He woke up, body stiff in more ways than one. His dreams had been taken over five nights of seven with memories of Cas. Sometimes it was the way he had been in high school, completely confidant in himself and ready to face the world. Sometimes it was just his skin beneath his lips and cinnamon in his nose. Sometimes, like last night, it was more visceral.

Dean could still almost taste the warm thickness of Cas before he was pulled away, kissing him while his hand brought Dean over the edge. He remembered dropping to his knees – before some internal clock woke him.

He was forty five minutes behind schedule, which meant he only had ten minutes to get ready for work. Dean had planned to get his mail before work today, since he'd ignored it for the last few days. Hopefully, he'd remember when he came home since he didn't even have time for a shower, only rinsing his mouth with mouthwash before bolting out the door with his boots untied.

Waking up late set the tone for the rest of the day. He tripped over his boot laces and knocked over a motor oil display when he rushed in to punch the clock. He ended up not eating lunch because he forgot this wallet and refused to let anyone else buy it. Fifteen minutes before his shift was over, he gave himself a three inch gash on his left forearm that probably should have gotten stiches.

It wasn't a good day.

By the time he went home, Dean wanted nothing more than to sit on his couch with a drink and watch mindless television. Only knowing he probably had at least one bill in the mail had him sticking his key in the tiny lock.

The late June heat had apparently fried his air conditioner because it hadn't worked in two weeks. His apartment was sweltering and smelled like overly ripe trash. He groaned and slammed the mail on the table to bring it out to the dumpster.

When he was back in the apartment, he debated not looking in the mail at all, certain that with the way his day had been going there would be something terrible in there. Maybe a chick he barely remembered was asking him for a paternity test. Maybe they had discovered that he had cancer, though he didn't think they'd send a letter for that. He also hadn't been to the doctor in a year or two, so they probably wouldn't know anyway.

He showered and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts that he only kept around for the summer when he wanted to be cool but not naked. His laptop got turned on and he pulled up music. A whiskey was poured, though it was more for the taste than anything else. It had been a while since he had drank so heavily that it was important like water to him. Two months, actually.

There was only so much stalling he could do before he saw how much was going to be coming out of his savings account this month. A playlist came up on his laptop, an angry one he had made in high school, directed at everything from his homework to his dad to his confusion over his sexuality. It actually made him chuckle as he saw his electricity bill. He'd finally come to the point in his life that he didn't care what the label on his sexuality was, as long as it didn't make it less possible to sleep with someone that he thought was hot.

Three bills were actually in the mail. Electricity, heating, and cell phone. Each of them was about what he had expected, so he turned to the other things. Junk mail and flyers mostly.

The playlist had just kicked over to a song he had been practically obsessed with in high school. Dean sang along under his breath as he finished up with the mail. "We danced along to the violence, not scared of anyone. And they won't complain as long as we can explain exactly – what have we done? You see these walls, they won't kill that beast in your heart, or deep in your soul. I wanna know if it's just an opinion or lust. Why do we lose control?"

A white envelope was on the bottom. It looked about the same size as the ones that he got birthday cards in. His birthday was in January, so he knew that wasn't what it was. His name was written in very round letters; it was handwriting he didn't recognize, so he turned it over.

On the back, the same round letters had written a return address. The address didn't matter, but the names had him blinking in confusion. "Castiel and Megan Novak". Why would they be sending him anything? Why would Cas want to send him anything? It didn't match up with the feeling of their last parting.

He almost wondered if he was getting a formal request to back the fuck up as his inexplicably shaky fingers ripped the envelope open.

A glossy black and white photo met his eyes. It was a wedding picture. Meg was smiling into Cas's eyes as he dipped her on the dance floor, his smile big and genuine. They looked really happy.

For a moment, he stared at it. What was he supposed to do with it? Which of them had decided to send it to him? Either way, it could mean things were really bad.

If Cas sent it, he was saying that he was happy and married and wanted nothing more to do with Dean.

The handwriting had been Meg's, though, since it certainly wasn't Cas's. Dean would know that scraggly chicken scratch anywhere. So maybe it had been her idea to send it. Was it because Dean and Cas were friends? Or was it because she knew what had happened and was claiming Cas for her own?

Eventually, as the guitar screamed from the speakers, Dean felt rage. He threw his half empty glass of whiskey against the wall, the shards falling in counterpoint to the music. When he stood, he shoved the table away from him, causing it to tip and fall over. He picked up his bottle of whiskey and drank half of it, not breathing until the burn in his chest felt as if he was going to die. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it could have been the anger.

Who the hell did Cas think he was? How could he do this to Dean? He saw how fucked up Dean had been. He was the one that had continued things. He could have walked out like he planned, Dean was going to let him. He didn't, though, and now he was trying to screw him up even more?

Dean lay waste to his apartment, breaking things and punching the walls and doors. The mirror was cracked as he let the music into him. It was the only thing that he'd ever let get so close.

"My only option is gone. Smile as they break and they fall. You want a simpler life; you can't erase what was mine."

We Did Nothing Wrong – Royal Bliss
[We danced along to the violence, not scared of anyone. And they won't complain as long as we can explain exactly – what have we done? You see these walls, they won't kill that beast in your heart, or deep in your soul. I wanna know if it's just an opinion or lust. Why do we lose control?]

Simple Design – Breaking Benjamin
[My only option is gone. Smile as they break and they fall. You want a simpler life; you can't erase what was mine.]