He's always there. Every other Saturday a blond man with emerald green eyes and a leather jacket goes to the third floor of Crow Ink and looks. Not just a glance at the title and a skim of the summary. He watches. He feels. He checks the length of creases and page numbers. He opens to a random chapter and spoils a part just to make himself smile. It's never any different. Maybe a small change of picking a realistic book instead of fiction, but his green eye for detail never falters. Studied closely enough, 8 out of every 10 books he picks have wings on the cover of some form or another, even the smallest one's on the littlest background bee.

The young kids who do last minute homework at Crow Ink have speculations. Some say he is lonely, searching for a form of love only these books can offer. Others say he's wise beyond his years. That his youth does not express his ability to so deeply understand the world around him. Some claim he is related to the owner, and checks the books to make sure they are perfect for being sold. Not many believe that though. It's a too simple explanation for a far too interesting man.

Workers there used to try and speak with him, discover his story. Never more than 2 word sentences were uttered, and only as replies. He was always far away from the shop, even when his feet were planted in the worn carpet. His brain seemed to be much more extravagant than any small talk people could offer.

This day was absolutely no different, except to the person who changed it.

"Hey Cassie," Dean relaxed into the wood chair that sat across from his husband. Castiel didn't reply, just stared at his bed and pulled up the covers. His blank face held so much pain Dean couldn't bear to watch. Eyes that he once made wide when he kissed him for the first time were now wide from the monsters Dean couldn't see. There was such a deep fear that showed as he trembled with every breath, and each day Dean lost more and more hope for his angel.

Dean turned over the hardcover book in his hand, "Um, this one is a bit shorter than normal. It's about a horse during the settling of the wild west. I-I thought you might like it," as always he handed the book to Castiel, who brushed his hand over the cover and cocked his head. Dean was used to sitting for at least 3 minutes each time he got a new book. Even though he never read any part, Cas judged the quality on the texture of the cover, the amount of cotton in the pages, and whatever else rushed through his head. Dean simply leaned back and waited.

After being married for 5 years, Dean could see Cas' smallest movements. Especially since he became mute, the almost microscopic movements had significance. A quiet nod before Cas placed the book down. He didn't look at Dean, but he gave his approval when he handed it back, placed his hands on his lap, and waited.

Dean smiled before replying, "Let me get changed first and then we can read, okay?" A flicker as Castiel's eyes looked to him let Dean know he was all clear.

Dean went into the bathroom with his pajamas and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, his eyes were dull, yet somehow there was a spark. He had looked dead ever since Cas' accident, but the hopefulness of his husband's return made each day worth it. He studied himself for a while longer, asking the same question he always did,

Why him? Why to such a thoughtful, sweet, beautiful person?

It always struck him hard that he never knew. These questions went unanswered, and somehow he knew they would remain that way. He sighed and changed, using steady movements as he thoughts raced. It was a blessing that Castiel liked the book he picked, as Crow Ink was low on the specific genre, the one he called 'Cas genre' on that Saturday. Cas was fascinated with anything from the animal kingdom, especially the more magical beasts. Dean only hoped the constant reading could make Cas happy for a while, and hallucinate only the joyful thoughts. It was a dream he knew was unlikely, but his very low knowledge on what really happened in Castiel's head could maybe make him right.

He exited the bathroom, placing his clothes in the laundry basket by the bed. Cas had a half smile as he stared at the cover, which had a beautifully drawn Kiger Mustang. It always warmed Dean's face when he saw Cas smile, and he knew this book would at least bring some bliss back.

Cas didn't look up at Dean as he slipped next to him, pulling the cover up. He made sure he wasn't touching Cas, as Cas panicked, even at Dean's touch. Dean carefully took the book from Cas' hand, making sure the movement wasn't too quick and suprising. Steadly, as to not move the bed, he turned on the lamp beside him and used the remote to turn off the lights. Cas always made sure Dean read every part of the book. Starting with title and author, Dean had to read the reviews and copyright, through dedications and forwards. Never did he care. It was just part of reading with his husband, and it was an activity he had come to love, as it meant life was normal; just as it should be.

Dean cleared his throat in a puurposefully exagerated manner. It always made Cas smile.

"The story I want to tell you,

can not be found in a book.

They say the history of the West was

written from the saddle of a horse.

But it's never been told

from the heart of one.

Not until now."

Displayed in a black and white water color image of a green hill, a mustanng, young and free stood. Castiel lightly touched the picture, tracing out each line. Another normal. Dean kept reading, "In this place that would come

to be called the ''Old West''

But to my kind, the land was ageless.

It had no beginning and no end.

No boundary between earth and sky.

Like the wind in the Buffalo grass.

We belong here.

We will always belong here."

At that line, Dean paused. He didn't know why it hit him, but it came like a rolling boulder of feelings. It took him some time to realize why. He looked to his side. Castiel was still tracing, this time making clicking noises as he started tracing new lines. His fingers were steady and determined. Dean knew he would love Cas no matter what, because even in these dark hours, he found joy in what he did. We will always belong here. No matter what happened, Dean knew they belonged together. He kept his marriage vows close to his heart. Nothing could make him stop loving Castiel.

He read the first three chapters that night. Cas clicking and tracing, sometimes rubbing his finger across the word Dean was reading. What was different though, was that Dean didn't think about the words on the clean page at all. Yes he read, but his brain didn't process the lines and dashes. That one line kept playing, over and over. And he kept seeing memories with his angel before the accident. He saw hikes and playgrounds, nerf fights and water balloons. It hurt more than he thought it would, but he held back tears for Castiel. Cas was interested in the book, and Dean wasn't about to ruin the moment.

When it became 9 o'clock and three chapters were behind them, Castiel turned over to sleep. They always kept the light on, just in case Cas woke up in the middle of the night, and couldn't see the ground. The darkness was one of the things he feared the most, and even Dean couldn't make him feel better. Dean couldn't do much anymore to help him, just read. Reading was good enough though, and as long as it made Cas happy, it made Dean happy.

Dean placed the book on the nightable beside him, stretching before turning over also. Slowly, as always, he placed his hand on Cas' arm. A flinch, before Cas relaxed. It was only when they slept that Cas would allow Dean to touch him. Dean suspected it was his fear of the dark. What hurt though was that he knew it didn't matter who it was, Cas just needed someone. Dean was insignificant. He was purely another blanket.

"Goodnight Castiel," Dean whispered into dark brown hair. He knew Cas wouldn't respond, but it felt weird to not say it. Heck, maybe one day he would answer.

That's what Dean's prayers always were. While he had little faith in a God, he needed to believe he had some control over all of this. That maybe he could change his husband's fate, even if it just meant reading to him every night and muttering prayers into the night. Something had to work. He couldn't keep this up for much longer.

He felt Castiel's head dip a bit, signaling Cas was asleep. Cas shifted closer to him, a move he did once his eyes were fully closed. It was like there was no fear when he slept in Dean's arms. Dean just held him, and like most nights, cried. Cried for the man who used to run to the corner store in the pouring rain just to get microwave popcorn. The boy who was his first friend, who would play imagination games where they were knights or rock stars. They would have sleepovers where they hugged each other during scary movies and then stayed tough during school. In some way, they had always known. Cas was meant to be with Dean and Dean with Cas. Neither denied the dozens of pictures of them together that covered their bedroom struggled when they weren't roomates, yet still called each other every night. Such a simple action such as speech never crossed Dean's mind then, but now he would give anything just to have Cas speak his name.

The memories didn't stop. Their first kiss at the playground in middleschool. The homophobic bullying they laughed their way through when the secret got out. Their card games at the library after school and chocolate mustaches.

What Dean wouldn't give just to kiss him again. To pull him close and softly touch his hair. Each day he was slowly forgetting what it was like to kiss. It hurt him so that each second made him lose hope.

He needed Cas back, more than he had ever needed something before. Maybe tomorrow would be the day.

That was what made life worth it.