Ketch knew a lot of Dean’s background from Mick’s files and his one stint of work, therefore he expected finding some lewd magazines and extra barrels in his room. Hell, he would’ve been confused if he didn’t find anything. What he didn’t expect were the photographs.
There were old, some of what looked like family members most likely. A few had Sam and others had a scruffy old man in a hat. There was even one of Mary taken way before Dean got the hardened look of a soldier that Ketch has grown accustomed to fighting against.
What he didn’t expect was the small leather box with even more pictures, only this time all of one person. The angel.
There were maybe dozens of them taken over what seemed like a few years at least. All looked taken in haste while others had Castiel looking at the camera, not understanding what was happening most likely. There were some of the two of them, though not many and it didn’t look like they knew they were being taken either. Some had handwriting on them, too, which caught Ketch even more off guard.
“Post-Apocalypse - He stayed”
“We’re alive”
“Before I die, Cas…” There was smudged handwriting following those words, like the picture had been picked up and put down so much that the ink bled off.
The list went on, and with the later years that Ketch could tell by how Dean aged the words appeared more and more, each one getting blurred as well towards the end, like there were words Dean had rewritten countless times but could never say.
“Mr. Ketch,” a crony came into Dean’s room. “We believe we have learned a sufficient amount regarding the Winchesters’ attachments.”
“Yes,” Ketch replied, still sifting through the pictures and piecing the puzzle together. “We have learned something remarkable indeed.”