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I don’t quite understand birthdays. Being an immortal being, I have never celebrated one. The years tend to blend together and it simply becomes another rotation around the sun. The Winchesters insisted I celebrate this year. They have assigned me a birthday of September 18th as it is the day I first met them in person. I have to say, I enjoyed it quite a bit. They put a lot of thought into my birthday party. Jack, Eileen, and Dean decorated while Sam, Charlie, and Kevin attempted to bake a cake. They couldn’t seem to decide how many candles to put on the top.
I didn’t count but there were many to blow out. I received gifts as well. Sam and Jack gifted me this journal which I am grateful for. Jack was very eager to tell me that Sam and Eileen had helped him pick it out. They do know me well. Dean seemed perturbed by the bees, flowers, and the heart shaped lock on the side but as an Angel, gender means nothing to me. If this is a “girly diary” I wouldn’t know.
Charlie’s gift was an assortment of plush animals. She called them Beanie Babies. Perhaps due to the rattling beans inside? They come named and out of respect for their identities, I have decided to keep the names they came with. An identity is an important thing after all.
From Kevin I received books on local insects, flora, and wildlife. I plan to bring Dean with me to search for some on one of our rare days off.
Dean’s gift, however, was my favorite. I could tell it embarrassed him to give it to me in front of our friends. He made a few jokes about how last minute it was as he slid it across the table. When I opened it, it was a mixtape simply labeled “For Cas.” He explained (rather sheepishly) that he knew I needed to branch out in my music taste so he put songs he thought I might like on the tape. “You can use the Walkman I gave you or whatever.” Even through his denial, I knew this gift was special. I understand that to give someone music is to gift them something very personal to you. He was sharing a part of himself. It made me feel strange, like something caught in my throat. My heartfelt thank you seemed to embarrass him further and he brushed it off. He insisted we move on to the cake.
I have yet to stop listening to the tape.
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Dean took me to a diner today. While I am unable to taste food the way he is, he insisted on sharing his meal with me. I believe it’s a symbol of friendship, to share one’s resources. It makes me happy that he would consider me important enough to share with, especially when he offers me a bite of his pie. I know how he values his pie.
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Today I watched Tombstone with Dean again. It seems he will never get tired of this movie. I don’t understand why he continues to watch it if he already remembers every word but seeing him smile always makes me smile. If it meant seeing him happy I would watch Tombstone every day for the rest of time.
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Charlie taught me a game today. It was called MASH. The rules were quite simple, pick a number and the little paper would determine your future. Dean joined us in good spirits, Seemingly excited to play along with Charlie’s game. While I was confused, I wasn’t dissatisfied with my results. Apparently I am to marry Chris Hemsworth. According to Charlie we will have 10 children. Dean seemed happy to play along until he got his results. I am unsure who he was to marry but I’ve never seen his face so flushed. Without a word he got up and stormed off. Charlie seemed surprised and somewhat guilty as she trotted after him to apologize. I wonder what could have upset him?
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I’ve noticed that Dean has a habit of looking at my lips. I’ve always wondered what that meant. The Google says it’s a form of longing. Longing for what?
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I don’t understand what this new feeling is. After a hunt, we gathered at a bar near the motel we were staying at. All was well until a woman approached Dean and slid into the seat to his left. I felt my grace flare when I saw him smile at her, that charming smile that makes me ache with want. I found myself burning with the need to see that smile directed at me. He left with her that night and I felt sick. Is this what humans mean when they say they feel their blood boiling? Do I want to be in her place? Is this jealousy?
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Dean and Sam are on a hunt today. Jack insisted he go with them. I stayed behind this time. I spent most of my day watching Dr. Phil. The allure of what Dean calls “trashy television” has called to me on more than one occasion. After all, man cannot live on caviar alone.
To my surprise, Dean called an hour or so ago. I expected him to ask me to research the case but to my surprise… he called just to talk. I believe humans describe the feeling of giddiness as butterflies? He asked me about my day and I told him all about the episode of Dr. Phil I had been watching when he called. His laughter sounds like a song to me. I believe this is what music sounds like to humans. I want to hear it again and again.
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I can no longer go in the garage while Dean is washing his car. I've never felt so ashamed and mortified.
I knew he washed his car regularly, after all his car is important to him. I know many things about him that he doesn't realize I know. His love of musical theater and pop music, his compulsive need to care for his family through cooking, the collection of Disney movies he keeps hidden and watches when he thinks no one is around.
What I did not know, however, is what he wears when he washes his car. A too tight t-shirt and short shorts. When I walked in, he was leaned over the hood scrubbing at the windshield. Water had soaked through the shirt and as he pulled back to pause his music and greet me, I forgot what I had come to tell him. I just stared, watched the droplets of water and soap slide down his arms, watched his muscles flex as he reached up to wipe his forehead.
I remember this feeling from when I was human. Hunger in the most carnal sense of the word. I thought that once I'd regained my grace that it could no longer affect me.
I was wrong.
He was speaking to me but I couldn't hear. I watched him look me up and down in that curious way he does, looking at my lips and then my eyes and then-
"Uh. Cas, buddy," He'd said to me, finally managing to snap me back to reality. He cleared his throat and pointed. To my groin. "Y-You got a little..."
And I ran. I turned and ran. Flew off like a coward.
Apologizing can never make up for this. I can never look him in the eyes again. How could I ever think of my best friend this way?
I need to meditate on this. And a cold shower.
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It's been ten days since the incident in the garage. Until today I'd been avoiding him, too embarrassed to face him after what I'd done. I'd planned to avoid him longer but he prayed to me, asked if we could talk. I can never deny him, especially not a request as simple as talking.
Of course as soon as I made myself known to him I apologized profusely. He waved it off as a misunderstanding. A "no reason boner" as he called it. Apparently humans just get them from time to time. This is not the explanation, I know it isn't, but I didn't correct him. He accepted my apology and that's all that matters.
Dean laughed and told me to never change when I asked if he would like to watch Maury with me. This isn’t the first time, though I’ll never understand why he says that to me. Doesn’t he know he’s already changed me?
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Dean kissed me. Words cannot describe the way it felt to have his lips on mine. This bursting, fluttering explosion of joy… The spark I felt as we moved together, so perfectly in sync. I’ve kissed before. Meg. April. Hannah. All necessity, I felt nothing. This was… incredible. I never imagined he could ever feel the same way I do.
It happened in the kitchen early this morning. After staying up late watching television, he'd retired to bed and I had gone to do some reading. Apparently he couldn't sleep. Dean had wandered into the library only a few hours after he'd retired to his room, still wearing that robe he loves so much. He sat beside me, fiddling with his hands and then a pen he found on the table as he often does. He seemed nervous. When I asked if something was wrong, he struggled to answer. When he glanced at my lips again my mouth went dry. And then he asked me.
“Can I kiss you?”
Of course my answer was yes.
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Before I left heaven to fight beside the Winchesters I often heard my brothers and sisters speak of a human’s capacity to love. Often it was accompanied by scorn, mockery, confusion, and even envy. I cannot say I ever blamed them, it is in an Angel’s nature to be self righteous and emotions have always been beyond our grasp. I never saw love as a weakness as my siblings did, though I never quite understood what it meant. Was it similar to the devotion I felt to our Father? I couldn’t say for the longest time.
Until I met Dean.
I think now I understand what it truly means to love. To be wholly devoted to someone until your dying breath. To look at someone with complete adoration as if they are the sun, a bright light in a dark room.
To me, he is my sun and he has brought light to my once dark world.
To finally experience this, a love so strong and passionate is a blessing. I understand the envy that some of my siblings felt. It took me by surprise, this blossoming warmth that coursed through my vessel when I made him laugh for the first time. Seeing the way his soul flared, little bits of color popping and sparking from the ends… it was truly magnificent. I found myself wanting to see more of it. More of him.
My grace burns to be next to him when he’s gone and flutters when I see him. I crave his attention, his affection. For him, I would fall from grace again and again if it meant keeping him safe. I want to spend eternity by his side even if my feelings are never returned. Yes, I believe this is love. To look into the darkest corners of one’s soul and pick out every flaw. To love them in spite of this. To defy your nature if it means you can remain by their side.
That is what love means.
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The final page is covered in drawings of stick figures holding hands, a car that looks like a crudely drawn impala, and hearts surrounding Cas and Dean’s names. Mr. Castiel Winchester is written several times on the page