave in. "Alright, but we have to play this smart." He didn't want John catching wind of it and hurting Sam.

"Of course." Castiel thought for a moment. "We'll gather Sam's things now and you'll pack a bag. Then, after school, you can just come to my house. He won't even have the chance to catch on."

Dean suppressed a shiver. It was almost creepy how Cas seemed to read his mind like that. Dean nodded. "Yes. Sam will go to your house after school and stay there."

Cas seemed befuddled. "And you…right?" He peered up into Dean's green eyes, eyes that seemed to hold so much hope for…Sam. Cas realized what Dean meant. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Dean looked away quickly. "Well…it's, um, true; isn't it?" His voice cracked. "Forget it. Let's go. We only have an hour before Dad'll be home for lunch. Then we'll just take Sammy on over to your house, less chance that he'll decide to walk home on his own." Dean blamed himself for his mother's untimely death, his father's incessant drinking, and Sam's dark bruises. If he hadn't tried to light that candle for Sam's birthday... Dean shook his head. He should have just waited for his parents.

Cas swallowed thickly and followed. He didn't know how to make his friend see how good he was.

The Impala's engine roared to life and carried them safely as they sped back into town.

Packing Sam's clothes and things went off without a hitch. They left just enough behind so John wouldn't be suspicious but took enough that Sam would have plenty of clothes. They hadn't seen John at all during their "mission." Dean and Cas walked into the school together. They exchanged a few murmured words before Castiel ducked into the advanced learning hallway where Sam was sure to be found.

Jo, a short blonde with a sharp attitude and a quick wit, approached Dean. She was followed by Ash, a cigarette- smoking slacker by day and a computer-hacking genius by night. "Dean! Where were you?" She chastised him. "You missed English! Again! Ms. Botts is going to murder you!" Jo crossed her arms. "Besides, Lisa's been crying all day. Not that I really minded seeing that cheerleader mess up her fifty-dollar mascara." She rolled her eyes and pushed his arm. "What'd you do?" Jo asked eagerly. She didn't seem too concerned about Lisa's feelings as much as she was about Dean's apparently unforgiveable deeds.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to not to laugh at his friend's antics. "She was mean to Cas; besides, she was getting too clingy." Dean crossed his arms and looked out for Cas and Sammy.

Ash took out a cigarette and lit it. "So, why'd you skip school with Castiel?" He scowled.

Jo pushed Ash. "Put that out and be nice. I like Cas." She smiled at Dean.

Cas and Sammy were coming out of the hallway, whispering quietly.

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded absentmindedly. "Catch up with you later." He ran to Cas and Sammy and talked to Sammy in a hushed tone. Sam looked at him with wide eyes but nodded.

Jo leaned over to Ash. "What was that all about?"

Ash shrugged. "It's probably nothing. C'mon. We're gonna be late." He stomped out his cigarette before grabbing her hand and pulling her to advanced biology.

Dean tapped the steering wheel anxiously as he drove home. He was too scatterbrained to even remember to put music on. Sammy was safe. Finally. Dean smiled at that. He'd been safe for three weeks. Three weeks since they had put their plan into motion and succeeded! Dean could definitely feel victorious about that. He did miss Sammy a lot, but despite Sam and Castiel's consistent pleading, he refused to take any more advantage of the Novak family than he already was. Unknown to Cas and Sammy, when John started getting suspicious of Dean's stories about Sam's sleepovers or club lock-ins, he took to sleeping in Baby. The Impala was cold as ice at night, but he didn't dare breathe a word of it to anyone. Besides, as long as Sammy was safe and sound, Dean was happy, happier than he had ever been in his life. Dean was returning home from Singer Auto, the car shop he worked at. His boss, Bobby, had tried sending him home earlier, but Dean was putting off leaving because tonight, he had to go home. It was "rent" night and he knew all the fiery power of heaven and hell would rain down on him if he missed it. Tonight's rent was six hundred. Dean was certain he increased it because he had sniffed out their plan. His stomach was in all sorts of knots. That and he barely had a hundred dollars as he had been giving most of his paycheck to Castiel for Sam's "room and board." Unbeknownst to Dean, Castiel had kept it in a jar and had every intention of giving it back to Dean as soon as his stubborn friend would take it.

Dean took a deep breath and walked into the seemingly empty house Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he could leave the money on the table and leave some sort of an IOU. Dean went to the kitchen and took out his money and put it on the counter. His stomach rumbled so he went to the fridge and opened it up. Dean hadn't eaten in days, and he frowned at the sight. The fridge that he had once stocked with fruit, vegetables, and meat now only held beer and an empty egg carton. Dean had just shut the door when he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of John standing next to the counter, shrouded in darkness.

"Hello, son." John opened the envelope. "Where's the rest of my money, Dean?" His voice was low and threatening.

"I..I don't have it. But I'll get it to you! Really soon." His voice was shaking and he could hardly move.

John laughed. "So, you think you can steal my son, steal my money and then just walk into my house like everything is just dandy?"

"I-I'm sorry" Dean gripped his worn out jeans. "I'll get it soo-."

He was silenced by John smacking him across the face and into the wall. "Shuddup." John slurred angrily. He kicked Dean in the chest. "You're a worthless son of a bitch." John booted Dean in the nose. "I never loved you! Mary never loved you! We were both ashamed of you."

Dean coughed up blood and crawled away from him, swaying as he struggled to his feet. "Dad I-."

John grabbed a liquor bottle off the counter and flung it at Dean. "I said QUIET!" He grabbed Dean by the collar and shook him. "Don't you realize? I need this money. I need to bring peace to our family! I need to avenge my wife!"

It was in that second that Dean realized, the father he once loved and respected was gone. He was buried all those years ago in the ashes next to his mother. In his place stood a hollowed out ghost that had been hunting all these years to try and catch the spirit of his wife.

"Dad, Mom is gone!" Dean tried to grab John and shake some sense into him. Dean's head was spinning and he was sure he was about to vomit. "Mom is dead and gone and we're alive! That's right…Sammy and I are still breathing and you don't even care! You discard your own children because you're too busy hunting down monsters that don't exist." A feeling of self-worth and pride burst through his grief and loathing and pumped through his veins. He deserved to be saved. Same as Sammy, same as anyone. Neither of them deserved this crap life. "Mom never would have raised us this way." Dean started stumbling out the door, away from John. He was going to walk out of it all. This life, these feelings, these-.

Bang.

Dean's world flickered as he fell to his knees. He started crawling to the door. What was going on?

Bang.

His face was planted into the carpet. How did he get here?

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

His body was on fire. Dean couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then, John's face was above his.

Words.

He knew his father was saying…something…crying something. What was he saying? Dean couldn't decipher it.

Dean's eyes fluttered closed.

He deserved to be saved. He was worthwhile.

Sammy and him, deserved to be saved, he knew that now.

His world faded around him, a feeling of warmth embracing his sore body.

"Sammy…"

Sam laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He kicked his dress shoes off and pulled at his black tie until it came loose in his fingers and he dropped it on the floor. There was a knock at the door. A short, polite tapping.

"Come on in, Cas."

Cas peeked into the dark room. It was only four in the evening, but the sun was hidden behind a curtain of clouds, as if God himself was hiding in shame for stealing something so innocent. Cas walked lightly into the room and sat next to him. He opened his mouth and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder to offer some solace.

"His wallet was gone." Sam's choked voice pierced the thick air. "Did they tell you that? The bast-."

Cas squeezed his shoulder and Sam broke off into sobs.

"He….He always said he'd never make it to his forties. He-he always said the apple pie, backyard barbeque life wasn't for him…but I-..I never thought…"

Cas shook his head. "Me neither, Sam." He hung his head and wiped his eyes. "Me neither."

Sam stood and went to the window. He gazed out at the rainy landscape. This home was so different from his other. Here, he was surrounded by perfectly cut hedges and manicured lawns. Sam almost missed the long grass that would grow a good foot before he could convince Dean to cut it. Dean would never let him near the lawn mower. "Too dangerous, Sammy," he used to say. Lightning cracked across the sky and it began to pour. "Even the angels weep for the death of the righteous man," he murmured.

Cas looked up. "What, Sam?"

Sam shook his head and turned away from the window. "Just something I read somewhere…" He looked at Castiel. "It was right he was buried on a rainy day. Don't you think?"

Cas' lips turned up at the edges. "It's almost poetical…He blamed himself for the fire, and now?" Cas walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. "Here is the rain."

Sam felt like there was a bowling ball in his throat. "I'm gonna go to college…for him. He'd want that. I know he would."

Cas turned to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. "You were the only thing he ever believed in." Cas huffed a laugh. "You and angels." He shook his head. "I never knew why he was so obstinate about angels."

"My mother." Sam trailed his fingers along his bedside table and bit his lip. "She always told him that angels were watching over him." Sam knocked over the books and laptop on his table, anger flaring though his veins. "They didn't do a very goddamn good job; did they?" He turned around and ran out of the room.

"Sam!" Cas called after him. He couldn't bring himself to chase after him. He understood the need to fly away and be alone.

Sam ran out of the house. He ran and ran until he found himself in front of a newly-covered grave. Tears filled his eyes and his jaw trembled. Sam's heart beat like a drum.

"Hey, Dean…"

A single black car drove up to a graveyard. It was the end of summer, one of those pretty days when the late roses were in bloom. A blue-eyed army doctor stepped out of his car and made his way up the cobbled-stoned path to a dark gray stone. It was the place where his best friend rested. "Hello, Dean." He placed a hand on top of it and closed his eyes.

Another car came up the cemetery drive. Cas looked at it before leaning down, next to the grave. "You'd be so proud of him. He earned a great education, is going to be a big time lawyer." Cas smiled before pausing. "He really misses you, you know, even now, after all these years. He still cries sometimes. When he's alone or thinks too much." Castiel swallowed. "He looks sad when he thinks no one can see." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and stood up. "I really miss you, Dean. We both do…" Cas swallowed back tears and made his way back down the short path to his car.

He passed Sam on his way back. Sam was dressed in a black cap and gown and carried a beer bottle and a bouquet of roses. He paused in front of the two gravestones labeled 'Winchester. "Hey, Mom, Hey, D-," Sam swallowed. Even after all these years, it was hard to say his name. "Hey Dean." He choked out. "I graduated law school today." The tears that he had bravely kept back, started streaming down his cheeks and he wiped them away. "I know you guys watch over me and stuff but..." Sam smiled. "Watch extra close tonight." He gazed back at his car where a fair-haired beauty and a dark-haired male talked quietly. "I'm asking Jess to marry me." Sam put the flowers on Mary's grave and the beer on Deans. "I love you." Sam fiddled with the amulet around his neck that he'd given Dean so long ago and looked down at his brother's grave. "Thank you. For everything." Sam turned and hurried away. He could never visit their graves for long. Sam wrapped Jess up in a hug and she kissed his cheek.

"He'd be so proud of you, you know?" Jess rubbed Sam's back.

Sam blinked back his tears and nodded. "I know."

They all got into their cars and drove away. Back at Dean's grave, a single red leaf fell from the oak tree above it and landed on his stone.