Bring It On Home- A Destiel AU [COMPLETED]

Chapter 28

"Wow," Dean said.

Castiel just gazed at his photographic creation.

Dean swallowed. "So this is why... all those..."

Castiel nodded.

"I'm sorry. For assuming..." Dean reached out to Cas's shoulder.

And Cas ducked his shoulder away, shying from Dean's touch. He turned and walked a little farther down along the giant project.

"Cas." Dean could feel his mouth drying up, all the right words fluttering from his mind like brittle dead leaves in the wind. "I - I know it was my mistake, but - why didn't you tell me, or show me, or - say something - I mean, why did you show Sam? Why didn't you want me to see?"

Cas lightly touched the photo of two arms crossed in the shape of a crucifix. "I hate the English language," he muttered.

Dean squinted. "What?"

"Words. They're so limited, so imprecise." Cas walked a little farther, stopping at another photograph hanging on the wall. He ran his fingers along the frame. "I can't say things the way I see them. I'm better with pictures than words." He paused, and his head bowed a little.

Dean walked slowly towards him. "Yeah, well. I'm not exactly Shakespeare either."

He glanced back up at Dean, and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Sam is afraid he can't be forgiven for what he did." His eyes turned to his rosary project. "These men are afraid they can't be forgiven for who they are." He smiled softly, a bittersweet smile. "Sometimes we draw courage from knowing others are also afraid. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded, and followed his gaze. "But. Why keep it from me?"

Cas didn't answer. He just turned and lifted the smaller framed photo off the wall, and handed it to Dean. "I have a companion piece."

It was a picture of a much younger Castiel in a sunlit park, a bright grin on his face, his hand gripping the shoulder of a girl who looked a little older. She had bright red hair and pale skin; a soft, quiet smile and just the slightest shadows under her eyes. On Cas's side of the picture, he had written in plain black letters,

I have sinned through my own fault

in my thoughts and in my words

in what I have done

And then, just to the side of the girl's face,

and in what I have failed to do.

Cas said quietly, "No one else has seen that yet. You're the only one."

Dean felt the weight of the picture in his hands, the frame pressing into his palms. "Is this your sister? Anna?"

Cas looked at the floor. "A week before she died." He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his chin. "She didn't tell us, but I should have known. I'm the one who sees everything. I should have seen the signs. I should have noticed how quiet she was when they were together. I shouldn't have believed her when she told me everything was fine."

"It's not your fault," Dean said.

Cas shook his head and chuckled bitterly. "It is, a little. You can say it's not but it is. She was just so... devoted to him. Totally reliant on him. I could never understand it, why she clung to him that way. And no one else thought anything was wrong. But apparently, behind closed doors, he..." He stopped, and carefully took the picture from Dean and hung it back on the wall.

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from it. Cas: so young, thin, bright; and this woman who was still so present in his life, who Dean would never meet. The sister.