Dean didn’t think he would be so ready for death when it eventually came for him.

There were no saving graces this time. Dean had accepted that — welcomed it, even. He was old, he’d been fighting his entire life. Maybe it was finally okay for him to rest.

Despite everything, some part of him still expected to wake up in Hell, this time without Cas to save him. The sight of trees and bright skies and — god, was that Baby?

“Well, at least I made it to Heaven.” He murmurs, taking a few steps towards the car, his hand running over the roof. Dean freezes up as he hears his name, a voice he could never forget ringing out in his ears.

It takes him a while to even work up the courage to turn around. God, it’s been years since he last heard that voice. As soon as he sees your face again, all the breath leaves his lungs in a harsh exhale.

You’re still as beautiful as ever — looking exactly as you did before he lost you. Dean’s tongue suddenly feels far too thick for his mouth, sitting heavy as his eyes take you in.

“You still look the same.” He says quietly, like he can’t quite believe it himself. He takes a few hesitant steps towards you, careful, still expecting you to vanish before his very eyes. His hands shake as they reach up to cup your cheeks, eyes wet. “Ah, I’m all old now, sweetheart. Wrinkles and everythin’. I’m sure a little Heaven branded skin-care’ll sort that right out, don’t even stress it. Not that I aged badly or anythin’—“

Dean’s rambling. He’s very aware of that fact. But if he doesn’t, he’s pretty sure he’s going to cry, and that’s just going to be embarrassing for everybody. Maybe he should’ve watched more chick flicks. This reunion really isn’t what he’d been picturing.

“Sorry. I’m… sorry.” He manages after a moment, dropping his forehead against yours. You’re warm under his palms, solid — alive, kinda. Now he really is getting choked up. “I missed you. So much. Didn’t think I’d… Christ.”