A/N: This is a short one-shot I found on my computer that I'd written months ago. Actually, to be honest, I had completely forgotten about it until a few days ago when I was browsing through my document files and stumbled upon it. Hopefully, you'll find it as enjoyable to read as I did.

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this piece are from the popular television show "Supernatural," and therefore belong to the creator and writers of SPN. The title and inspiration for this fic belongs to Florence and the Machine for their well-crafted song "Falling."

Dear Scribbled Out Name,

There have been many times I've written this letter—so many that I don't even delude myself into thinking that I'm actually going to give this to you. I know, this confession written on a crumpled piece of paper serves no purpose whatsoever if you never read it and finally recognize my hopeless devotion to you, but that isn't why I write it. I write this for my own selfish needs, hoping that if I write this down enough times, then maybe these distracting, infectious feelings will simply drain out of my vessel's heart. But alas, it hasn't yet so I'm forced to tell this piece of stationary why I've been acting stranger than usual lately in your overwhelming presence.

During my timeless existence as one of God's loyal winged soldiers and the very few years I've been privileged to call your friend, I've fallen quite a lot.

Upon receiving my mission to save the Righteous Man from Perdition, I fell out of Heaven and into Hell—shuffling through the other damned souls until I came across yours; it was so broken when I first laid eyes on it that I didn't know if even I, a righteous angel on a mission from God, would be able to restore it to its previous glory. I came too late and for that, I deeply apologize. Have I already told you that? Honestly, I've said sorry so many times for my countless mistakes, I'm not sure how much you realize how I could have done things better. But at the time, I didn't regard you as something worth taking precise care of. You were a human and while God commanded all angels to yield to you, it never occurred to me to treat you other than just another assignment to accomplish to prove myself to my garrison. Yet as I resurrected you from damnation and mended your fragile soul, I felt your true power pulsing under my careful fingertips. It wasn't until then did I realize the true gravity to my destiny.

I was Castiel, Angel of Thursday, and I was the one—out of the infinite amount of angels in Heaven—that was chosen to save and guard the Righteous Man. You were Michael's vessel, but this was the first that I began to see you as more than that.

After your resurrection and I was consented into entering James Novak's body, my first experiences of being in a human vessel were not exactly the most pleasant. It took time for you to finally summon me, so being the curious angel I was, I decided to try my newfound flesh and bone out. It was confining and I wasn't as "graceful" as I was in my true form. There were many times that my legs wouldn't operate the way God created them to, and I would temporarily lose my balance, causing me to fall to the ground. I wish to say that I learned from that occurrence, but there were many times following that first incident that I was unable to stand on my two feet.

I've fallen off of buildings on the rare occasions that I forgot that my wings aren't as easily operable when in human form. During my brief times alone when I would wander through the thick forest to admire God's other lesser creations, I have been known to climb a particularly steep Oak tree to get a better view of the scenery. No one informed me how fragile tree branches could be, however, but luckily there was no one else there either to see my fall. I've never told you about any of these accidents, of course; you would just laugh at my incompetence and almost cause a smile to form on my vessel's face as well. Because your laugh was contagious like a fatal disease, and I sometimes have to remind myself to not indulge on these urges since if I let my true happiness show at all times, you would know the truth. And I can never let that happen.

Even earlier on, I was unable to hide my fondness for you. You didn't notice—actually, I'm quite sure you only saw me as a mindless soldier only following my orders to "make your life a living hell." But you fascinated me…a little too much, to be honest. Of course, my superiors and fellow brethren easily detected my growing attachment to you and your brother—that is why they ordered me to Heaven and forced me to endure endless torture to make sure where my true loyalty stood. You were the real reason I fell out of my many siblings' favors, but I don't want that to trouble you because honestly, I would "screw them over," as you would say, in a heartbeat if it meant to be blessed with your eventual friendship.

It wasn't long before I did finally fall from grace. The feeling was painful and felt like every atom of my celestial being was ripping apart and exploding out of existence. It wasn't a pleasant experience and frankly, I prefer the embarrassing tree event over it. Falling from Heaven was shameful, heartbreaking, disgusting, and against everything I had once stood for. I had fought for obedience and destiny, but then you came around and taught me that sometimes, free will is worth a few fatal causalities and self-sacrifices. You of all people should know that though, so I don't know why I'm lecturing you about this. Most likely because that the "Team Free Will" philosophy was the only thing that had made complete sense to me in a long time.

Yes, I've fallen many times in the last few years, but falling for you, however, was a whole different matter altogether. It wasn't the breathless, heart-stopping sensation as you helplessly crash through the atmosphere at what feels like lightning speed. No, it was a gradual, peaceful experience—like slowly falling backwards and trusting that the other person was going to catch you. Falling in love with you was like descending through the air with no worries or doubts or even coherent thought—it was blissful and left me shaking and desperate for more. No, this time, falling wasn't the problem. It was when I hit the ground did the miserable despair occur as I looked around and discovered that you weren't there to pick me back up.

I know, you were too caught up saving the world to realize my platonic emotions for you had developed into something much more than "friendship." Whenever you called, I came right away, silently thrilled to finally have an excuse to speak to you. But you must have noticed something, haven't you? I mean, I'm an angel—you should realize that I don't simply "forget" about your personal space and the many times I've put you out of your comfort zone. I've been trying my hardest to send infinite amount of signals to you while attempting to remain at least somewhat discreet. Sam and everyone else in a ten mile radius knows about my romantic affection for you. How can you not see? Is it because you really are that dense as most people say, or do you just ignore it? Because honestly, I'm about to be at my wits ends if you don't "get your head out of your ass" and acknowledge my feelings.

But if you still don't understand the actual gravity of my feelings, I'll try to be blunt:

I love you. I love your large calloused hands that have more blood on them than any man should be cursed to have. I love your haunting green eyes that have witnessed brutal murders, deranged killers, and innocent lives slayed both in the name of good and evil. I love your dirty blonde hair that makes me want to run my hands through the plethora of short strands. I love your compassion you have despite all the horrors you've seen and taken part in. I love your easy-going smile that always seems to find its way on your face even in the grimmest of times. I love your loyalty to your friends and especially to your brother. I love how easily you can forgive the people you love when it's obvious that they don't deserve it. When I don't deserve it. I love your ability to crack a joke to ease the growing tension in a room. I love your heavy sarcasm and dry humor that makes even the strictest of angel want to break into a smile. I love your gravelly voice that sends shivers down my spine and makes my heart want to beat right out of my chest. I love the lingering stares that you give me when you think nobody is watching.

I love you, Dean Winchester. I love yo—

"Cas!" Suddenly, Dean's demanding voice jolts Castiel back to reality as the angel quickly wads up the paper and shoves it in his trench coat pocket.

Not even a second later, Dean appears in the doorway of his and Sam's latest motel room, gazing expectantly at Cas still sitting at the foot of the bed, "C'mon, Man, we need your help with the spell." His green eyes narrow at Castiel's hand thrust awkwardly into his coat, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Dean," He replies calmly as he stands to his feet, "You and Sam should go on ahead without me. I'll meet you at the cemetery in a few minutes."

"You can ride with us, you know." Dean tells him in a forced casual tone, leaning on the doorframe as he shifts his gaze almost nervously around the room, "We can talk more about the case or something—"

"Thank you for the kind offer, Dean," Cas says hesitantly as his grip on the letter tightens, "But I have a few things to tend to before I can join you."

Dean stares at him for a moment and if Castiel was naïve, he would have sworn he saw the hunter's eyes dart to the angel's lips before he looks to the ground and nods curtly, "Sure, whatever. Just don't keep me and Sammy waiting." And with that, he exits the room and slams the door behind him.

Cas lets out a sigh of relief as he takes his letter back out to stare at it temptingly for a brief moment. But as he still feels his unrequited emotions for Dean burning in his main artery, Cas knows his attempt has yet again failed. Without so much as a second thought, he tears up the letter and makes it burst into flames just to make sure none of the contents will be read.

And with one final sorrowful glance out the window where he sees the black Impala vanish out of sight, Castiel disappears with a ruffle of wings.

A/N: Reviews and other forms of feedback are appreciated.