The Angel Seed

How Long Will I Love You

It was in the afternoon where Dean had read Castiel his books in his living room, with Dean's head in Castiel's lap and the book rising and falling as Dean read it leaning it on his stomach. He had read many chapters, though long, he was interested in the book himself. Dean had grown bored of reading and set aside the book, reaching up he brought down Castiel.

"We aren't reading anymore?" He asked.

"I don't want to read anymore, I'm tired of reading."

"Then I'll read." Castiel said reaching over but Dean kept his hands there, placing them on his own chest he smiled up at Castiel.

"Let's just leave the reading for later. Okay?"

"Pamela and Joanne said that the more I read, the more I will understand the world­­."

"Just no more talking of Jo or Pam or Ellen, or even books." He squinted, "Why do you like books anyways?"

"They remind me."

"Of what?"

He shrugged, "When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories before she'd tuck me in and kiss me good night. She once told me about a big bad wolf who tried to take a little girl's cookies."

Dean laughed, "She told you about Little Red?" Castiel nodded. "What other stories did she tell you about?"

"Many other ones. Like the princesses who turned into a maid at midnight, or the one who slept forever until she could be awakened by true love's kiss, or the one who followed the rabbit down the rabbit hole."

"You mean Alice In Wonderland?" He nodded.

"Your mother had an imagination." He mumbled, "I don't remember my mother that much, but I remember a few things that my father would say about her. That she had the brightest smile, and the greenest eyes he had ever seen."

"Like yours?"

"Yeah. But brighter, and bigger too." He smiled, "And that when she sang lullabies to me, I would stay awake even if I had to sleep ­­ just to hear the whole lullaby then fall asleep after."

Castiel smiled, "You're suppose to sleep when they're singing a lullaby."

"I know," he smiled, "I just always loved to hear her sing." He swayed his head, "My father said she had passed away when I was about two feet tall, and just learned how to talk. He said that the only words I could say when he told me was 'sad' and 'home'." His smiled lessened but it was still there. "Some times I could still hear her singing every night."

Castiel stroked his hand down Dean's cheek, "Do you remember the song?"

Dean swayed his head, "I only remember one part, it's a little note that she would sing and my father said I'd stare at her when she did. It's like hitting a B on the piano, just after the middle C."

Cas thought for a while then looked back down at Dean, "Did she sing the song from the music box?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know. Like I said, it was a gift from my Uncle. Maybe he knew." Castiel looked to the coffee table and pulled over the music box, placing it on Dean's chest they both stared down at it. Dean placed his hands on it and they encased over Castiel's, like a couple fawning over a mother's pregnant belly they placed their hands over the music box like it was their given life.

"What did your mother say about Little Red?" He asked curiously.

"She told me that a little girl who always wore a red cloak took a basket to her grandmother going through the woods." Dean sat up from Castiel's lap and turned so he was on his hands and knees, eyes staring into the others.