Play.

Hello. Is this thing working? Testing, testing... okay, good.

Dean couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd hear this voice again.

It's me. Castiel.

I know, he thought. I'd know that voice anywhere.

I'm sure you thought you'd seen the last of me. Well, I'm not quite done yet.

I got this idea from a book. There are two rules. One, you listen, and two, you pass it on. If you don't, there is a second set of tapes that will end up playing on loop in heaven, hell, and in the hearing range of every hunter. I'm sure you don't want me to air your dirty laundry out to the world.

What the hell is this, Cas? Some kind of twisted suicide note?

Oh. My bad. There are three rules. Rule three is you can't talk about these tapes to anyone except the other people who have received them. But I imagine that won't be too hard for you, especially after what you're about to hear.

When you're finished listening to the tapes, leave them on Mary Winchester's grave in Lawrence, Kansas. There, an unknown-to you, anyway- third party will collect them and drop them off at the next person's residence. After you get the tapes, you will have exactly 48 hours to drop them off at the cemetery. And if you don't...well, you'll know what will happen.

Dean remembered Cas asking him how to record on cassette tapes just a month before he died. He never imagined that this is what Cas wanted to do with the tapes.

Now some of you are dead at the time I'm recording this. Don't worry, you will still get the tapes, and I won't reveal anything that happens to you in the future. Don't try to change the future, please. We all know that never ends well.

Now, sit back. Try to relax. If you're listening to these tapes, you are one of the reasons why I'm dead.

What? No!

So, listen carefully.

Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you everything.

Pause.

Dean needed a minute to wrap his head around this.

Castiel was dead. But before he died, he recorded a series of cassette tapes. And for some reason, he was blaming Dean for his death.

What did Dean do to make Cas feel this way?

Dean took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

Play.

Now, who's first? That would be you, Mr. Singer.

Bobby? What did Bobby have to do with this? What did Bobby ever do to Cas? He thought Cas liked Bobby.

Then again, Dean thought Cas liked him, too.

Now, I know that since you're in heaven you can't exactly get to the cemetery. And that's fine. Just leave them on the other side of your escape hatch and from there they'll find their way to the next person.

Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat. No good. It was still there.

Bobby, you are first on the tapes because, when I think back on it, you're the one who has done the least damage. So try to relax. Open a beer. It's not going to be too bad. Probably.

Dean could imagine Bobby in heaven, listening to this. He probably did have a beer. Dean was definitely going to need one.

So, why are you on here? I suppose I should stop procrastinating and get on with it.

Yes, Cas, please. I want to know what I did wrong.

Dean turned up the volume.

When we first met, you were trying to shoot me. No, that's not why you're here. I understand why. I just walked in, exploding lightbulbs. Dean had just come back from hell. You didn't know what I was, or who I was. I would've shot me, too.

I didn't have time for you. I put you to sleep. I am sorry about that, by the way. But you did try to kill me.

Perhaps I should have let you.

No, Cas. You shouldn't have.

Now, what you have to understand is that sometimes it is the smallest comments that can ruin a person's life. Well, not ruin per say. But words are poison. They can push someone over the edge. What is the saying you humans have? "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me"?

Dean remembered that rhyme. He'd always hated it.

That's not true. Words can hurt. A lot.

So what is it that you said that hurt me?

You were in the hospital, newly handicapped, stuck in a wheelchair for what would've been the rest of your life. I can only imagine how you must have felt. It couldn't have been easy for you. So many years of hunting, and now you were confined in a chair, unable to do anything but watch as your friends died. I can understand why you were so bitter.

It still doesn't make your words hurt any less.

As for me, I had just come back from the dead for the very first time. Raphael had killed me. I had also just rebelled. I had fallen from grace. My powers were restricted.

So, we have the setting. I entered your room, talking to Sam and Dean. And you interrupted us.

Dean remembered when this happened.

"Enough foreplay," you said. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on."

For a moment, I was confused. I also didn't know what foreplay was. I do now.

"Get healing!" you snapped. "Now!"

Now I understood. You wanted me to heal your legs. But I couldn't. As I said, my powers were restricted after being cut off from heaven. Unfortunately, that wasn't the answer you wanted to hear.

"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" Your face twisted into an ugly expression. Was it anger? Rage? Frustration? Or simply annoyance? I'm still not sure, even after all these years.

Cas, he wasn't angry at you. He was just bitter. It wasn't your fault.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

And I was, Bobby. Really and truly sorry. Sorry I couldn't be of more help.

Your response to my apology?

"Shove it up your ass."

Had Bobby's words really hurt Cas so much?

It may seem like such a little, minor thing, but I've already explained that it's the little things that hurt the worse. I wanted to help you, Bobby. But it was out of my power to do so.

Bobby understood that. They all understood that.

And why? Because I rebelled to save you. To save all of you. I sacrificed my home and family for you humans. But that didn't seem to matter to you.

That's not true. We were grateful, Cas, Dean thought. We knew what you had sacrificed. It mattered.

All you cared about was getting out of that chair, and if I couldn't help you, then I wasn't worth your time.

No! That isn't true!

Well, I won't be helping anyone now. Not ever again.

Stop.

Dean needed a beer.