'Goodbye, Dean.' Cas's last words haunt me. It doesn't matter whether I am sleeping or awake, smiling or sobbing; hunting or having a beer, I miss him.

What hurts the most, though, is that after twelve years of friendship, it was right before The Empty took him that he confessed to me.

Why didn't you do it earlier, Cas?

The day The Empty had snatched Cas away from me, for the first time, I had lost faith. No, not my faith in Chuck, but myself.

Everytime, Cas had gone against everything that had been ingrained in him since the beginning of time to protect me; protect us, I had taken it for granted.

Me, an unchanging, unbending man, had never once stopped and thought about how Cas had gone against everything and everyone and stood like a shield between me and the wrath of God himself, to protect us; protect me.

'Because you cared, I cared.' Cas had said, tears streaming down his face. He knew he would never be able to return, but as he had said, 'I love you, Dean.' his voice hadn't wavered even a little, and as the empty had engulfed him, his eyes were shining, love and affection for those pale blue eyes had washed over me in waves.

How could an angel created to look over humanity have fallen so deep?

I don't deserve you, Cas; I never did.

That day as the snow had fallen, covering the ground in a blanket of glimmering white, my heart had threatened to freeze over.

What was the point of trying to stay alive and fix the world when the one I was supposed to share it with when all was as it should be, was gone?

I had taken out my blade and contemplated taking my life. But in the end, I had decided against it. For even if I killed myself, I couldn't be with him. And that's all I wanted. I wanted to see him one last time; tell him that I felt the same and that I was just too stubborn to admit it.

It was then I had decided that when I have fulfilled my duties as a brother and a father, I will tend to my heart.

I will find you, Cas.

I had left the bunker and joined Sam and Jack.

Sam, my younger brother, had immediately known that something terrible had happened. He had looked to my side, and with his eyes that held worry and panic, he had asked, "Where's Cas?"

I had not been able to answer him. The snow had started to fall again, and as they had fallen on my cheek and melted, I thought about how Cas's lips would have felt against my cheek, my lips.

As my eyes had met Sam's, he had run towards me and pulled me into an embrace. "I am so sorry, Dean." He had said, patting my back.

Did Sam know how Cas felt about me?

Did he know how I feel about Cas?

Why didn't you say something before, Sam?

Just a Sam had let go, Jack, had thrown himself at me. His arms had circled my waist in an awkward hug, and he had sobbed, "It's my fault. Everything is my fault."

'Jack is like a son to me, Dean.' Cas had said, and without a second thought, Sam and I had welcomed the young boy into our hearts and our home.

Pulling away from Jack, I had wiped his tears, "It was not your fault. He did it because he loved you. And he would do it again in a heartbeat; we all would. You are family, Jack. Never forget that, and Winchester always fight for family."

Jack had not been able to look at me at all, "He shouldn't have." Jack had said, looking away from me. I couldn't have that. I couldn't let him feel guilty, "We will get him back." I had said confidently. It was a facade. I knew in my heart that it was impossible.

Sam and Jack had not mentioned Cas again, and neither had I. We had bigger fish to fry, after all.

We had done what we always did. Pushing the pain at the back of our minds, we had covered it with a slab of ice, sealing it so thoroughly that it wouldn't make itself known till we are were ready to deal with it.

'Carry on, my wayward son. There will be peace when you are done. Lay your weary heart to rest. Don't you cry no more.' The lyrics of the song my father had composed for us decades ago when Sam and I were kids come to my mind when we have saved the world from destruction once again. But this time, there is no sense of achievement, no joy, no burgers, no pies. For nothing is the same without my Cas, the angel that had pulled me out of hell more than a decade ago.

'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.' Cas had told me the first time we had met. If I would have known that to raise me from perdition, you would fall like this, I would never have let you save me, Cas.

How long were you in love with me, Cas?

I look around the quiet bunker. It's spotless: Sam's doing.

Jack has enrolled himself in college, and Sam has joined a software firm. He says the salad they serve is not like the ones he used to have at the drive-thrus. I know he was merely trying to gauge my reaction. But to be honest, I was happy for him. He deserves it.

And me? I am stuck at the point where Cas had confessed his love for me and left.

I take in a deep breath. Making up my mind, leaving the half-filled bottle of beer to fend for itself, I make my way to the bunker's library.

I pull out the book Rowena had gifted Sam on his birthday last year and flip to the first page, 'If you need me, call me. Love, Rowena.' The beautiful calligraphic text reads. Below it is a mobile number.

Does hell have reception?

With a smidgen of hope, like a tiny flame trying to survive in the rough winds, I call the number.

"Queen of hell, speaking. How may I help you, Sam?" Rowena chirps.

"It's me, Rowena." I state dryly, and immediately her tone changes from flirty to irritated, "Hello Dean. Please be quick. I am busy running hell.

"I need your help."

"Don't you always, Dean." She says, sounding put-upon.

"Rowena, I don't know if you... " I start, but the once witch interrupts, "I am sorry for your loss." She says, sounding sorry for once.

"Thanks." I reply, but before I can say more, she adds, "Dean, I think I can help you."

"What!?"

"I think I can help you see him one last time." She informs, and my heart soars. Pretending not to have heard the second phrase, I question, "What do you need?"

"Your heart." She answers, and all I can think of is how can it be this easy.

"Is that all?" I ask, and she nods.

{Note :- Word count 1215}

To be continued...