Secret Valentine

Castiel was not quite sure what he was staring at. It was a piece of paper. Of that much, he was certain. And it had markings, words, inked onto its smooth face in neat, legible strokes. He could clearly make out the words upon the page.

What Cas was not certain of, was what the piece of paper actually was. Was it a letter? Was it a… a joke of some sort? He had often witnessed Dean playing some obscure or obscene joke on Sam, but it was Cas’ understanding that these jokes always ended in some unexplainable pleasure for Dean and pain or anger for Sam.

And Castiel certainly was not in pain. Nor was anyone laughing at him. He squinted down at the page, his lips pursing as he leaned closer to the paper, which lay flat atop the smooth top of a table. He leaned closer, and closer still, until the words upon the page began to blur and his nose nearly touched the page.

He still did not know what it was.

A cough from across the table drew his attention. Cas sat up slowly, pulling himself up straight and staring over the table and across the room. Leaning against the dingy, beige, wallpapered wall, was Dean Winchester. He glared at Cas from beneath his fully lashed eyelids, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Castiel studied him quietly for a moment. The impatient look in Dean’s hazel eyes told Castiel that he must have asked a question. But Cas had not heard him say anything. He swallowed once before addressing Dean.

“Yes, Dean? You are in need of something?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, awaiting Dean’s response.

“Yeah, Cas. I’m ‘in need of something’.” Dean rolled his eyes, impatience thick in his deep voice. “I asked you what you’re looking at. About five minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Castiel cast a quick glance down at the page before answering. “I am… Not sure.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. He pushed himself away from the wall and made his way to the table, running a hand through his short, light brown hair as he did.

“You don’t know? How do you not know, Cas?” He laughed sarcastically pulled out the chair to Cas’ left, pulling it over and turning it around so he could look as well.

Cas pushed the paper closer to Dean so he could get a better look. He watched as Dean’s eyes scanned the page. For some time, his eyes remained emotionless. There was a slight pull at the corner of his mouth, but nothing more. Cas sat quietly, waiting for Dean to finish. Waiting for him to tell him what this strange note was.

As he came to the end of the page, a drastic change came over Dean’s features. His mouth stretched into a small grin, and then a full, toothy smile. His eyes crinkled around the edges and he began to make short chuffing sounds, as if he were holding in laughter. Cas was confused by this turn of events and leaned toward Dean, eagerly waiting for him to speak.

When he finished, Dean turned to face Castiel, amusement and mischief in his eyes. Cas’ eyes widened in confusion. Dean let out a loud laugh and slapped Cas once on the back.

“Well, congrats, Cas,” he began laughing even harder as Cas’ face registered shock and confusion. “Looks like you got yourself a valentine.” He tossed the piece of paper into the middle of the table and stood up, laughing as he made his way across the room to the couch.

Cas felt his brow furrow once more. He looked at the note, then back at Dean, who was lying on the couch with one hand in front of his mouth, trying to control his laughter.

“A ‘valentine’? I am confused.” Cas heard Dean groan in annoyance, followed by a light chuckle from the opposite end of the room.

Cas swiveled in his seat to face the source of the chuckle. Sam Winchester sat on the wide sill of the motel room’s one window, his computer on his lap and his fingers typing vigorously away on the keyboard. He looked up, flicking his long, brown locks from his face before giving Cas a sympathetic grin.

“A valentine is like a love note, Cas.” He smiled broadly and tried not to laugh himself. He often felt sorry for Cas. The angel did not understand many human traditions and actions.
Cas stared at Sam for a moment. He could feel his own eyebrows arching in surprise. A love note?

“How is that possible?” Cas turned back to the note, taking it in his hands and turning it over.

He heard the sound of a large object being set on wood followed by the creak of the floorboards and the sound of Sam’s heavy footsteps. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to his right to see Sam leaning forward, staring at the note curiously. He reached out his open palm and Cas handed him the note. Sam straightened read the note thoughtfully. When he was done, he handed it back to Cas.

“Cas, where did this come from?” He turned Dean’s chair around and sat down, leaning forward and studying Cas’ face.

“It was on the doorstep. I found it there this morning. When you were out and Dean was still asleep.” He responded, puzzled as to why the note’s origin was an important factor.

Sam’s brow furrowed and his lips pulled together. He turned to look over his shoulder at Dean, as if he were going to ask his brother’s opinion. But Dean was already asleep, in the same position, on the couch. Sam shook his head and turned back to Cas, searching for something to say to help him understand the situation. Not that Sam really understood the situation.

“Cas…” He stopped and sighed, mentally changing his words before continuing. Castiel listened intently. “This whole love note thing is… strange, to say the least. I think it might be best if you just throw it out. And if anymore come, throw those out too. This could be a trick, or a trap or something. So just, forget about it and don’t pick up anymore, if you find them.”

He reached out and patted Cas on the shoulder, a half smile on his lips.

Castiel thought for a moment, taking in all of this new information before speaking.

“Alright. If you believe it to be a trap, I will not pick up anymore.” Sam nodded, his smile growing broader, and stood up to return to his place on the windowsill. Cas held a hand out to stop him.

“But what do you wish for me to do with the other twenty-five notes I have received?”

Sam took a step back, causing his leg to bump the chair. It scraped across the floor with a screech. Dean snorted from the couch and sat up abruptly, turning to glare at Cas.

“What the hell?” He stood and made his way back to the table. “What are you too ass clowns doing? You interrupted a hell of a dream…”

Sam held a hand out to silence Dean. He stared at Cas warily. Castiel stared up into Sam’s eyes, wondering why the other twenty-five notes had caused such a reaction.

“Twenty-five notes, Cas?”

Castiel nodded and dug deep into the pocket of his coat, producing twenty-five other small, folded pieces of paper. All identical in size and color to the one on the table. And with Castiel scrawled on the front in the same handwriting.

“I have received one every day, at the same time, for the past twenty-six days.”

He pulled one out of the bottom of the wad of papers and held it out to Sam. Sam took it and opened it. It looked as if it had been folded and re-folded a thousand times over.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this, Cas?” Dean asked indignantly from his place behind Sam.

“I did not think it was of import.” Castiel shrugged, turning his head slightly to look at Dean.

“Not of import?” Dean sputtered, throwing his hands into the air angrily. “You get some mysterious notes and you don’t think that that piece of information is of import.”

“Dean.” Sam sighed and cast a dark look at his brother. Dean fell silent.

Sam refolded the note and handed it back to Castiel. Cas stared at the note for a long time before taking it.

“Cas, why did you keep all of these from us for so long?” Sam asked quietly. “We could have helped you put a stop to it before it got this far.”

Castiel thought for a moment, turning the note over in his hands as he did.

“I… Enjoyed reading the words. Although I did not understand how or why they pertained to me. It made me feel…” He searched for the proper word. “… wanted. I have read them over and over again, for that very reason.”

Sam shot a worried look at Dean, who stood with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Castiel glanced up at them both before looking down and unfolding the note.

“I suppose I still do not understand. Not entirely.” He looked back at Sam. “What do I do?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

“Well, Cas…”

“You throw these bastards in the fire, burn ‘em, and then get the hell out of dodge.” Dean grunted, interrupting Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance and opened his mouth to voice his opinion. This time, Castiel interrupted him.

“I think I would like to find her, this woman.” His voice was thoughtful and he stared off at the wall behind Sam. “I would like to ask her why she is targeting me. And how she knows who I am.”

Sam stared at Cas in shock, his mouth still open. The words still on the tip of his tongue. He blinked vigorously and shook his head, trying to pull himself out of shock.

“Cas, I really think this could be a trap. Just, try to forget about it. Please?” Sam searched Cas’ face, his eyes pleading. Castiel sighed.

“I suppose you are right, Sam.” He returned the notes to his pocket as he spoke, reaching out and retrieving the most recent one from its place on the table. “It is… much safer if I just treat this like a trap.” Even as he spoke the words, Castiel didn’t believe them.

He rose from his chair slowly. He walked past the astonished Sam and toward the motel room door. Dean watched him with a surprised look on his face. Castiel paused for a moment, with his hand on the doorknob.

“Cas, where are you going?” Sam called out, warily.

Castiel turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. He took a step out into the bright daylight.

“I am going to get rid of the letters.” He answered, without turning around.

________________________________________________________________

That had not been a lie.
But it had not been the complete truth.