We all need to cope withe end of Supernatural. This is my way. Hope you'll find something you'll enjoy in it.
You changed me, he says. But he means so much more. Three little words. How could they carry the weight of him. How could they tell enough when he himself doesn't know how deep his feeling are running?
You changed me, he says. But he means so much more.
I love you, he finally admits. But he has never been good with words. He didn't understand those words at first. He knew them the way one understands the theory of a concept. But for him, they didn't carry the strength they do for all humans. Now. Now is different. And if he wants to be honest and clear with himself, it has been different for a very long time.
I love you, he admits. But he wants to tell so much more. He wants to tell green eyes and sunny hair. He wants to tell generous lips, sometimes demanding sometimes provocative, often caring. He wants to tell freckles, just like dust in a ray of sun. He wants to tell voice, as gentle as it could be harsh. He wants.
I love you, he admits. When he was in his ethereal form, he could not decipher the true meaning behind these three little words. Humans seems to sometimes say them for no reason, they say them to children, they say them to friends, to family, to lovers... Every day, billions of times, they would say them. Sometimes lightly, like the "I love you" at the end of a phone call. Sometimes with gravity, like the very first "I love you" or the last one…
He never said them lightly though, and he realizes the only time he forms the shapes of those words on his lips is also the last one. But he is at peace.
I love you, he admits. But it could have been a vow or a promise. It could have been a whisper carried away by the wind. It could have been a rumor rumbling under the ground. It could have been a murmur like a gentle ocean on a shore. And behind those words Castiel sees it now. The blinded truth and the pure, ethereal meaning of a concept he thought he would never experience.
He still isn't sure that they reflect all the emotions he has in him. The ones he kept hidden for so long until now. The ones he thought would be insignificant, anodyne at first. What a fool he had been.
He knows now, that these same emotions that teared him apart, that made him surpass himself and change, he knows they were part of the light that humanity inspired in his core.
And he is thankful for that light. That light might have hurt him sometimes, it might have blinded him at some point, but he wouldn't trade it. Regrets might have spread along the path of his long long life, he would never abandon these emotions.
He cherishes them, adores them almost as much as he adores him. Even the love he once felt for his so-called father is pale and numb beside the one he grew during his life alongside Dean Winchester. The one that took root in hell and went far beyond. The one that rose joy, despair and hope in him. The one he can reveal freely and proud today.
"Don't do that Cas..." Dean asks, pleads.
But Dean does not understand and yet his soul is talking for him. Castiel can feel it, it resonates with his ethereal core. It is, as aways, blinding.
How Dean could understand ? Castiel knows love brings light in human's lives. All the rom-com movies Sam made him watch were proof enough. And Castiel isn't ignorant, he read Berenice and Phaedra, he read Orpheus and Eurydice (and weren't those two similar?), he knew Sappho "I desire and I crave".
Love roses light in human's lives. But what does it do to ethereal creatures? What does love do to Angels ?
Castiel knows the answer to that question. He feels it in his heart. Love makes them human. Love makes them fall and makes them crave for that fall. It makes them change.
"Don't do that Cas." Dean pleads. And as hard as Castiel wants to yield and give in, he knows he can not.
Dean soul is singing. It's singing a grieve it foresees, (who is Orpheus now ?) it's singing a fear Castiel is accustomed too. But it's also singing a shy rhythm Castiel had barely let himself hear before. A rhythm he was too unsure to try and decipher. It's singing words of love too. It's pure, it's light and Castield is drawn to it, just like Eurydice must have been drawn to Orpheus's lyre.
It's everything Castiel thought he would never have. It's everything his mind was too humble to wish for.
It's everything.
Dean wants to speak, but he can't. He wants to tell and to express. But he can't. It doesn't matter. His soul is speaking for him. It's singing to Castiel just everything he wants to say.
It's singing blue eyes and tousled hair. It's singing reserved affection and genuine camaraderie. It's singing Zep mixtapes and burning sun on the road. It's singing cold beer and burger and shared pies. It's singing shy closeness and intent gazes. It's singing complicity and searching eyes. It's singing.
It's singing everything Dean wants to say. It's singing everything Castiel wants to hear.
It's singing.
And it's singing for Cas.