The man took Dean into a long hall, where a table was set for a great feast though every chair and plate was empty. The man sat, and indicated to Dean to do the same. Dean sat and looked around, noticing that the figures in the tapestries on the walls seemed to move — a maiden captured a unicorn with her girdle, a knight slew a dragon with a sword, musicians played their pipes and ladies danced complicated steps in a tight circle.

The great doors to the hall opened and two young men came out — one carried a spear and the other a sword. They walked past Dean, pausing to show him their treasures, and then walked out the opposite door.

Dean looked at the man — the owner of the castle, he supposed — who watched the small parade as if he’d seen it a thousand times before. Dean wanted to ask what was going on but in the way of dreams he didn’t think the question would be answered, or even taken well.

The door opened again and Maya, the waitress from Queenie’s, came out. Instead of her waitress’s uniform she wore a regal gown of green fabric, and she carried a silver platter before her. Like the two young men, she walked in front of the table and stopped to show the platter to Dean. It was embossed with the picture of a knight holding a battle axe. Both the knight and the axe were enormous.

She raised her eyebrows at him, as if waiting for a response, and he tried to smile though he was completely confused. Maya hitched the platter against her belly and left the hall, glancing back at him before the heavy door swung shut.

With that slamming sound, the stronghold was gone and Dean was back in the burned forest. The heavy, steady footsteps behind him only seemed closer.

Dean began to run. The footsteps sped up with him, just as heavy, just as steady.

Suddenly he saw Castiel in front of him on the path and skidded to a stop. “Castiel? Cas, where is this place?”

“Come with me,” Castiel said and took his hand, and they were out of the forest and on a mountaintop.

It was peaceful and green there. Castiel stood at the edge of a cliff, his arms behind his back. Dean stood silently by him, breathing in the pine-scented air. Wind rustled through the trees down the slope and in the valleys below. Birds sang. Dean felt like he could see forever.

“Thanks,” he said at last.

“You’re welcome.”

Dean inhaled the fresh, cool air. “I love this place. It’s so beautiful.”

“Yes,” Castiel said simply.

“Cas.” Castiel looked at him with mild blue eyes, and Dean blurted, “Is this Heaven, Cas?”

“It is a place to rest.” He was quiet for a while as the wind blew, bringing with it the scent of pine and loam. “You are being watched and followed, Dean.”

“I’m not afraid.” He looked into Castiel’s eyes — they were like a calm blue ocean, and he wished he could lose himself in them and be someone other than Dean Winchester for a while. Maybe Castiel wanted to be someone other than Castiel for a while, too . . .

“No,” Castiel said, and if Dean didn’t know better he’d think Castiel sounded proud. “You are not afraid. But be cautious, Dean. Do not run into situations with guns blazing.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Dean said and Castiel chuckled. “Well, I can’t run anywhere for a while.”

“Heed my words, Dean,” Castiel said gently.

“I’m heeding, I’m heeding,” Dean said, and then said, “I wish I could stay here with you all the time.” He smiled at Castiel a little. “‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.’”

Castiel was silent beside him. The wind blew through the trees on the slopes below.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered. “Guess I shouldn’t bring that stuff up.”

The wind stirred Castiel’s hair. He said softly, “I also wish we could stay.” Dean looked at him, but Castiel’s gaze was on the horizon. “Here no one will judge us or get in our way. We can be ourselves. We could be happy.”

Dean whispered, “I’ll never have that. My life . . . it’s not one with picket fences and bridge with the neighbors.”

“Nor is mine.” The wind stirred the trees, and Castiel sighed. “Enough. I will take you home.”

“Cas,” Dean said and took hold of his shoulders. “Castiel, I don’t want to go yet. Please, just a few more minutes. Let me stay with you.”

Castiel nodded slowly, and then leaned close to Dean, enough to rest his forehead against Dean’s. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around him, his entire body warmed by Castiel’s heat.

“You get tired too sometimes, huh,” he whispered.

“Sometimes.” Castiel straightened. “Bodies get tired. I forget.” His gaze swept over Dean’s face. “There is so much to do and no way to rest, unless I come here.”

“Where is here?”

“There are places,” Castiel said slowly, “that are outside time. They exist above or below or between what you consider real. This is one of those places.”

“So it’s not real?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Castiel said. “It’s just a different kind of real.”

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