Onwards and upwards.

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Here's chapter 2!

Dear Cas,

Sorry for taking so long to write again. I just keep thinking how stupid your grave will look covered in a pile of letters that you won't ever read. And that's before the rain will get to them. I thought I'd feel better after I wrote the first one, but nothing changed. I'm just as miserable now as I was then, but I'll keep going if not just to make Sam happy.

I can't remember that last time he was happy. Not since you died, anyway.

I read in some magazine (no, not Cosmo) that the best way to deal with this type of grief is to only dwell on the happy memories of a loved one and in time the "internal healing process" will start to work. The biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard so I'm gonna do this my own way. I'm gonna remember everything, every last detail of the time we were together and maybe by the end it'll feel more complete. Like we weren't cut so short.

Even now I feel as though we were together longer than I ever thought possible. Hell, we shouldn't have even made it past our second meeting. You should've arrested me that day, I know it, you know it. It was stupid of me to be at that bar in the first place, I knew the owner's side job of drug trafficking and I knew it was only a matter of time he got caught. But Sammy's birthday was soon and I wanted to get him a really good present that year. I never saw fault in hustling pool for some spare cash, in my opinion it's honest work. And as it turned out, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It wasn't as dramatic of a police take over as I thought it would be; no smoke bombs or swat teams breaking through the windows. You did break down the door though, that was pretty impressive. I'll admit, I never thought you'd be able to. Sorry Cas, but you look like a bit of a wimp. But you broke it down pretty fast and the place was swarming with cops before I could even put down my pool cue. Your team was doing a pretty superficial job of separating who was going to be questioned and who they were letting go. I saw more than one pretty lady slip out while the scumbags like me were thrown against a wall. I knew the instant our eyes !et that you recognized me. Maybe you felt bad for me, but probably you remembered Sam, the lawyer in training whose future depended on his brother's shitty income to get by. Maybe you just didn't want to deal with me for the next few days. Whatever it was, it wasn't long before the handcuffs on my hands came loose and you started leading me towards the front entrance.

"Sgt. Novak? Don't you think we should check him out first?" One of your officers, the one who handcuffed me in the first place, asked timidly. What a title, Seargant Castiel Novak, it really did suit you.

"No, he's clean. Don't worry about it, check the back would you?" You said so calmly before hauling me out the front door. All at once your demeanor changed.

"Get the hell out of here before I find some charge to lay on you and put your ass in jail for the next twenty years." You hissed at me, shoving me towards the curb.

"Good luck with that." I laughed. You wouldn't be the first person to try.

"I would find something, wouldn't I?" I didn't even have to answer you for you to know. Trying to keep some dignity, I started walking away.

"How's Sam?" I was surprised you even remember his name. Out of all the people you'd met in your life, what made us stick out?

"He's good. Yeah, he's doing well in school. Top of his class, from what I've heard. Not that he'll ever admit it to me." I replied and you gave the first ghost of a smile I'd seen since you got there. It reminded me less of cop you and more of the man who'd bought me a coffee months earlier. You tipped your hat at me slightly and headed back inside the bar, and I went home. That to me felt like the last time I'd see you, although I always hoped it wasn't. Guess I was pretty lucky in the end.

Writing this all down frustrates me. I have so many questions I should've asked you, but never thought to while you were around. I guess I always figured that I'd have forever to figure them out. Or maybe they just never occurred to me until now. Sam always said I looked at our relationship through rose-coloured glasses. I'm starting to think he's right.

I have to stop. Thinking back on all this is so draining, and I really wanna put on a brave face for Sammy today. I really have to try to move on, for his sake, my sake, and even yours.

I'm sorry. I'm not doing you any justice with any of this, but I have to try something.

God, I just miss you so much.

Yours always,

Dean.