“You’re supposed to bring flowers, you know.”
Sam’s tone is gentle as he stares straight ahead, the Impala taking them closer and closer to their chosen destination. Castiel sits in the passenger side, hands in his lap as he fumbles with different beads, fingers delicately arranging the colors into his chosen patterns along the thread.
“I think,” the fallen angel breathes out without looking up, eyes scrunching in intense concentration as he admires his latest work, “That flowers are, essentially, useless.”
Neither man says anything more as Castiel continues threading beads onto a small piece of brown hemp, the greens in contrast to the brown making the entire bracelet look somewhat earthy. He adds in a few oranges and a couple of reds for good measure, ending up with something that reminds him of home. Home, he thinks, face tingeing red as he remembers grilled burgers, remembers pancakes in the mornings and hot kisses down his neck that were always paired with silly laughs he used to love making fun of.
“Hey.” The Impala shuts off only after Sam clears his throat, finally turning his head in Cas’ direction. “We’re here.”
The fallen angel gets out of the car without a word.
His steps are careful and deliberate as he walks through the hollow ground, bare feet padding through dewy grass slick with mud. It’s been weeks since Castiel’s home had vanished, the loss still so fresh he thinks about turning back around.
Castiel doesn’t though, because it’s now or never.
He smiles as the word falls from his lips, bracelet clutched tightly within his hand as he kneels down next to the concrete stone.
“I brought you something,” Castiel continues, holding out the bracelet even as his eyes burn hot with pinpricks of moisture. “I thought that you might like it better than flowers, since you said once on our date that flowers are – um – useless.”
Castiel remembers that day, remembers Dean rolling his eyes and telling him, flowers are useless Cas, all they do is die.
“You died,” Castiel can’t help the bitterness that laces his tone and makes his fists tighten. “You died, does that make you useless?”
He is met, of course, with nothing but silence.
“Dean, I’m sorry.” The fallen angel brings his hand up to place the brown hemp, now riddled with multi-colored beads, onto the smooth marker as he touches his forehead to the cool rock. “I’m sorry I failed. I’m sorry it took – took me so long to come see you.”
There’s a slight shift in the wind that Castiel leans into, breath huffing out of his lungs in a small, desperate cry.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come home.”