C is for Castiel
Castiel.
There was no word other than that to describe the angel. Dean had tried countless time to think of a reason as to why he loved the angel. It was merely because he was Castiel. That's all there was to it.
What wasn't there to love? Castiel was caring, but not a pushover. He knew what he wanted and wouldn't stop until he got it, even if he was a bit misguided at times. He always had his good intentions at first. Deep down, Dean knew Castiel cared. That was why he did the things he did. He was just trying to make the world a better place.
Then there were his eyes. The light sky blue, that Dean could just get lost in. They shine bright in Dean's sea of hopelessness. They were his beacon of happiness. They were Castiel's eyes, not Jimmy's. Jimmy had left a long time ago, and they hadn't shine this bright.
"Dean."
Dean looked from his computer, as Sam entered the war room. He had been looking for a case. He was getting the itch to go back out on the road again. He had had no such luck. Maybe Sam had found something.
"What?"
"We've got a case," Sam said, leaning against the door frame. Dean arched a brow in interest.
"What did you find Sammy."
"Not me," Sam replied. He pointed with his chin across the room.
Dean turned around and saw Castiel had entered the room as well. He was dressed in his suit and tie, with his trench coat. He looked ready to hunt. It was a lovely sight. Ever since he had fallen, Castiel hadn't felt much like hunting.
"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Dean said, standing up, taking in the angel.
"I've decided it's time to stop moping around. I can still make a difference by hunting," Castiel said.
Dean smiled, his Castiel was back. He was ready to take on the world.