ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?! That's all you have to say me You CAN'T just Fine. Okay. If this is how you want things, then okay.

Hey Cas. I'm glad you're not dead, though I'm kinda peeved that you let Kevin make you a mixtape and not me. Whatever. Better not be any Nickleback on that freakin' thing. If you give me an address I could send you some tapes myself, or some clothes or anything you need. Did you even take anything with you? Where are you sleeping? Christ, I feel like a parent whose kid ran away from home.

I don't like you on your own out there Cas. We don't know shit about these angels. They could have all their mojo, like Lucifer. Hell, even without mojo you managed to give me a good fight when I tried to get you back in the bunker. We should be doing this together. If Sam wasn't still in rough shape I'd already be Just…be careful. You're only human now.

We're still hanging tight for the most part, waiting for the falling angels shit to hit the fan. Kevin's still giving me the silent treatment. He's pissed that you left. I can't really blame him, seeing as I'm even more pissed that you left. For some reason he thinks I should have been able to stop you, like you aren't a grown fucking adult. Anyways, he asked me if we could make pancakes for breakfast this morning, so maybe he's getting over himself.

Sam tried to go for a jog today. It's probably the first time he's left the bunker by himself since you fell the angels. It was cute, he was all excited and shit. He made it about a half mile before he had to come back inside and lay down. Luckily I followed him or he would've been passed out on the side of the hallway. Poor guy slept for four hours after that. He's about the same as you left him. He's worried about you.

I'm no good at this dear diary crap Cas. You should be here.

-Dean

Hello Dean,

I'm glad to hear that you're ok, and perhaps you are starting to forgive me? No? I understand. Either way. Our relationship has never been simple.

I'm glad to hear that Sam isn't getting any worse; though I would rather he was getting better. I wish I could heal him. Helplessness is the worst part about being human for me.

To answer your question about clothes, I thought you would have noticed by now, but I did take a few articles of your clothing before I left. Just a few flannels and jeans, I hope you don't mind. Sam's clothes proved to be too big and Kevin's had strange designs on them so… I left behind my coat. It's not climate appropriate for this time of year and I fear that it's too recognizable. I do miss its familiar weight but I know it's in safe keeping.

Still no sign of any angels in this area. I plan to move on if I don't find anything in the next few days. I'm not discouraged. It makes sense that they would wander from the place they fell.

I miss your pancakes.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm grateful that the manager at biggerson's allows me to eat breakfast before my shift starts, but these pre-made, frozen pucks thrown on the griddle are… soggy reminders of how far away I am, if you will excuse my poor metaphor.

My shift is starting now.

Your friend,

Castiel

Later that night, Cas pulled out the journal while he sat in his dark car in an abandoned Target parking lot. Upon his shift ending, he had driven aimlessly before stopping to check the journal for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. He had no leads on the angels. This place was a dead end and he had to move on.

Home?

His newly developed subconscious was trying to nudge him back to Kansas and he thought that it might be safer to leave the journal closed that night. He reclined his seat back and tried to find the most comfortable position to sleep in. Before shutting his eyes, he cast his eyes around, knowing that his safety was almost assured by him being male and of somewhat solid build. Still, he knew what could be waiting in the dark.

May 20, 2013: The Headquarters of the Men of Letters

Castiel found waking up tedious, at best.

Eyes snapping open, he immediately sat up, blood pounding in his ears and visions of falling angels and burning wings swimming in front of his eyes. He pressed his palms over his eyes. One by one he checked off his safety symbols, a trick taught to him by a sympathetic Sam. Bed, check. Bedroom, check. Light, on. He was in the Men of Letters bunker. Not in whatever hell his recent dreams had concocted for him.

His heart slowed as he pulled back the covers, his hair immediately rising from the chill. Five days into humanity. Only a lifetime to go.

"Cas! Come get some breakfast if you want it!" Dean's voice called through the closed door.

Cas grumbled to himself in response, his stomach grumbling back. He stumbled around his room, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt without checking if they were inside out or not. His bared feet slapped loudly on the concrete floor, but he couldn't care because they carried him towards a delicious new smell. Sweet, heady, and rich, he followed it into the kitchen where Dean was busy making breakfast.

Cas stood back silently for a moment, watching as Dean sang along softly to the classic rock station on their scratchy radio. He wore a worn t-shirt and a pair of grey pajama pants, his hair still tousled from sleep. He moved around the kitchen with ease, flipping something in a skillet while checking on something else in the oven and getting plates ready on the breakfast counter. A small smile played around his mouth as the song reached the chorus.

"Whooooo are you- Jesus Cas!" He almost dropped a pan of bacon as he noticed Cas standing there. "Make yourself known!"

Cas walked in fully now, sitting down at the breakfast bar. "Apologies." His voice was rough.

He looked at the stove. Pancakes sizzled in the iron skillet as Dean took a tray of bacon out of the oven.

Dean caught Cas looking. "Thought we would celebrate. Have a proper breakfast for once."

"Celebrate what?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Being alive. Being all together for once."

Cas nodded, unwilling to question celebration of something so seemingly mundane. Dean flipped the pancakes once more and grabbed some silverware from the drawer.

Through a fog, Cas remembered the events from the night before. Sam had been vomiting all night, head bent over the stainless steel toilet as Dean and Kevin engaged in a screaming match that ended with Kevin slamming his bedroom door shut. Cas remained out of the way, bringing Sam ginger ale and organizing Kevin's pile of tablet translations, in a foil to his last confrontation with the young prophet.

"Where are Sam and Kevin?" He asked.

"Sam's still sleeping it off. Kevin won't come out. I'll save them some for later." His tone remained light, and he stacked three pancakes on his spatula and flipped them onto the plate in front of Cas. Immediately, his mouth began to water as Dean slid a less-than-modest pile of bacon next to them.

He had watched Sam and Dean eat stacks of pancakes and mountains of bacon at countless diners across the country. Never had he actually wondered if they tasted good or not.

The smell alone.

"You know, Cas, they're made for eating not staring."

Cas squinted at Dean. "I'm aware." Nevertheless, he carefully watched as Dean slathered his own pancakes with butter before generously pouring maple syrup over everything, bacon included. He mimicked him exactly.

When he took his first bite, he swore he saw stars. Moaning involuntarily, he shoved more into his mouth, stacking pancakes dripping with butter with bites of syrup-slathered bacon. He knew he must look obscene, teeth clacking and gulping sounds prevalent in the silence of the mostly sleeping bunker.

Dean watched him while slowly eating his own. "Good?"

Cas nodded wordlessly, his mouth still full. Dean smiled. "Yeah, haven't made pancakes since... well since we were last at Bobby's house I think. Saw that Emeril guy cook bacon in the oven on that damn food network Sam's been falling asleep to, figured I'd give it a try- It's definitely less painful."

Cas swallowed, reaching for the coffee that had appeared in front of him. "Everything is wonderful."

Dean smiled, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. "Nah- s'just pancakes man. I just thought- I want you to know that being human does have a few perks, breakfast being damn near close to the top."

Cas smiled, finally feeling somewhat settled. He felt light but grounded, his feet firmly planted on the supported beam of the stool. Dean's wide smile helped matters as well.

They finished eating in a comfortable silence, forks clinking on plates. It had been a cold spring, and the bunker remained cold with it. Cas shivered, sipping the hot coffee.

When they finished, Dean picked up their plates and put them in the sink full of soapy water. Cas started to help, grabbing his coffee mug but Dean shook his head. "Don't worry about it, I got this. Go get dressed, we gotta run an errand."

"Where?"

Dean started to suds up the skillet. "Well, if we're gonna be here for a while, we'll need a project. He turned around to look at him, "Which meansyou're gonna learn how to drive."