They had put on their FBI suits, or monkey suits as Dean calls them, parking the Impala in front of a white suburban house with dark green bushes littering the front. The house seemed dark on the inside, although the sun was shining brightly above them. Sam knocked on the navy wooden door, straightening his overcoat while Dean fumbled with his collar for a moment. A man with jet black hair answered the door, his eyes swollen red, most likely or maybe even drugs at this point. He glanced between the two questionably before Sam pulled out his FBI badge along with Dean, the gold plate reflecting the luminescent light of the sun.

"We're sorry to bother you Mr. Aubrey, but I'm Agent Gabriel and this is my partner Agent Collins, do you mind if we ask you about what happened that night with your wife?" Sam asked calmly, his presence serene but the man only looked back with confusion evident on his face.

"I already spoke to the cops about what happened. Are you sure this is necessary?" They both nodded, the man allowing them inside the dull house, walking into the foyer to notice photos of a long haired brunette woman with dark green eyes and always smiling. Sad to think she was dead now. The brothers got a better look at the man, noticing his tattered black T-shirt and blue jeans with no shoes, and unshaven. He was a wreck alright. "Let's talk in the living room." The man led them to the right, the living room now present with its black leather couches and white paint coating the walls. Photos were scattered everywhere, while a TV hung on the back wall in front of the largest couch with a glass coffee table separating them, magazines littering it. Suddenly, Sam noticed a teenage boy resting on the couch, his dark blue eyes fixed on the screen. Mr. Aubrey realized too because he ran his hand through his hair before it fell down to rub his face. "Finn, can you go to your room for me?" The brothers got a better look at the boy, noticing he had jet black hair like his father as well as bright blue eyes. He was silent, only sitting up and beginning to walk out of the room shrugging past the 'agents' and his father, clearly upset. They heard the stomping of footsteps on the wooden stairs they saw earlier in the foyer before the slamming of a door was heard as well. "I'm uh sorry about my son agents. He's always been fairly unsocial but after the incident, well, it just got worse. He barely even speaks to me anymore." Mr. Aubrey sighed, his red, puffy eyes glancing down at the floor in shame.

"It's okay, we've seen it many times before but you know, my partner here is pretty good with kids so maybe he can talk to him." Sam, or Agent Gabriel, stated, a reassuring smile plastered on his face. Dean looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed but didn't say a word.

"I mean, you could give it a try Agent Collins, second door on your left. I don't know what to do anymore." Sam nodded in understanding, guiding the shattered man to the couch while he jerked his head towards the wooden stairs in the foyer to tell Dean to go upstairs. The older complied, sauntering up the loud lumber steps as he moved until Sam heard the creaky sound of the door opening and closing, turning back to Mr. Aubrey who sat on the black leather couch while Sam sat in the armchair. His arms rested on his knees as he hunched over to listen to the man with a reassuring expression.

"Don't worry Mr. Aubrey, if anyone can get your son to talk, it's him. He lost his mom when he was young too." Mr. Aubrey's eyes lit up with hope, though a grim frown plastered his face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. No one should have to go through that... " His words shied away at the end, his eyes falling on his twiddling thumbs.

"So, what can you tell me about that night. Anything weird, such as a smell of sulfur, cold spots?"

-

Dean knocked on the white wooden door, noticing the scratches on the side of the archway. He was thankful Sammy let him talk to the kid instead of talking to the man. The kid opened the door, noticing the agent and glancing him up and down with a murderous glare. The walls were navy blue, photos on the floor, while a mirror was toppled over as well as a lamp. It looked as if some WWE fighter came in and trashed the place. The kid moved back onto the bed, not sparing Dean a glance as he whipped his phone out and placed in his Apple earbuds, shutting his eyes and resting his arms behind his head. Meanwhile, Dean searched the room, noticing a few pillows strewn on the other side of the bed. As he was curiously looking, the kid spoke in a confident and monotone voice.

"I know my dad sent you up here, but you can leave. Don't want to burden you with my presence." He said his second sentence in a sarcastic tone, clearly imitating someone but not opening his eyes for one word. Dean sat on the bed, it sinking a bit at the sudden weight but the kid didn't even flinch.

"What're you listening to?" Dean asked suddenly, the kid peeking one eye open to glance Dean over again, while a small smile graced his lips. He pulled the left earbud out, sitting up a bit, his back resting against the headrest.

"Digital Daggers, wanna listen?" Why the hell not? Dean nodded, taking the earbuds from the kid who was holding them out towards him and putting them in his ears. "I'll start it over for you." The song started over, a female singing in a low voice while a depressing tune played faintly in the background.

Musing through memories, losing my grip in the gray.

Numbing the senses, I feel you slipping away.

Dean felt his heart began to pound as the female continued to sing, her enticing voice urging him to continue to listen though he didn't typically appreciate music like this.

Fighting to hold on, clinging to just one more day.

Love turns to ashes with all that I wish I could say.

I'd die to be where you are.

I tried to be where you are.

Was the female singing a song about Dean's current life, cause it sure as hell sounded like it. It felt as if the song was coursing through his heart and soul, telling him how he felt even though he already knew.

Every night, I dream you're still here.

Ok, really? Really? That couldn't be more accurate.

The ghost by my side, so perfectly clear.

When I awake, you'll disappear,

Back to the shadows, with all I hold dear.

With all I hold dear.

I dream you're still here.

I dream you're still here.

Suddenly the music stopped, Dean glancing at the kid wide-eyed, practically begging with his eyes for an answer to why he stopped. Why did he? Did something happen? A hot tear streamed down his cheek and he realized the kid was staring at him in wonder and sympathy, clutching the phone in his hand and slowly taking his earbuds back.

"I see. So, who'd you lose?" The kid seemed rather calm for the blunt question he just asked a 'federal agent'. "I'm only asking cause I noticed you seemed kinda depressed, wondered why." Who the hell was this kid? Some psychic? Mind reader?

"How could you tell?" The question came out of his mouth before he could stop himself, his hand clutching over his mouth while his eyes were shut securely, trying to stop the oncoming storm.

"It's obvious. Your eyes didn't look me in the eyes once, your hair's a mess, your suit is roughly put together, you walk as if you have a boulder on your back, your right-hand keeps fidgeting as if it misses something, your eyes are also red from crying and you reacted pretty emotionally to the song." Instead of being impressed by the kid's extreme observation skills, Dean moved his hand from covering just his mouth to cover his whole face in shame as if he were just told his dog died. However, his snarky personality didn't cease, moving his mouth to speak through sobs.

"Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" He heard a laugh from next to him, the kid clearly enjoying the fact he was called a fictional detective.

"I wish, but no. It's just obvious. I used the song to make sure I was right. So, wanna talk about it?" The agent shook his head. I'm not talking to a kid about my pathetic problems when I was here to comfort him. "Well, whoever you lost they seem pretty important. Oh, maybe I can guess. Hmm." Dean could tell the kid was glancing him over once again, looking for any hints as to who he possibly could've lost. There's no way he'd guess it's a holy tax accountant. A dude angel to be exact. "Definitely not your parents, that's easy to tell." This kid was absolutely fucking crazy. "Maybe a sister? No, too sensitive for that. Ah, it was a boyfriend." His emerald eyes shot open at the boy's words, his hand moving to hold him up on the bed. This kid was not natural.

"What?" It was all Dean could say. How does someone guess that someone is depressed based on their actions and find out they lost someone? Then, not even sparing the guy's feelings by just blatantly saying it out loud.

"What? Did I get it right?" How do you respond to that? What was their relationship now? A dead angel fell for the righteous man he rescued out of hell?

"I've never had a boyfriend in my life, nice try." He felt kind of smug, correcting the kid who seemed like a total smartass. He lost his mom, Dean, try to be nicer. The kid's face fell, his smug look fading as he looked to the ceiling with a pondering look.

"Are you sure? It seemed right. It couldn't be a girlfriend, parents, siblings, distant family, pets or anything else... " It was impossible to believe the kid was so young from the way he could read a guy's life just by watching him for a few moments. Wait.

"Wait, why couldn't it be a girlfriend?" The man's eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he still felt his eyes glistening from the previous tears. The kid shook his black hair, a grin present on his face as he stood up from the bed, walking towards the white lumber door, turning his head to look Dean up and down once again.

"Because there's no way you've had a serious relationship with a girl with a face like that. Oh, and this." In his hand was an old photo, wrinkles at the yellow corners as he held it between his young fingers. Dean's emerald eyes glared to try and see it more clearly before his eyes widened and he stood up abruptly reaching for the worn photo in the boy's hand, but he kept it out of reach. "Yeah, I knew it. He's handsome." Dean was fighting the tears once again, that photo meant a lot to him recently, Sammy didn't even know about it. He'd never admit to owning it.

"Finn, that's your name, right? You gotta give that back, alright?" How the hell did the kid even get it in the first place? It was tucked safely in his suit jacket's pocket on the inside of it. On the outside, Dean held his firm expression, but on the inside he was a mess, knowing that if he lost that photo, the only photo he had, he'd have nothing left. Nothing left to remind him of his angel and best friend. Finn moved the photo in front of his bright blue eyes, scanning over the wrinkled image as if he were checking someone out.

"What's with the trench coat? Is he an agent too?" Hold your anger, Dean. With a frustrated sigh, Dean met the kid's eyes, beginning to speak regretfully.

"No. He just wore the thing around a lot. Look, I get you're curious and all, but that's important to me and I need it back." Finn glanced at the old photo in his pale hand, nodding in understanding before opening the white door and beginning to walk out, ignoring Dean's pleading. However, he chased him down the steps, interrupting the conversation between Mr. Aubrey and Sam. The two on the couch looked up startled as Finn strode up to Sam, holding the aged photo in front of his face while Dean stopped in his tracks, paralyzed.

"Who's this guy?" Sam's eyes were blown wide, staring at the photo with curiosity, feeling a pang of pain in his heart upon seeing a photo of his once close friend. Sure, he was much closer to Dean, but that didn't mean he wasn't a friend of Sam's so when he died it depressed him as well. But he knew better than to get emotional right now. How did this random kid get a photo of Cas when he and Dean didn't have one themselves?

"How did you get that photo?" Finn rolled his eyes, shoving the photo closer to Sam's face as he huffed in exaggeration.

"Your partner over there obviously. Now-"

"Finn Jamison Aubrey!" A new voice piped up from the other end of the couch, Mr. Aubrey standing up straight with his arms crossed over his chest. "You do not speak to a federal agent in such a tone! Now, give that photo back to the nice gentleman." His father pointed his index finger at him sternly, but his eyes were glossed over in concern as if he were confused about his son's behavior. Finn sighed in defeat, his shoulders slouching and head hanging low as he gave the photo back to him, Dean taking it back in relief as he put it back in his suit jacket pocket.

"He was a close friend of ours." Sam stated simply as the boy nodded his head 'thanks' before heading to the kitchen, clearly embarrassed by his actions. "Now, Mr. Aubrey, thank you very much for your information, but we must head out now." Mr. Aubrey nodded in agreement, beginning to lead the two 'agents' out the front door while they stood on the porch. The man couldn't say anything else, so he began to shut the front door behind him when his kid ran out the door underneath his arm, a piece of paper in his left hand, waving it frantically.

"Dean, wait!" He shouted, which caused the man to turn around rather quickly and glaring down at the boy who held out the small piece of white paper towards him with a sympathetic look. "Take this and...I'm sorry." Dean took the small piece of paper between his fingers, while Finn sprinted back into his house. The paper was ripped, meaning it was ripped off a larger piece of paper but Dean opened it while Sam loomed over his shoulder in curiosity. On the paper in messy teenage boy handwriting read:

"Everything works out in the end, even the impossible can happen."

Why did that seem so familiar? Dean glared at it, reading the sentence over and over again as if it would help his understanding of the words. However, he noticed there was more written below it.

"P.S. Never close your eyes while in the room with a stranger. They might be able to pickpocket you."

-

"So, what'd the guy say?" Dean questioned as he drove the Impala back to their motel room in the bright light of late morning and casting a glance to his brother in the passenger seat. Sam fished out his notepad from his pocket, flipping through the pages of notes he gathered.

"Well, apparently the monster he described as an average guy with brown hair except for his fangs and cat like eyes. But get this, he said the guy vanished into this white mist along with his wife which is why he thought he was having a nightmare. Said after he saw them vanish, he blacked out and found out the police found him and took him home. I've never heard of anything like it. " The younger brother seemed completely fascinated in a new discovery for a case. His brother, on the other hand, was wary of the whole situation. Disappearing with white mist? Blacking out right after? A kid with inhuman observation skills? It was all too much. "I think I'm gonna head to the library and see if I can find anything else. You should do something for you, Dean. You're worrying me, man. Find some girl or treat yourself to pie, just something." As much as Dean appreciated his brother's concern for him, none of it would help. Nothing would bring the angel back. Nothing would bring Cas back.

"I told you, Sammy, I'm fine. I don't need any girls or pie. Anyway, what's with going to the library you have a computer, don't you?" Sam was officially bewildered. Dean's two favorite things, girls and pie, and he says he doesn't need them? He had to find out what was wrong, but he can't right now, they have a case.

"I need some peace and quiet with all of your mumbling in your sleep." Dean just rolled his eyes. Minutes later he heard the closing of Sam's laptop lid and his hazel eyes focused on him. Oh no. That meant the guy wanted to talk about something serious.

"How do you have a picture of him Dean?" Of course, that's what the guy asks out of everything. Dean stayed silent, his jaw clenched as he continued to drive, just trying to ignore Sam's dire question.

"Where are we going, Dean?" Castiel asked as he walked beside Dean on a cement sidewalk in the middle of Chicago. They had just finished a hunt with Sam, who was currently back at the motel asleep outside of the city, and Dean had told the angel he had something to show him. The man had a wide smile on his face as they walked past strangers talking on their phones, little kids running to catch up to their moms and of course the lingering smell of a pizzeria. The smell of freshly baked crust and the potent smell of garlic, with a tinge of cigarette smoke wafted their noses but Dean kept walking, clearly on a mission. Cas continued to stroll beside him, avoiding being shoved by people while looking up at the tall towers looming overhead. There were cars, taxis, tour buses and bicycles roaring past them but it seemed as if Dean didn't even pass them a second glance. Well, that was until he stopped in front of a large restaurant, a big sign in the front saying "" in large, black, cursive letters. The man had a large grin plastered on his face as he turned back to the angel who tilted his head in confusion. "Why are we here, Dean?" A family strolled into the brick building while Dean draped an arm over his shoulder and shook him a bit.

"This, buddy, is where you'll find the best pizza in the whole damn country." He chuckled a bit before he heard the click of a camera and whipped his head around to find a small Asian girl with a short black ponytail and round glasses facing them. She jumped, clearly surprised by the noise as well as she shoved her round glasses up the bridge of her nose and began to walk away with her head down but Dean quickly chased after her. He could tell that girl just took a picture of them and if anything, she could be a spy for the angels or The Men of Letters. "Hey, where do you think you're going? Just take a picture of us and run off?" The girl was held by her bicep, no way of being set free because Dean had a friendly smile on so no one would be suspicious.

"I-I'm very sorry...I can explain. I just...I was trying to get a picture of the building and-"

"Dean, this girl is harmless." Cas didn't feel any weird wavelengths to identify an angel or the face of a demon and could tell she was not any other unnatural being. He let go of the small girl's arm as she looked down at the disgusting cement sidewalk when they noticed the small Polaroid picture in her hand.

"Um...here you can have this. I'm really sorry again." Her hand was shaking as she handed over the photo to Dean, who had clearly terrified the girl to death, and ran off without another word. Dean glanced over the photo in his hands before his green eyes grew wide and quickly shoved the small photo in his jean pocket. His hand guided Cas by his back inside while he asked for a table from the waitress.

"Dean, can I have the photo to get rid of it? We never know-"

"No, I'll uh hold onto it. That way no one will find it, even its scraps."

"But Dean I-" The waitress interrupted Cas, leading the two to a table and as they sat down she gave the normal 'enjoy your meal' while Cas sat in the wooden dining chair in the middle of the restaurant across from Dean with his hands in his lap. Dean sat with his arms on the table and looking around the restaurant which was gorgeous inside. The walls were painted a bright red with pictures of old and new Chicago, Cubs, Bears, and Black Hawks pennants hanging around. The place was packed with people, especially in the dark red leather bound booths and the carpet was a crisp black. Burgers, pizza, and hot dogs filled the room with an entrancing aroma of tasty food that just made Dean's mouth water.

"Whatcha gettin', Cas?" Cas ended the conversation about the photo after Dean made it very clear that he didn't want to talk about it.

However, Dean didn't know that the photo would be the only thing he had left.

To be Continued...