Work Text:
Dear C
Cas
Castiel, you son of a bitch
Dear Castiel
Dear Cas,
I got it right in the end, who woulda would have thought? I heard. Sammy said. Im writing you a letter, because why the hell not? Anyway Where to start? Seems I got a lotta lot of questions, and not any answers. Wanna Want to help a guy out? Here goes nothing.
Its been a bit. A lot more than a bit while. I cant remember the last time I sat down to write something more than a shitty note. An ‘annotation,’ if you will. You always liked those. Or was it footnotes that you liked so much? Either way you swing, you already know I got plenty to say about it. I’ve not got a lot to say now though. Feels like I’m twiddling my thumbs. Or about to shove one up my ass. Sammy always says that the words will ‘come to you.’ Whatever the hell that means. Like its prophetic or something. You would know all about that I never experienced that personally, but then again writing was never really my thing. It takes forever to sit down just to start. Then when I’m down, I’ve gotta come up with the words, and that takes even longer. Expression. I get the need to express, believe me I do. But when it comes to. What Im trying to say ,whenever I try to express I have my own way about these things. But I got to thinking recently. Ive been doing that a lot. Not got much else on Turns out sitting on your ass all day leaves you with nothing else to do. So, here I am. Guess that makes us pen p penpals.
Not much has happe A lot has happened. Things are changing, or at least pointing towards a change. Sammys making sure of that. Im too tired living it to wanna talk write about it. All you need to know is that he’s doing us all proud. I wish you could see him. Its like after all this time, he’s really coming into his own. Not that he hasn’t before. wasn’t, or needed to, but it might be the first time he believes it. And I mean really believe it. Kids got me running errands for him while he takes point on making this awesome hunter database thing. He’s gone a long way from my snotty kid brother, I think I can confidently say that he wont need me could live a life, a proper life, without me in his corner. Feels like it was me that needed hi I couldn’t be more proud.
Other than my errand boy duties, outside of the usual (Wake up, eat, shit, sleep), not much has happened. I tell myself its cause I’m taking it easy. A well earned break. But I know thats no If it smells like shit, looks like shit, then it is shit I think Im Whatever the reason, its not a bad idea to relax. Clear my head. God knows we’ve earned it. And its like I said, there’s nothing but time on our hands. Sammys making the most of it. Hell, I don’t think he’s ever been more busy, even someone as prone to nerddome as he is. Its not just him. I gave Jody a call, caught up with Claire, I thought you might like to know that she’s doing fine. Nothing time cant fix. She’s got a good head on her, and a circle she can fall back on. I know you never could shake off the guilt, about Jimmy about the Novaks, but For better or for worse, she’s got me looking out for her too. That has to count for something.
Funny thing about all this free time, you get to remember all these little things you thought you forgot. I never told anybody this, but after my Mom died the first time, when I was a kid, I was scared I would start to forget her. I made up a list of all the things I told myself I had to remember, and made damned sure I’d keep repeating it in my head, over and over again. Every night, I’d tuck Sammy to bed, then sit there and list it all down. I did that every night, for God knows how long. Whenever my Dad told a story, it was like double-checking with myself that I’d gotten it all right. And for a while, I always did.
I guess one day I stopped. Or maybe I slowly stopped. I can't remember. I’m getting old. Almost as old as good ol John. Point is, I’ve been wracking my brain for the past couple of weeks, trying to get myself to remember the damned thing. Each time I do, I turn up empty. My old man could never stop talking about my Mom. That crazy son of a bitch must have gone down with Moms memory at the front of his mind. But then again, I think we were remembering two different people. All I can remember is what I felt what I thought I felt.
You said to me one time that it didnt matter You said that regardless of. You said I remember one night we got to talking and. It was late and you said
What was it that you said to me?
Ive been chewing this fucking pencil down like a godamned beaver. I might have chipped a tooth while I was at it. I keep on asking myself, what the hell was it that we were talking about. What the hell was I even trying to remember in the first place? The more I think about it, the more I feel like Im losing
I can't talk about thes. It’s like Ive got a stick whole tree up my ass and I c. I cant get a fucking word in. I guess Ill keep Some penpal I turned out to be. Maybe its not a tree, but my own head up my ass.
I thought about making another list. But it never felt right. If I keep prayi
I miss you. I never said it enough but I do. Every fucking second. I don’t know what to do with myself you fucking piece of work What am I supposed to d