#but i think i probably feel the injustice between sam and dean with a colored lens from my own experience

[sammyluvr]

first of all I’m blushing cause u said baby (what do you mean it’s a generic name no I’m delulu) and um second of all one of them talked to me in such a condescending way today (but also I made a mistake so I get it but she didn’t have to talk to me like I was 2 ugh)

the only good thing about this job is that I get to help the kids cause it’s like a beginner class so they’re all new to the subject and I wanna help them and I’m so happy when they ask me questions and things

sorry I rambled about this for no reason but I did have a question for you, thoughts on dean? There’s a little hatred of some kind there I can see it, but I wanted to ask why you don’t like him, only if you’re comfortable!!!

— kiss

omg no baby is said with flirtatious intent to make you blush, honey <33

BUT THAT'S SO RUDE ACTUALLY ugh i'm sorry they were condescending :((( but i'm glad that you're feeling like there is something good about the job!! it's awesome that you get to help the kids!!! and don't ever be sorry for rambling, i love to hear it all!!

i also rambled about dean a lot and it's definitely not coherent LOL

as for dean LOL i just have very complicated feelings and i think a lot of my hate/negative feelings are sometimes misplaced in him a little too strongly. i mostly just really really hate the treatment of him versus sam within the fandom :// if we're being honest with ourselves, he's kind of really not a good person sometimes!! and he treated a lot of people really awfully pretty consistently, especially sam. and i think that's part of how fascinating he is as a character!! he's incredibly interesting and i do hold love for him in my heart, not just for his good aspects but for his fucked up parts too hehe <33

it's just that i think he's very often misinterpreted and excused for actions he had full control over (sure, his trauma can explain lots of it, but does not excuse it!!), while sam is often harshly blamed (by both the fandom and by dean) for things he did not have complete or any control over (not saying he's never made a bad decision that he could control. it's just that a core aspect of sam's character and character arc is his lack of autonomy and people will very often literally victim blame him). both sam and dean are very flawed people and have made many many mistakes, my issue is that people both in the fandom and in the show are willing to overlook or excuse or whatever dean's mistakes and flaws but not sam's.

also people pretend like dean is a great brother to sam. he loves sam so much and would do anything for him, yes. they are codependent, yes. sam is not great to him all the time either, yes. but i view lots of dean's treatment towards sam as abusive. i don't think dean ever breaks the cycle of abuse. he is the angry man in the house. he has the power in his relationship with sam, he is the patriarch and perpetuates toxic patriarchal values.

more so than hating him, i think i hate what the fandom has done with him. can't we love him because he's awful??? and can't we recognize that he treats people in pretty awful ways lol. sometimes, he's so very lovely. sometimes, he's a piece of shit. and i love him for it! i'm very dean critical, but i think that my love for him has just been tainted by the way the fandom views him/acts towards him (versus sam especially).

and at the end of the day, as mr. jared padalecki put it, sam winchester is my only concern!! it's all about sam to me <33 i'm completely biased towards him and i love him more, and because i think dean treats him badly, i get angry at dean often! i recognize that i'm 100% biased towards sam and don't always look into nuances because of that. but i try not to actively hate hate on dean for stupid reasons. just reasons where he definitely was in the wrong LOL.

i just think sam deserves so much love and that the fandom hasn't given it to him partially because of the dean bias. i think a lot of people watch the show through dean's eyes, which means blaming sam and blaming mary and blaming cas and whoever he can. and thinking that he's in the right all the time (but wake up!!! dean blames himself too!! he knows he's done wrong, he thinks about it all the time!! he is constantly grappling with and weighed down by the consequences and implications of his actions!! he said so himself!! so let's love him for that too <33)

and also he bothers me sometimes <333 hashtag i love sam hashtag everything is about sam hashtag i just don't care about him as much as i care about sam! <333 lots of love <333 at the end of the day it's not even about him personally it's about sam lmao <33 and that's literally just the way that i enjoy this show the best, is by focusing on sam. i can absolutely be a dean enjoyer at times, i just prefer to completely obsess over sam all the time lol. and it's so completely valid if one enjoys the show the other way around or enjoys them equally <33 or doesn't give a shit about either of them and loves rowena the most, maybe we should all just do that instead <333

[hintsofhoney]

alright, *cracks fingers*. so. I’ve written up a transcript just to lay it all out for myself and get the most important parts. listen, everyone. for all intents and purposes and legal reasons, THIS WAS A DREAM. alright? I dreamt this. and he is literally the nicest human being ever so I don’t want to just like... put our whole convo out there like that, but I think he said some stuff that was important for people to hear so... here we go

my *dreamt* zoom call with thee crowley below the cut

The first five minutes (of my dream) was just a bunch of introduction stuff and talking about my favorite Supernatural seasons which eventually led to him telling me how they filmed the Season 8 finale (which they did over the span of three days, and in between takes the crew members were like dead silent, as to keep the moment going, which Mark thought was really cool. Said it was one of his favorite things they did on Supernatural.) Anyways, he eventually asked me if I had any questions, so, I’ll start there.

MARK: So, do you have any questions you want to ask me about aaaaaannyyyythingggg? 

ME: Um, I guess the number one thing I wanna know… um, so, I know you can’t speak for Dean and I don’t want to talk about Dean because you’re not Jensen, but, there’s like a lot of questions I guess or subtext or whatever concerning Dean’s sexuality and what not, but I want to know about demon Dean and Crowley’s relationship and if there was, I don’t know, anything like, any implied –

MARK: Well I think – I think you’re talking about… there’s a massive difference between sex and love. There’s a massive difference between, um, well, they can intertwine perfectly, that’s not the issue, but I mean you would believe with all the things that Crowley did for the Winchesters, that he was – that he very much loved Sam and Dean or loved who they are or what they are. To reduce it to, you know, a crush, or to something that – I mean, I don’t know, I think Crowley is very probably pansexual more than anything else; I don’t think anything phased him. I think, that’s why the whole stuff with Lucifer and licking the floor was kind of really stupidly boring for me because Crowley did weirder and crazier things on his own. I mean, it became this joke of trying to humiliate somebody who can’t be humiliated. There’s nothing you can humiliate Crowley with. So, that never sort of made sense, that was just a sort of writer’s glitch of thinking, “oooh, this would be funny to knock him down into subservience” and that’s what he does on a Wednesday, I mean it’s like the most un-inspiring thing. I think so much is projected onto the relationship between, certainly the four main characters, um, and, you know, look, getting comfortable with one’s sexuality and one’s identity is a massively complicated things, and if you want to live vicariously through what you believe people’s identity is and you can relate to that, great!  Who cares? I mean, can I be absolutely honest? Apart from – what I do care about, you know, don’t ever take this and piece me or misquote it, because it’s very, very specific – um, somebody stopping somebody being able to express their own identity or whatever is an issue for me. That will always be an issue for me. Um, we should all be treated equally, and we all have the rights to believe and follow those things that we wish to follow, but to project relationships onto characters is an odd thing to do. I mean, it’s wishful thinking in a lot of ways, I mean, actually it’s quite… it’s quite reasonable because in the past if you think about it, if you ask your parents or anyone else, the only way sexuality was used was to, uh, literally demonize somebody. It was only ever used to say somebody was bad because this who they’re in love with. You know, that’s, that’s the thing. And it’s a massive change in the world that we’re moving towards, I should say, uh – a lack of consequence for who one loves, apart from the obvious consequences of human nature. You know, political consequences for who one loves – I’ve just watched Pete Butteigieg being, you know, sitting in congress with his husband there with him; that’s the first time that’s ever happened in United States congress and I’m so proud of that. Not just because the man is gay and happily married – that’s not even the issue for me, it’s because he’s the best man for the job and one of the smartest people on the planet. You know, it’s like using sexual templates, as they were, or gender templates as they are, or orientation templates as they are, we always use to disclude people from things. They were always used to discriminate. You know, labeling somebody was a way of discrimination. And where as labels are very important, to ones self, and they’re very important politically and they’re very important socio-economically and they’re very important in all those aspects, I yearn for a time when nobody gives a damn. I really do. But I mean, we have to go through so much to get there. I mean, let’s be honest, you can’t, you know, right the wrongs of hundreds of years of oppression in 20 minutes by saying, “let’s all move forward”. It just doesn’t work that way, it never has. But there’s a responsibility there, that if you’re going to represent, that you represent all. That you don’t just represent you. So, one has to be careful with a television program or, or, you know, Misha or myself, or, not speaking for the boys, but just generally, um, you have to be careful that what you advocate is inclusive, not disinclusive. Not excluding people... and it’s so hard to frame these conversations, that they’re equitable, it’s so hard to do that. And so, you know, we spend years pointing out the inequity and the injustice and the unfairness of the whole situation, and… I don’t know if the trick is to rise above, or, uh, maybe it’s as simple as love and coming together as a human race and make it very difficult for people to discriminate and exclude based on gender, race, color, religion, any of the subsets of humanity that we’ve decided we have. So, I think personal responsibility is the most important thing, but if one is in a position of power on a TV show, you got to remember what you’re representing, that you have a, you know, you have to cover all or cover none. So, you know, but if you stick to a story and you have a story about a person or two people and their journey, that’s shining light on things. If you try to advocate for all, I think it becomes a little more complicated. Does that make sense?

so, i just feel like he said some important things there, but like I also don’t really understand what he’s getting at really, y’know? oh! also, he didn’t watch the finale lmao 

also! there’s this:

MARK: Because if you come down on one side or another, you’re admitting the sides, and that has its own political ramifications. If you push the ball up in the air and say, “you decide”, I don’t think that’s copping out. I think that’s, maybe not fulfilling everybody’s expectations, or not fulfilling everybody’s hopes, but at least you’re getting the question asked. You know, at least you’re getting the question asked. At least people are relating to it and going, “well, what if?”. Because it’s all “what if”, I mean, it’s a TV show, so it’s “what if”, you know? It’s not Misha being in love with Jensen, I mean as much as he loves Jensen, I don’t think that’s his thing – I mean you never know – but I’m saying yet again, I don’t exclude anything from anybody (I LITERALLY CAN’T BELIEVE HE SAID THIS LMAO). But to force my opinion or my identity belief upon a situation has a cost. It may be right, it may be absolutely right, and it may be necessary in many, many cases. But, in that circumstance, I think… there are a lot of people in the world that say that Jesus, for example, was anti-homosexual and that he was – and none of that is true, and none of that is provable in the New Testament, and I’m not talking about Leviticus and I’m not talking about early Bible and I’m not talking about the fact that more than 25,000 words have been changed in the King James edition and all of this stuff, but these things that people hold so sacred, the confusion that arises from that is being told that a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman or a man loving a man and a woman or whatever combination being there is either right or wrong because you’re being told by a pastor or the leaders of your church, is a very difficult thing to break down. I think what you have to do is at least put it out there so it’s visible, and so it becomes less and less deniable. And you know, people change over years, that’s the trouble with youth, is shit doesn’t move fast enough. “I need a decision now!”, and unfortunately, when you’re dealing with centuries of prejudice and centuries of un-enlightenment, I think that sometimes the best thing to do is reach as many people as possible and pose the question. And sometimes it’s essential to make a statement, absolutely, no question. It is essential to make a stand, in some circumstances. But to polarize a TV show, can be very disingenuous to those who need to go ask their own questions, who need to go say, “well, where does Jesus say this is wrong?” you know, if that’s your beliefs.

he also said, when we went off on a tangent about doom patrol:

MARK: There are issues that are being addressed here [on Doom Patrol] that are not being addressed on other shows, and yet again, we have the format, and I don’t know that Supernatural ever had the format because it was on the CW.

anywho, in conclusion, fuck the cw.

also, again, for all intents and purposes this was a dream I had :)))))))

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Something More Than What I Had- Epilogue

Epilogue - Corinthians

“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:14

The light stung Castiel’s eyes as he came to. He could almost hear Dean’s voice echoing in his head. “Don’t go into the light, Detective. We still have so much more to do.” He smiled to himself, wincing from a morphine headache. He was alive. Maybe there was an angel looking after him after all. 

“Shit, he’s coming to.” 

Castiel squinted as the colors around the room slowly started to make a more defined picture. Sam Winchester leaned over Castiel’s bedside, blocking some of the fluorescent lights that were screaming at him. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked him gently. The kid looked like a goddamn wreck, his hair messy and pushed back with one of Eileen’s stretchy fabric headbands. His eyes had deep circles from lack of sleep, and his shoulders were weighed down, slumping from some invisible force that seemed to push them down, but despite all of that, he was smiling. 

“Rookie.” He smiled up at the tall Winchester. Even with the sleeplessness heavy on Sam’s lids, his eyes were kind. “What happened?” 

Sam’s face faltered, his dimples disappearing back into his cheeks. “I uh… you were shot, Cas.” 

“What?” Castiel frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. He could feel the skin wrinkle on his forehead. His mind was fuzzy; it was a thick blanket of snow, cotton in his ears, screaming underwater. “I don’t…” He tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy, like his legs were weighed down. Perhaps the nurses gave him too much morphine. 

“Hey, just lay back,” Sam said, placing his hand on Cas’ chest to slowly lower his torso back to his bed. “Don’t push anything. Maybe I should get your nurse.”

“Sam,” he said, gripping his partner’s shirt in his hand. “What happened?” He could see Dean’s smile burned into his retinas, but he seemed far away, distant. 

Sam sucked in his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He composed himself, trying to find the words. “You and Dean… He was shot and you jumped in after him. Fuck, you laid right over him.” 

“He was shot?” Castiel dug at the cotton, at the water inside of his mind, desperate to grab onto anything solid. 

“Yeah,” Sam said softly. 

The heart monitor next to Castiel started beeping angrily, fast and loud. The door swung open and a nurse in a set of deep maroon scrubs came through. “Mr. Novak, are you feeling okay?”

He was shot and you jumped in after him.

Don’t cry for me, okay?

“I can’t.. he can’t. Oh god.” He was hyperventilating, his heart threatening to rip right out of his chest. He held it, clawing to get to it, to let it out of its cage. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much. Too much.

“Mr. Novak, can you hear me?”

“Cas?” Sam asked, alarmed. 

“No, no, no,” Castiel gasped. 

“Mr. Novak, I’m going to give you something to relax, okay?” She pulled a syringe out of her scrubs and injected it into his IV tube. It was seconds before Castiel drifted right to sleep. 

Later

Castiel was alone when he finally woke up. His mouth was dry and his eyes were heavy. He tried to sit up, but it was hard. His body still felt weighed down. 

He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. The curtains were drawn, and he couldn’t tell day from night. He ran his tongue over his lips, but everything was so goddamn dry like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. 

He remembered Sam being there, but it was foggy, like a dream. He tried to grasp it, to remember, but it was all so far away. After some work he managed to pull himself up to a seated position - well, mostly seated. He wasn’t straight up, he didn’t have enough pillows. He grabbed at the string behind him to click on his lamp. It illuminated the room in a low, orange glow. 

“Ya like sunsets, Detective?”

“Why?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean. 

“Just makin’ notes.” 

“Notes for what?” 

Dean shrugged, his lips pursed in a smirk. “Birthdays, anniversaries, you know, romantic shit.” 

“Dean Winchester is a romantic? I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

“Don’t tell Sammy, he won’t ever let me live it down,” he said, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s. 

“I suppose it can be our secret.” 

“Good. Secrets make things exciting. Sexy. Don’t you think?”

Castiel clamped his eyes shut, still seeing spots in his vision from staring directly into the bulb as it clicked on. He squinted, looking around the room for any sign that he hadn’t dreamed Sam up. That he hadn’t dreamed it all up. 

There was a pillow and blanket stuffed in one of the chairs and several discarded coffee cups in the garbage. The real kicker, though, was a white envelope next to his bed. 

Castiel reached for the envelope, stretching over the bed railing. He grabbed it in a huff and held it in his fingers. It clearly had been folded and transported in Sam’s pocket. It was crinkled at the edge, and the pencil on the front was smudged, but he could still read it clearly. Detective Castiel Novak. He sucked in his breath, considering tossing the letter away for good. He ran his fingers over the scrawl, his heart aching, and he made a split second decision to rip open the envelope. There was no time to waste, not anymore. He flattened out the page. Dean’s handwriting met him like an old friend. 

He always thought that love letters were a thing of the past. Who would write him one? He wasn't Lady Windemere waiting or her lover to write back, he was a man. He was a grisly, angry, closed off smoker who couldn’t let love in, even if it broke down his door. He wasn’t the person who received love letters, but still, he had two dozen in his coat pocket somewhere. Still, he had one there in his fingers. Dean Winchester was the only person who found him charming and sweet, to him, Castiel was worthy. He just hated that it took him so long to realize it. 

Hello Sweetheart,

I asked Sammy to give this to you if you came to the trial. I know that was hard to do. I didn’t want you to see me like that... in chains, detailing out all that I’ve done. I didn’t want you to see me like that, because I know it’d hurt you. Selfishly, though, I wanted to look out and see you there. You said it was over, Cas, and I heard you loud and clear. You never loved me, but I love you. So you deserve to know the truth. The big, the bad, and the ugly. 

Growing up, Mom told me that angels watched over me. Me and Sammy. The whole house. We were safe, because of the angels. Then she died. My mom was my hero, and losing her changed everything. I watched my father spiral. He grabbed Sammy and I in the middle of the night, put us in the back seat of the Impala, and drove. I never saw that house again. 

When I was old enough to make a phone call, I started looking around. I needed to know if her killer was found. I needed justice, something more than what I had. There was nothing to gain. It was a cold case, and there were no leads. 

The angels were taken from me, Cas, and so were the police. There was no one to help me. No one except for me to protect Sam. How was I supposed to deal with that? So I started to pray. I was angry. I didn’t understand how a good person could die and a bad one could go free. It wasn’t fair. 

My mom had this Bible. She used to read me stories from it before bed, so when everything was falling apart, and when I had nowhere to turn to… I pulled out her Bible, and I read. I read the whole damn thing, Cas. That’s a big ass book, with some really small text, but it had a lot to say. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Maybe someone to blame for it all. All the bad in the world. It couldn’t be God, because I don’t think he’s around anymore. I don’t think he has been for a long time. He left the angels in charge, and they fucked up. They dropped the ball. 

I kept looking, outside of the Bible, anywhere really. Then I read about Raguel. He’s an Archangel, the Archangel of Justice. He fights injustice caused by sin so people can live in harmony with God and with each other. Well, I figured that he wasn't around either. He shit the bed, you know? It’s not your fault people have been getting away, Cas. Not yours or Sammy’s. There are no more angels, don’t you get it? I had to step in. I had to do Raguel’s job. 

It was what I thought was right. There’s a fine line between good and evil, and sitting here in a concrete room, well I guess I’m really starting to realize that I’ve been dancing that line. I know you think I’m all bad, and I can’t blame you. I didn’t exactly talk through my thought process with you. I tried to explain it with the Bible verses and the letters, but it wasn’t enough. I was a coward. I fucked everything up. 

When my dad was sick and dying, I confronted him about Mom. She was going to leave him. He was a sick bastard, and turns out I wasn’t the only one that he used as a punching bag. She was going to leave, and if he couldn’t have her, no one could. So he set her room on fire. He was wasted, and he killed her. 

I didn’t go in that room planning to kill him, one of the nurses left the morphine out, I saw it, and I just snapped. The next time they gave him a dose he was gone. He passed peacefully in his sleep. It wasn’t even half of what he deserved. 

For a long time, I didn’t think there was anything that felt better than revenge, but I was wrong, Cas. You. Being with you felt better. I felt more worthy at your side than I ever did in my entire life. I wasn’t lying when I said that your forgiveness was all I needed. I saw life in your eyes, a life that I never thought I’d have. I saw the fucking suburbs, cookouts, antiques… fucking whatever. Hell, maybe even a cat? I don’t know, Cas. If you wanted it, I’d probably say yes. I wanted that apple pie life for the first time when I met you.

You see, I believe that in this life we are only allowed one love. One big love. One great love. Just one. I doubt that I am yours, in fact, I hope I’m not. I ruined it, just like I ruin everything, but I think you should know that you’re mine. You’re my one. When I close my eyes, you’re what I see. You and those damn blue eyes. You’re mine, Cas. I know you don’t want me, but maybe if you’re reading this, then maybe you do. There’s no place for me in your life now, but I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for the pieces you already gave me. 

All I wanted was to make you happy, to do the right thing. Guess I’m not too good at that, but maybe I’ll get another shot in another life. You know, sometimes I can see it. I know the Bible doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but fuck, it sounds nice. Doesn’t it? A do-over. I think I’d like that for us. 

I had a dream the other night, Cas. It felt so fucking real. I was in Hell, chained up. I was being tortured and everything seemed so fucking glum. Then there was this light. The demons were screaming, because damn it they hadn’t seen any kind of light in centuries- maybe ever. Then the light was blocked by a big beautiful set of wings. It was you, Cas. You grabbed me and you raised me from perdition. You wrapped your arms around me and flew me the fuck out of there. You thought I was worthy, even just for that second, and I woke up gasping. I wish it was real, but I know there aren’t any second chances. 

Not for a guy like me.

Dean 

The letter fell to the floor. It was more than what he wanted. More than he could’ve asked for. It was the answer, the truth. He needed to find his phone to call Sam. He looked around the room and found a plastic bag of his effects on a table against the wall. He was alone and fuck it if he was going to wait for a nurse. He felt fine, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get up and grab his cellphone. 

His feet touched the cold floor; he could feel it through the socks the hospital had provided. Slide proof socks were required against the tile floor. He was in pain, but he was able to stand tall. He walked the short distance and grabbed the plastic bag, pulling it open. His blood soaked clothes had been shoved in, and he had to dig around to find his cell phone. The letters were bloody, speckled with red. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam.

At least that was what was supposed to happen. 

He tried to move his legs to the side of the bed, but nothing happened. “Shit, I must be out of it.” Castiel rubbed his face before focusing again. Nothing. He pulled the blanket off of his legs, exposing the bare skin and yellow hospital socks. He focused on his feet. Move. Nothing happened. Wiggle your toes. Nothing. He leaned forward and pinched his thigh as hard as he could. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Months later

Learning to live without the functioning lower half of his body was a long running struggle for Castiel. The doctors were optimistic that he would get some feeling back, but that optimism had yet to be fruitful. He learned how to move himself from the bed to his chair, then from his chair to the toilet. It was all so much harder than he would’ve ever imagined. Getting dressed was a chore. Life was a chore. 

He was shot in the spine and all of his movement over Dean assured that he would never walk again. The only reason he was able to stay awake during his injury was the pure adrenaline that pumped through his veins. His life as he knew it was over. 

The city gave him a medal for his heroism, and he threw it in the garbage. That wasn’t the reward that he wanted. 

He did manage to get a street level apartment with a ramp (score) and a brand new roommate. 

“I don’t want your help, seriously.” 

“I know, Cranky. Jesus, but don’t yell at me when you drop the remote or something,” Charlie said, her hands up in the air. “I’ll be in my room watching Star Wars. Don’t bug me unless you’re going to cosplay. There’s no room for half-assed behavior in this house!” She whipped her cape around her as she entered her bedroom. 

He wheeled himself to the window. He had been in the hospital for a month. He’d had several surgeries to try to correct his condition. Castiel had a complete spinal cord injury. There was no going back from that. It was late September by the time he left the rehab hospital. 

Sam and Eileen visited him frequently. Sam was a surprisingly good cook, and he liked to come over and commandeer Castiel’s kitchen. Charlie never minded, while Sam cooked, she’d sit with her feet resting on Castiel’s thigh. She was always touching him, like she expected him to fly away. He kept reminding her that it was much harder for him to run away from her now. She didn’t find his paralysis jokes funny, but he thought they were the only way to move forward, at least that’s what the self help books that were always lying around his doctor’s office said. 

His legs weren’t the only piece of himself that he was missing, though. He missed Dean, even though he’d never admit it out loud. No one talked about him, but his absence was like a breeze. It was always there, gently tugging at him. He hadn’t gone to visit, because it was too damn hard. He didn’t want to face the truth until he was more stable. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be, but there was no rush.  

After the shooting, Sam and Eileen tied the knot. Life was too fleeting. It could end in a second, as they’d quickly learned. They went to the courthouse and made it official. Castiel was the witness. It was one of his approved outings from his therapy. The nurse that came with him cheered and cried behind him. It was insufferable, but the rookie looked happy. They were a little short on happy then, so Castiel smiled, despite how badly it hurt. He had to take what he could get, even if it included throwing rice and eating copious amounts of cream cheese mints. 

He was the first to learn about Eileen's pregnancy. “You’re like a brother to me, Cas. You’re my family. I wanted you to know.” As the seasons changed, she got larger. The happy accident clearly took place before the shooting, but losing a brother gave Sam a little perspective. There was no time to wait. 

When little Hailey was born, Castiel didn’t go to the hospital. He couldn’t be there. There were too many memories. Especially knowing that he had been there sleeping, sedated, when Dean was rolled out of the emergency room. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Castiel lost weight and most of his clothes fit him loosely, but Krystal still smiled at him widely and pulled him into a hug when he met her for coffee. 

“You look amazing Detective!”

“Please, call me Castiel.” 

“Of course.” She blushed. “Castiel.” She settled back into her seat across from him. She looked different outside of the club. She wore a sweater and her hair was back in a braid. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I was surprised you called.” 

“I wanted to… well I wanted to talk to Dean, but…” 

“Of course.” Castiel cut her off. 

“I know what he did was terrible, Castiel. I don’t condone killing, but Trixie was my friend. He saved all of us. He was a good man.” Krystal held her coffee in her hands, steam traveling up to her face. “I wish this had ended better for him. For you. I can’t thank you two enough for what you’ve done for me.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that. He told me that you came to see him before the trial. He was proud that you got out of your situation.” Castiel offered her a smile, but looking at her hurt. It hurt worse than the phantom aches in his legs. When he looked at her, he saw Dean. “I apologize, but I have to go.” He sat some cash down on the table and backed out in his chair. 

“Castiel!” She called after him. He turned to look at her, over his shoulder. “I could tell.” 

“Tell what?”

“He was in love with you. I could see it from a mile away.” 

“So could I,” Castiel agreed, quietly. “It was nice seeing you again, Krystal.” 

“You, too.” 

A knock came at the door, and Castiel didn’t bother looking. He was watching the first few flakes of snow sprinkle the city with white. “Come in.” 

“Hey,” Sam said as he poked his head in. “You ready to go?”

Castiel watched the snow dance around the streets through the window. It made him think of Dean. Everything made him think of Dean.

“Take that off,” Dean instructed. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Take what off?”

“Your coat. I know this place is small, but we do have heat, ya know.”

“Of course.” Castiel removed his coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. 

“Now the shoes.” 

“Shoes?”

“They’re wet and covered with snow.” 

The last day of snow he remembered was the day he had told Dean he loved him. 

Castiel was going to go visit Dean for the first time since the shooting and everything was different now. 

“Don’t forget to pack warm, it’s outside.” 

“I know it’s outside,” Castiel snapped before sighing. He rubbed his face. It wasn’t Sam’s fault. “Sorry, kid.” 

“It’s okay,” Sam said, walking to his old partner. He rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Castiel's heart ached in his chest. He wanted so desperately for everything to be different, but it wasn’t. It would always be this way. “Do I look okay?” He asked Sam, self conscious. 

“Very dapper,” Sam said, offering a dimple-filled smile. “Not that it matters what you wear,” he added gently, just as a reminder, as if Castiel could ever forget.

He wore a pair of slacks and a plaid button up, his shoulders held up his blue suspenders, even though he didn’t need them anymore, and a blue tie hung around his neck. 

“Detective, you should only ever wear blue. Blue or nothing at all.”  

He felt silly trying to look good. Not like Dean is going to care, he thought sadly, but yet he made sure his pants were flattened and his feet were properly placed facing forward. “Did you make sure they have wheelchair access?” 

“I did. I spoke to the grounds keeper, and they assured me that we would have no problems.” 

“Great.” Cas smiled, letting out a breath. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind grabbing something for me?”

“Sure.” 

“There’s an envelope on my desk in the bedroom.”

“Got it,” Sam said after disappearing into Castiel's room. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

It seemed frivolous, considering everything, but Castiel had decided to write Dean back. It was all he’d been begging Castiel the entire time he was imprisoned. He considered, as he wrote it, how things could’ve been different if he’d written it months before. It was pointless, though, because he hadn’t. 

He’d penned out everything he wanted to say, some parts a few different times. The paper was sprinkled with salty droplets of water, but there was no use trying to throw the pages away and start over. Every draft had them. 

Sam handed him the envelope in the car, and Castiel examined it one last time before they arrived. His wheelchair was folded in the back of the car, and he sat strapped into the passenger seat. He ran his fingers along the words. It wasn't enough, but it was all he had. 

Dear Dean,

I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’m sorry for a lot of things that I’ll never be able to say to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t try to help you when you needed me. I’m sorry that my love for you was so easily pushed away. I lied that day in the jail. I lied to you and worst of all, I lied to myself. 

Castiel had worked on the letter from the day he came home from the hospital, when he stopped sulking, and when he realized that there was no fucking point of being able to stand if Dean wasn’t there to knock him off his feet. It was pathetic, but it was true. 

This isn’t easy for me to write, I hope you know that. I’m not soft. I’m not some Victorian girl pining after a man, wishing for a love letter. I don’t do these kinds of things, but, nonetheless, you should know the truth. 

He pictured giving Dean the letter a thousand times. He pictured every way he’d be able to, every chance he could’ve had, and he pictured the reality. 

He could see himself handing Dean the letter in the rain. He wouldn’t read it, just pull Castiel to him. “Detective, I don’t need to read it. I already know what you said.” Then they’d kiss. They always knew how to do that. He could see himself giving it to Dean on the steps of the courthouse when the court finally agreed that he was wrongly accused. He’d stand on the steps, thin and beautiful, his freckled face turned up to the sky to take in the sun. He’d take it and read it right there, before ripping it up. “Cas, it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. It’s over. There’s no sense in living in it.” But mostly, he pictured himself wheeling himself through the snow, like he would do after the hour long drive they were taking. He would wheel himself through the snow, toward a polished piece of marble. He’d touch Dean’s name and the day of the shooting, and he’d set the letter in the snow. He’d say he was sorry, even though he was only saying it to himself, the stone, and the snow. 

I’ve never told anyone those three words before. Never. I was choosy. I’d seen people fall apart in relationships. I didn’t want that to be me. I was married to my job, and I liked it that way. I had no friends, besides Charlie, and my life was a train on a constant track, looping circle after circle. But with you? It was easy. It was obvious. You made me happy. I didn’t have to think about it. I thought I had the answer to all of my problems and all I wanted to do was tell you about it. I’ve never had that before. So, it’s safe to say that I didn’t handle things well. I apologize for that. 

Sam turned the car into the parking lot. Everything was blanketed in snow. The world was white, and it made the stone exteriors look magical. Everything seemed quiet, muted. Castiel was left to his thoughts as Sam put on his gloves to retrieve Castiel’s wheelchair. 

I read your letter. If that wasn’t clear at this point. I liked what you said about reincarnation. Do you think we will get another chance? Maybe somewhere else in time? I’d like that, Dean. I’d like to meet you again. I liked your dream. It was sweet and funny, though I don’t expect you intended it to be humorous. Do you really think that I’d be the angel in that scenario? I’ve got to tell you that was charming. You’re very charming, Dean Winchester. I wouldn’t raise you from perdition. It’d be you; you’d raise me. I was in Hell before I met you. My life had no meaning. I was mindless, following the life that was laid out to me, doing only what I was told. I never questioned anything, but with you I questioned so many things. I’m still questioning them, and I’m afraid that I won’t ever get the answers that I’m looking for. 

The air was cold. It stung Castiel’s cheeks as Sam pushed him through the powder-like snow, over the gravel and up to the iron gates. Dean was back there, and knowing that gave Castiel more chills than the winter air did. He sucked in his breath, and Sam leaned down to look at him. “It’s not too late to turn back,” he reminded Castiel through an exhale of white fog. 

He knew that. Of course he did. They could turn back and get coffee and he could pretend like everything wasn’t broken. He could pretend, but there was no life in denial. He’d been avoiding facing the pain inside of him for too long, and he never would  be able to heal until he took that step. Metaphorically of course. He gripped the arm rests on his chair and shook his head. His eyelashes were speckled with snow. “Let’s go. I’m ready, Rook. Don’t let me overthink it.”

“You got it, Novak,” Sam said with a smile. He opened the iron gate, and it groaned in response. 

I want to let you know that I got hurt. I know you saw the blood, but it’s a little worse than that. I can’ t move my legs. Paralyzed. Isn’t that the way it goes? Now I can’t run away from my problems. Not yet, at least. I have to learn to get faster in the chair. Maybe I can get the kind that they use at the Special Olympics to play basketball. Those are fast, right? Charlie hates it when I make paralysis jokes, but it feels good to laugh. When I lost you, I never thought I’d laugh again. I think you’d laugh, though. You always laughed at my jokes, even when you shouldn’t have. Maybe that’s what love is. I don’t know. I’m still learning. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life learning.

Sam went through the motions. He pushed Castiel when he couldn’t push himself, and helped dry off his wheels so it wouldn’t rust. They made small talk with the other people they encountered, even though Castiel couldn’t bring any words to his mouth. It was too dry. His heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see in his mind's eye was the stone. Sometimes it had killer scrawled over it in blood red paint. Sometimes it was bare. No flowers. No footprints in the snow. He wasn’t sure what was worse. 

“Wait here,” Sam said, wheeling him into the courtyard. It was in the snow. There was a little bench and a table covered in snow. It was completely gated in. 

“I’ll be here,” Castiel said helplessly. 

I’m sorry about your mom, Dean. I really am. I wish you would’ve told me more about her. Sam said it was hard for you, that you never really got over it. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice. I never had a family until you and Sam. He’s really taken me in, you’d be so proud of him. He’s like the younger brother I never wanted, in the best possible way. I’ll take care of the kid. I know that’s what you’d want. 

Dean, I’m just sorry. I know I can’t say it enough. There will never be enough time. Never enough words in the world. I just wish I could’ve had the time when it was there for the grabbing, but instead I’m writing this letter. It doesn’t sound as good as yours. I’m not a writer. I analyze things. I find clues. I always thought I’d be the one to solve the cases, become Captain someday when Singer retired, but the last year has proven something very important to me. 

A door against the back wall opened. Castiel squinted into the snow, the wind blowing around just enough to obscure the figures coming out of the door. 

A guard held onto his arms behind his back as he lead him out. “You’ve got twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you,” a voice echoed off the stone in the courtyard. A click and a jingle released his arms. He turned to face Castiel, and his face softened. He frowned, his nose crinkling as he seemed to examine the wheelchair, then his eyes met Castiel’s, and he smiled. The bright smile that Cas loved so much. 

Nothing ever turns out the way we expect it to, but I guess that’s okay. All relationships have problems, right?

“Hello, Detective.” 

Love, 

Castiel Novak 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Read the full fic on AO3

Masterlist

Art Tumblr Masterpost  

Art on AO3

Art by @cryptomoon​