Alphabet of Destiel, a supernatural fanfic

I'm watching so many Destiel videos….the feels are uncontrollable…..*sigh*….this came up…hope you like it! Just a little warning….this was meant to be light-hearted and fluffy..but I have long ago figured out that I simply can't write pure fluff. So, some are a little deeper than others…..You have been warned!

Also, I just want to say thank you to my lovely beta, ForeverShippingJohnlock. And of course, MyLovelyMarauder for being so awesome and supportive! Thank you so much, both of you!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, or anyone…damn it! (If I did Destiel would have long ago happened.)

Angel. That's what he is. And well, yeah, that goes literally, but metaphorically as well. Now, people think angels are pure and simply perfect, but Dean has met a fair amount of the feathered assholes and can't say he agrees with these clueless public beliefs. But for the sake of being sappy for an hour he will stick with clueless beliefs. Because sometimes being clueless doesn't hurt that damn much.

Blood. He has seen him covered with the damned red liquid far too many times than he would have liked. And he hadn't liked it, not even once. It's so hard to pretend that he doesn't care, that he doesn't worry for the broken angel. At least not that much, because one way or another when it comes to him Dean can't hide it that well any more.

Cas. That pretty much explains his whole life, the home that safely stores his heart. He didn't get to say a proper goodbye and he knows he won't take it back. He is more than okay with that. Maybe he will have Sammy if Cas is no longer here, but he knows the void in his heart won't ever be filled, no matter how much alcohol he consumes or with how many women he lays. He has been through the loss before. He barely managed, and he was sure he wouldn't have lasted much longer had Cas not appeared in front of his house. He simply knows the second time around will be enough to kill him.

Drunk. He hasn't seen the angel drunk many times but he remembers a single incident as clear as day. Cas had come home, and Dean – worried sick – had almost hugged him just to make sure he was okay. Cas hadn't realized a thing, and as it turned out, he couldn't control what he was saying too. Or maybe Dean had not only gone numb from worry but also deaf or maybe delusional, because there was no way in hell Cas had uttered those words. Not even that drunk. "I love you."

Eager. That's really a great way to describe Cas. So eager to learn new things, or better yet, human things. Emotions and feelings he had never experienced before. He's so beautiful with how his eyes light up when he discovers something new, or when he achieves even the smallest of things. And Dean is always watching him, so damn proud and happy as he is, he doesn't even try to hide it. Sam would have long ago commented on it or made a snarky remark but he knows that once he does, Dean will start hiding it and acting nonchalant. Besides, he hasn't been that happy since, well, forever. And Sam knows Cas secretly adores Dean's special smiles that seem directed only at him. The ones that radiate happiness.

Fear. He has felt it so many times. Yeah, sure, he has felt it for his brother too, but this is different. This is way too different. With the work they do and the risks they take… Getting hurt is inevitable. He just wishes he could stop it. But instead, the only thing he can do is worry, so freaking much. Angel or not, he will always be worried for him. It's not going to stop, or even fade, with time. He doesn't try to fool himself, he knows it's true. But, it's a price he is willing to pay if it means he gets to have Cas around.

Grateful. That's what he feels when he sees him. Oh, so grateful that he has him in his life. He can't even begin to describe or explain the emptiness, the pain, the hollowness he felt when he saw him disappearing inside that damn river. The world had failed him once again as his heart was drowning along with the man that held it ever since their eyes had first met.

Hovering. He does that from time to time. Dean used to find it creepy but now he just feels a great sense of security and protection every time it happens. "Angels are watching over you." He had stopped believing it a long time ago, but now he can't find words that hold more truth.

Irony. Something the angel doesn't understand. At least not completely. He has been living among humanity for a few years now and he manages to catch up. Dean laughs. Yeah, sure, he finds the angel's lack of knowledge amusing, but he also has to hide the smile forming on his lips, every time he sounds so naïve, so innocent. And maybe, just maybe, Dean doesn't ever want him to learn, to get to know the real cruelty of the world. But perhaps it's just a little too late for that…

Jealous. Yes, quite frankly, Dean Winchester has gotten jealous before. And it wasn't a girl. No, no, no, no, no. It had been Cas. He had barely been able to stop himself from exploding and letting all his emotions out. All the hurt, all the heartbreak he was feeling. He never said anything though. Keeping his emotions locked was something that he had developed and perfected over the years. He always had more important issues to deal with than emotions anyway.

Knives. Damn it. Even freaking knives remind him of the angel. Screw it! Freaking everything reminds him of the angel! He seems to be everywhere. But really, he's not. And maybe this is a sign that Dean misses him, that he desperately aches for him to cross the line of personal space once more or hear his voice as he greets him. And maybe, just maybe, it's a sign that he needs him.

Laugh. Dean loves his laugh. It's so rare, but that makes it even more appreciated, even more beautiful, even more worth cherishing. He loves the way his eyes become even more bright, even more blue. A magnificent color, really. He adores that in these rare moments he radiates so much happiness that it's contagious, and the whole room seems to light up with it. He tries to hide his own forming smile but he doesn't really succeed.

Midnight. He's still awake. Thinking. Really, that's the worst thing he could be doing right now. And for some reason, the half empty bottle of Jack doesn't block the memories, making them fade and wrapping them in a thick blanket of fog, but rather brings them back sharper, stronger, clearer than ever before. Dean finds himself praying to the certain angel, the cause of all this, wishing with all his might for him to appear behind him and scare the crap out of him. But he won't. And Dean has long ago stopped allowing himself to hope. So, he downs the remaining alcohol that was in the bottle, the desire to sleep long forgotten.

Nightmares. He has them every freaking night. It annoys the hell out of him. This empty feeling, this need, he can't handle it. It makes him sick to his stomach as he realizes he's never needed someone so much and you've got to admit, the realization is pretty scary. He doesn't have these feelings often – or at least he didn't – and he doesn't like them. Well, that's an understatement, he absolutely hates them. Sweat trickles down his face, his vivid dream still alive behind his eyelids. He needs to be comforted, and for the first time in a long while he actually wants to be comforted, but he sure as hell won't admit that out loud, and definitely not to the angel he keeps seeing falling and dying every time he closes his eyes. And the worst thing is, he knows it has already happened, and it was because of him.

Odd. Yep, Cas was definitely odd, but then again he was an angel of the Lord so no one could really blame him. But Dean loved this trait. That he was fascinated by the little things that were considered stupid and insignificant to other people, the way his beautiful eyes looked then… Falling in love was never an option. He wasn't normal, and as you can imagine being with him wouldn't be either. Dean always thought that deep inside he did want the apple pie life and had Castiel not appeared, he is sure he still would. Now that he thinks about it, had the angel not appeared a lot of things would have been different, and although the apocalypse isn't a walk in the park with sunshine and birds singing, he doesn't really want things to be any other way, because that means he wouldn't get to experience how much more love is than the way people describe it. The love he has, the love they share, is strong, powerful, painful, complete, beautiful, but most of all, unconditional. The angel has done so much for him. He has died, fallen, betrayed his brothers and sisters, turned his back to the only father he ever knew, dived into the depths of Hell, fought countless demons just to save him. Just for him. And Dean's vocabulary – or any vocabulary really – doesn't contain enough words for him to be able to express how he feels about the angel.

Pain. He is no stranger to it. Perhaps he could go so far as to say they know each other too well, more than anyone should. Throughout his whole life he always felt it, both mentally and physically. The only difference between them being the fact that the mental pain he could handle alone in the darkness when no one was there, where he could be weak for a few seconds, he could let himself feel as tears of pain and heartbreak and grief for all the loss he had suffered burned down his cheeks. Some may say that the torture in Hell was the greatest pain he had ever experienced, but they are wrong. Dean knows that nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to the way he felt when he realized what he had almost done, when he stared into the mirror and all he saw was the angel's bloodied face, his blue eyes, almost lifeless, begging him to become the man for whom he had risked and lost so much. He would have said that these eyes blamed him, and he really hopes they did because then the pain wouldn't be so extreme, so strong. But his eyes don't blame him, not at all, because even in Dean's hallucinations Cas would never do that, and at times like this, when they are so close to reality and it hurts so much more, it feels like his heart is being ripped into hundreds of pieces as he, yet again, can't escape the reality of what he has done.

Quiet. It really is deafening, when just the two are in the room. It speaks volumes to both their hearts. Sometimes the silence is filled with things they don't want to acknowledge, or maybe fear to admit. Quiet. Empty yet so full of their emotions. They vow that these feelings will remain unsaid, as one can't afford to lose the other, but it's a promise they know they can't keep, because only they know how much their hearts have bled, and just how much more they can take.

Right. What Dean had been feeling – although he always avoided and suppressed it (because that's Dean for you) – was as right as it could get. He wasn't really afraid of the relationship itself, of being with Cas, but rather that being together would only reveal one of his greatest weaknesses to the worst of his enemies. So he kept away, no matter how right or natural it felt to hold, and surprisingly enough, to be held. He should know by now that in his life, nothing goes as planned.

Sincere. He has lied, sure, but his eyes have always been the same. The sincerity in them often overpowers the words that come out of his mouth and Dean finds himself not believing or actually hearing the words that are being said, but rather trusting the clear emotions that are being shielded behind stunning blues. The hunter on the other hand rarely tells the truth – mostly when it comes to himself – but he has never been able to lie when the angel pierces his very soul with his stares and these glances betray the concern he feels for Dean. The concern that is being hidden by his stoic face and impassive, never-changing voice.

Time. It had always been an issue for Dean. He wasn't in good terms with it. Not by any means. Especially after the little trips he had done back and forth. Both of them had been heartbreaking and damn it if he didn't have nightmares about fallen angels, buried feelings, and empty smiles. He remembers how Cas looked when Zachariah had 'popped' him into 2014. He appeared so careless, but he was so observant without showing it. So smiley, yet so depressed. It was then that Dean swore that he would be the one to make Cas smile. And not the empty, tired, joyless ones future Cas seemed to constantly wear, but real, genuine smiles, full of hope. He would say love too, but future Cas' smile – although broken – thankfully did hide a large amount of love. No one was able to see it and the one that did, chose to ignore it. Dean himself hadn't been able to place the emotion that smile shyly radiated, but when he did he was shocked to find out where it was aimed. It was him.

Unique. His angel really was. Social awkwardness, shy, rare smile, gravelly voice, trademark trench-coat, blue tie, stunning blue eyes. Everything. The way Dean was feeling towards him was also unique. These were emotions he had never experienced before and it terrified him as much as it completed him. Years passed before he was able to put a name to these strong feelings. But then again, the word love wasn't nearly enough to describe them. 'Profound bond' as the angel always claimed their connection to be, seemed much more fitting. Because what the two shared was nothing mundane, as love usually is. It was something far greater. Now, people may argue with him about that, but one look at the way the angel's blue orbs seem to be able to protect the other from everything wrong in this fucked up world, and at the hunter's green sapphires as they shine towards him will be enough to silence them.

Vulnerable. There aren't many times Dean feels vulnerable, but if he does, it certainly has to do with the blue-eyed angel. He can't really explain it; every time their eyes meet he feels exposed and laid bare to the angel in front of him. These are the rare times he is able to see all the emotions swimming inside his eyes. He feels vulnerable, as he can't identify most of them. They seem aimed at him and love, adoration, and hurt is what they are. Even Sam can see that. But Dean can too, he just doesn't let himself believe it, terrified as he is to admit that he returns them.

Wings. He has always imagined seeing them, running his fingers over the presumably silky feathers, calming him, just like the presence of the angel they belong to, feeling them wrap around his tired and sore body, falling asleep with them protecting him. But that's the only thing he can do, imagine, as it requires great trust for an angel to reveal his most precious, most vulnerable, and yet most powerful part of him and Dean knows that no mortal is worth this trust. It is a few days later that it happens and to say he is shocked is the understatement of the freaking decade. They are in a lonely forest, after Cas all but dragged him there at this ungodly hour in the morning, but damn him if it wasn't worth it as he is sure the pitch black wall that's laid in front of him is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Castiel appears self-conscious about them and Dean carefully steps forward, gently running his hands over the angel's wings. They are so much softer than he has ever imagined and his heart soars with this strange feeling yet again as he realizes how much the angel trusts him to allow him to see this part of himself. It's truly beautiful, but Dean can't voice that, the words stuck in his throat, but he doesn't need to, Cas understands. He knows Dean better than anyone after all… And that way, suddenly black becomes Dean's favorite color as he can now identify the strange feeling he has when he is around the angel. Love.

Xenodochial. Why yes, Dean knows the word, thank you very much. It's another thing to pronounce it though… Okay, okay, maybe Sam mentioned the damn word and it has been stuck in his head ever since. Now, he is dressed in an impossibly tight suit that he can barely breathe in while on a case and he can't help but notice Cas – he did not have his eyes glued to him – as he, for once, asks the questions. The wife of the missing man is kind of intimidated and Dean gets where she's coming from. Cas is far from xenodochial. While he's not exactly hostile to strangers it's just… he's Cas, and he is so open and honest and that often intimidates people. Hell, at first, even Dean had been freaked out a little by the piercing gaze of the angel and the sincere eyes that seemed to be able to see straight through him, into his very soul, angel or not. Now, Dean would be lying if he said he doesn't still freak out when the fallen angel's gaze, the one that's somehow always able to read him, falls on him. But it's a different kind of freak out. It's the one when you realize 'Crap! I'm totally gay for the angel!' and then, after you come to terms with it and accept it, you just marvel at the kindness and love that practically radiates from the guy's damn beautiful smile.

Yours. Dean never liked being owned by someone. For him, it always meant that the person who owned him had a great power over him and he didn't have the liberty to choose for himself. He hated it with a burning passion, and he still does. It was always that way with his father and he doesn't want to experience it again. Or so he thought. Being owned by the angel is something completely different. He doesn't control him, he cares for him and Dean doesn't feel suppressed or anything of this sort because, really, the only thing he feels is at home. Finally somewhere he feels he belongs. And that's more than he could have ever asked for.

Zealous. Cas always was. Angel or not, he understood and appreciated all things, even the smallest ones. It was fascinating to watch him as he discovered, yet again, something that for others had no value, but brought a huge smile to his face, real and light-hearted. The way it's supposed to be. And Dean finds himself falling in love. Again and again and again.

All in all, Dean may be able to use the alphabet to explain the way he feels about Cas. But in reality, no language has enough letters or enough words for him to describe the depth of these feelings.

Sooooo, that's it guys! I really hope you liked it, and please review!

Byeeee

46captain46