Work Text:
Dean,
I know that the words that follow will mean nothing to you. That’s okay. This is more for me than you, I suppose. I just couldn’t bear to leave without at least saying goodbye. You mean too much to me, whatever form you’re in. If you don’t want to read this, I suppose that’s alright. It is foolish, I know, to think that this would matter to you, but I like to think that once upon a time it would have, and more so that perhaps someday it will again. If you ever do return to yourself, then I want this to be there for you, as I won’t be there to speak to you myself.
The point of this letter is that I’m dying, as I’m sure you’re aware of. My grace is burning me out, and indeed I will be gone within a few days at the very latest, although I dare not hope for that much time by any stretch of the imagination. I know with just as much certainty that you won’t bother to say goodbye in your current state, which is why it’s up to me. I just want you to know that I do not blame you for your apathy, as it is natural for your kind in this situation, and in no way your fault. I mostly blame myself, for I had at one point promised to save you, which I now realize is impossible for me to achieve, although I do hope that Sam will continue the effort after my passing. It is true that I have failed you, and you may think of me however you wish for that, but at least soon I won’t be messing things up anymore. I have few regrets, laying here dying, except for how things ended up with you. If I could remedy that it would mean everything to me, but I suppose it’s time to accept that it is simply too late.
There are many things in my life that I wish I could change in regards to you. I will not pretend to ever have stood up to your expectations of me, for I realize that many of the difficult situations you’ve found yourself in in recent years were born of my own poor judgment. I did try to give you everything, or at least I gave up everything to save you, although it seems my efforts were futile, and I suppose that is what led to my fall and eventually will lead to my death, but I do not blame you for that either. The truth of the matter is, I willingly gave my life to you, and I did that solely because you more than anyone deserved it. I will not say that I did a good job of this, after all, your eyes still turn black, but I can confidently say that I tried, and for even the chance that I helped you in any small way through my efforts, I believe it was worth every sacrifice, every moment.
I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of this. This letter scarcely expresses what I meant it to. I think I am focusing too much on myself for that, and I am aware that my identity was mostly created off of you, so there is little to say on that subject. Without you, it is true that I would be nothing, which is why I suppose it is better this way in the end. If I was the one who had to see you die, I doubt very much that I could take it. There would be nothing left of me. But you were always so much more, and I do believe deep down that despite your current form you can continue to be so much more, which makes me happier than anything, even just to hope.
Dean, when I raised you from perdition all those years ago, I never could have foreseen just how drastically you would change my life. Truly, it was you who saved me, and not the other way around. In so many ways, you made me who I am. You taught me everything I know about free will, and morality, and anything that matters. You helped me through the most confusing time of my life, and without you I never would have become who I am today. I know I never did a very good job of expressing just how much you meant to me, but know that you were everything, and you still are. You never did believe in yourself, but I swear to you that I have never seen a soul so bright or a man as truly good as you are. I guess that’s really why I have to write this. To tell you, because I couldn’t bear to take it with me to the grave, not when I have a choice and so much time to spare just waiting.
I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it in such simple terms, but I do. I never really knew love until I met you, so I wasn’t quite sure of how to handle it, which I suppose is mostly why I never told you. Some things never quite seem right spelled out like this, for some things words can never fully express, and for me it always meant more to express my feelings through my actions. However, I know that for humans such concrete confessions hold more weight. So there it is. I love you. I do. I understand that you may not return these sentiments, and may never have felt the same, but I think it’s only fair to let you know now. Please don’t take this as an obligation to return my feelings. I only wanted you to know that you matter to me, as you matter to many, many people, even if you deny yourself the very notion that you could possibly mean that much. You do. To me, you always did.
I don’t know quite what I was hoping to achieve through this letter. Closure, I guess. For both of us, assuming you will ever need such a thing. I’m sorry it had to end this way, but don’t worry about me. I am happy to die, so long as I know that someday you will again be alive and well. If you still feel anything for me, no matter what those feelings may be, I hope that that will make an impression upon you, at least, and you will do your best to help yourself.
I miss you already. I can scarcely believe how fast these years have gone, especially when not so long ago, I would have thought I’d live forever. I wish things could have turned out differently. What I wouldn’t give for an eternity with you!
But drawing this out will do neither of us any good. As hard as it is to say goodbye, I know that it would be ever so much worse to go without. So say it I must.
Goodbye, Dean. I love you. Always and forever, I love you. Thank you. For everything.
-Cas