The world was quiet here. Not the silence of danger, not the breathless pause before a hunt, but something gentler. Still. Like the universe had finally remembered how to breathe.
Behind him, carved into the face of a moss-covered cliff, was the massive stone visage of an Angel. The features were weathered but unmistakable, eyes staring into nothing, or seeing all too much. Dean was not aware of it yet. Or maybe he had and just didn’t want to look.
He squinted at the water instead, watching a dragonfly skate across it. There was something almost holy about evenings like this. Like time folded in on itself and let him pretend he wasn’t carrying a war on his shoulders.
"I wish you were here," he murmured.
The breeze caught the words and took them across the pond. Dean rubbed his thumb over the handle of his fishing pole, jaw tight. He hadn’t said Cas’s name in weeks. Not out loud. Not since -
Fishing helped. It slowed things down. Gave his hands something to do while his mind wandered. Let him believe, just for a moment, that there was something better coming. Something quieter. A future, maybe.
The pole jerked slightly. He reeled in, but it was just a snag. Nothing on the other end. Still, he smiled faintly.
Above him, the giant stone face of the Angel remained still, but in the sunlight, the moss seemed to shimmer like grace itself.
Dean cast the line again and leaned back on his elbows, eyes half-closed.
"I’ll wait," he said into the warm breeze.
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