Youth Spell

Chapter 2

Dean wondered how it was possible. He didn't remember even keeping a journal. He shrugged and opened the one named Dean.

There was a small paper stapled to the first page. It was directed to Dean, or to be more precise, 'Dear dumb Dean', it was labeled. 

Hi ass-butt. You just couldn't stay away could you. And that fucker of a Cas, i told him to hide this damn thing. But, anyway, if you're reading this, either Cas' magic failed, or the guy's dead, in which case R.I.P, he deserves it. 

Dean was very confused, especially the bit about magic, but kept reading anyway.

Can't believe I'm giving you the talk, ME. It's Sam's thing. But you're reading this so you don't remember so here goes. 

You, or me, we used to fight monsters, with Sam, Cas, and other others. Yes, they're real, vampires, witches, werewolves whatever. Except Santa and Bigfoot, everything's real, so far. 

Screw you, future me, whatever, I can't do this. Just get Cas, and he'll explain. If the guy's dead, just pray. Bye now.

Dean was still confused. He thought about asking Sam, but he didn't trust this paper, because, it didn't even mention who it was from. Could've been the crazies. However, Dean wanted to try to see what 'me'  on the note meant, so he prayed. Kind of.

"Hey, uh Cas? Uh, I- I don't even know what I'm doing" Dean said looking up at the ceiling. His eyes filled up with tears, "i don't even know! what I'm doing anymore. a- a- a book? monster? WHAT?", "crazy, I'm going crazy" he whispered to himself and curled up into a ball on the bed. He meant to do that for a long time as the bed still smelled like Cas, and Dean just found it cozy, like Cas was right there. 

It was only 10 am, the 2nd day after Cas' funeral. Dean finally went to sleep after two weeks. It's not that he wasn't tired, he was just afraid of what he might see it he slept. But finally letting himself feel, instead of holding back, and getting the rush of emotion all together, and thinking about everything just sort of wore him out.

He woke up with a jolt in the evening smiling. He'd dreamt of Cas and him on the beach, out in public just holding hands, where no one judged them. But he soon realised that it was only a dream. He got out of bed and decided it was time to go home. Back to their home. To the penthouse, where he left Cas. Where it all started.

He noticed the diaries he read earlier, and gave a half-assed laugh. He picked up the books and put them in the box along with the pictures to take them with him. He wasn't ready to let go just yet. Because note or no note, he still felt Cas, as if Cas was still there. But when he spotted old Dean's note lying beside him, covered in tears, he picked it up and crumpled it up and flung it into the bin. He packed up some old photos, lying around where he sat, into the box when one fell on the ground. He bent over to pick it up and noticed the other letter Cas had left him. 

He read it but didn't understand anything. But he felt as if somethings were becoming clearer now that he'd seen both the letters. But he brushed the thought off as a grief fantasy. Still, he looked at the paper and kept it in his pocket, because after all, it was from Cas. 

Finally, picking up the box, he looked around one last time and went to the closet. Picking up the trench coat, he walked out the main door. When he got outside the building, he turned around and looked at it once, then turned around and put the coat and box on the bike. 

Getting on the bike, he looked around once again, nodded and brushed off a tear, "Bye Cas". 

But he knew he didn't mean it, and neither did it sound sincere.