Happy Birthday, Dean

Dean watches the clock tick from 11:59 to 12:00.  Midnight.  It's officially his birthday, and yet he doesn't feel any different.  It's funny, really, that he keeps expecting to.  It is a habit he picked up as a kid.  He'd watch the clock as it changed from one day to the next, expecting to feel some significant change.  He never did.

No, he doesn't feel older.  Just old.  He smirks to himself in disdain and takes a swig of his beer.  They're working a job somewhere down south, and it's warm enough that he can sit outside in relative comfort.  

The stars are bright.  It reminds him of sitting on the hood of the Impala with Sam.  That feels like ages ago.  Now, Sam's in bed, and he's alone.

"Hello, Dean."

Or, maybe he's not as alone as he though.  The man jumps and drops his beer onto the porch step below him.  "Jesus, Cas!  You can't sneak up on me like that!"

Castiel drops his head slightly and murmurs, "My apologies."

"Yeah, well.  What d'ya need, Cas?" he asks, picking up the beer bottle once more.  He dumps out last few drops and looks over at the angel, who's sitting next to him on the small step.

"I came to tell you something," he says with a voice so full of importance that Dean has to do a double take.

"Yeah?  What?"

"Give me your hand."

"That's what you had to tell me?" Dean asks sarcastically, but he holds his arm up to Castiel anyway.

"Close your eyes," Cas demands, and Dean does as he asks, if a little warily.  There's a small bit of rustling as the angel digs through the pockets of his trench coat until he finds what he wants.  Then, he wraps a hand around Dean's wrist for a brief moment.  "You may open them now."

Dean opens his eyes.  On his wrist is a bracelet made of woven brown leather.  Inscribed into the thin cords are symbols that Dean doesn't recognize but are likely something in Enochian.  It fits his wrist perfectly, but there doesn't seem to be any way to untie it or take it off.  Not that he'd want to, of course.

"Sam told me about the amulet," Cas says, as if he needs to explain himself.  "I thought... perhaps you would like something with a more pleasant memory."

The man glances up at Castiel, too surprised to say much of anything other than a stuttered, "Y-yeah.  Yeah, thanks."

"You do like it, don't you?" the angel asks with something that closely resembles worry.

"Yeah, no, it's great, Cas.  Really.  Thank you."

"I have something else."

"Aw, c'mon, you didn't have to get me anyth-"

Castiel silences Dean by handing him another gift, this one wrapped in newspaper, just like Sam had taught him to do.  Dean rolls his eyes, but he tears off the paper anyway.

"What- is this what I think it is?!"  he asks incredulously, turning the gift over in his hands.

"One of the first copies of Led Zeppelin ever made," Castiel says as if Dean doesn't recognize the cover.  "Autographed by the band."

"No!" Dean exclaims, a smile of disbelief on his face.  "You met freakin' Led Zeppelin?"

"Yes, I met them."  The look on Cas's face is odd.

"You didn't travel back in time just to get this."

Cas tips his head.  "Do you doubt me?"

"No, no, no.  It's just... what were they like?" Dean wonders aloud, still smiling like a child on Christmas morning.

"They were far more interested in the young female behind me," he says, and his nose is scrunched up as though he doesn't understand the implications of the statement.

"Yeah, sounds about right," Dean laughs.  He turns and sets the record against the door so that it's out of the way, and then he pulls Castiel into a warm embrace.  It takes the angel a moment to realize what's happening, and then he hugs back.  They sit, holding each other, for much longer than they should.

"Happy birthday, Dean," Castiel murmurs against the man's shoulder.

The break apart.  "Thanks, Cas.  For everything."

It's silent then, and Dean realizes Cas has disappeared, never one to stick around when the whole 'human emotions' thing comes into play. To be honest, Dean doesn't really blame him.  Sighing to himself, he stands, gathering the record in his arms before retreating indoors.  He kicks off his boots and collapses onto the bed.

The thing is, though, he doesn't feel empty like he usually does.  He doesn't feel that need to drown the world in alcohol and forget that today's the day that the world was afflicted with the curse of Dean Winchester.  Today, he almost feels (dare he say it) complacent.

The weight of Castiel's bracelet comforts Dean in ways he won't ever try to explain to himself, and he falls asleep easily for the first time in months.