A sharp rap on the door frame woke Dean out of his slumber. He rolled over to see Sam standing in the doorway, an apologetic smile on his face. “Hey, sorry to wake you, but I think we may have a case.”
Dean stifled a yawn and sat up, carding his fingers through his hair. “Library in five?”
“Actually, I’ll give you ten and make the coffee if you can give Cas a call and ask him where the Voarchadumia Contra Alchimiam is.”
“I’m going to need coffee just to pronounce that.” Dean rubbed at his eyes. “Is there another way to refer to it?”
“Just ask him where you can find the ancient Enochian text he and I were working with.”
Dean gave an OK sign before waving Sam away. He sat up and stretched before grabbing his phone off the nightstand and swiping to Cas’ contact information.
The phone started to ring as he stood up and yawned. Cas picked up on the third ring. “Good morning, Dean.”
“Morning, Cas. Not too sure it’s good yet.” Dean stepped out of his room and started down the hallway towards the angel’s room. “How are things going with you and Jack?”
“He’s currently asleep, but he was doing well yesterday. He can levitate things for longer. He can teleport further.” Cas hummed in thought. “Overall, I think his progression has come a long way.”
“Well, he’s got a good mentor to look up to.” Dean ran his hand down his face as he stood in front of Cas’ door. “So, uh, I called ‘cause Sam’s got a case.”
“Jack’s not ready. We can’t come back yet.”
“That’s fine. You work with Jack. Sam needs a book, and he said you had it last. Some ancient Enochian book you two were reviewing together.”
“Ah, the Voarchadumia Contra Alchimiam ,” Cas responded, the Latin rolling off his tongue with ease.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that thing.”
“Don’t roll your eyes, Dean. It’s on my desk in my room. Should be a plain red book. When you open it, everything is in Enochian.”
“Thanks, Cas.” Dean paused and bit the inside of his cheek. “And, uh, take care, ok?”
“Of course, Dean.”
The call disconnected, and Dean opened the door. He had been in Cas’ room plenty of times, spending what Sam had deemed an unhealthy amount of time in there after Lucifer had killed him. Despite knowing the room so well, entering now seemed odd and forbidden. Dean quickly made his way over to Cas’ desk and found an ancient-looking red book. It was unmarked, and when he cracked it open, the pages were covered in the scribbles he had come to know as Enochian. He snapped the book shut and exited the room swiftly, closing the door behind him.
Dean walked the rest of the hallway to the War Room before making his way to the Library. Sam had already set up his laptop and several books for the two of them, as well as the coffee he had promised his older brother.
“Sammy!” Dean tossed the book as soon as Sam looked up. “I don’t know how you two can pronounce that crap this early in the morning, but here it is.”
“You sure, Dean?” Sam looked the book over. “I thought it was thicker.”
Dean held up his pointer finger as he started drinking his coffee. Once he finished half the mug and set it down, he raised his eyebrow and looked at the book. “Sam, he said it was old, red and when you opened it, that it would be in Enochian. It matches his description.”
“I mean, I guess?” Sam set the book next to him and turned his laptop to Dean. “So get this, my preliminary research shows that five people have been killed and exsanguinated in these five towns.” Sam pointed to the dots on the map on the screen.
“Let me guess, perfect pentagram?” Dean took another drink of his coffee.
“No.” Sam frowned. “It’s lining up to be a perfect hexagram.”
“So something angel-related instead. Hence why you wanted the Enochian lore book.”
“Exactly. The only thing I’ve figured out so far is the pattern of when and where the vics have been taken.” Sam pointed to a spot on the map. “This is the rough location of where the last vic is going to be found. It’s not far from Sioux Falls, so I’ve already got Jody on it.”
Dean took another sip of his coffee before finishing Sam’s thought. “We need to figure what the first five vics had in common so Jody and her crew can protect the final vic or anyone that matches the criteria.” Dean nodded. “We can do that. You work on the Enochian book to figure out the spell, I’ll work on the victims’ profiles?”
Sam finished pushing the laptop over to Dean before grabbing the Enochian cipher Cas had made them. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence as they dove into their individual research. Dean took the time to look into the personal lives of each vic when he realized what Sam had missed.
Before he could speak, Sam spoke up. “Dean, we got a problem.”
“No, we don’t. I know what they all had in common.” He turned around the laptop. “They were all vessels for angels during the fall.”
“Bravo, Columbo.” Sam shot him his best bitch-face as he held up the red book. “Now you going to tell me why I just started deciphering Cas’ journal?”
The pride on Dean’s face melted away to absolute mortification. “What?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Cas keeps a diary?”
Sam browsed over the pages in front of him, double-checking his translation work. “Yeah, Dean. This is Cas’ journal. If I’m translating this correctly, he’s had it as long as he’s been on Earth.”
“Let me see.” Dean reached for the papers, trying to grab them out from in front of Sam. “If you got to see, it’s only fair I get to. He’s my best friend.”
“Uh.” Sam slammed his hand down on the papers, keeping Dean from moving them. “Let me just clean up the translation some. I mean, I’m not fluent, so there’s nuances.”
“I’m not stupid. You’re going to walk off with the journal and the cipher and hope that I forget about the whole thing.” Dean sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s so bad about it that I can’t read it?”
“It’s nothing bad; at least I haven’t gotten to anything bad.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Dean spread his arms out in a broad shrug. “I mean, besides the fact that we’re reading his journal. I just want to know what you read.”
“Fine. You want to know?” Sam ruffled through the papers to find his translation. “‘...his soul is so bright it gives the sun competition, I can read his soul like most humans read the newspaper, it tells me so much more about his desires and intent than his words ever do.’ Gee, Dean. I wonder who he’s talking about.”
Red flushed Dean’s cheeks, emphasizing the green of his eyes. “You translated it wrong.”
“You know I didn’t.” Sam continued reading aloud. “‘I never considered disobedience to the Host. I have been told time and time again that our orders are God’s Will. The Righteous Man has shown me that free will can be an asset.’” Sam set the paper down and slid it across the table. “That’s not his only reference of you.”
“I don’t understand.” Dean read over his brother’s writing. “I’m an ant in comparison to the things he’s seen.”
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “Give me an hour? Go make some phone calls to Jody and Donna. Have them take care of this thing.” He pointed to the laptop. “I’ll translate a few more pages for you.”
“Just. Go. Ok?” Sam closed his eyes and pointed towards the War Room. He waited until he heard the retreating steps of his brother before opening his eyes. He grabbed the cipher and a fresh piece of paper. “I’m sorry, Cas, but I’m doing this for the both of you.”
Sixty-one minutes later, Dean walked back into the library. He had hoped that the extra minute would let Sam translate a few additional words. “Alright. Was I gone long enough?”
Sam looked up from Cas’ Journal, the emotion on his face indiscernible. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and slid some translated pages across the table to where Dean had been sitting before.
“Some entries were mundane, just him writing down things to remember. But there was a significant one in there.” He flipped over a couple of the pages to get to the one he flagged. “You can read the others, but this is the one you want.”
“Not going to read it to me this time?” Dean picked up the pages and leaned back in his chair.
“You’re going to want more, so, against my better judgment, I’m going to keep translating. Or you’ll never believe me.”
Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion before looking down to the pages in his hands.
Dean’s fingers traced over the words. He looked up to see Sam hunched over the journal, still translating the next entry. His conscience was torn. Knowing that he had caused so much turmoil for Cas was painful. He didn’t want to know how else he had messed up the life of the angel. However, he needed to know that Cas choosing a life with him wasn’t horrible.
This feeling is new. Every feeling is new.
I am feeling. I am aware of the emotions around me, and I am… (Sam had left a note: Cas’ writing is indecipherable writing here.)
I have killed more of my kin, I have rebelled. I am… (Sam’s note: indecipherable writing again.)
I can still hear them. I am still an angel. My kin are calling for my life. Do they not yet know how many Uriel had killed? I suppose not. It is easier to blame the one who is openly blaspheming than the one who moves in the shadows.
Words are not merely coming to me. They are exploding through my mind. There is a rush of emotion that I am swept away in. I believe it is due to how much grace I have lost. I am coherent but incoherent. I do not know how to process all of… (Sam’s note: no actual translation for what he wrote here?) I wish I could talk to Dean about this, but I do not think he would welcome my questions.
Dean… I think I understand more about him than I ever did before. His soul reaches out to me. I know that I marked it, that I claimed it in the name of Heaven, but did I do more?
I find myself questioning my orders. Is this because of Dean? Am I still doing God’s will? Michael and Raphael want the apocalypse. I do not think that it is God’s wish. In the time I have spent with Dean, as controversial as it may be, I find myself believing more in my Father’s creation.
Dean’s death was traumatic to me, but I did not understand the reason why, until now. I was told that I had gotten too close to my charge, and the truth is, I have. I care about him, more than I should. I am afraid to put words to this feeling.
He looked over the entry again. There was only one thing that could make reading any more entries bearable. He set the pages down and stood up from the table.
“Dean?” Sam looked up from the journal.
“Booze.” He carded his fingers through his hair. “Morgan, Jack, Johnny. Hell, anyone else who wants to keep me company while I read… this.”
A search of his room and the kitchen (and Sam’s room, though he knew that was a long shot), the brief mourning of a lack of liquor in the bunker, and a trip into town later, Dean had managed to wrangle up his friends Jack and Johnny for an evening reading some more of Cas’ journal. He made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a pair of tumblers before heading back to the library.
Sam looked up as Dean took his seat. “I could have told you that all we had was beer.” He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing as he slid a few more pages across the table to his brother. “You did give me a chance to find another entry you’re going to want to read.”
Dean twisted open the bottle of Jack Daniels and filled a glass for each of them. He gently pushed one towards Sam, careful to not slosh any of the liquid out on to the table. “Yeah? And how much is this one going to screw with my day?”
“I think you’re looking at these entries the wrong way.” Sam picked up the book, his finger carefully marking his spot. “Cas knows every language known to man, both dead and current. He writes everything, and I mean literally, everything in English. Except for this.”
“Your point, Sam?” Dean took a sip of his drink, anticipating the answer and hoping he was wrong.
“He knows that we can’t read Enochian. This, even if found, isn’t meant to be read.” Sam sets the book back down. “Especially by you.”
Dean took another sip of his Jack and swallowed hard. “So then why are we doing this?”
Sam simply shrugged and went back to translating another entry.
It gets harder each time I visit.
I promised I would watch over (Sam left a note here: Cas’ writing was illegible. I’m not sure what he wrote) that I would take care of him. I told Sam that he would be safe and content. I wonder if I am breaking my promise to Sam, or If I will have to break it.
I long to reach out and tell him that I’m here, but he looks so content. Would my presence make him happier? Or would it rip him away from happiness?
This visit, I went to the construction site where he had been working, but he wasn’t there. I thought he may be sick, so I went to Lisa’s house. He had stayed home under the pretense of a “mental health day.” At least that is what he told Lisa. So Lisa also stayed home.
Apparently, when one takes a mental health day, there are copious amounts of intercourse.
I shouldn’t interfere. He is at peace. Dean is no longer a hunter. He is with a woman who loves him, raising a child who adores him. He never thought he could have this life. I need to let him have this. I cannot be selfish.
I cannot have what was never mine.
I promised I would protect him. That I would stay with him. Forgive me, Sam, if I fail you?
It hurts too much to stay. Would Anteros avenge me if I asked? Or would Himeros comfort me? Do the Grecian gods acknowledge love-drunk angels?
Dean set down the pages and reached for his glass of Jack. It was empty, having been drunk the entire time he read the entry. He grabbed the bottle and started to pour himself another refill before having a fuck it kind of moment and taking a swig directly from it.
He met Sam’s stare as he set down the bottle, perhaps a little harder than he intended. “What?”
“Are you getting the picture yet?”
“Don’t say it, Sammy.” Dean closed his eyes and shook his head pleadingly. “This means nothing. This was a one-off a long time ago.”
Sam slid more pages towards Dean.
“You’re getting invested.” Dean slid the previous entry back towards Sam and picked up the new one.
Sam curled his finger, gesturing for the bottle of whiskey. “Consider this a moment of weakness.”
Dean pulled the bottle closer. “Bullshit. Cas is your friend as much as he’s mine. You don’t go snooping unless you have good reason.” He picked up the bottle and dangled it by the neck. “What’s in this for you?”
“Cas has been in our lives, what, a decade now?” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the strands out of his face. “Do you honestly think it hasn’t been noticed how… shit, how did Cas phrase it? ‘Profound’ your bond is?”
“Shut up.” Dean slammed the bottle back on the table and pushed it towards Sam. He shuffled the newest entries in his hands before muttering. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”
The older brother shook his head and got up from the table. “I’m going to get some fresh air. Maybe you should take a break?” Dean exited the library, the journal entries rolled up in his hands. He stopped in the kitchen to grab a beer, before heading out of the bunker. Hours had passed since Sam had started deciphering Cas’ journal, and the sun was beginning to set on the plains.
Dean absently kicked at a few of the rocks on the access road before walking over to the retaining wall that ran next to the bunker. He hopped up onto it, setting his beer next to him. Dean unrolled and rerolled the papers in his hands; they felt like sheets of lead in his hands. He desperately wanted to know how the angel thought of him, but invading his private thoughts was wrong.
He ran his hand over his face before unrolling the papers. The old adage ran through his brain: It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than get permission.
I had the strangest dream (Sam had inserted another note here: Do angels dream if they can’t sleep? I’m not sure this is the right word, but it’s the closest translation I found.) today. Dean and I were looking for the Angel Tablet, and when we found it, I fought him for it. But it was not me fighting him. It was as though my body was being controlled by an outside source. I looked in his eyes and tried to fight whatever was controlling me, but it was stronger.
I killed Dean.
I came to and rushed to his side, in case it was some kind of omen, but he was fine. He was sleeping peacefully, unaware of my visit. I do not know what this means.
I have now killed Dean in 179 different ways. In 179 different scenarios, all involving the retrieval of the Angel Tablet. Am I not supposed to help him find it? Is he not supposed to find it?
Something is manipulating me to kill him. It scares me. I will not kill him of my own free will. I (Sam note: Something was scratched out here.) It is my duty to protect him.
He was on his knees, begging me to remember that I’m his friend.
I did not care. I slit his throat.
I still feel his blood on my hands.
It has only been several days since these… hallucinations have begun. I have kept track of every time I have killed him. Four Hundred Twenty-Two times. How (Sam’s Note: I couldn’t translate the rest of this sentence. It was smudged.)
I do not understand what is making me want to kill him. I have spilled the blood of loved ones, of kin, of Host. I do not want to kill Dean. But when it comes to the Angel Tablet, I only see red. I see the need to take it for myself, I need to restore it to Heaven.
I fear that I may need to go to Heaven to find my answers, but I do not know what they would do to me if I returned.
I cannot kill Dean again. I tried so hard to fight it. I told myself how much he means to me. I reminded myself of my vows to protect him. However, the power that controlled me now controlled him. It made him the force of nature that he always is.
It was a fight to the death. I held him in my arms as he breathed his last breath.
I have never hated myself more than I do right now.
The other angels have been doing this to me. Specifically Naomi. She applauded as I knocked Dean’s gun away, and shoved him to the ground. She cheered me on as I broke his arm, pinning him down. As he pleaded with me to not stab him, and I did it anyway, she deemed me a success.
I am a monster, and Dean is not safe.
I’m writing this down in hopes that I will remember.
I hope to remember that Naomi has broken me. She has been messing with my thoughts, controlling me. Forcing me to hurt the one person I care for the most. I need to remember that she has haunted the closest thing I have to dreams. I need to remember that those were nightmares, and once we are past this, I can have good thoughts again.
I need to remember to protect Dean. I cannot hurt him. I will not hurt him. I (Sam’s Note: This was scratched out so hard, that it almost tore through the page. I don’t know what it says.)
I am a failure.
I hurt him. I almost killed him. I almost…
I almost lost him.
We found the tablet, and somehow, Naomi was able to freeze time. She saw me faltering.
She told me to get the tablet. I broke his wrist and knocked him down.
She told me to beat him. I did. I punched him, I smashed his face in.
Dean said that I would have to kill him first in order to get the tablet. He called me a coward.
Naomi told me to end it. To end him.
Dean pleaded with me. Tried to remind me of who I am. He said that I am family, and that family needed me.
He said that he needed me.
I think that was where Naomi realized that she had lost. She said to choose the Host or the Winchesters.
I chose Dean. I will always choose Dean.
But will he ever forgive me?
Dean rolled the pages back up. He wiped at his face, clearing away tears that he didn’t realize had fallen. Naomi had tortured his best friend. She had abused and brainwashed Cas to the point where the angel had almost killed him. An involuntary shiver ran down Dean’s spine, causing the hunter to hug himself. Cas’ resolve to protect him, to keep him safe, was astounding.
He picked up the beer bottle next to him and drained it. What did it mean that Naomi never considered that Dean would admit to needing Cas? She only programmed his clones to be cold and fight back or to be pathetic and tremble in front of Cas. That bitch had trained Cas to backstab him and to prepare for hostility, but she never thought that Dean would come close to admitting how much his blue-eyed angel actually meant to him.
Dean froze. How surprised had Cas been when he had stated that he needed him? It was startling enough to snap Cas out of his brainwashing, but what more had Dean’s admission meant to him? Did Cas understand what Dean’s words actually meant when he said, “I need you?” He slid down off of the retaining wall and headed back into the bunker, curious to see if Sam had translated any more pages of the journal.
Sam was not in the library when Dean returned from outside. Instead, he was greeted by a mostly empty table. The bottle of Jack, as well as their tumblers, were missing, the laptop wasn’t where Dean had left it, and Cas’ journal was gone.
Dean walked up to the table, all that remained was a stack of papers - hopefully, the next entry - with a smaller piece of paper on top. He picked up the note, expecting Sam to say he was heading to bed, but instead shocked by what he found.
You stupid, idiotic prick. He needed us. He needed YOU.
How he still loves you after this? I’ll never understand.
The hunter’s heart stopped. Assuming that Cas kept his journal in chronological order, there was a solid chance that Dean already knew what was sitting on the table in front of him. He closed his eyes and set the note down on the table, letting out a heavy sigh before opening his eyes. “Shit.”
I thought I would come to understand why Dean sent me away.
When he brought me home (Sam’s Note: Cas wrote the word home and scratched it out.) to the bunker, I was ready to stay by his side. I wanted him to teach me what it was like to be human.
When my grace was near depletion before, when I felt for the first time, I was scared. It is the first time I can remember feeling. It was new, it was terrifying, I was fearful of what those emotions meant.
Now? Now that I am fully human. Now that I can appreciate gamut of human intricacies, of their emotions, of their actions...
I miss him.
I know how to put words to these emotions where I could not before.
I should have paid better attention when I was with Dean and Sam. I should have watched their habits more closely. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so lost.
I have had to do things that… Would Dean think less of me?
There are so many simple things that I took for granted. Or perhaps the brothers took for granted. I am not sure. Bodily functions are a nuisance. Eating is a hindrance. Food is delicious, but to go days without eating, it is a terrible feeling.
(Sam’s Note: So help me, Dean. I want to punch you right now. You’re lucky I can’t read his handwriting for these next couple of sentences.)
Dean would have shown me how to enjoy life. I would have been content to stay with him. I thought maybe he wanted me to stay with him too.
Being able to feel does not mean I can understand the feelings of others.
Dean set the papers down on the table. It made sense now why Sam took the alcohol. It was either to calm his own nerves or to stop Dean from numbing his own pain. Dean walked into the kitchen, hoping that his little brother hadn’t thought to look and see what other hard liquors he had purchased. As he entered the kitchen, Dean noticed that he didn’t have to search too hard. The bottle of Captain Morgan was sitting mostly empty on the kitchen table; another note left with it.
I wanted to make sure you’re not that hungover in the morning. We have a LOT to talk about, especially if you want the next entry.
Also, don’t bother in the fridge. I took out the beer. Have your drink. Go to bed.
“Bitch.” Dean removed the cap of the bottle and chugged the last of the rum, wondering what Sam had done with the rest. He set the bottle back down on the table before heading to his room. He wasn’t sure if sleep would actually come to him or not.
The smell of fresh brewing coffee stirred Dean from his fitful slumber. He fumbled for his phone, not ready to sit up and get out of bed. He smiled as he looked at his phone, a notification letting him know Cas had texted sometime during the night. Cas. The journal.
Sam’s note sprung back to the front of Dean’s mind. He knew he would have to face Sam, most likely within the next few minutes, and tell his side of the story. Why he’d kicked Cas out of the bunker. How he almost lost the love of his life. Shit. Dean pressed the heels of the palms into his eyes. Sam had written that Cas loved him too, but how was he so confident?
Dean groaned and rolled out of bed, his feet shuffling on the cold floor. He headed to the kitchen, despite the fact he was not quite ready to face the judge, jury, and executioner known as Samuel William Winchester. As he turned the corner, he came face to face with Sam sitting at the table, hunched over a cup of coffee.
Sam looked up at Dean’s entrance and pointed at the coffee maker. He didn’t say a word, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was grateful or more nervous than before. Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from his younger brother. He didn’t speak, he meekly waited for whatever was Sam was going to - deservedly - throw at him.
Silence fell heavy between the two brothers as they sat at the table. Sam’s face was etched with hurt and anger, darkened by the lack of sleep he must have suffered the night before. Dean knew there was a lot to say, but didn’t want to string his own noose. He preferred the awkwardness.
“There are so many things going through my mind,” Sam finally spoke up, his voice laced with contempt. “You already know how I feel about being possessed by Gadreel. I didn’t even know what you did to Cas until I translated his journal.” He ran his hand down his face before continuing. “He was looking forward to having a life with you, Dean. A human. Life . You threw that away.”
“You would have died.”
“And I told you I was ready to die. But in true Winchester fashion, you went behind my back and helped an angel, who lied about who they were, possess me.” Sam was yelling now, not caring who could hear him. “You decided what was best. You decided to meddle. Somehow Cas still loved you even though you left him defenseless against a horde of pissed off angels who thought that he willingly kicked them out of Heaven.”
Dean hung his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stop saying that.”
“Saying what, Dean?” Sam picked up another set of papers off the chair next to him and slammed them on the table. “That Cas loves you? Then how about I switch to the obvious thing that you won’t admit? You love him too.”
“He’s my best friend, he’s family. Of course I love him.” Dean stuttered on the L word, mentally cursing himself for not keeping his emotions better under control.
“Dammit, Dean.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the loose strands out of his face. “Do you want to know why I’m doing this?”
Dean snatched the papers off the table. “And suffer through more of you telling me that someone loves me?” He stood up and shook his head. “I’m not allowed that. Doesn’t fit.”
“Says who, Dean? Dad? Cause he’s dead. Me? I want you to be with Cas because I want you to be happy.” Sam deflated, the anger falling away at Dean’s pain. “The only person who says it doesn’t fit is you, and you’re not giving a good enough reason.”
“Ain’t that easy, Sammy.” Dean closed his eyes, freeing up the tears that had been building in his eyes. “You say he loves me, but…” He sighed, trying to shake the hopeful thoughts of his angel loving him out of his head, “I am nothing.” Dean rolled up the papers delicately, treating them as though they were made of gold. “I’ll, uh… be in my room.”
Dean waived off Sam as he exited the kitchen and returned to his room. As he slipped inside, Dean closed the door, leaning back against it and sliding to the floor. He let the tears fall freely, not bothering to wipe them away as he unrolled the next entry Sam had translated for him. He refused to hope that Cas did love him, but deep down he knew that he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to find those words in the angel’s journal.
I was once told that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. I don’t remember if it was Sam or Dean who said that to me.
Dean took on the Mark of Cain in order to finally rid the world of Abaddon, and while it was an act of good intent… (Sam Note: I’m not sure there’s a proper translation for this, but I believe it’s about you becoming a Prince of Hell.)
I know that Sam, and myself, thought him cured. But I have lost him again. This is worse than him dying and becoming a demon. He is lost to the Mark.
I have lost him. My heart weeps when I cannot.
I watched him kill a child. I chastised him. I told him that the mark has changed him. He said he was a different Dean.
I couldn’t hurt him. I have done so much to him. I just wanted to keep him safe. To protect him.
Was that what he felt like when I betrayed him with the Angel Tablet? When I was under the control of Naomi? I felt so helpless. When he landed the final blow and grabbed my angel blade.
I just wanted to get through to him as he got through to me. To see if our bond still existed. To see if there was still something there.
I said, please.
He spared me. He spared my life.
I wonder if his ‘I need you’ meant what my ‘Please’ means.
Dean pulled his knees as tight to his chest as he could and rested his head on his arm. The Mark of Cain. Cain’s words still haunted him: “ And then you'd kill the angel Castiel, now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful. ” He had come so close to killing Cas. He remembered Cas’ soft plea of “please” that snapped him out the fatal blow.
Sam wasn’t wrong. Dean was absolutely in love with Cas. Sam seemed to believe the feelings were returned. At least he said as much. But there was no possible way that the angel could reciprocate those feelings, not after all the shit Dean had put him through.
Dean pushed himself up off the floor and wiped away the remaining tears. He needed to find Sam. He needed to know what Sam knew. And if that meant more entries, he would be ok with that too.
Dean walked down the hall to Sam’s room and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the younger Winchester opened the door and moved aside to let him in. “Probably not what you needed to read after our fight this morning, huh?”
“I needed to know, Sam. But I’m not sure I see what you see.” Dean handed the rolled up papers back to Sam and took a seat in one of the chairs in the room. Cas’ journal was on the bed, along with the cipher and a few other books and the notebook that Sam had been writing the translations in. “You’re still going?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I found one more that you need to read.” He ran his fingers through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I know you told me not to tell you, but I’m doing this for Cas as much as I’m doing it for you.”
“I know you don’t think you’re worthy of Cas, but that’s not your decision. I’ve been the third wheel to you two for a long time. I have been watching you two, and this bizarre dance of yours for years.” Sam moved to his bed and sat down carefully, making sure not to jostle the items resting there. “I wish you two could see how you are around each other. How people think you two are already together.” Sam scoffed, “You with Cas makes more sense than you with Crowley, and that actually happened.”
Dean cringed. “We don’t talk about that. Ever.”
“How about when Meg said that Cas was ‘your boyfriend first?’”
“Were you even in the room for that?”
“How about when you came back from Purgatory without him? Or when the Leviathans killed him? Or how about just−”
“Don’t.” Dean’s voice went icy cold. “No.”
“Dean, I watched you play the grieving widower. I watched how, when he came back, you came back to life. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Please.” Sam watched his brother, his eyes pleading for honesty. “He’s more to you than just your best friend, and it scares you. I’m not wrong, am I?”
“I don’t just love him, Sammy.” Dean ran his hand down his face and breathed in deeply. “I’m in love with him.” Dean let out a rough breath; his shoulders slumped, the weight of the world lifted off of them. “I don’t even know when it happened.”
“Does when it changed matter? The fact is, you two love each other.”
“I don’t know how you’re so certain of that. I ruined his life, Sam.”
Sam sighed heavily. “Dean, Cas told you, with no uncertainty, that he loved you. There were witnesses.” Sam picked up the translated pages. “I heard it. Mom heard it. Crowley heard it.”
“Wait. Are you referring to when he was stabbed by Michael’s Lance?” Dean waited until Sam nodded his confirmation. “He said he loved all of us.”
“‘I love you. I love all of you.’ The first while looking directly at you. Deathbed confession, Dean.” Sam handed his brother the last set of pages. “I’m not translating any more after this. One, Cas will be home either tonight or tomorrow morning. Two, this is the last entry you need.” Dean took the pages and started to stand. “No. Stay here. I’ll leave.”
“You had almost lost Cas a third time, Dean. Those are the thoughts of the man you love, right after he barely escaped death. This is a safer spot for you to be in. And no, I’m not letting you have liquor. Just. Stay.”
Dean sighed and sank back in his chair, wishing he had a tumbler of whiskey.
I still cannot believe I said it out loud.
I said that I love him. I admitted in front of him, and Sam and Mary. I made sure to let them know that I love them too, but I told him first.
I know why I said it, and I am grateful that I said it. But I did not expect to live. The fact that Crowley saved me? Was it to humiliate me, or was it for Dean?
I did not want to die without Dean knowing how I felt. Now there has been a weight lifted off of my shoulders, I do not have the burden of hiding my feelings anymore. But I have the burden of my feelings being unreturned.
How do I move forward? The best case is that he doesn’t realize that I said that I love him. That he believes that I was muddled in my thoughts. The worst case is that he knows, and my feelings are unrequited.
I trust he would not hurt me if he does not return my feelings. He does not speak of his own, and he would not speak of mine.
Sometimes, with the way he watches me, and his kindness and his compassion that he shares with me, I can pretend that he cares for me in the same way I care for him.
If I had died, my only wish would have been to hear him say that he loved me too.
Dean stood up out of the chair and headed to the door. He headed towards the kitchen and found Sam nursing a cup of coffee. “Sam, I don’t know what to do.” He rolled and unrolled the paper in his hands, his newest nervous tick. “I never felt like this with Cassie or Lisa. They didn’t feel like this with me. I’ve never been worthy of…” He handed the rolled up paper to Sam. “Of this.”
“Dad did a number on you, didn’t he?” Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Do me a favor? Go relax. I’ll focus on dinner. The last thing you need is to be a ball of nervous energy that’s going to snap when Cas gets back.”
“He’s going to know that I know.”
“We’re not going to be able to hide the fact that we translated his journal.” Sam smiled softly as he picked it up and handed it to Dean. “I mean, if you really want, you can go throw it back on his desk. He knows we were looking for the other book. But honestly? You’re going to have to talk to him.” Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Can you keep what you know from affecting your relationship with him?
“I can try.”
“Do you want to?”
Dean looked at the floor and shook his head no. “Yes.” His head snapped up, searching for judgment from his brother. “No?” He ran his fingers down his face. “Dammit, Sammy, I don’t know.”
“Hey, did you mean what you said earlier? When you said you’re in love with Cas?”
The question caused Dean to swallow hard, the dread of admitting the truth filling his stomach. “Yeah, Sam. I meant it.”
Sam smiled, the relief in his eyes palpable. “Then you know what you need to do.” He set his empty mug in the sink. “Go shower, rest. I’ll grab one of those bacon abhorrations you call a pizza. You can go set up in the Dean Cave. Ok?”
“Ok.” Dean nodded and turned to walk to the hallway. He stopped as he got to the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, Sammy.”
Dean finished his shower, not the slightest bit more relaxed than before he went in. Washing felt like a chore, and even getting dressed felt like a burden. He sulked down the hallway towards the converted den, ready to attempt to settle down with Sam for the evening.
As he stepped into the room, he was surprised to find Cas sitting on the sofa. In his hands was the red journal, turned to a page at the end of the book. If Dean had to guess, it was the first blank page that he had found when flipping through the book himself.
He remembered hearing somewhere that you should never write in someone else’s journal. But he knew that his handwriting in Cas’ book would grab the angel’s attention. He just wasn’t expecting it tonight. His heart leaped into his throat. “You’re back early.”
Cas looked up, an indiscernible look on his face. “We made good time. Sam said it was of utmost importance that we made it home today. But as soon as we got back, he took Jack and said that he needed to make a supply run.”
“Oh?” Dean swallowed, trying to put his beating heart back into place. “He said he was running into town to get pizza for dinner.”
“He may have mentioned that.” Cas held up the book in his hands. “And he apologized for translating my journal. He said that you accidentally grabbed the wrong one in your research and that neither realized right away.”
“Something like that.”
“I didn’t think much of it, but I found your note. ‘Find me, I’m sorry. -Dean.’” Cas shut the book and set it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sorry for what?”
Dean briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling as he spoke. “I kept going. What I translated intrigued me, and I needed to know more.”
Cas squinted. “So you and Sam translated my journal?” He stood up and crossed the room, ignoring Dean’s personal space. “I have always been willing to answer your questions. I have always come to you when you called me. Why did you go behind my back?”
“I know it was wrong, but when I realized it was about me, I kept going. I did it. Sam gave me the cipher.”
“Sam already confessed, Dean. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”
Dean looked at Cas, offering him an apologetic smile. “Can you blame me for trying to keep him out of trouble?”
“No, but you still left a lot unexplained. I know you accidentally confused the two books. I know that the mistake was realized after Sam translated some of it. Why did you continue to translate it? Why would you continue to read?”
“Now can I blame Sam?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. “He translated the first page or two, and then told me you wrote about me.”
“I wrote it in Enochian for a reason.” Cas jabbed a finger at Dean exasperatedly. “Those were thoughts that I couldn’t share with you, with Sam, with anyone. I trusted this book. And now I have nothing. Sam can read the language without the cipher now. I can’t hide anything, even with my native tongue.” He turned away from Dean, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’ve been effectively stripped naked.”
“That was never our intent.”
“What is the saying? ‘The road to Hell is paved with good intentions?’ What did you think you would find that you did not already have from me, Dean?”
“To be honest, Cas, I didn’t know what I was looking for.” Dean hung his head in shame, the pain in the angel’s voice hurting him more than any physical wound ever had. He reached out, gently resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder with the hope it would provide additional apologies.
Cas flinched at Dean’s touch, catching the hunter off-guard. Dean squeezed his shoulder tighter, afraid that Cas would pull away completely. “Saying that I was curious won’t justify this. I know it won’t.”
“I don’t know what you know now. I don’t know what you are judging me for.” He looked at Dean’s hand before looking back over his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ll ever look at me the same.” Cas pulled away and walked past Dean, bumping into him gently.
“Cas…” The hunter watched as his angel trudged away, not bothering to respond to his name being called. He rubbed his hand down his face before heading back to his room. There had to be a way that he could repair the chasm he had created.
Dean entered his room and quietly closed the door behind him. He thought about leaving a note on the door for Sam when he returned from his supply run but decided against it when he remembered that Cas might see it. He walked over to his bed and collapsed back on it, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Reading Cas’ journal was always going to cause issues. He just never thought that it would cause Cas to physically recoil from him.
“Sonofabitch.” Dean rubbed at his forehead before pinching at the bridge of his nose. “What do I do?”
None of this would have happened if he had just taken his time and looked at Cas’ desk. He had been so wrapped up in getting in and out of the room that he picked the first book that matched the description given to him. Despite that, even if he had still grabbed Cas’ journal, it was on him for reading the damn entries.
Cas thought he was safe, and Dean violated that trust in so many ways. He hated himself for that and wanted to find a way to earn and rebuild their bond. Talking wasn’t going to work, Cas couldn’t stand to be near him at the moment. Texting wouldn’t be nearly as sincere, even if the angel was fond of emoticons.
Dean bolted upright. He could write. He climbed down to the edge of his bed and slid off it, ending up in his desk chair. He pulled his personal journal out of the top desk drawer and opened to the first blank page and put the pen to paper.
A couple of hours later, Dean exited his room with his journal in hand and took the short walk down the hall to Cas’ room. He waited outside, psyching himself up to knock on the door. He took a deep breath and rapped softly. There was shuffling on the other side, and soon after Cas opened the door.
“What do you want Dean?”
Dean let his shoulders fall in submission as he handed his faded journal to the owner of the blue eyes that were boring into him. “You don’t have to talk to me. I understand if you don’t want to speak to me for a long time. I did wrong by you, and I want to make it right.” He offered a small smile of relief when Cas took the journal. “I’ll be in my room if you want to talk afterward.”
Cas cocked his head in confusion. “This is your hunter’s journal.”
“It’s my journal , Cas. It’s where I write down my thoughts. Much like yours.” Dean turned and carefully walked himself back to his room, afraid that his nerves would cause him to bolt like a kid after giving their crush a ‘Do you like me?’ note.
“Right.” Cas stepped back into his room and closed the door, his eyebrow raised curiously. He sat back on the bed and flipped through the journal. This was certainly not the first time he had read entries or factoids or lore in the journal. Dean had given it to him, as had Sam, on cases before to research monsters and myths when they were driving or eating.
Cas flipped through the pages slowly, watching as the handwriting changed from John Winchester’s harsh, bold writing to Dean’s gentler, all-capitalized font. It moved from the format of lists and never-ending contacts to the prose of memories and doodles.
As he turned the page, the story of the last hunt as seen through Dean’s eyes making Cas smile, a newly written entry caught his eye.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for getting caught in that stupid spell.
While it was a turning point for myself and Rowena, it caused Sammy a lot of pain. I told everyone that I don’t remember anything from what I forgot. I figured it would be easier to move on, to forget about it.
It was like a fog at first. Kinda like a bad hangover after getting blackout drunk. Then I would forget something I had just literally said. I still can’t believe I forgot the word for lamp. Freaking ‘light stick.’ I’m sure if Sam knew that I remembered, and it wasn’t a sore spot, he’d never let me live that down.
As it got on, I started forgetting bigger things. I forgot which key unlocked Baby. I forgot which key started her. I put her in drive when she needed to be in reverse. Then when Sam talked to me and I asked, ‘Who’s Dean?’. I forgot myself.
He wanted to call Cas in. I wanted him to. I wanted Cas with me so bad, once I remembered who Cas was. How could I forget Cas? It was only for a second, but I forgot him. So I told Sam to not bother him, I didn’t say why, but I couldn’t face him if I forgot him again.
Sam called up Rowena instead. I forgave him that, since we had at least figured out we were dealing with witches.
As we investigated, trying to find the witch who cursed me, I felt myself losing my grip on my memories. I lost who I am. I forgot about the creepy crawlies that we hunt. Sam had to give me ‘the talk.’ It’s surreal to be on that end of the talk. I grew up knowing it. I was never hidden from it. I hid it from Sam, and I remember giving Sam the talk. Dad kinda just gave him a .45 when he said he was afraid of a monster in the closet.
At some point, Rowena showed up, and so he could talk to her about the case, Sam sat me in front of the TV. I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but I heard them talking about me, but it registered as Sam telling a story about a completely different person. Not me. He had to retell our life story.
As soon as he told me the story, I was already forgetting it. I looked in the mirror, and I forgot that my name is Dean, that my brother is Sam, and that my best friend is Cas. Cas…
I honestly thought I was going to die, and I was going to die without remembering him.
Even after Ro was able to fix everything, I was unable to call him. I told Sam and Rowena to not mention what happened while on the case. To anyone. Here’s hoping they can gossip amongst themselves and keep the teasing to a minimum.
Cas stopped reading and massaged his forehead with his fingers. The case Dean wrote about, he recalled it. He didn’t know the details, but he remembered because it was Dean and Sam’s last case before they faced up against Ramiel. Before Cas had said ‘I love you ’ to Dean as he laid dying.
Dean had nearly died just a few days before his own brush with death. It wasn’t unusual for the Winchesters to face death on a case. But this was the closest brush Dean had with his own mortality in a while. Cas rested his hand on his chin. If he understood correctly, Dean would have died having forgotten everyone, everything, down to even breathing. What did it mean that Dean wanted him there, but wouldn’t let Sam call him?
The next page that Cas flipped to was another freshly written entry. While the handwriting was neat and fresh, there were spots on the page that indicated they had previously been wet, like teardrops. Cas cocked his head before settling back in; hoping that the questions that arose from the first entry would have their answers here.
He wasn’t supposed to die. Why was he taken away?
I’ve lost him before, but nothing has felt this final. I feel so empty. Sam told me that there was a word, I think it’s Portuguese, Saudade. I don’t know if he’s bullshitting me or not, because he said there’s no actual English translation. Sammy said… he said it’s the feeling of longing for someone that you love who is gone. That hits hard. I miss him so damn much.
Sam tried his hardest, you know? I had a spat with him after I refused to bond with Jack. I told him why I couldn’t bond with the kid. Admitted that I blame him partially for Cas’ death. Sam started to take it easier on me, not that I asked. Hell, on this trip, I fucking thought it was my birthday or something. No complaints on what I ate. No bitching about my music. Hell, he offered to take me to a strip club.
But that’s not the point. It was never the point. I know I haven’t been the same since Lucifer killed Cas, and Mom kicked his ass through the portal. I always danced around, telling Cas what I needed him to hear, what I need him to know. I’m never going to be able to tell him.
This hunt, case, whatever you want to call it. There were a bunch of ghosts trapped, and we didn’t have time to find their bodies. I may have packed some of Dr. Robert’s suicide drugs with me. I had been packing them with me since... well I just hadn’t had a viable excuse to use them. I made sure Sam knew how to use the one to revive me, but honestly? I didn’t care if it didn’t work.
Yeah, I was scared. And watching Sam over my body? I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel terrible for hurting him.
But I’ve always believed he’s better without me. And I’ve been so lost without…
You know what the worst part of accepting death is? When Death herself won’t take you. Billie called me out on my actions. When she asked me what I wanted in exchange for the information on the rifts, I told her to free the spirits trapped in the house. She did, and after I told her how the breach to the other world happened, she said I changed.
I thought on my feet. Told her that I figured she wouldn’t let me back when I realized she was Death. She didn’t buy it. I told her I didn’t matter. She fucking questioned that. So I broke. I told her I couldn’t save…
I couldn’t bear the guilt. She realized that I wanted to die.
She put into four simple words the feelings I’ve been having for months. ‘You want to die.’ And she told me no. She said that none of the books in her reading room say that I die that way. I can’t even die right.
Billie sent me back. Kept her promise and freed the spirits. But still sent me back. She told me to keep living.
I didn’t want to come back to a world without him. I think I hate her.
Cas ran his hand down his face before closing the journal and resting it on his lap. He closed his eyes, the words he read running through his mind and him unable to keep up. Dean had tried to kill himself. His hunter, his Dean, had thought it better to just give up than to keep fighting. Cas shook his head, more upset than before.
The angel traced his fingers over the worn leather. As many times as he as used the journal, it had never been openly vulnerable. He had never thought that Dean would write out his feelings and emotions. He knew that it was done partially to appease him, to make up for his own journal being read. However, Cas couldn’t help but hope that there was more meaning in the written words.
He thought of being called Dean’s best friend, and how the hunter didn’t want to forget him. Sam had offered to call Cas, but he didn’t want to be seen in that state. And how Dean was distraught over Cas’ death, saying that he “didn’t want to come back to a world without him.”
A realization quickly came to Cas, and he reopened the journal. He immediately flipped to the last entry that Dean wrote. It involved a case where spirits were trapped even after they had salted and burned the items keeping the malevolent spirit bound. He turned back a few pages to a previous entry, finding the one that matched up with Dean’s more personal account.
As he finished reading the less private entry regarding the incident at Dr. A Meadows Mental Health Center, his eyes glanced to the next entry. It was the Dodge City case. Cas closed the journal and stood, up, heading towards the door. Things were falling into place, finally making sense. Now, if he could, he just needed to get the words out of Dean himself.
Dean finished nursing his one and only beer of the day. Sam had been kind enough to bring him one after he returned from the made-up supply run he and Jack went on. He slowly peeled the label off the bottle, wondering if Cas would come to him when he finished reading the journal when there was a knock at his door.
“Go away, Sam.” While he was grateful for the beer, he wasn’t looking for a brotherly bonding session at the moment.
“Dean, open the door, please?”
Dean’s gaze flashed to the door. The gravelly voice he hoped to hear was on the other side. He was torn between getting up from his spot and rushing to the door and pretending he wasn’t there. The latter was out the non-existent window, as he already responded to the first knock. He took a cautious breath as he stood up and walked to the door.
Green eyes locked on blue as Dean opened the door. “Hiya, Cas.”
“Can I come in, Dean?”
With a heavy swallow and a few steps backward, Dean unblocked the doorway, letting Cas into the room. He nudged the door shut with his foot, closing it quietly. He stared at the door, unable to turn around. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of anything to say to break the silence. “Cas, I, uh, I just wanted to apologize again.”
“Turn around, Dean.” As Dean followed Cas’ request, the angel took a seat on his bed. The journal was in his hands, written words unspoken between them. “Come sit with me?”
Dean nodded as he crossed the room and sat down on the bed. His knee rested up against Cas’ thigh, and he risked a glance to see if there was any reaction. He watched as a small smile spread across Cas’ lips, causing his heart to beat faster.
“I know I’ve said it before, but we share a very profound bond, Dean. I don’t know if that bond is the catalyst of my feelings, or just amplifies something that is already there.” Cas offered the journal to Dean. “I’ve known for a while what this feeling is, but I never wanted to push you.”
“How long?” Dean took the journal, his fingers tracing over Cas’. “When did you know?”
Cas looked away, a flush of red traveling up his neck and ears. “You translated the journal.”
“Maybe I wanted to hear it from you?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “I think I knew that you were more than just my friend when I was defending you, saying there was no way you were working with Crowley. When the leviathans killed you, I hated myself for not taking a chance to see if there was something between us. And Purgatory? Cas, when I found you after searching endlessly for you? I could have left at any time.” Dean tossed the journal on the bed and took Cas’ hand in his. “But I couldn’t leave without you. Leaving you behind would be leaving a part of me behind.”
“That long?” Cas tilted his head and squinted, confused by the confession that fell from Dean’s lips. “But you never implied, never hinted.”
The hunter chuckled, “Sam would beg to differ.” He ran his thumb over Cas’ knuckles, enjoying the weight of their hands together. “How long, Cas?”
“‘When Castiel first laid hands on you in Hell, he was lost.’ I believe it was Hester who said that?” Cas rested his other hand upon Dean’s. “When you were in Heaven, and I thought I lost you, or when you had sexual relations with Anna. I didn’t understand the pain of loss or the sting of jealousy. Not until I was almost human. But I think my mark, my claim on your soul. That bond between us? It allowed me to fall in love with you.”
A breath caught in Dean’s throat. “She wasn’t making that up? I mean, I’ve heard plenty of digs at our expense, but I’ve never thought it was more than people trying to get under our skin.”
“Dean, I did everything for you. I would do it all again. You read my journal, but did you read it?”
“What do you mean?”
Another squint. “My words, did they sink in as you read them? Did you understand what I said?”
“Understanding them and believing them are two different things, Cas.” Dean tried to pull his hand away but looked away upon finding resistance. “It’s… I felt like I was reading someone else’s story.”
Cas cupped Dean’s jaw, turning his head back to face him. “After all this time, you still think you’re not worthy?”
Dean shook his head before tempting fate and nuzzling into Cas’ hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way. You know how I was raised, how I was groomed. This life isn’t meant for… It’s not meant for how I feel about you.”
“Did you mean what you wrote?” Cas asked as he stroked his thumb over Dean’s cheek. “In your added journal entries?”
“Every word, Angel.” Dean smiled at how easily the endearment flowed from his lips. “Everything I wrote was true.”
“So, you also wanted to die?”
Dean nodded into Cas’ hand, unable to find his words.
“Please keep that option off the table. Don’t ever consider it again.” Cas brought Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “This world is dark enough already. It can’t afford to lose you.”
“And I can’t lose you.” Dean’s eyes flickered from Cas’ eyes to his own hand to Cas’ lips before finding the deep blue irises again. “I need you. That’s never changed.”
Cas closed the distance between them, his lips finding Dean’s.
Dean melted into the kiss, another smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He pulled away reluctantly, the need to speak outweighing the want to kiss. “It’s not like me to say it, Cas. But I need you to know, ‘cause I’m not risking the chance of not being able to tell you again. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time. And my repressed ass was just afraid of… of you not returning those feelings, of not being worthy of you, of everything that’s been ingrained in my brain since I was a child. I’m still afraid, Cas. But I think that’s a part of the whole being in love thing.”
“You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve spent almost ten years showing you that. I will continue to spend the rest of our lives, showing you that you don’t have to be.” Cas pulled Dean back in, resting their foreheads together in a pose of mutual worship. “I have long waited for the day where I could say ‘I love you' freely.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.” Dean tilted his head to the side and leaned in for another kiss. He rested his head on Cas’ shoulder and reached for his journal. He sighed contently as Cas’ hand wrapped around him, pulling him in closer while he opened to the last entry.
Dean felt Cas’ head come to rest against his own as he uncapped the pen he kept in the journal. “We will make up for the lost time. What are you doing?”
“Writing in my journal.” The pen scratched across the paper, Dean’s putting his thoughts down quickly “Apparently, there’s this angel who recommends it. He finds it therapeutic.”
“Am I allowed to read, or should I turn my head away?”
The pen cap clicked shut. “No more secrets, Angel.” Dean tilted his head to the side and kissed Cas’ jaw, the stubble against his lips a pleasurable sensation. “Do you want to read it?”
“I don’t need to right now.” Dean’s position shifted slightly as Cas turned his own head and kissed him again, removing the journal from his hands and placing it on the bed next to them.
A few hours later, Dean slept peacefully, curled up against Cas. The angel found himself tracing his fingers along Dean’s arm and side; peace and happiness settling over him. The Journal sat - still open - on the nightstand and Cas allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. He pulled it off the table and read the words that Dean had written down.
Dicere quae puduit, scribere jussit amor.
Dicere quae puduit, scribere jussit amor. - 'What I was ashamed to say, love has commanded I write.' - Ovid
Thank you to Muse, Jojo and Diamond for hosting the DCRB! Thank you all for reading! Thank you again to dmsilvisart for her art!
One last thing, that I do on all my Destiel Fics:
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