After Twist And Shout: Dear Cas... (Destiel)

April 23rd, 1981

Dear Cas,

Dean wrote gently on the paper, pausing to reread it a few times before continuing. He glanced over to Abigail and she giggled quietly, returning to her pink stuffed rabbit.

The world that I once knew has changed completely. The sun still rises, the waves still crash on the sand, and the flowers on the trees still blossom to life.. But every time I take a breath, every time I close my eyes for even just one second, it seems like the things around me have lost the bright color that was once brought to them when you smiled, or when you reached out and touched my hand from across the kitchen table.

The pen resting against his fingers seemed like it was moving in slow motion, but his mind moved faster than a bullet coming out the barrel of a gun. He searched his head for more words to scribble on the paper, but the only thing that came to him was milk shakes and Elvis.

It doesn't seem right that all of these things still happen the same. Just another regular day for most people. Wake up, make coffee, go to work, and at the end of the day they get to come home and kiss their wife and eat dinner. All smiles as the kids watch cartoons on the television, all the while I sit here, waiting for another morning where I wake up to you beside me, the smell of a burnt out candle beside us on the night stand. Another morning when the first thing I here is I love you pouring form your tender pink lips. I just want one more. But I know that all of these things- all of these beautiful memories- are what I have, what I will always have... What I know you would want me to have.

Dean dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before standing up and taking a step towards his niece. He kissed her softly on the forehead and sat on the couch behind her, looking over to the box filled with Polaroids and letters. Waiting a few minutes, playing with little Abby, he finally reached over to the box and brought it to his lap. Hesitating to open it, hands shaking, he spoke.
"I love you Abby."
She looked up at him for a moment and smiled, exposing her toothless grin. Dean laid his hand flat on the top of the box, tracing over the small white streak with his thumb. As he opened it the first thing he wanted to look for was a specific picture of Cas from the earliest set he took when they first got the camera, but something else caught his attention.

Scribbled on the back was the date, February, 1980. Dean didn't want to unfold the paper, but he wanted to see if it was another letter or something else...
His eyes widened when the sketch was revealed to him, as they traveled along each line and perfect curve. It was a simple drawing, maybe even something you would make up when bored in the back of your least favorite class. His eyes landed on the small words at the top left corner of the page.

I thought about the day you won the race, the one we all went to. I wanted to keep the smile you had on your face with me, but could never find the picture that was taken right after. I know I was never a great artist, and that I barley ever drew, but this memory was always so clear that I thought I would recreate it. Happiness.

Dean stared at the drawing for a while, at the bike in the back and at the smile sketched onto his face. He remembered that moment, as clear as a sunny day, and how happy he was to see Cas immediately after that accomplishment. He then folded the paper back in half and set it on top, placing the lid back on the box. He didn't worry about finding a picture right then anymore, he just wanted to sit and watch the young, innocent, and cheerful life that was in front of him for a while.

Once Abby started to yawn and get sleepy, Dean took her into the bathroom to wash her up a little, then put some cozy purple pajamas on her that buttoned in the front. He rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the room down the hall from the bathroom. Standing in the threshold he flicked on the light with a fast motion and gently put her down onto the pink and light green blanket that was in her crib. Standing over the child for a few moments, he thought about everything life will throw at her. About the friends she will make, the coloring books she will fill, and the choices that will fly past or hover over her head like a grey cloud. He thought about the good times they will share, and the stories he will tell her about the rush of crossing the finish line on his bike, and about how she might ask about the grave he visits every week. How he will tell her their love story, and how he had to let him go to a better place after suffering so long. He also thought about how his story, their story won't be shared or known by many people...

Dean caught himself squeezing his fists together and opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them in the first place. He walked out after making sure the baby monitor was on, and turned the light off. The thought of not finishing the letter tonight bothered him a little, but was eventually forgotten when he found himself asleep on the pull out couch wrapped up in a warm blanket, dreaming of an island with a big house and a white fence.

Happiness.