Dean,

Emotions confuse me. I believe that we have discussed this many times before, but one thing that you have constantly failed to understand is that this thing, my recurrent befuddlement with humanity and the intensity that you feel with — this is not indicative of my not having emotions. They are different for angels. And I believe that I have not properly explained their phenomenology either, because there is not an accurate translation of it into human terms. We have the repression in favor of righteousness, which you are well acquainted with. I'm similarly acquainted with your distaste for it, but that isn't our Divine biology; it's rather our culture. The only angels who get encouraged to embrace and express their emotions are the Cherubs, for reasons that I think you can infer. They and the "guardian angels," as you call them, also deal more actively with humans, and as the case of you and I proves, when an angel deals with humans extensively, certain things rub off on that angel. Look no further than Gabriel. Sometimes, I think he's learned all of the worst things about humanity and very few of the best.

(Gabriel, who is very intrusive and impolite and looking over my shoulder as I write this, would like to chime in here to say that he "didn't stand up to Lucifer for nothing," that he "believes humans really are superior to angels, even though they're about as dull as they come," and that his dealing with humans was predominantly limited to "screwing with the unrighteous because, hey. Those assholes deserved it. I mean, the guy I killed with the Incredible Hulk? Wife-beater, totally unredeemable jerk, and the only right thing to do was put him down so the wife could get out of there and, hey. What the Hell, Cas — fuck, stop writing down everything I'm saying.")

(My original parenthetical amendment to the above was going to be that "guardian angels," as humans conceive of them, are not actually a kind of angel, in the same way that seraphim, cherubim, and so on are. Rather, "guardian angel" — the Grigori, by the way, or "watchers"; the first garrison of two-hundred, under Azazel's leadership, followed Lucifer, mated with humans, created the Nephilim (like the demon you call Meg), and many of them became demons themselves — is a post. A special garrison. A title, like Archangel, which is different from the physical archangels, in that the former (Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel) are actually seraphim and called Archangels, but the latter are actually a particular breed.

I'm an Exousian, by the way, or a "Power." That is the type or breed of angel that I am, I mean. This has never come up between us before, and I don't know that it ever will again, but it does play a role in why I have such difficulty with emotion. Our construction was made what it is in order to make it easier for us to do our job. We're warriors, as I've told you before, as well as bearers of the divine conscience and the keepers of history. We feel things in a way that you would find even more alien than that of the other angels (I would call it transcendent), and almost all sensations of emotions are limited to the non-physical realm. When we do experience physical reactions, they end up filtered through our inherent logics. That is simply how we function.

Additionally, Our Father modeled us after Lucifer, although he was a seraph, which is one of many reasons why mine and Uriel's separate betrayals of the Host were of such import to our family. They impugned the honor of all the other Exousians and drove some of our kin to question our Father's plan and ineffability.)

But what I wish to say, Dean, is that even with everything that I don't understand about humans and how certain things ought to feel, and what certain sensations signify, when I am around you, and when we interact only as friends or "brothers in war" (this is an overly romantic sounding term, but, then, I learned it from Barachiel — the Cherub you punched in the face — and he never had any facility for, I digress) — when our interactions are limited strictly... whatever it is that they are, I feel that something is missing. It is not that I would change them in any discernible way, or that I would have you stop being anything but what you are. You induce in me compulsions to do things that I would never have considered doing before, from helping you thwart an Archangel (and later trap him in holy oil and leave him there), to sitting on Bobby's sofa, drinking beer and eating pie, to running barefoot through a field at dawn just because I can. (I have not actually done the last one, but there have been several times when I've felt like it because you did something kind, or thoughtful, or that made me feel useful and wanted.)

I'm trying to understand this and I have given a great deal of thought to your possible reactions. After much consideration, I can safely say that I want to tell you something about how I feel for you, but in order to do so, I thought that I should have some greater understanding of how to express it. The only words that, I think, consistently capture the immensity of it, and all the context, are, "I love you." And Barachiel thought that simplicity was for the best in our case, but both Sam and Gabriel have attempted to convince me that I need some more inventive means of verbally conveying my emotions to you, or some massive display that would preferably feature no less than ten ways in which it could go wrong. But neither of these would fully capture how I feel, and both of them seem ostentatious and therefore disingenuous. So:

I love you, Dean Winchester. I do not love you as I have loved my Father, and my brothers, or as you taught me to love humanity. But I love you in a way that makes me yearn for you when we're apart, and that makes me feel nauseated for no reason, and that makes me fantasize about kissing you at very inappropriate times. (That vampire that we fought last week got the advantage on me that he did because I had fallen into one of those inappropriate times.) I feel that some kind of bonding took place between us, at some point, possibly even so far back as when I raised you from Perdition with our subsequent shared trials thereafter nurturing it, and if you do not reciprocate this sentiment, then I know that I will be fine. But the dishonesty is painful for me, and it feels as though I'm misleading you, and I know how much you dislike being misled and how many times I've done so before.

I love you, Dean. I love you. Only you.

Please don't liken this to that story of those Harry and Sally or Westley and Buttercup people again. I still don't understand those references or why you seem to think that I should have a loud orgasm in a restaurant. (This is all that Sam would explain about the first film. I'm confused regarding its relevance to what Barachiel assures me is true love.) I'd also prefer it if you did not mention the Disney animated canon. Sam has made me watch most of the princess movies, as well as a few others concerning talking animals (which I understand are not mutually exclusive categories, but as far as I could tell, no one in the film about talking dogs belonged to the ranks of royalty), and for all I do not entirely understand this, I can say with certainty that I am not the fairest in the land (who should have been blessed with greater common sense. Why would anyone eat an apple from some mysterious crone who, in the color-coded morality of the film, is clearly evil?), an emotionally abused shut-in with a fondness for impractical shoes, a little mermaid, a great mouse detective, a diamond in the rough (neither was the boy in the movie, for that matter), a cross-dressing Chinese soldier, a voracious reader in provincial France (though her lover reminds me of you in your shared self-loathing, and of how you can get sometimes when you drink), or especially fond of spaghetti and meatballs. These films are irrelevant to how I feel about you.

(You should, however, perhaps have Sam evaluated by one of your psychiatrists. He appears to be suffering from a delusional belief that I can learn everything I need to know about human love from spending an hour and a half with him, watching talking sub-Saharan beasts discuss revenge, ignore their responsibilities, and behave in blatantly anthropomorphic fashions that make no sense considering that the protagonists are lions and thus inherently non-manogamous. He also seemed perturbed when I said that, if Simba and Nala are meant to be a model for our hypothetical relationship, then would I have a harem but prefer you over all others, or would you have a harem but prefer me over all others, because both ideas make me feel somewhat uncomfortable.)

The Casa Erotica series is still "fair game," though. I think that, sometime, I would like to watch one or two of them with you. Just to see what it is that you so enjoy about them.

Love, Sincerely, Love, Fuck me rotten in the backseat of the Impala, you already did the horizontal Safety Dance with Anna and she didn't really have feelings for you or let you blast Zeppelin or have any fun at all and Love,

(I apologize. I briefly had to attend to a fiasco with the Cherubim and it seems that your brother and Gabriel took it upon themselves to attempt signing my letter for me. While I appreciate their efforts and sentiments, please know that the crossed out part about Anna is not true at all, beyond the fact that sexual congress is a pleasurable experience and that I should like to experience it with you. May I remind you that you never did follow through on your promise not to let me die a virgin, and that I banished my grace, while on an ostensible suicide mission, and that Lucifer made me explode, and that my flesh is as yet unsullied by intercourse.

Which I mean metaphorically, as Jimmy, obviously, has had sex before. However, considering that his spirit resides forever in the fields of the Lord, he is not an issue as such, but his brain chemistry and the physical reactions it causes are. I am coming to conclude that the human maxim, "The course of true love never did run smooth," does not refer to the ups and downs of human interaction, but to the fact that being alone with you makes my stomach feel unsettled, and I've come to understand the emotional underpinning of why, but it still makes no sense to me, as a reaction. The stomach, as far as I know, plays little to no part in courtship or mating rituals.)

Yours,

Castiel.

Angel of the Lord, Presiding Leader of the Newly Democratic Spheres of Heaven.