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"She's my wife," Castiel told Malcom as he handed him a glass of water. I returned with the bread he had sent one of the inn's staff to fetch.
I flashed the man a smile, and he smiled back. He resembled the older version of the photo Castiel had shown me, aside from his taller frame and one white eye, likely a result of a fire incident years ago.
A wave of relief washed over me when Castiel embraced his brother, and they cried together for a long time. The excitement on Castiel's face was contagious as they reminisced about old times, as if it hadn't been two decades since they last saw each other. I ate my bread quietly from a chair while Castiel conversed with Malcom in a mix of their language and English. We deserved the bread—thanks to my pregnancy cravings, now we had found their uncle.
"How was it even possible? I watched the house burn with you in it," Castiel asked.
