#osricnet

I visited my mother’s grave two days ago. It marked the fourth year since her death. I’ve gone to her grave twice since her funeral, on her first anniversary and her fourth. For the second, I was sobbing in a dark room off of the nurse’s office at my middle school. I was in inpatient for last year. Those aren’t important now. My dad drove me to the graveyard. My sister, Sarah, met us there. 

It took a bit of wandering to find the small stone slab with her name. “Claire Elaine Coale: a loving Daughter, Wife & Mother.” When I sat down, I could really only think of how the engravers forgot the Oxford comma. Yes, that isn’t the most important thing in my situation. But I could only thought of anything but the name in front of me. She was sick for all but the first four years of my life. I loved her, and often felt like she was my only real parent. In the years since her death, I’ve spent a year alone with a drunken father, two more with a shiny, new, stepmother to-be, and a year and a half in residential treatment. All of this took her away again. The grief remains, but memories don’t. 

Sitting next to my sister at the grave was surreal. I held her hand and looking at the dirt caked into each crevice on the marble. My dad handed me a jar of my mom’s ashes. It felt foreign, and as nonchalant as holding a jar of honey. I’m an atheist. I’m not superstitious or spiritual. Her grave was rock over dirt over a casket of ash. I wasn’t sure how to feel, so I settled for a distant melancholy. I don’t even know why I insisted on going to the grave. 

 My dad was the only one who cried. It made sense. He had known her the longest, even if it seemed that he loved her least. 

Hello, cuties! So I reached 2k followers a few days ago (which is insane, thank you all so much!!) and I thought it was time for another tumblr awards ٩(^‿^)۶

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samuelˈ sam·u·el \ˈsam-yə-wəl, -yəl\

noun

samuel (sometimes spelled samual) is a male given name of hebrew origin meaning either “name of god” or “god has heard” (שם האלוהים shem alohim) (שמע אלוהים sh'ma alohim).

Oh no, Dean thought to himself, not again. He didn’t say anything though. He just watched Cas put up another cat poster in Dean’s room. The angel turned human was convinced that Dean needed more decorations in his room and had made it his new mission to make sure that this really happened. Se he had started to pick up small things wherever they went, just to place them somewhere in the hunter’s room.

Dean looked around him at the five stuffed animal cats that sat on different surfaces in his room, the calendar with big pictures of kittens for every month, the vase with the cat painted on it and the several new pillows that had been added to his bed, shaped like a cat, a cat’s head, with a tail or just a print of a cat on it. He also thought about the additional cat cups that could be found in their kitchen cupboard.

Something gave Dean a hinch that Cas really loved those hairy creatures that make him sneeze so badly and his eyes itch.

On next case they went on the witness they wanted to question happened to work at an animal shelter. Cas’ whole face lit up the moment they arrived at the shelter and Dean sighed and agreed to go in with him. In the end Dean did all the questioning while Cas studied the ‘10 tips about caring for cats’ poster on the wall intensely.

Dean felt a twinge in his heart at the longing look on Cas’ face when they went outside again to reunite with Sam to exchange the new hint the talk with the witness had given them. Not that it had been much. In actuality all the visit of the shelter had done was cause Cas pain, Dean thought bitterly.

As they arrived back at the bunker that night and the ex angel slowly walked of to his room Dean held him back.

“Wait! How about you stay in my room for the night?”

Cas looked up from the ground to tilt his head to the side and squint his eyes at Dean in confusion.

“Just so you can - , I mean, you should be able to enjoy all that decoration you put up”, he added hastily, realizing how it sounded what he had just said.

Cas slowly shook his head, “No, I wouldn’t want to steal your room from you.”

His voice rumbled low and send a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Uhm, actually I thought we could share, if you don’t mind.” Dean did not blush at his words. Nor did he hold his breath until Cas’ answer came. He did not.

“Oh. Okay.” Dean thought he had seen the corners of the angel’s mouth turn up slightly. But then Cas turned and walked right into Dean’s room, so it might have just been his imagination.

That night the two of them lay on Dean’s bed, Cas with a stuffed cat in his arms, Dean with Cas in his arms. They both slept soundly and woke up to their bodies tangled together.

After that night Cas never slept in his old room again.

And when Dean put a blindfold over Cas’ eyes for their one year anniversairy and only let him take it of when they were standing in front of cage with a black cat with piercing blue eyes at a local animal shelter, well, it was completely worth the anti allergy pills Dean had to swallow now, just to see that look of pure joy on his angel’s face.