Fluff, Angst & Feels, oh my!

The realization has you slowing. You're laying on the seat - and sure enough, as you raise your head, it's leather that sticks to your cheek, not Cas' slacks. You wonder if he used his mojo to keep you out when he moved, or whether you had simply been too tired, and comfortable enough, not to wake. Maybe both. You push yourself up, rubbing unsteadily at your eyes, before you notice that Dean isn't in the driver's seat. Sam is still up front, extra jacket shoved up against the window to keep his face from touching the cool glass. The fog of his breath spreads over the window, and only has time to partially dissipate before he's breathing out again. It's still dark outside, but you know it's early, even before you find your phone halfway beneath the front seat. The screen lights up when you touch it, confirming your thoughts, before you drop it back down. You wipe your hand over your cheek, checking for drool, and glance out the windshield, spying Dean sitting on the edge of the hood, alone. The air is cool, though not cold, when you push open the door. You still snag the blanket you'd been sleeping under though, wrapping it around your shoulders like a cloak when you scoot out of the car. Sam doesn't budge, still out cold, even when the door closes. "Stretching your legs?" You ask Dean through a yawn, shuffling forward a few steps until you register- oh. Dean glances over his shoulder at you, eyes crinkling at the edges when he sees your expression. "Figured this was worth a stop," Dean rumbles, motioning for you to join him in front of the Impala. The ocean stretches out over the horizon, meeting the paling edges of the sky, smoother and more seamless than any oil rendition you've ever seen. Yeah, the view is definitely worth a stop. "It's gorgeous," you murmur, but the view isn't quite enough to distract you. "Cas?" You question, leaning your hip against the hood, eyes still tracing the white glints of the waves. "Sunrise is soon," he says first. "Lovely as the sight is, I thought it would be better with- shit, really, man?" Dean jumps when Cas just appears, a cardboard drink tray in hand, paper cups steaming with freshly made coffee. Though you're just as startled as Dean, you're able to recover faster, hiding it with a laugh and a smile. "I'll wake up Sam," you tell them, though you're not sure Dean is listening because he's still telling Cas he's going to tie a bell on him. You round back to Sam's window, hitching the blanket back up around your shoulders and rap your knuckles gently against the glass. Sam doesn't move for a moment, but one of his eyes cracks open and then falls shut when he sees your face. "Just a sec," he says, voice slurred with sleep, and rolls his neck when he straightens in his seat. You back up when he puts his hand on the door, and he pushes it open, still squinting as he adjusts to being awake. "Everything o- oh," Sam says, an echo of your earlier thoughts. "Fresh coffee and a 4 star ocean view," you murmur, reaching out to ruffle his already sleep-tousled hair. Sam smiles and exits the Impala, stretching as he stands, before following you to the front of the car. You hoist yourself up onto the edge next to Dean, the hood still a bit warm and gratefully accept the coffee Cas hands you, smiling down at your cup when Sam sits on your other side. This is, by far, the most lovely morning you guys have had in a while. The sky is fading to gold, reflecting off the water, but it's not bright enough to hurt your eyes, not yet. Even the coffee tastes better - but you quickly realize that they must have sprung for it, because it couldn't possibly be the bitter stuff they have on all day from a Gas n' Sip. Knowing that, your chest feels a little tight, and you want to laugh at yourself, because gracious, this is ridiculous, you're just enjoying some coffee and a sunrise - "Huh," you say, eyebrows drawing together as you recall the date on your phone. "Cas get your order wrong?" Dean asks, grinning at the angel when his expression twists into one of concern. "What? No! No, Cas, the coffee is great, just the way I like it. I was just thinking, just - I've known you guys for a long time now. Years," you say, rubbing your thumb along the seam of the cup in your hands. Sam hmm's around a mouthful of coffee. "Pretty much forever, in hunter terms," he jokes. "It doesn't feel like it's been all that long," Cas says, looking away from the water to glance over your face. "It's..." You hesitate, self-conscious. "That's the best kind of knowing someone, isn't it, though?  Everything just feels.. Timeless, you know?  Like this is the way it's always going to be. " The four of you are quiet, and Dean's face has gone soft, lips curling upwards - before it quickly morphs into a scowl. "Ah, let's cut the romance shit, huh? Still trying to enjoy the coffee and-" Dean grunts when Sam reaches around you to push him. "You're talking trash about romance when you're the one who wanted to stop and enjoy coffee and the sunrise with us? Dude, you don't have a leg to stand on." Sam grins when Dean straightens, readying himself to retaliate- "Hey! Not with me in the middle, you jerks, just," you grunt as you slip out from between them, moving to stand beside Cas, who is smiling at them fondly. "I agree," Cas rasps, just loud enough for you to hear as Sam and Dean squabble, the sunlight lighting their faces. "It does feel timeless." You swallow and then hook your free arm, blanket and all, through Cas', letting out a contented sigh. This, right here, with the three of them - god, it, it feels like heaven.

Anna's parents house is crawling with cops when you get there, and the news they share is worse. "It seems Miss Milton has killed her parents," the officer tells you, hand a heavy weight on your shoulder. "No," you murmur, ice crawling through your veins. "No, Anna isn't violent, she has sch-" But the officer waves away your denial. "We know what Miss Milton was diagnosed with. I'm sorry, but the evidence is undeniable. I'm sure, if you feel the need, you can give a statement as a character witness, but-" The officer sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I would suggest you go home, and, if you hear from Miss Milton, call the department immediately." You don't hear from Anna, but you watch the news. Even Jeff, one of your shared friends, and Anna's partner in one of her journalism projects for class, had wondered if perhaps she was as bad as the news was saying. "I don't want to believe it either, you know. But her parents- You can't just ignore that." Afterwards, you laugh, despite your tears, knowing that Anna would have chastised you for hanging up on Jeff like a child with a temper tantrum. The following weeks are empty of news. Thoughts of Anna are a constant ache, but what the hell are you supposed to do? You've been close with Anna for two years, but she wasn't lingering around any of her favorite haunts. You know, because you've searched. You've spent inordinate amounts of time after class frequenting her favorite eating establishments, or stores, or, hell, even the park that she'd written a single fucking article about for the college newspaper. Nearly a month from the day that she'd vanished, you're circling the park aimlessly, trying to convince yourself to stop searching, when she just - appears, accompanied by the sound of wings. For a moment, all you can do is stare at her in shock. "Don't," she says, holding up a hand when you open your mouth to speak. "I'm so sorry, and I know, I know, everything that you want to say about this. I've been listening-" Her eyes close and she breathes deeply, like she's trying to hold back tears. "And believe me, I've missed you, very much." You're not even sure you're breathing anymore, but Anna slips her arms around you and - she's different. You're not sure how, the scent of her maybe, the strength of her- and before you can say anything, she's leaning back and she's pressing her fingertips to your mouth to keep you quiet. "It's terrible of me to do this. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, not after - Well. Your last words to me," she murmurs, and a sickening lurch in your gut makes you want to fall to your knees. Talking about words is morbid at the best of times. Anna had never really discussed hers much, beyond a single, off-handed comment of: "Whoever they are, they're going to bring me flowers." "Mm, mine doesn't say anything about flowers," you'd told her, wrestling to open a plastic bag of Halloween candy. "...Unless when they say cosmos they're talking about the cosmos flower. Huh, now I have to re-think this." Anna must see the realization in your eyes, because it pains her enough that she has to turn away as she continues speaking. "'And next time I'm here, I'm going to have those weird orange roses from What In Carnation,'" she quotes. "And then- well. Things have gotten complicated. I.. Can't explain, without ruining your entire worldview, without putting you in danger and I'm not going to do that. I'm already doing something that I know is going to-" Anna clenches her jaw, and turns back to meet your eyes. She takes a breath, and you know what she's going to say, because you've read the words, over and over, your entire life - but you thought that you would be wrinkled and hobbling with a walker by the time you ever heard them, had been sure that you would spend a long and happy life with your soulmate, and now- "The creation of the cosmos cannot compare to the time I've spent with you," she murmurs. Her eyes search yours and her lips are still parted, as if she's going to continue, but seems to think better of it. She smiles, and then kisses you, and your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks- the pressure of her mouth vanishes, and when you open your eyes, you're alone.