"Cassieeee! Rise and shiiiine!" Gabe was Castiel's morning alarm and had been since the time they were kids. It no longer bothered him. He just burried his head deeper into the nest of pillows and blankets. "Oi, wake up! It's Friday-funday. We are sneaking into the bar today," Gabriel said as he ripped of Castiel's blankets, causing him to groan loudly. Knowing from 17 years of experience that Gabe wouldn't let him sleep, he sat up in bed rubbing his eyes . As he slipped on his spectacles, the world around him changed into high definition. "I have told you before and I'm telling you again, I'm not helping you illegally obtain alcohol."Gabriel plonked down beside him on the bed. "Lighten up, Cassie! Everyone does it. You got no choice but to come with me."Castiel knew that once his brother had got an idea, and a bad one in that, there was no way he was changing his mind. So he said, "Fine, but I'm going to complain the whole time." Gabe cackled loudly as he headed out of the room, "I didn't expect any less from you, Nerdyboy!"

Castiel loved his elder brother but there was no denying that he was an annoying git at most times. They were as unlike each other as two people could possibly be. Gabe was fun loving and spontaneous. He loved tricking people, but besides having as much fun as he possibly could in the present, he didn't care for anything else. His definition of partying was going out with his friends, sneaking into bars and trying to get laid. Pretty much what every other 19 year old considered partying. He often proclaimed with a mockingly solemn and resigned face that not being able to get his younger brother to be more like him, or even go on dates was his biggest failure. Hey, but it wasn't that Castiel did not have fun! His definition of fun was hackeneyed. It involved a book, a mug of half-n-half-two-spoons-of-sugar coffee and a 4 hour long playlist of his favourite songs. Ah, even thinking about it made him smile.

Talking to Gabe had made him late for school. So he got dressed hurriedly in his usual attire: a formal shirt rolled up at the sleeves and worn out jeans. Everyday he walked a mile to and from school. Although today Castiel was in a rush, this was his favourite part of the day. It not only gave him time to think, but being the homebody he was, it also was his only form of exercise. Having walked the same road everyday for a year, he was by now familiar with people who passed by. Just down the road from his house were a little girl Claire and her mother Amelia, who always waved to him. And just before he reached school, his mother's friend Missouri would be mowing the lawn. "Hey Castiel" "Hello Missouri" and smiles were their regular greeting. It was a simple routine, but it was familiar and it was the simplicity that made him happy.

The first class was History. The snarky Mr. Balthazar was just what the noisy teenagers needed. He made the subject interesting but if you got on the wrong side of him, his sass would leave even the most thick-skinned student red faced. However, he had a soft spot for Castiel, probably because he was one of the only students to listen in his class willingly. Castiel was just happy to not have any unwanted attention directed at him, so this worked out well for him. The rest of the classes draged on until lunch. As per usual, Castiel sat in one of the empty, secluded tables in one corner of the canteen and picked up the book for the day. The boy in the striped pajamas. He had already read the book, but it was one of his favourites. Bruno and Shmuel's trust in each other was what made him come back to the book time and again. Having someone to confide in wasn't perhaps so bad after all. But if he were to talk to someone about everything he thought of, they would form opinions. They would judge him. And then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from obsessing over what they thought of him. He thought of yesterday's book. Maybe writing letters to a stranger wouldn't be so bad after all…?

Before he could think anymore and overcomplicate everything, Castiel tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and started writing.

To Whoever Finds This,

Oftentimes, we all have random thoughts that we wish we had the time to articulate and the right people to share them with. I have the time but nobody who would listen without thinking that this is weird. So I'm writing this letter. I hope someone finds it, because the feeling that there are people wanting to read something of your writing is the best feeling a writer can get.

Do you ever look at a woman in the supermarket or a little boy on the bus and wonder and marvel at the fact that their lives are a complicated web of places, people and thoughts just like yours? No person has experienced the same thoughts and emotions, in the same intensity as you have. There is an entire world of words, ambitions, triumphs, sorrows and contemplations that have made you who you are. Had you been born a day later or earlier, your life would have been entirely different. And now, you're just one person. Every single person has created a world of their own and all of these are connected by blood, friendship, love or even the likes on a post on the internet. The magnitude, complexity and intricacies of this design are at the same time magnificent and frightening. Consider every person who has touched your life, may it be in the most remote of ways, against the thousands of others whom you are totally oblivious to because your paths were never meant to cross, or your existences were centuries apart in time. What/who decides this?

Every person has a story. You may have an inkling about the life of someone very close to you, but you would never really understand them unless you lived their life. This letter is a sonder of sorts, the realisation of the depth of each life around me.

-Writer on the quest for happiness.

Having written this, Castiel paused, thinking about how he could ensure that the same person who read this letter could find his next ones. As the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, he hastily scribbled a post script

P.S. My next letter will be in the loose floorboard by the library.

On the way to class, Castiel placed the letter in the crook formed by peeling dry wall by the lockers. It was quite dark so the letter wasn't noticeable. Good. Now if, when and who found it was left to the fates. The rest of the day was spent in an unusual state of excitement for Castiel. Though he never thought of himself that way, Castiel was a romantic. The thought of someone finding his letters gave him a thrill. Writing letters to strangers may have been cliched, but it was something that happened in books and not in real life, least of all in his. It made him feel like he was in a book himself.

Gabriel noticed how jittery his little brother was on that particular day. On any other day, he would have irritated him until he could wheedle info out of him. Gabe had to know EVERYTHING. But as long as Castiel was in a good mood, their little evening trip to the Roadhouse would be made easier. So he didn't question it. "Come on, little bro. Today, you'll live the high life with me," he said when Castiel came out of his room reluctantly, ready to leave. "Yes Gabriel. I'm sure watching you and your friends get drunk and then driving you back home is the high life", Castiel said, annoyed. Forever good naturedly, Gabe said,"Alright, alright. You always have to be Johnny Raincloud, don't ya?"


Coach Henricksen was in the gym after school to train the High School Wrestling Team. They had training sessions every Wednesday and Friday after school. After two hours of gruelling training, Coach was finally satistied. "Good job, boys. Keep practicing and watch your diets. We'll regroup next Wednesday. Dismisseed."

The boys stood around chatting for a few minutes, as they did after every practice session. One of them had plans for the evening with his friends, so he said his byes and hurried towards the lockers. He stuffed some books into the locker, took out his bag and slammed the locker shut. Just as he did that, a piece of folded paper fell out of a crevice next to his locker. Dean Winchester bent down and picked it up.


A/N: YOU GUYS! I published the tinyass first chapter to this story and went to bed never expecting anyone to read it. I woke up to find more views than I could've hoped for. And some of you even favourited, followed and reviewed. I can't explain to you how happy it made me. Thank you! I was really hesitant about this chapter. I have the basic story planned in my mind but the path it takes to reach the destination, I have no idea about. Tell me what you feel about the letters. Ever since reading certain books, I wanted to write anonymous letters. So I thought I would do it through this story. Is it an okay idea or am I fucking shit up? I have no idea. Any suggestions are welcome. PM and review away! Shoutout to tardis-impala-221b-merlin and Tiddo-mus! Thank you so much for your kind words. And TomorrowsTragedy reminded me to mention that the title of the story is a line from Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab. Also, since I didn't say it in the first chapter, I do not own Supernatural or the characters. Only this story is mine. Once again, Thank you if you read the first 2 chapters of my story. I know this chapter is small, but it's twice the size of the last one. And I'll do my best to update soon. Don't forget to tell me what you thought!

-S