Letters

by Wildflowersovermygrave

Summary:

After the Empty swallows Cas, Dean finds letters. Knelling, drunk, he finds 10 years worth of writing.
And he writes back.

Feelings, emotions, grief. All disguised under anger, sarcasm and typical suppression.

(Don’t be alarmed by the wordcount/chapter ratio. These are animated letters yall)

Chapter 1: Dean

Notes:

Hiyya. This is not gonna be serious. I had fun with coding lol.
Make sure the work skin (show creator’s style) is on or the letters may not work for you.
Enjoy.
(Psps. Press the damn envelope.)

Cas

Cas

I don’t know what to tell you, man. I found them.

Ten years worth of them. Hilarious at first. I almost missed it. If I wasn’t drunk out of my ass, crawling like a pathetic idiot towards your bed I would have never known. I would drown myself in beer and women, and your little shit confession would disappear. But no. It wasn’t enough for you to die. It wasn’t enough that you threw that bomb into my face. I could forget that, I could. But you never really did things in half did you?

You always had to have a plan B. Always had to leave me to fend for myself weeks on end. Alone, praying. Just like purgatory, ha Cas?

You, letting go. Your big fucking plan B. Killing Lucifer, another big plan B, saying yes to him? Leviathans? I can’t actually believe you.

And these letters in the box? These won’t disappear in alcohol and women.

Great plan B, Cas. Really.

What the fuck did you think? Why the fuck did you went and do it?

All the stuff, Heaven, Hell, the apocalypse, the fucking wars, Jack and Mom, and Chuck, and it was all erased for a fucking deal. You did that. Not me, Cas. It was never me.

You. Did. That.

And then, a fucking job application on my desk, a fucking dog you will never met, bottles upon bottles of some crack-ass whiskey I don’t even want, and I find them.

Fuck you man.

Go to fucking hell, Cas.

Did I ever tell you how fucking much I hate you? You’re dead and I fucking hate you. Is that what you wanted?

Your big moment, the happiest moment in your life. And for you to claim you love… loved me.

Funny. Funny how you said all the shit you said, that I’m the most caring man on earth, that everything I have ever done was out of love, all of the bullshit you spit into my face, knowing it was coming for you. Funny how you found the happiest moment of your entire existence in the worst moment of mine.

But after all, you did claim I was the one to teach you how to love. And if I know anything about myself, it’s that I corrupt everything. So in this case, I can only write one thing back.

I fucking regret the day I met you. And I’m never fucking reading those letters. You can shove them down the same hole you shoved everything else down into.

I hope it was worth it to you, you asshole. Not that it was. We both know I’m not living long without you. Or I guess, you don’t know. Anyway. You’re dead.

And the only thing I have… are the letters.