golden | dean winchester

|CHAPTER TWO|

The next time Dean shows up, Remi's sitting in the dim lighting of her living room—a glass of wine in hand and her eyes trained on the book in her lap. The moon was out and the stars were shining through the wind—

"You have anything stronger than wine?"

Remi jolts in fright, her book sliding off of her lap and hitting the ground with a pitiful thud. Her eyes dart up, aiming a glare at the Winchester. "Yes, of course, come in. Don't bother to knock whatsoever."

Dean shrugs and sheds his jacket, plopping down on the loveseat across from her. "The light was on, the door was open—which is dangerous, by the way."

Remi rolls her eyes, a scoff escaping her lips. "You'd be surprised at how many people don't stop by."

Dean hums, "you're a bit of a loner, then?"

A bitter smile graces the Williams' lips. "A lot of a loner,"

"The conversation we had the last time I was here—"

Remi groans, letting her head fall back. "Anything but that,"

"You were right," Dean tells her. "I woke up and I couldn't remember anything. Flashes of— of you, and I woke up feeling nostalgic, but I just couldn't remember."

Remi nods, taking a large gulp of her wine and avoiding eye contact with the Winchester.

"But as soon as I came back here— I'm still waiting on the answer to wherever here is, by the way— I remembered all of it. Everything you said, everything we talked about. That's never happened before— it's never been like that."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Remi asks him, folding her legs underneath her and leaning against the side of the arm chair. "Before coming back here, what's the last thing you remember?"

Dean's forehead wrinkles as he thinks. "I was on a case with my brother, Sam—" he pauses. "We were walking down the street and..."

Remi swallows thickly, giving him an encouraging smile.

"—and I died," his eyes widen. "I wasn't paying attention and I— I walked straight into traffic."

Remi drains the rest of her wine, putting the cup on the coffee table next to her. Her eyes meet Dean's and she heaves a sigh, "you did."

"I'm dead," Dean breathes.

"Join the club," Remi snorts.

"We're both dead," the Winchester nods to himself. His eyes narrow and he studies her, "why wouldn't you tell me this before?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd believe me before," the Williams shrugs. "I wanted you to figure it out for yourself."

"If I'm dead every time I come here—"

"You're not," Remi cute him off. "You actually have been having dreams about this place. Today is the first time you've visited in death."

"Death doesn't seem like a solid choice if I just keep coming back," he grumbles.

"It won't always be like that," Remi informs him as she pours herself another glass of wine. "One day, you don't be so needed on earth and well, you'll just never go back."

"On earth?" Dean sits up straighter, his eyes clashing against the orange glow in the room. "If we're not on earth, where the hell are we?"

"Heaven," Remi admits. "We're in heaven, Dean."