*I know it's been a while. I was busy last week with GISHWHES insanity. This update is a little shorter than usual because I wanted to get you guys new stuff as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy!

2 years later...

September 23

Dean,

I was just thinking about three months ago when you took me out for that picnic. It's funny, I thought the moment I would cherish the most would be when you perked up the courage to say I love you without writing it in one of these letters but just today I realized it wasn't. It was when the light slowly faded and we sat together, holding hands, occasionally sharing a kiss, but we didn't talk not once, and watched the sky turn from pink to orange to yellow. I'd never until that moment ever thought I wouldn't have anything to say to you. And I think that's really special and totally underrated. The ability to know what another person is thinking without them telling you. And the even better part is that you were thinking, this couldn't be more amazing and Cas couldn't be more beautiful. Thank you for that.

We have a new regular at the diner, and he's a very nice guy. Kind of gruff and to the point but I've briefly talked to him a couple of times and he isn't anything like that one regular we had who tried to start fights with everybody. Did I tell you I told him to never come back? Well, I did. I know. You're proud of me. You were right, he was kind of a douchebag but I couldn't make myself be unkind to a person until he was hitting on Jo to the point where she begged him to stop. And when he didn't, and slapped her ass coming back to the kitchen, I was finished. Jo should never be treated like that.

Anyways, back to the new customer. He says he knows you. I don't know if that's weird in your profession but it's been really cool because he knows things about you that I even don't. I'm getting all caught up. Although, I admit, I think he's running out of things to say. There isn't a ton I don't know about you anymore.

How's Sam? Last time you guys were here, he seemed kind of distracted. I hope your case is going well and please don't get hurt. Be careful. I know you told me to stop saying that in every letter but ever since you told me what your job entailed down to the bone, I constantly worry about you. It sure as hell isn't safe. So...be careful.

I love you.

Cas

P.S. I, once again, don't have anything to add. I love you. I love you. I love you.

September 29,

Cas,

What's this new customer's name? It seems a tiny bit strange to me, but I do meet plenty of people. You know, police who hate me, peoples lives I save who love me, and then the people in between. And then sometimes the monsters themselves, but I think you would have some idea by now if that were the case. But if you ever see black eyes, or weird smoke, or weird things drawn on the placemat, don't think your hallucinating, and call me. Screw the letter stuff. You're more important than keeping up this tradition. Besides, at some point I'm going to run out of room in my car for these letters. They take up some serious space. Sam's actually getting kind of irritated because most of them go in the passenger seat area these days.

Talking about Sam, he's doing fine. When we were over we had just had a fight. It happens all the time as you know, so he gets over it pretty quick these days. I don't know why he looked particularly distracted. Maybe something else was going on. You know how open we are with each other. But I've tried to do better as you suggested. He ran over a dog a couple of days ago and took it to the vet. It's all fine. He checked in on it like fifteen times but he's still kind of beat up about it. I think it has to be about something else though because he's an animal person, but he's not one of those obsessed save the animals people. I guess I should just ask him. That's what you would say.

You know what I remember about that night? Besides how beautiful you looked of course...I mean I guess...I remember the food. I'll be honest. And so should you. The fact that I cooked all that and it actually tasted good was impressive. Okay I'm mostly kidding. I remember the journal you gave me. That was fabulous. Just like I said then, I haven't written in it, and won't ever. But the fact that you understood all my problems and that sometimes I needed a release and that instead of beating up my car, punching Sammy, or fearlessly and stupidly throwing myself in a fight, you gave me an alternate option. Nobody has ever understood me as well as you do. Especially because the post it note on top said that you knew I would never use it but that it reminded you of me.

As I love you.

Dean

P.S. You made me smile.

October 4

Dean,

I'm sorry this is so brief but I've got to run. You know, I saw a crow this morning. Sorry this is so off topic but it was interesting. It was by itself all alone, hunting. And I thought maybe they would do better as a murder, or a pack, but this one was ruthless. It caught like ten worms in under five minutes and just slurped them down instantly. But then there was one worm who wriggled and fought, losing half of it's body, but it got away, burrowed into the grass where the crow couldn't find it. Those ten worms, who all fought as well, didn't get away but this one did. I would love to be that worm, wouldn't you?

I love you so much, but there's lots of customers right now and I figured there wasn't long until you left the motel you were at. The regular I mentioned earlier just asked if he could help me out. But I said no.

P.S. I love my eggs sunnyside up, don't you?

Cas

"Hey, Sam, do you have a case lined up next?"

"No, not yet. Not much going on in the area, so I was about to start a wider search. Why?"

"Can we stop by the diner? Something's up. And he won't tell me what. I just wish he'd call..."

"Then call him, Dean," Sam sighed, "Stop complaining about it. And I guess we could run by. I'll try and find something close to Oregon. What's up?"

"I don't know," I murmured, peering intently over the letter. "It's his postscript. A, they usually say I love you or he actually has something important to add but he never asks a question and never makes it odd or pointless. In fact, this entire letter seems pointless, which isn't like him. He wouldn't ever waste paper like that. B, he hates his eggs sunny side up, which he also made one word instead of two, and he's always grammatically correct. He likes his eggs hard boiled and completely dead. Void of any liquid. C, he wouldn't have said no to help, no matter who it was. He's too nice, which means it must've been someone really bad. Apparently this regular know us."

"What are you mumbling about Dean?"

"His letter, Sam! He wrote it, but it doesn't sound like him. I think he must be trying to tell me something but is worried our letters are being read or something. I wonder what happened. Why would he think that? I mean, we have powerful enemies, but he doesn't know any of them. He would've brought it up. Unless, the regular is one of our many enemies," I trailed off.

"Call him. I'll drive."

I sifted through my contacts until I found Cas' name and pressed the call button. While my hands had been fumbling for his number I'd really wished I'd placed him on speed dial despite the fact that I had no idea I would ever be calling him.

"Dean?" Cas' voice sounded on the other end. "You called. Why?"

"Cas, what is going on? I just got your letter and I can tell there's something wrong. We are on the way to the diner now unless you can give me a hell of a good reason why you wrote all that."

"I don't know Dean. I hardly remember it was probably a late night."

"You never forget Cas. You know every single little detail about your relationship just like you do about your diner. Because they're the most important things to you. I'm convinced I could ask you anything about our time together and you would know the answer. What aren't you telling me?"

"Dean," he whispered to the point I could barely understand the words he was saying, "That regular I've mentioned a couple of times? I think he might be one of your monsters. He hasn't done anything off, it's just that he's here practically all day every day. I can't shake him and it's starting to creep me out just a bit. I've got to go," Cas said much louder.

"Cas, what the hell? Keep talking to me."

"Dean, I'm sorry. I love you." A muffled screaming woman sounded in the background.

"Ditto, but what the hell is going on? Is that Jo?"

The phone buzzed silent. He had hung up.

"Dammit, Cas!" I shouted, slamming my hand against the window. Sam glanced over but didn't ask or say anything. He knew it wouldn't help. All that mattered was getting to that diner as fast as humanly possible. My real life had finally caught up with my fairytale one and was biting me hard in the ass, leaving it itchy and throbbing. "Drive faster, Sam." My baby's engine revved as we accelerated ten points.

When we pulled into the diner the next morning, sliding over the gravel, parked across three spaces, I jumped out of the car, which Sam was still in the process of putting into park, and ran up the stairs two at a time, before crashing in. Guests were scattered in several booths and they all looked up, some scared half out of their minds. Like they were the ones in my place right now. I ignored them and began a search for a face I recognized to see Jo slipping out of the kitchen loaded with plates.

"Dean?" she said, almost dropping the plates. She quickly unloaded them at the appropriate tables before coming over. I heard Sam come in as well and Jo glanced between the two of us. "What is it?"

"Where's Cas?"

"Interesting you ask. Yesterday he left early, said he had something to do, and he hasn't been back since. He didn't come to work at all today. I thought he might be trying to find you or something. So you don't know where he is either?"

"No," I said frustratedly. "I was talking to him on the phone yesterday and there was a scream? It sounded like you."

"Oh, yeah, that. I dropped a plate and it shattered all over me. I screamed. And I'm kind of embarrassed about that so don't mention it to anyone else."

"So you're running the place by yourself?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I owe it to the guy. Besides it isn't too difficult. I know most of the recipes by heart and customers aren't picking up or anything. I'm just here all day now. It's a lot of work but Cas is worth it. He wouldn't want his diner abandoned."

"Are you gonna hire somebody?"

"If he doesn't come back soon, yeah. Do you guys have any idea what happened to him?"

"Nothing good," I growled. "It was part of the business. Had to be. I just don't know who. I think I'll go check up above. Sammy, try and find something down here."

"You got it," Sam said, strolling off towards the kitchen. Jo followed him, shuffling every once and a while to keep up with his long strides. I climbed the side stairs slowly, not sure I wanted to see the apartment. Not without him in it. I found the key in it's usual place, tucked inside a loose floorboard, and pushed the creaky door in.

It looked the same as always, clean to every last book on the shelf. I shut the door behind me, running my fingers across the spines of books before sitting on his bed feeling the sheets that had been involved in nights of sweat, torn clothes, and mussed hair. And who knew when that was going to happen again. I knew I was thinking the worst, but in my experience nothing had ever turned out for the better. Then I noticed the coffee table in front of the couch. It was messy. Practically every inch was covered in paper. My letters, to be precise. I sank onto the couch and flipped through all of them, probably over three hundred, trying to find anything that would explain why they were out or what had happened to Cas. But instead of focusing, I began reading the letters, reminiscing on what our relationship had been through. I'd thought we'd already put it to the ultimate test, but that was when, after two years, I didn't think my professional life would become involved. One went longer than a page and transferred to the back. But instead of reading the words, my eyes shifted downwards to a diagonal line scratched across the bottom. I proceeded to flip over all the letters, sorting them into lined and not lined. Once I'd done that, I placed the twenty or so letters in front of me, tossing the rest to the ground and started fiddling with them, trying to connect the lines. They had to connect, because I sure as hell hadn't drawn them. It wasn't long before I had it either. If I was honest, I'd always excelled at puzzles. Especially when it was life and death which is what this felt like. It spelled out the word CROW. Either Cas hadn't had time to finish or he was referring to the crow from his letter. I didn't know how either fit in with where he had gone but I was going to find out. I started running through names of people, creatures, and everything else I could think of in my head that had the word crow in them. I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated that I was coming up blank. I had to know what this meant. Cas had left it for me, so he knew I could figure it out. Who did I know that hunted ruthlessly? Where no one ever escaped? That had to do with crows?

I sprinted down the stairs, prepared to ask Sam, when I knew. The knowledge threw me into a halt and I couldn't move. My brain hadn't been prepared for it. It was so obvious, so I knew that I had just pretended it wasn't an option, but it had to be. Crowley. Of course. We had to get to Bobby's. I didn't have anything for a summoning ritual with me.

"Sam, we're going!" I yelled, storming out of the diner.

"Dean," he said, streaking across the gravel after me, jerking his thumb back to the diner, "I didn't find anything. Did you find something? Or are you hurt?"

"My feelings are just fine. Thanks for asking," I said sarcastically, "It's Crowley. He has Cas. I don't know how Cas found out who Crowley was or that he was dangerous, but he did. And I guess Crowley's known about him for some time. He wants something, Sam. And he figured out I had an attachment. We don't have attachments for a reason, Sam! I fucked up. Why did I ever do this? Now he's just gonna end up dead and it'll be my fault. I knew it was a bad idea from the start but I did it anyways. That's not me, man. I don't let emotions get in the way. That's why I'm so good at what I do."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, I got involved. I developed an attachment and there's no way in hell I would ever desert him when the going gets rough. We're going to Bobby's, summoning that son of a bitch and getting him to tell us where Cas is. I swear to God."

"Okay," Sam said. "You okay to drive?"

"Yes," I sneered, ripping the keys from his hand.

We got to Bobby's two days later and by then I was a nervous wreck. Sam was driving and I was pretending I didn't need the bottle of whiskey that I'd started carrying with me. I would sneak drinks when I thought Sam wasn't looking, but let's be honest he knew. How could someone not notice the amber line dropping farther and farther down the bottle?

Bobby opened the door, we exchanged hugs, and then I filled Bobby in from start to finish. Every little detail. The great thing was he never judged, not once. He just nodded, accepted it as fact and moved on. The tiny family I had built was the greatest.

"You boys know I'm not big on summoning the likes of Crowley into my home. He is one nasty son of a bitch."

"I know, but we need him," I demanded.

"Okay. I'll go start drawing a devil's trap. On the table over there is the incantation and the ingredients. You should be able to find them in my desk or around the library somewhere. When you're done come down to the shelter and I should be ready."

I grabbed the book Bobby had motioned to, and flipped through the pages rapid quick, stopping whenever I saw the word demon. I finally found the summoning ritual and ordered Sam around until we had everything. Sam was so methodical and gentle in his searching that it took much longer than I wanted. Those precious seconds we lost could've made the difference between him being alive or dead. I would've just flipped tables and emptied drawers onto the ground until I'd found everything.

We gathered the ingredients in our arms and went down to the basement. I handed the book to Bobby and we laid the ingredients down on the ground, inside the devil's trap. Bobby organized them, lit some candles, smashed some of them, and placed them inside a shallow bowl. Then he lit the concoction on fire muttering a few choice words. Crowley was there practically instantaneously.

"Hello boys," he smiled. "Long time no see."

I was about to erupt which Sam must have sensed because he placed a hand on my chest and shook his head. "Let me and Bobby handle this," he whispered. "He'll just be unhelpful if he realizes just how much you care." I sulked off to the corner, leaning against a cement wall, and watched. I was prepared to jump into the conversation at any moment if I found it lacking in speed or content.

"What did you do to Cas?" Sam asked with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Moose!" Crowly cried, "Aren't you going to say hello?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shot Crowley a bitch face. "Hi, Crowley."

He smiled, rocking back on his heels with his hands in his suit pocket. "Cas. I don't believe I know a Cas."

"Don't lie. Please don't lie," Sam said.

"Honest. I don't."

"He'd have blue eyes, be almost six feet, a five-a-clock shadow, you might've found him somewhere around a diner with his name on it. Pretty good cook," I chimed in, sauntering forward until I was just outside the trap. "Come on you useless sack of dicks. I know you know who I'm talking about. You were a regular at his restaurant, because you figured out that I'd been seeing him more often then anybody else I'd ever met. So the real question at this point is what do you want?"

"He was clever that one. Figured out who I was pretty quick. Of course, I figured you wouldn't have told him seeing as you never break the family secret," he pouted. "I don't want anything. I just wanted to watch you squirm, Dean. I can't have a little revenge?"

"You've had it. Give him back," I growled.

"Can't. He's dead."

Sam lowered his head as though he believed every word. I had to admit it wouldn't be strange if that was the case but I wasn't going to believe it, not ever. I would know if he was gone. Wouldn't I?

"You're lying."

"Sorry, Dean. Want proof? I think I've got a picture on my phone. It's in one of these goddamn pockets," he whispered, rifling through each pocket one by one until he smiled and tugged out his phone, waggling it between his fingers. "Here we are." He swiped across the screen a couple of times with his index finger before lifting it up to my face. It was definitely Cas, and he appeared knocked out and was definitely bleeding everywhere.

"That's not proof. I don't believe you!" I yelled. "I don't believe you!" Sam pulled me back from Crowley and led me to the back of basement while Bobby whispered something to Crowley. "Dean," he said, "We'll look for him. But this is Crowley. You have to be prepared for the possibility that maybe he's...dead."

"I can't, Sam. Because if I did, I wouldn't want to continue living. If I can't protect the people I love, what's the point? That's my job. And if I can't do my job right, I might as well not do it."

"We'll try, Dean. We won't sleep until we're sure either way. I promise."

"Okay," I whispered. "But not until I make that son of a bitch pay."

"Dean," Sam groaned, reaching for my arm. I pulled away and Sam began to panic. "Bobby, grab Dean. He's going to do something he'll regret."

"Like hell," I said. "Get out of my way, Bobby." He conceded the space without argument and Sam glared at him. "You gotta let him do his thing, Sam," he whispered.

I picked up a carton of holy water and dumped it on his head. Crowley's screams could probably be heard all across town and I couldn't help the sick smile that surfaced. I cut practically every inch of his skin with the demon blade and reveled in his moans. "Give me one reason I shouldn't plunge this blade through your heart."

"You loved him, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Something like that. A reason, Crowley. Or your just as dead as you say he is."

"Dean? Gay?" he laughed hysterically and I waited patiently with a half-grin on my face until he was done, a curious look on his face. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because at least someone loves me."

Crowley frowned and finally answered my question, "You shouldn't kill me because the heir to my throne down in hell is twenty times worse than I am. She won't be as easy on you two as I've been. And because Cas wouldn't want you too."

"You don't know anything. You didn't know him!"

"I have a general idea of the type of people you like, Dean. Besides, I did talk to him quite a bit. Anyways, they're generally very good people. And good people don't usually wish death on anyone. Doesn't matter who. Doesn't matter what they've done. And in this case, especially, he wouldn't want you to kill someone out of spite and revenge."

I plunged the knife through his arm and shook my head. "You're right. He wouldn't. I'm not going to kill you. But I'll have you know if he is actually dead you are next on my hit list. And I never let a target get away from me. Ever. If he's dead, he won't know. And damn, would it make me feel better." I retracted the knife from his flesh and scratched open the devil's trap. "Get out of here," I growled. And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Fine." I stomped upstairs, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from Bobby's kitchen and poured a glass. I took a sip as I sat down in one of the shabby kitchen chairs and stared at the wall. He couldn't be dead was all I could think. No other thought was crossing my mind until the bottle was practically empty and I realized he very well could be. A tear slid from my left eye, down my cheek and I didn't have the will to wipe it away. Not even when Sam came in and sat across from me without a word. I couldn't remember the last time Crowley lied about something so serious. So big. He just didn't. The first person who'd made me feel hope in my entire life was gone and I wasn't going to find another one of him ever again. I would never love again. And that realization burned. My chest felt like it was dealing with the flu, in subzero degree weather. It was a gaping hole of hurt.

"Anything I can do, Dean?" Sam said.

I shook my head and took yet another sip of whiskey. "What am I supposed to do now Sam?"

"Move on, Dean. But it takes time."

"How?"

"You're asking me for advice? About feelings?" he teased lightly.

"Dammit, Sam. Don't make me kill you."

"Go through the letters. Read them. And then burn them."

I stood, stumbled to my car, took every single letter I could possibly find from my car and dumped them on the kitchen table. I opened the one on top and read. I read most of the night until I reached the last letter Cas had ever written. My chest was throbbing. I knew it was just my heart beating, but I wasn't convinced I even had one anymore. I unfolded it and read every word five times. I was about to add it to the fire with all the others but my eyes flitted back to the words 'sunnyside up'. Not in any world would Cas have ever wrote that and yet he did. The rest of his letter made sense so far but that didn't. What did Crowley say? That Cas was clever. That he knew who he was much quicker than anticipated. And Jo said he left work early one day. He wasn't taken or abducted, he left of his own free will. My mind was racing now and the pain in my chest was slowly subsiding. I wasn't entirely sure what my brain was about to discover but my body did. And it was telling me Cas was perfectly alright. Sunnyside up, sunnyside up, what did that mean?

I slipped into the library where Sam was sleeping on the couch and grabbed his computer from beside him. He must've been researching before bed. I tiptoed back to the kitchen and flipped it open, typed in the password, and brought google up on the screen. I clicked on the maps tab and typed in the words sunnyside and oregon. He wouldn't have been able to run far with such little time. The choices beneath were nonexistent beside one that mentioned a state park in the eastern part of the state called Sunnyside. Spelled as one word. He'd had this planned. Cas was clever. If only I could rub it in Crowley's face. That I knew he lied.

"Sam," I said, shaking his wide shoulders, "Sammy. Wake up."

His eyes crinkled open and he blinked lethargically, glancing up at my face. "Seriously, Dean? I'm trying to sleep."

"It's important."

"Right," he whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "What's up?"

"Did you know there's a state park in Oregon called Sunnyside?"

"No, I didn't. What's with the early morning trivia, Dean? I really don't care and I really don't want to play."

"Sunnyside, Sam! The eggs."

"The letter. You think he got away and went to the state park, don't you? Dean, how would he have known what Crowley would've tried? Or when he would? How did he know he'd be safer out there? Why wouldn't he tell you? It doesn't make sense Dean. I'm sorry to break it to you but I think you're just using every excuse to give yourself a reason for why he should be alive."

"There's no such thing as coincidences, Sam. Come on, we know that better than anyone. He's there. I know it."

"No, he's not."

"Whatever. I'm going to go check it out. Are you gonna come with me?"

"You're going right now?" Sam asked.

I nodded, dangling my keys from my fingers. "Yes I am."

"No, Dean, I won't. I'm sorry but I can't encourage this."

"Fine. Call me whenever you change locations so I know where you are. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Be careful. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah, Sammy, you can." When I was outside in my car I slammed fists up against the wheel and whispered, "That damn selfish son of a bitch. He can't encourage it," I imitated, "Why doesn't he believe me?"

I drove without sleep for a couple of days. I wasn't sure how long because I was barely keeping track of the actual act of driving let alone whether it was night or day. My eyes were just glued to the road and my mind was focused on the soul thought of getting to Sunnyside state park and verifying my theory. Every once and a while my thoughts would stray from the determination to Cas' voice and eyes. At that point all I could hope for was a miracle. That he wasn't dead. For once in my life, I deserved a miracle. Anyways, every once and a while I managed a break as an occasional five minute nap when I was waiting for my tank to fill at the gas station.

When I arrived, dressed as an Oregon park ranger outfit from my trunk, badge and all, I got permission to wander the park in search of a black bear I suspected was in the camping section of the park and tranquilize it before it hurt anybody. They didn't need to know that I'd made that up entirely on the spot. It was lucky that Oregon seemed to be a hub for Supernatural activity and that Sam and I had been out her a lot. I got the Oregon park ranger outfit when we had been hunting a Wendigo. I wandered the park, eating power bars and bananas all day without any sign of Cas or even human habitation. I suppose I should've started in the camping section but I couldn't imagine Cas chilling out with people after what he'd experienced. Whatever he had experience. I suppose at this point, I didn't know. But I did know, he'd be too worried that someone was going to betray him. No, he was alone. I slept under the stars that night, with my gun beside me and my jacket across my legs, my arms as my pillow. Another day passed of searching with no results and the hope was disappearing and my confidence deflating, but I wasn't going to quit until my footprints had made a mark on every last speck of dirt in this place. There were still two corners of the park left that I hadn't been in. I went with the left one because I remembered Cas telling me he liked left better than right. And I can't believe he wanted anybody but me to find him. Someone that knew him better than anyone else. Today was much hotter, and I stripped down until I was in just a white tank top and my boxers. I was working too hard to be uncomfortable. I wiped sweat from my brow almost as often as I blinked by the time I noticed a small trailer beside a burned out fire surrounded by an almost perfect circle of trees. They were so close together that if it had been night I wouldn't have noticed the pale blue fabric of drapes peeking through. My heart soared. It was him. It had to be.

"Cas!" I yelled, my voice crackling slightly from not being used recently. "Cas, it's me."

I knelt down beside the door of the trailer, suspecting that he thought it was some sort of trick to draw him out. I wasn't going to scare him by just popping in so I hovered my lips over the silky mesh sheen of fabric that made up the entrance and whispered, "You're favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany's which embarrasses you so instead you say The Godfather is. You love to read and you own a little diner that I was convinced was crap until I tried the food and you wrote words on my plate in whipped cream. Everyone knew I loved you before I did and you love it when I kiss your temple. We wrote letters instead of phone calls and you wrote once that the CD you listened too every time you missed me was one of Billy Joel's. I love you, Cas. I love you."

"Dean?" A voice murmured from the darkness and one of his hands, dirt underneath his fingernails, popped open the door.