Dean drives by Jimmy Novak's house at least once a week.
He doesn't mean to. It just happens somehow. He'll be driving along and he won't even know where he is. When he looks up, he's staring at that perfect suburban house with the pristine steps leading up to the door.
Of course he never stays long enough to actually see Jimmy. Hell, Jimmy doesn't even know who he is. His memory was erased somehow when Castiel left and healed him. Dean could say he knew it would happen one day, but to be honest he'd never expected it. Of all the ways to lose Cas, for him to just vanish one day was not among the list of scenarios he'd concocted.
So now he's left to gaze at the lovely green lawn kept so neatly that the grass might as well not be real.
He looks at his watch. It's Thursday. 11 A.M. He never stops by in the daylight, but today he couldn't help it. His foot wouldn't budge on the gas any longer. He put the car in park and watched the house for a long time.
After a while - he doesn't know how long; time doesn't seem to constrain him like it used to - the front door cracks open. It's him. Jimmy Novak. Dean squints at the sight, blinking hard, as if he's staring at the sun. Jimmy walks up to the car, obviously suspicious. Dean lowers the window.
"Can I help you?" he asks. He doesn't sound like Cas. No rough, whispering edge. No gravelly undertone. Hell, he hardly looks like Cas. He looks like some run-of-the-mill nuclear dad.
Dean clears his throat. "No, uh, sorry. Wrong house."
Jimmy watches him, expression wavering between anger and curiosity. Dean wonders if a part of his subconscious recognizes him.
"Can I…" Dean starts, but it's a stupid request and he'd feel slightly insane if he asked.
"What?" Jimmy asks, and now there's a definite edge of annoyance in his tone. He leans closer to the window, and Dean can get a good look at his eyes.
He doesn't know what he's expecting. Maybe a hint, a ghost of the angel. A remnant of some sort. A memory. Dean's green eyes search the depths of the brilliant blue.
Nothing.
Dean shakes his head, and Jimmy looks quizzical.
"It's nothing," he says, putting his car in gear and easing his foot back onto the gas. "You just look like someone I used to know."