"You got some dirt underneath those fingernails, buddy," I said as I entered his trailer. Cas brought them under his eyes and shrugged noncommittally before sinking onto a pale green chair with holes littered across the armrests. On the table beside him there was a bottle of whiskey, at least it was a good one, and one of my letters. The only one he must've kept. Clothing was strewn across the back where a twin bed was sitting sideways against the wall. Dishes overflowed the sink and the trash can was overflowing with cans of soup. He wasn't even cooking for himself. When I focused my attention back to him with what I was sure was complete and utter surprise, I noticed he was growing a beard and he looked exhausted. The sheets on his bed were wrapped around each other, like they'd been slept in but it was as though Cas hadn't slept the entire time he'd been gone. He was either having some sort of serious breakdown or he'd already had it and decided to quit living. I knelt down in front of him, kissed his cheek and smiled grasping his hands. He didn't squeeze back like he normally did.

"I'm gonna go outside for a sec. I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't move," I said and stepped out of the trailer, the door swinging shut behind me. He was fucked up. I didn't know what I could do, but I wasn't going to leave him, so I was just going to have to make it up as I go. I tugged my phone from my pocket, practically dropping it when I finally wrangled it from the hidden depths, and called Sam.

"Dean, hey. I just wanted to say, you know now that you've called me, that..."

"I know. You don't have to say sorry. I understand why you said what you did. Listen, I won't be seeing you for a while. Cas is alive but he's sure as hell not kicking. I don't know what's wrong or what I can do about it. He might be permanently broken, man. I still have to figure out what happened. All of it."

"Just show him how much you love him and it'll turn out fine, Dean. And I'm glad he's okay."

"I don't know if that'll be enough. This isn't a fairytale."

"I'm aware. Well, take all the time you need. I'll be fine. Check in occasionally though, yeah?"

"You got it," I sighed, before hanging up. I didn't want to be harsh to Cas, but he was so vacant, so completely out of it, I wasn't sure how else to get the information I needed. I strolled back in and knelt before him once again. I laid a hand on his cheek and he almost flinched away. It hurt but I wasn't going to get angry until I knew why. I had a feeling it wasn't about me. Better approach this carefully.

"You've been gone for, oh, eight days. Last time I checked in on your diner, Jo was running it entirely by herself and she's determined to continue doing so. I've been kind of going insane but thanks for letting me in on where you are. I'm not sure what you've gone through, but I want you to know I'm not leaving you. You won't ever feel alone again. Or scared, if I have something to do about it," I paused, taking a deep breath. "Are you up to telling me what happened?"

Cas turned his head away to look out the only window. His eyes stayed there for god knows how long and he didn't say a word.

"Cas?"

"Dean," he whispered, still not meeting my eyes, "I'm not sure I can do this anymore."

I wasn't thick, and I wasn't going to act like it either. I knew perfectly well what he was trying to say, but I wasn't okay with it. By any means.

"After everything, you're done?" I whispered. "After all the shit I've done for you. All you've done for me? You know what, Cas," I yelled, "You don't get to quit. At this relationship, at life, at anything. Sure, you went through something and it was awful, life-altering apparently. But it doesn't mean people don't care about you. That you should give up someone you love because you can't go through it again. What we have is worth fighting for and I'm gonna keep fighting even if you're not. But don't you dare say those words again at least not when I'm around or you very well might lose me. You might not think that's such a bad thing now, but you will. And you know why? Because I know how you feel about me, you bastard and you will regret it for the rest of your life if you fuck this up. What we have is forever, Cas. It's real. You're the one. So maybe you should let me know what the hell is going on so I can help."

He kept gazing out the window, but I did notice his fingers clench into the chair and his neck twitching. He was fighting the urge to look at me. At least he wasn't as far gone as I thought he was moments before. I had been right. It wasn't me. It was all about what had happened. Something or someone had convinced him we weren't right for each other. Convinced him as in brainwashed him. I flung the door to the trailer wide once again and stomped out, my heart racing, and my head on the verge of exploding. I hadn't ever been this angry with him. Ever. I sat beside the trailer, resting my head back on it, and fumed. I kept fuming most of the night. I was so angry I was worried I was going to go in there and tell him it was over, which was not at all what I wanted. When I'd finally calmed down and put myself in his shoes as best as I could, I went back in to find him asleep in his chair.

"Don't stress yourself out, Cas," I growled quietly before lifting him in my arms and carrying him over to the twin bed. I wrestled his shoes off of his feet and flung them across the floor. That would have to do for the time being. I wrangled the blankets from underneath his weight and laid them gently over his body up to the middle of his chest. I kissed him once on the forehead and whispered, "I forgive you, buddy. But, please, tell me what I can do. Tell me what's wrong." I stood and peered around the cluttered, dusty trailer. I was strangely uncomfortable with the uncleanliness. And I knew somewhere down deep in his brain he did too. He was just too busy focusing on other thoughts. So I gathered up all the clothes and threw them into a neat pile in the sort of closet in the back. I washed all the dishes by hand and put them back in the cupboards. I had no idea where they were supposed to go so I kind of just made it up. I sorted through all the garbage, sifting cans into a separate bag so they could be recycled. Then I threw both the bags over my bag and did the hour hike back to the campground where they had two huge dumpsters and tossed the bags in before making the hike back in the pitch black. It took a lot longer. I got lost at least three times and I think I must've circled the trailer multiple times. I only found it again because I practically ran into it, literally. I crashed into the same chair that Cas had been sleeping in earlier and fell asleep hoping that tomorrow, maybe just maybe, Cas would be willing to say something.

When I woke up, my neck and back in serious pain from being cramped into one position the entire night, I realized Cas wasn't up yet. He was still asleep in the back. I went to him and practically laughed at his peaceful face. The fact that in some state he was happy made me more confident that bringing him back to me wouldn't be so difficult. So I opened his mine fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs that were probably spoiled and cracked five of them into a bowl. They looked and smelled fine so I wasn't going to complain. I whisked them together with a fork and then poured them into a pan and placed it on the hot plate that Cas had set up. It wasn't exactly a perfect setup but it was going to work. I scrambled them together until they were extremely dry and poured all five eggs on to a plate. I shoved the little scraps left over in the pan into my mouth before strolling to Cas and giving him a light shove.

"Hey buddy, time to get up."

Cas rolled over, groaning, and stared blankly up at me. "I'm not hungry, Dean."

"You need to eat something. When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh..."

"Too long. You don't have any idea do you?" I chastised him. "Sit up."

Cas did, albeit ridiculously slowly, and most likely reluctantly. I had a hard time remembering what I was trying to do when the blankets slipped away and his bare chest came into view. My hand was tingling at the thought of running kisses up and down his skin. Cas had to snap in my face to wrangle me out of my distraction.

"Are we doing something here, or should I get dressed?"

"We're feeding you," I demanded, back on track. I gathered some of the eggs together on the fork and brought it to Cas' mouth. He stubbornly kept his mouth firmly closed, so I prodded them with the sharp tongs of the fork until he opened them. I quickly shoved the eggs home and got ready for another bite in which he was being stubborn once again. It was like feeding a two year old.

"Can't we do this like grown up's Cas?"

"I don't want to eat."

"Fine," I moaned, continuing the painstaking ritual.

When the plate was clean after around thirty minutes, I stood and went back to the kitchen to soap down the plate and put it away. Cas came stumbling out, with a shirt on now, and peered around his makeshift home.

"You cleaned," he whispered.

"Is that alright?"

"I suppose. I didn't even realize how messy it was in here. That's usually kind of a big deal for me."

"Yeah, it is."

"Why are you still here, Dean?"

"You already know the answer to that, man. The question is why haven't you been cleaning? Why haven't you shaved that god awful beard? Why haven't you been eating? What the hell happened? I'm not going to stop asking for one second until you tell me so I'd just get it over with."

"I'd rather not do that now," he sighed, sinking into his chair. He was practically an extension of it now.

"Alright, we'll work on the less important stuff first then. You need a shower and a shave. You're as dirty as the chair you're sitting on and it looks as though it was outside, deserted, on the street for over a week. Which, I guess is kind of an accurate description of you. Come on," I said, gripping him by his arms, "To the shower."

Cas didn't protest. We got to the cramped bathroom with the tiny shower, that probably could barely hold one of us, and I pulled off his shirt and boxers, leaving him naked as a new born baby. The first thought I had was how great sex in a cramped shower would be, but I cast the thought aside because what I was doing was about Cas and what he needed. Not what I needed. So I kept my clothes on as I turned on the water which unfortunately wasn't going to be hot and forced Cas inside. He inhaled sharply at the cool water hitting his skin and automatically wanted out but I managed to keep him inside the shower until he was used to the temperature. Then I stepped in with him, my clothes still on and getting wet, poured almost my entire hand worth of shampoo into my palm and ran it through his hair, scrubbing furiously. The soapy suds weren't catching well because of all the grime but I kept at it, rinsing and re-applying until his head was basically white foamy bubbles. I followed up with some conditioner, figuring he hadn't been anywhere near any in a while and then rinsed that out. All that was left was the soap. So I grabbed the entire bar and ran it down his spine, butt cheeks, and legs, before setting it down and gently rubbing circles out everywhere the soap had touched. I expected Cas to kind of freak out, especially when I moved the front and was massaging the very tops of his thighs but he remained calm with the same far away expression. It was majorly disconcerting. When I was finished, I kissed his neck, turned off the water and handed him a towel. He held it limply in his hands, just standing there, so I rolled my eyes, ripped the towel from him and dried him off.

"Okay, time to shave. Are you capable of putting clothes on?"

Cas nodded and I practically jumped up and down with joy. I wasn't sure he could complete any task at all as of now. "Well good," I said, "Because I need some clothes and I'll take whatever you got."

Cas opened up the closet and tossed to me a shirt and some boxers. I wouldn't have minded a pair of jeans but I wasn't going to protest. I stripped down, laying the clothes out on the ground to dry and glanced over at Cas to see him watching me.

"See something you like?" I laughed.

Cas blushed and refocused on the clothes he was trying to put on his own back. A small smile crossed my face. Maybe he didn't realize how much he needed me right now but I could tell his subconscious knew. I pulled on the shirt and boxers before grabbing Cas' hand and tugging him back to his chair. I was surprised when he didn't sit down into it. He just gazed at it with a sort of grotesque expression on his face. He was disturbed by how dirty it was, now that he was clean. And it was then I began glimpsing the Cas I loved. I grabbed some towels and laid them down in the chair so Cas could sit, which he finally did. When I'd fetched the towels I'd also grabbed his shaving cream and razor so I could set to work. I lathered his face in the cream and offered him the razor first. But when he shook his head, as I suspected he would, I set to work. I gently held his face steady and ran the razor over his skin. I didn't press all that hard so there would be traces of the beard still left, leaving his classic five-a-clock shadow. When I moved to his neck, I put a finger beneath his chin, and lifted his head up until his neck was deliciously accessible. I had to keep reminding myself to focus on the job at hand or I was going to nick him. When I was finished and had washed the razor off, I came back with a small hand towel to get rid of the remaining dots of shaving cream. I wiped them off, his neck last and gave a lingering open mouth kiss on his neck when I was finished. I didn't need him returning the favor but I found myself needing some semblance of physical contact every once and a while. I missed him.

"Ready to talk?" I asked.

Cas paused but I could see in his eyes he felt guilty because he knew that he owed me something.

"Ever since you'd told me what you did, I'd been doing a little of my own research," he began in a soft voice, his eyes downcast, "And a lot of what discovered mentioned you and your brother and someone named Crowley; the king of hell. The only characteristic anybody described was his british accent, like that was all they remembered. And then that regular came. He had a british accent but I wasn't paranoid by that point. Not until he came in every day for really long extended periods of time and asking me kind of personal questions. Eventually, I'd had enough. I was sure it was Crowley. I didn't have proof but that didn't matter much because in almost all the stories about Crowley, his targets ended up dead so..." he trailed off.

"Anyways, I ran. But he caught up with me. He said he wanted revenge on you. That was all he would ever say when he was torturing me, locking me in a cell, starving me, you name it. Once he said he was going to break me, so that when you found me there would be nothing left. He did a pretty good job if you ask me. I'm never going through anything like that again and if that's what happens to people who love you, I'm done Dean. I can't go through pain like that ever again."

I ignored the last bit of his story completely. It wouldn't help to argue right now. "How'd you get away?"

"A girl named Anna. She busted up the window in my cell and I managed to climb out and crawl away. Then I came here because I felt like I owed that much to you. I should at least be where I said I would be."

"Thank you, Cas. Can you help me with something really quick?"

He said nothing but stood and put his hands in his pockets. I led him over to the fridge and pointed to the remaining food items in the cupboard. "I would really like something to eat since I haven't had anything today, but I don't know what you can make out of that. Mind telling me so I can whip something up for myself."

Cas nodded, pulled out green onions, cheddar cheese, a bag of potatoes and a carton of milk. "Mashed potatoes," he whispered.

"Great," I smiled, dumping the potatoes unceremoniously into the sink. I could feel him cringing just a bit and I smiled even bigger. That was the whole point after all. "Should I peel them?"

"No. The skin goes great with that type of potato."

"Got it." I pulled out a knife and waved it above one of the green onion stocks before bringing the knife down kind of diagonally on top of it, resulting in a thick, roughly sliced piece of onion. I did it again and again until I had an entire stock of green onion with none of the pieces near each other in size. I moved on to the next one but before I could make a cut I felt a hand stop me.

"Please just let me do it," Cas whispered, grimacing obviously.

"That bad, huh?" I laughed.

"Yeah," Cas said. "That was truly horrible," he half-laughed.

"Want me to start of chopping up the potatoes? Grating the cheese?"

"Why don't you just sit down and read a book or something. I'll have this done much faster without you." And Cas set to work sharpening up the onion slices I'd already cut and slicing up the rest.

"You have books around here?"

"Yeah, they're in a box in the back. I haven't opened it yet but there are some good ones. Actually, I don't even know what I brought," he realized, more to himself. I couldn't stop smiling as I went back, popped off the lid, and grabbed A Tale of Two Cities, his favorite book. I just knew he would bring it. The one I bought him. It was some really old fancy edition worth a shit-ton of money, but his reaction had been worth it. I seem to remember him literally crying with joy and surprise. I gingerly lifted the cover to see a scribbled note I'd written him for his birthday. I strolled back and sat in his now towel laden chair and cracked the book open. I started at the beginning and it reminded me why I couldn't stand Dickens. So I skipped to the end because that was the good part. Cas peered over at me as he was grating the cheddar cheese and I noticed with my peripheral vision his eyes widen and tear up just slightly before he shook his head and focused once more on the brainless task he was doing.

Thirty pages of A Tale of Two Cities later, Cas brought me a plate piled with potatoes. "You got the serving right," I grinned, digging in. Cas smiled gently and tugged the book out of my grip. "Can't have that getting dirty," he whispered. He brushed down the cover, even though nothing was on it, and reverently placed it on a table beside the counter. He joined me, with a small plate himself, just across from me on the floor. I gazed at him and laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just how you're holding your fork. That's the, I just cooked the worst meal of all time, so much so that I can't even eat it myself, position. You held it that way once when you were out of cream and had to replace it with milk in your alfredo you made for me once."

"I don't have much to work with," he defended himself.

"I suppose not. I think it tastes pretty good," I mumbled around a mouthful of relatively creamy potatoes.

"You think everything tastes good as long as it's food. You aren't that hard to please, Dean."

Then it was like he caught himself having fun or something because he mellowed down and returned to his seemingly perpetual state of not talking. Or even looking at me.

"That's true. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

Cas shook his head.

"I was thinking we could play a game of war or speed. I have a deck of cards and we have nothing better to do." I didn't expect him to respond and he didn't, but I took that as a good sign. He wasn't trying to stop me from sticking around.

"Great," I grinned. I took his empty plate from him, washed them, then sat down on the floor barely a foot away from him, our feet almost touching, and pulled out the deck of cards I was carrying with me for some reason, from my jacket pocket. I dealt out two piles and flipped over my top card. It was a queen.

"Ha. I almost definitely win this one."

Cas rolled his eyes and laid down a five. "Got a crappy card though, in the process."

I was appealing to all sides of this guy. I'd tapped into his creative, culinary, and now competitive side. I was making sure he remembered who he really was.

We battled through each other's hands until I was on the edge of defeat with all of my aces again and only one face card. That was pretty much a death sentence. So I casually reached over to the pile of cards not in Cas' hands, that would be part of his new deck once he ran out and snagged them all. Cas glanced up and slapped my hand just as it was making it's get away. I lost a couple of cards but brought the remainder up to my chest and clung to them tightly.

"Give them back, Dean. I'm going to win."

"Haha. Yeah, sure. Come and get them."

Cas sat there awkwardly, a hint of fear behind his eyes like I was going to break him into millions of pieces if he touched me, which to be honest, is probably what he thought would happen. At least, if he realized how deeply in love with me he really was. I waggled a finger at him and tossed one of his cards, hitting him directly in the forehead. He shook his head, laughing, and tackled me to the ground, his fingers trying to wrench mine from his cards. He managed to get all of them out eventually and when slid off of me and poured over his cards to make sure all of his aces were intact, I snaked my head over and pecked him on the lips. He studiously ignored him but I noticed a small smile creep across his face before he smacked it back down like it was some evil monster.

"Ha, I won," he declared, as one of his hard won aces took my king.

"If you say so. Kind of an unfair draw. I mean, come on, you started with three aces in the beginning. Hardly much of a win."

"You are so irritating."

"I know," I smiled. I stood, kicking the cards in the same general vicinity and walked over to the counter where a very old boom box and a stack of CD's was sitting. "What do we got over here?" I whispered, thumbing through the cases. Cas picked up all the cards and I couldn't help noticing he ordered them so they were all facing the same way, and with the picture matching the one before.

I didn't know or particularly like any of the artists in his stack so I turned my head to stare at him and asked, "What's good?"

"Play Ed Sheeran. Jo introduced me to him and he's actually not half-bad."

I shrugged and clicked the CD out from it's electric orange case, placed it in the player, and pressed play before sitting back down across from him and waiting for the music to start. It started with an almost lullaby-like chords with some beat and an almost angelic voice settled in. I figured out half way through that he was singing about a prostitute.

"Wow, he starts off nice and serious doesn't he?"

"Not my favorite. Seriously, give him a chance. He has some really good ones."

So we just sat there in silence listening to kind of a girly voice. It definitely wasn't my sort of thing but it was kind of soothing; relaxing. Cas was definitely relaxed. More than I'd seen him the entire time I'd been here. His head was leaning against a chair, his foot was tapping to the beats, and he would occasionally mouth the words.

"This is it," he whispered, already smiling.

"What?"

"My favorite song."

"What's it called?"

"Kiss me."

It was just too perfect. I wasn't going to ignore this opportunity. I strolled over to the boom box and blasted it all the way up so that both Cas and I had to cover our ears.

"What are you doing Dean?" he yelled.

"Come on!" I held out my hand to Cas, who paused for a couple of seconds before accepting, and I led him outside. As I suspected you could hear the music perfectly from outside the trailer and I pulled Cas in close, stringing one arm around the small of his back and the other entwined with his hand.

"You're not really the dancing type."

"Just shut up and dance with me," I whispered, gazing up at the stars. Cas shuffled his feet around with mine, which was better than making me drag him around so I was mostly happy. But he didn't seem into it. So once it got to the chorus again and I sort of knew the words, I brought my lips to his ear.

"So kiss me like you want to be loved. Want to be loved. Want to be loved. This is...I mean feels," I recovered, "Like falling in love. Falling in love. Falling in love."

Cas' eyes met mine, the blue piercing straight through me, and he smiled gently. It felt like he was killing me kindly. He rested his chin over my shoulder and stepped much closer simply swaying with me. "Dean, I..." he whispered.

"Shh. I don't want to know. Not right now, okay?" And that shut him up.

When the song was over and another one started up, which sounded like it wouldn't be bad for dancing either, I turned to Cas, releasing him and held out my hands in front of me.

"What?" he asked.

"We're going to rock, paper, scissors for whoever goes back in there to turn down the music. I'm not really into having my eardrums blasted again."

"This is all your fault," Cas argued, "You should have to go do it."

I tenaciously kept my hands out and Cas rolled his eyes, bringing his hands level. He brought out rock the same time I did scissors. "Ha," he laughed, "It's all you."

"Sam told you, didn't he?"

"What?" Cas said innocently.

"That I always choose scissors."

"He might've mentioned it."

I shook my head and darted towards the trailer, my ears entirely covered by my hands. I turned the knob to the left, not worried about how far, and when I uncovered my ears, it was barely above a whisper. So I pushed the knob up slightly more and turned to see Cas was already in the trailer, fingering the copy of A Tale of Two Cities. I fake yawned and said, "I think I'm going to turn in for the night. Mind if I grab the bed? You can wake me up when you want it back."

Cas nodded absentmindedly and I shrugged off my shirt and climbed under the covers. I wasn't particularly tired but I wanted to give him some time alone to think. Mull everything that happened today over. So I just laid there, staring up at the pitch black ceiling and waited for sleep to take over. Which apparently it did because when I woke up, the whole trailer was flooded in light and I was scrunched to the side of the bed and it felt like I was between two walls. I almost panicked until I felt one of the walls chest rise and fall. Cas was in bed with me, curled into my chest. He barely fit on the bed but he looked comfortable. Unfortunately, it meant I couldn't get out of bed. On the other hand the man I was in love with was in bed with me. And I could watch him sleep all day. I gently stroked his hair as I waited for him to wake up. When he finally did, he flushed when he saw me staring down at him, and leapt out of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said. "You must've been way overcrowded. It's just the chair was kind of unappealing and I didn't want to wake you."

"Cas," I laughed, stumbling out of bed with him and mussing up my hair, "It's okay, buddy. I love you, remember? This sort of thing doesn't disturb me in any way, shape or form. What were you even doing last night?"

"Reading."

"What's for breakfast?" I asked.

"Well, we don't have much left to cook with to be honest, so, nothing."

"Then maybe we should exit the trailer and go find a place to eat."

Cas shook his head furiously and walked away, as though he was running, and shut the bathroom door behind him. He was terrified of Crowley. And I wasn't sure how I was going to convince him it would all be okay because I didn't even know whether it actually would be.

*I'm in New York all next week and might not have much time to write, probably none actually. But I'll get right on the next chapter when I get back. Promise. I hope you enjoyed what you read and please review. :)