Dear Dean,

There are so many things I want to tell you. They were right, you know, when they said I was lost once I laid a hand on you. I was. I think it was your freckles, I've always loved them. I thought for a while I should pick a vessel that had as many as you, so you and I could compare numbers. There's something about those little brown dots that speckle your face, like stars in the night sky. I think that if I stare just long enough ill be able to form constellations out of them. Not the ones humans know, but new ones, special ones that reflect you. The some cluster under your left eye, that's Hope. It's in the shape of a heart. And not to be outdone, the freckles on your right cheek form Family, I can't quite name the shape, but it's warm...like you.

But you are so much more than your face and freckles. No, Dean Winchester, there are so many things about you that make me feel things I never knew existed. Like, the way you sing in the car nonstop to songs I've never heard. It makes me laugh. You make me laugh. So hard I hurt. My stomach is literally in pain. And it's wonderful. Or when you look at me with those crystal green eyes. I can hardly describe how it makes me feel, the world around you goes blurry and in those moments you are my world. You're everything I see and need. Dean, I can't tell you how many times I want to just reach out and touch you. You make my stomach flip, I believe you call it "butterflies." My hands get shaky, my breath is caught in my throat, I can't think. I did not know humans had this power, but I wouldn't mind being your victim all the time.

Dean, you gave me purpose. Maybe the angels were wrong. Perhaps I was lost before I pulled you out of Hell. I saw hope in this world, a budding of everything that could be that wasn't. I knew it had to be saved, be protected. But I didn't see the love in this world. The way you care for Sammy, for family and friends, even for strangers. I can't understand how your heart is that big, and yet still had room for me. You told me once never to change, but I did, Dean, I changed to be like you. You say you're not a hero, but you are to me. You are batman, and we are Gotham. We don't deserve you, you are too good. And trust me, we need you. I need you.

Funny, you said that to me once, "I need you." I wonder what you meant by that. I think you meant like family. I thought about that moment for weeks, rolling it around my daydreams where you actually meant "I love you."

I wish I had been brave enough to say this to your face, but instead its in this letter. I want you to read this and admit to me that you really feel the same way, that I was being stupid and not picking up your hints. I want us to make daydreams happen, yours, mine. That what I am desperately praying for.

But as we know, God is missing.

I know how this letter will be received. Because as I write this, my tears dampening the pages, I know this letter will be carefully placed with the others on the edge of your coffin, unread by your eyes. With my fading grace I am human now, making trips to you impossible. I can only hope we meet soon.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Cas