OK, sorry about the longer wait but I did warn you!
This chapter is pretty damn adorable if I do say so myself. Cute texting is something I abhor in my own life but I still enjoy when others do it. Hopefully reading this will make you feel better after the garbage that was 11x22. Man, it's been a while since I've been this deeply unimpressed with the writing on SPN. Did anyone else feel like their life would be better right now if they'd never wasted time watching 11x22? Ugh. Anyway. Anyone who's read my fic 'Christmas at the bunker' might recognise one of the photos in here!
Sorry if I'm being slow or disjointed about replying to you guys, the site keeps screwing up and not showing me reviews :( Keep leaving them though! I'll get them eventually.

The first day is mostly very boring.

I get up only after I'm sure Sam and Dean have left, not wanting to feel pathetic and sad watching them go. It's ten o'clock before I've gotten dressed and entered the kitchen. I make myself coffee and PB&J on toast, meticulously washing the knife between each condiment. I take my breakfast into the library, greeting Kevin in a bright voice, asking what he's researching. He answers in monosyllables, barely looking up. I give up on conversation fairly fast and munch my toast in silence, gaze wandering around the room.

I read. I read book after book, skipping some parts and lingering on others, giving up on every few titles but persevering with most of them. At some point Kevin leaves the room and comes back with a bowl of reheated stir fry, placing it wordlessly in front of me. I thank him with some surprise and check the time only to see that it's early afternoon already. I thought the empty feeling in my stomach was just boredom.

After eating, I feel too restless to go back to reading. I gently suggest to Kevin that he should have a break and I wheedle him into going for a walk with me. Huffing dramatically, he eventually slams his book shut and goes to fetch his jacket. He comes back and sees me waiting expectantly by the stairs, wearing the same outfit as yesterday. He frowns.

"It's not too warm out today, Cas."

I tilt my head at him. "I know that."

He makes an impatient gesture. "You'll be cold. You need a jacket."

"Oh," I say slowly. "I don't think I have one. I don't know what happened to my coat."

Kevin snorts. "Dean didn't give that back to you? Ugh, creep. Didn't he keep it once before too?"

"Yes, but he only did that as a symbol of confidence that I would return. This time it's probably just that he's forgotten to wash it."

The young prophet stares at me for a moment before shaking his head. "Unbelievable. Right, yeah, sure. Well, Dean has more jackets than he needs, he's bound to have left one behind and you guys are the closest in size. Wait a second."

Kevin leaves again and returns a minute later with one of Dean's older jackets. I shrug it on carefully, inhaling the smell and smiling. Kevin makes a vague, inexplicable groaning noise and leads the way up the stairs.

It's cool and grey outside. We walk silently up the road, then silently through the small, quiet town, then silently into the general store. Kevin grabs two colas from the fridge, pays for them and tosses one to me as we leave. I thank him and worry aloud about paying him for mine.

"Nah, don't stress about it," he says easily. "My Mom makes sure I have money and Sam and Dean don't charge rent. You don't have any income."

I ponder these words as we head back towards the bunker, the sun low in the sky through the thin clouds. Perhaps I should get a job now that I'm human. But what, and where? I scuff my shoes against the gravel of the road leading to the bunker and swig back some overly sweet cola, thinking about my limited options. Maybe I could become a full time hunter, like Sam and Dean. I perk up at the idea. It makes sense. I have skills and knowledge which could be useful, although my last attempt at hunting wasn't too encouraging. As Kevin and I descend the stairs into the bunker, I take Dean's jacket off with a moment of reluctance and hold it out to the boy. He shakes his head, already moving back into the library.

"You know where Dean's room is. It was on the back of the door."

Well, that's fair enough. I make my way to Dean's bedroom, hesitating before pushing the door open and stepping in. It feels like a slight invasion to be coming in here without permission. I've slept in here, yet I still feel like I barely know the space. Looking around, I can see where Dean has made it his own, decorating it with things that matter to him. A pile of battered photographs litter the top of the chest of drawers and I eye them as I hang the jacket on the back of the door. I shouldn't snoop.

Human impulse control really is awful, though.

Drifting over to the photos, I pick them up and look through, smiling at the first few. Dean was surprisingly blond and almost girlish as a child, really nothing like the imposing man he's grown to be. I wonder sadly what his dreams and childhood joys were before his mother died. There are several photos of him and Sam with matching grins and haircuts at various young ages and one rare picture with John in it, smiling faintly at the camera. He's got Sam up on his shoulders but Dean is standing next to him, no more than eight years old but holding himself like an adult, a shotgun hefted in his arms. There's a black and white shot of Dean as a toddler with Mary. She's beautiful, laughing as she hugs him to her. I can see Dean in her sparkling eyes and easy smile.

I sift through a few more pictures, one of them featuring a teenage Dean leaning against the Impala with a gangly Sam, both looking moody. The old leather jacket looks loose on Dean but the amulet around his neck is familiar, as is his casual slouched pose. The next one is the brothers from several years later, both of them young adults. Sam has a schoolbag slung over one shoulder but he's already taller than Dean, who has an arm around his younger brother and is shouting jokingly at the camera. I chuckle at the accusing way he's pointing at whoever is taking the photo; Bobby, perhaps? I can't imagine Dean mocking his father like that.

More shots of Sam and Dean, almost definitely taken by Bobby as they're nearly all in his house or yard. I stare at the familiar walls and furniture, feeling a sudden pull at my throat and belly. I miss it, although I've never realised it until this moment. I learned so much in that house. I fell in love, or at least realised I already had, in that house. I found my family in that house. I found myself in that house. I think of Bobby for the first time in months and suddenly wish fiercely that he was here in the bunker with us all. I always liked and respected Bobby, and he was truly a father to Dean and Sam.

I'm still blinking back unexpected tears when I get to the next photo, and it almost makes me choke up again. It's from Bobby's again, a sunny day in the yard. The picture is of Sam, Dean and... me. I'm stood in the middle, a rare laugh animating my face as Dean is ruffling my hair. Sam stands on my other side, leaning in, eyes sparkling at the camera but face innocent as he sticks two fingers up behind my head. Dean is looking at me and the affection on his face makes my breath catch for a moment. I remember this. I remember us all being stressed and tense because of fruitless research, and Dean exclaiming that he wasn't going to waste another moment of a nice day stuck inside with books. He grabbed us all beers, even me, and herded us outside. Bobby ducked back in, returned with his old camera and gave us very little warning before snapping the photo. I remember that I was in the middle of cataloguing the different molecules I could taste in the beer when Dean suddenly nudged me and jerked his head towards Bobby with the camera. I glanced at it, already smiling in response to the positive mood filling the air, but the smile turned to a genuine surprised laugh as Dean's fingers tangled in my hair and his deep chuckle filled my ears. I felt truly certain in that moment that I was in the right place with the right people.

My fond smile freezes on my face as I lay that picture aside and see the last one in the pile.

It's me. Just me, and I have no recollection of the photo being taken but I remember when it was. It was when I tried to join Sam and Dean as a hunter, shortly after returning from Purgatory. The photo isn't great quality and that, coupled with the location of it, tells me that Dean must have snapped it on his phone. It was taken in the retirement home where Fred Jones lived. I'm standing near a window, bright sunlight falling through the blinds in golden stripes. The cat I had been 'interrogating' ended up being quite friendly and I'm holding it in the photo, cradling it close to my chest, a soft smile on my face as I peer down at it. The cat looks relaxed and smug in my arms and I look peaceful, one hand scratching carefully behind the animal's ear, my posture protective and calm.

I swallow tightly, my head spinning with shock. I'd never have thought that Dean would take a photo of me in the first place, let alone print out a copy and keep it with him. He must have kept this all through the mess with Naomi, despite his feelings of anger and betrayal. Maybe that's even when he printed it out, when things got bad between us. The photograph is worn and folded and dog-eared and I wonder how many times Dean has looked at it. I close my eyes and press it to my lips, smiling.

"Dude, are you serious right now?"

I whirl around, blood rushing to my face. Kevin is standing in the doorway looking highly amused, two steaming mugs in his hands.

"Kevin," I almost squeak, dropping the photo and then scrambling to pick it up again. The young man rolls his eyes and strolls into the room, setting the mugs down beside the photos on the chest of drawers. I clutch the photo as I straighten back up, feeling unprecedented levels of embarrassment. I never felt this affected by humiliation as an angel. Kevin watches me wryly, sipping from his drink.

"I made you a hot chocolate," he informs me, dark eyes still shining with mirth.

"Oh," I reply stupidly, face still burning. I look at the mug for a moment before reluctantly laying the photo back down and picking up the drink, inhaling the scent. "Thank you. It- it smells great."

Kevin nods, his eyes on the picture I just laid down. "Yeah. Hey, that's a nice shot of you."

I'm not sure what to say so I just shrug. Kevin picks up the photo and examines it, eyebrows raised. He glances at me. "Did you know that Dean had this?"

I shake my head and reply in a mumble: "I didn't even know he'd taken it."

"Huh," is all Kevin says, staring down at the photograph thoughtfully. I take a sip of the hot liquid, barely able to register that it tastes delicious, far better than coffee.

"We should go," I say after a few seconds of silence. Kevin lays the photo down and nods, picking up his own mug. We head back to the library and settle down to do some more reading. After about fifteen minutes my phone buzzes in my pocket and I bring it out to see that Dean has texted me.

Got here OK. Charlie says hi. Hope u and Kev r all good.

I smile broadly and relay the text to Kevin, who looks supremely disinterested. I type back, grinning.

Thanks! Kevin says hello too, or something that might have been an attempt at such. I hope Charlie is doing well?

I pause and then add a smiling face emoticon and a thumbs up one too, for good measure. I hit send and wait, tapping my foot against the floor and earning an annoyed look from Kevin. My phone buzzes again quickly.

Ha ha I bet he just grunted at u... Little shit. Yep she's fine, we're looking at local ads 4 house shares. Last one didn't work out so well.

I'm smiling way too much considering it's just a simple text exchange, but it's nice to know that I'm speaking to Dean from so many miles away, and I keep thinking about that photograph. I type back as fast as my fingers can manage.

You know Kevin too well. What happened with Charlie's last house share?

I add a laughing face after the comment about Kevin and a novelty animated question mark at the end of the text, flashing in rainbow colours. The reply comes just as quickly as before.

Damn straight. Ah not sure, something bout dating her housemate and it went wrong. Dude wtf is that question mark

My smile falters as I take this new information in and I think uneasily of how often romantic entanglements ruin perfectly good friendships. Banishing this unfortunate piece of wisdom from my mind, I concentrate on typing back.

That's a shame. Hopefully the next one works out better for her.
I understand your confusion about my question mark, Dean, since you seem uninformed as to the use of them in your own texting.

Adding a winking face to make it clear that I'm teasing, I wait in anticipation for the reply. It comes in less than a minute.

Yeah hopefully. Oh I see how it is. Look, I can use a question mark too: can u please go screw urself?

I snort out loud and Kevin sighs pointedly from across the table, but I don't even look up. Dean has used the same winking face as me and it makes me think of him winking at me in real life, the way it makes me blush. Grinning widely, I begin to text back, but I'm interrupted by another message from Dean.

Looks like I gotta go, apparently I'm being antisocial (Sam's bringin out the bitch face)... Talk tomorrow yeah? Take care.

My face falls but I hasten to respond.

OK. Talk tomorrow. You take care too, Dean, and sleep well.

My thumb hovers recklessly over the love heart emoticon for several seconds before I shake my head and selecting the simple smiling face along with a snoozing face and a crescent moon. Pressing send, I heave a sigh and lean back in my chair.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Kevin mutters from behind his book.