Epilogue: Memories of East Texas

It was October when Dean rode into another small town, but it felt more like spring. There was a letter waiting for him at the local post office this time. Even though he always dutifully wrote Jessica where she could reach him next, two years had passed since he'd last heard of her.

The envelope was worn smooth. The ink on the back of it had faded to a dull shine. No wonder. Dallas was a long way away. Dean was curious to learn what Jessica had been up to, but waited until returning to the camp to open the letter. Castiel needed the practice.

About time I wrote, huh?

All I can say for myself is that I ain't got a lot of time to sit down and write. I think I'm a housewife. I never felt like a housewife before. It's different with Leroy. Everything here is different. Oh, I'm writing from Anchorage, Alaska. We've moved there. (Address at the bottom) It's kind of funny, you know. Texas always felt so big.

Dean had posted his last postcard to the ranch as usual. Michael must have sent it along.

I just wish there wasn't so much snow everywhere most of the time. I find myself yearning for a little dust and heat. I don't think winter is ever going to be a good time again, but maybe that's not such a bad thing. There's moving on and then there's moving on. How are you doing with that, Dean? How's Castiel?

Dean knew the feeling she described well. Acceptance was a hard thing to come by. Castiel looked up and Dean nodded at him to continue reading.

I think about Raphael sometimes and it makes my heart ache. I wonder where he is and what he's doing. When Leroy and I followed your example and took with the leaving, Michael was pretty much the same. You know how he was. I don't think this life is long enough for him to realize that it was awful for Raphael too.

Poor Raphael. It's a hell of a thing to believe that you killed your own cousin. Poor Zachariah. And poor merciless Michael. Poor us all. The more you love the closer you are to crying, it seems. This is turning out to be a cheerful letter, ain't it?

Joyful news: I got a brand new eight month old baby girl. Her name is Kay. We're firmly settled. My belly is already growing heavy again. If it's a boy, we're fixing to call him Bobby. I think that he'd like that.

He would've, Dean thought, flashing back to finally finding Bobby's body.

We've done alright for ourselves. I got it real easy now. I'm not scared and I'm not worried. That's nice. But I miss them. Leroy says that nothing in our minds is ever really gone. He's right, of course. He often is. It's annoying. He says hello, by the way.

Tell me, what's the world like?

Dean didn't know about the world, but he knew about America. Since their shooting days were over, they'd been travelling. The country was big and swathes of it were still unexplored. Some of it was ugly; some of it was pretty as all hell.

I've been thinking about inviting you. Just thinking, mind you. I'm afraid that I'll take one look at you and see Sam. And you might take one look at me and see Grace. So, maybe I should think about it a little while longer. Do you mind? Will we stay friends? I like to think that you're family. That we're still connected.

Well, keep on keeping on, Dean. I hope that you are happy, but that may be too much to ask. I hope that you're at least alright. Let's meet soon.

Or let's don't and say we did. (for now)

Your old friend,

Jess

Castiel folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. It was time to move on. They travelled light. All that Dean needed slept beside him.

The end.

Author's note: I had fun writing this. Thanks for reading and extra special thanks to the people who reviewed.