Twenty First Century Hunters

Burried

It was dark, pitch black actually. Dean woke with a gasp.

He was lying on his back, in darkness.

He felt around with his hand, he was in a small wooden box. A coffin.

Near his head his hand fell upon a sharp corner. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He had long since memorized the feel of that very box.

He clutched it to his chest and he began to calm down.

He laid there for a while. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes.

Little by little light filled the coffin, through the small spaces between the wood.

Then someone pried the lid off, bright sunlight filled the coffin, momentarily blinding Dean.

When the white light faded, he saw Sam.

"Sammy?" he croaked.

"Dean! Thank god," he said pulling Dean up by his arm.

"What're you holding?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean looked down at the box in his hands. The cover was dusty but you could still make out the words "Dean" written in neat handwriting.

"This is Cas' box Sam, remember?"

Sam raised both his eyebrows, "Um, no. Man, how hard did you hit your head?"

"Hit my head? Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?"

At this point, Dean took the time to notice his surroundings. They were in a graveyard, the one Cas was buried in.

"Sam what are we doing here?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"We were working a case, remember? The teenage zombie?" Sam asked slowly.

"Zombie? Sam stop fucking around why are we in Cas' graveyard?"

"Cas's graveyard? What?" Sam was squinting his eyes now. "Are you okay?"

"No I'm not fucking okay Sammy," Dean tucked the box under his arm and put his hands together, "what - hmmm, what year is it?"

Sam made a pained face and turned away from him, "It's 2010, Dean."

Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He shook his head violently.

He carefully knelt down and placed the box on the floor.

"Sammy, come look at this."

He pulled the top off the box, which was almost overflowing with Dean's added letters.

Sam squatted down opposite of him and peered into the box.

Dean pushed his letters out of the way and gently picked up the last letter Cas wrote to him.

He unfolded it and passed it to Sam.

Sam still looked confused but he took the letter and read over it.

As he read the letter, his facial expressions changed from confused, to more confused, to full on freaked out.

"Dean, what the hell is this?"

"It's the letter Cas wrote to me before he died."

"Died? Dean, Cas is alive."

Dean made a very inhuman noise before taking the letter from Sam and putting it back in the box, hastily shutting the lid.

"Let's go."

"What? Go where?"

"Take me to him, Sam!"

"Okay, okay," Sam said putting his hands up in a surrendering motion.

"We could just call him," he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"The hell is that?"

"It's a phone, Dean."

Dean shook his head and pressed the heel of his hand into his closed eyes.

"Okay, call him."

Sam dialed Cas and they stood in awkward silence as the phone rang.

"I don't understand. Why do you want me to say my name?" Cas' voicemail drifted over the line.

Dean let out a choked sound, "Cas?"

"No, Dean. That was his voicemail."

Dean didn't bother asking what a voicemail was.

There was a fluttering sound behind him and a rough voice sounded, "You called?"

Dean whipped around to find Cas, his Cas, standing weirdly straight wearing a trench coat and suit.

He wasn't wearing his glasses either.

"Cas?" Dean's eyes were burning and his voice sounded pathetic, but he didn't care, because Cas was standing in front of him.

He threw his arms around him, burying his face in the place where Cas' shoulder and neck met.

Then he realized Cas wasn't hugging back.

"Hello Dean."

Dean stepped back and tilted his head to the side.

"Am I... in heaven?"

"No, I just came from there," Cas said stiffly.

Dean cupped Cas' cheek softly, Cas just looked surprised.

Dean leaned his head forward and kissed Cas slowly.

Cas didn't kiss back either.

Dean was on the verge of crying, and he didn't care that his brother and the love of his life were gonna see it.

"Cas," Sam said from behind Dean, "I think you should take a look at this."

Cas patted Dean's arm awkwardly and brushed past him.

Dean sank to his knees on the grass and curled over his legs.

He closed his eyes tightly to keep the moisture behind them from escaping.

He could hear rustling paper and hushed voices behind him, but he couldn't find it in him to care.