The first thing Dean notices is the smell.

It's soft. Familiar. God, he hasn't smellt it in years. Not since...

He doesn't have the energy to care. He feels so good. So peaceful. Like all the years of worry and weight had lifted off him.

His eyes flutter open eventually at the sound of 'Hey Jude' playing faintly from somewhere. He sits up, brain hazy as he starts to think. To remember.

Holy fuck. He's dead. For like, the hundredth time, but still. Dead by rebar. Who'd've thunk?

He slowly walks out of the familiar yet not bedroom, looking for the source of the music before he spots you in the kitchen.

The tears are falling before he caneven think about it. God, it'd been so long. He'd missed you so much. Regretted never telling you he loved you so damn much..

"Sweetheart...?"

He manages, voice choked and disbelieving.