Over the next few weeks Cas and Dean exchanged letters as much as possible. Between the delivery process that ended up being one letter sent every two or three days.

Their conversations tended not to change too much. They were both in a lot of pain and had no other way of dealing with it. Cas had expressed that he had been feeling worse and worse lately now that he was apart from Dean. His anxiety was becoming more of an issue even though it hadn't been too much of a problem prior to their separation. He told Dean that he felt much more cold and distanced from the world. Like he almost had no emotions and felt nothing but pain.

Dean said that he felt similar, and that Cas shouldn't worry because they would see each other in just two more weeks.

Neither of them could believe how quickly the whole tour was going by. Even though the last three weeks felt like eternity, they couldn't help but have a little bit of hope for when they would see each other soon enough.

Dean ate his dinner quickly that night in anticipation of his letter. He thought Cas's letter might arrive the night before, but since it hadn't, he knew it would be arriving that night. When he got back to his tent, nothing was waiting there for him.

A bit confused, Dean looked around the room and on the empty bed across from his, but he couldn't find anything. Dean began worrying a bit. The letters never arrived this late so far. Cas always replied as quickly as possible, as did he.

'Maybe the letters got mixed up in the mail.'

'Maybe my letter didn't even get sent to him.'

'What if I put the wrong address on it?'

"What if I didn't even put a stamp?"

Dean kept trying to figure out what had happened and ended up keeping himself up late into the night unable to sleep because of his anxiety.

The next day was rough. He didn't get very much sleep to say the least, and now he was becoming overwhelmed by anxiety.

"You ok Winchester," Getz asked after lunch.

"Y-yea, I'm fine."

"You look like something's wrong, like something bad happened," Alcaraz added.

"I'm fine guys, its ok," Dean lied, trying to act coy.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Every minute seemed to stretch out for days. And Dean found himself continually distracted from his duties and everything around. He couldn't take his mind off it. He was worried. He felt like something was wrong. Logic told him everything was all right. That there had just been some kind of mix up, but he couldn't push away the feeling in his gut.

When they got back late that night, Dean was barely able to eat. His nerves were on fire and he couldn't stop worrying about Cas. At this point, he had thought of every possible answer to what had happened. But in his mind, the worst had happened. Cas was hurt or dead. He couldn't expel the feeling he had.

After picking at his dinner for a few minutes, Dean rushed back to his tent and frantically searched for a letter. In a frenzy, Dean ended up ripping the sheets off both of the beds in an attempt to find the letter he was sure would be there. Dean's breathing increased as he searched everywhere in his small room.

After trashing the place he sat down on his bed and tried to calm himself down. His brain was thinking faster than he could comprehend his own thoughts. Dean couldn't focus on anything, everything was just racing throughout his mind.

He didn't know how long he ended up sitting there but eventually he fell asleep in his uniform, with the covers still on the floor.

Dean woke up cold and feeling terrible. Groaning as he rolled out of the bed Dean stood up and sluggishly got ready for the day.

Finally out in the field. He felt himself becoming more and more distracted as the day went by. Getz repeatedly tried to get his attention throughout the day to make sure he was ok, and to see if he was even paying attention to anything that was happening around him.

Dean's body felt numb. He knew something had happened.

At lunch that day he was almost completely disconnected from everyone around him. As he ate he heard a few words people were saying every now and then but mostly he was just blank.

"What did you just say," Dean asked frantically.

"What?"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said, I heard the Cabrillo base was attacked a few days ago. I heard it was pretty bad, I mean a lot of people died they were saying."

Dean felt like all his blood had left his body. He was frozen in place as the words the other man was speaking turned into a low buzz in his ears. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut. 'He's dead,' he thought, 'He's fucking dead.'

'Hey are you ok," Alcaraz asked.

Dean didn't even hear him. He could feel his face getting wet, but couldn't understand why. Everything around him was gone and he was completely alone. He felt like everything in his life had disappeared.

"But it's just a rumour," the other man said, "It's probably not true."

"Y-yea…" Dean replied softly, trying to regain composure.

He wiped his face off and slowly began eating his food as everyone else around him continued as normal.

"Dean," Alcaraz said, "I'm sure he's fine, it's going to be ok."

"Who are you talking about," Dean asked defensively.

"Your boyfriend, or whatever. We were told when you were assigned to us. What happened to you guys was wrong. But I'm sure he's ok."

"Yea, sure," Dean said softly.

He knew Alcaraz had no idea what had actually happened, just like everyone else around him.

Dean was barely able to continue through the day. He kept blanking out and not paying attention to anything his partners said to him. And he even tripped a few times because he couldn't be bothered to pay attention.

When he got back that night. He didn't eat. He sat in his room for a few hours before deciding to go out and walk around for a bit and try to calm his nerves.

As he was walking, every scenario played in his head over and over again. He kept wondering if what the other guys had said was true, if Cabrillo really had been attacked, if Cas was hurt, dead.

Eventually Dean noticed the General across the way, and decided to go talk to him.

"Winchester, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"What the hell happened," Dean asked.

When the General didn't reply Dean continued, "Cabrillo. What happened?"

"Dean, I'm not supposed t-"

"I don't fucking care about what you're supposed to do. Tell me what happened. You owe me this," Dean felt his voice shaking as he felt himself losing control. He was worried, scared, mad, helpless, alone.

"Four days ago, at 0437, Cabrillo was attacked. Thirty seven are dead. Eighty nine are injured, and twenty three are uninjured."

Dean began breathing faster and faster as the General spoke. He felt his legs going numb and his heart breaking over and over again.

"Cas- what happened?"

"I can't tell you tha-"

"What happened?"

"Novak was taken back in critical condition. They do not know if he will survive."

Dean didn't say anything. He felt like everything in his body had just turned into led. His brain was on fire and his chest was filled with pain.

"Dean, they don't think he is going to make it."

Dean looked at the General before his eyes filled with tears. He felt the world around him spinning. His legs finally gave out as his body began shutting down and succumbing to shock.

On his hands and knees. Dean felt his stomach fill with nausea before the threw up, coughing up everything inside of him. As he hyperventilated trying to regain his breath, Dean said, "You. This is your fault."

Lifting his head Dean continued, "You killed him. It's your fucking fault he's gonna die. It's your fault."

"Winchester, I-"

"Don't fucking talk to me, It's your fault, your fault."

Dean felt his muscled tense up as he felt all the warmth in his body leave him. He began crying out in pain as his head began pounding.

"We need help over here-" Dean heard someone say.

"'S your fault-" Dean said, before once again passing out.