Hello, friends! This fanfic is based off of an Avengers fic called "Dear Natasha." Go look it up, it's fabulous!
Set in the future, where Cass is human.
Warnings: Touchy subject, swearing
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
August 17th, 2015
Dear Cass,
It's been about a month since I last saw you. Sammy probably told you what happened, right? How the doctor told us it would be good to talk to you, because maybe you can hear us? And about how after one look at you I threw up all over the room and passed out? Not my most heroic story, I'll admit. I'm not really that brave little soldier you once knew, but hey. It's gonna be tough. But I still want to talk to you. I'm not giving up. I never do, right?
So Sammy is gonna start reading these to you, because apparently I can't even set foot in that goddamn hospital room without coming close to death myself. I tried again last week, and I just can't do it, Cass.
So bear with me.
Dean
September 1st, 2015
Dear Cass,
Okay, second letter. How's the hospital? How's nurse Jenny, or whatever her name is? She taking good care of you? I'd want her to take good care of me, if you know what I mean.
There are some weird things happening over in Minnesota lately. Middle-aged men keep disappearing. All that's left of them is their wedding rings. Sam said it'd be a good case to take, but I don't want to. It's pointless. And I don't want to get back in that car.
I don't really know how to write, I'm not gonna lie to you. What am I supposed to talk about, anyway, if I won't be going on hunts anytime soon? The weather? Sports? The news? I doubt you care about any of that. Besides, hopefully you'll be up and at 'em soon enough so you can catch up on all that yourself. You are human now, after all. When you wake up, we'll get you a bacon cheeseburger and a good winter coat. I hear this winter's gonna be a bitch.
Dean
September 7th, 2015
Dear Cass,
This is stupid. Sam read the letters to you, and nothing changed. You didn't even move. He didn't have to tell me. I just knew.
I don't want to do this anymore. It's stupid. It's childish.
I'm sorry.
Dean
September 8th, 2015
Dear Cass,
Okay. Fine. You guys win. Sam yelled at me for a good half an hour yesterday because he badgered me into telling him what happened, and then when he read the letter, he got all huffy. So here you go. Letter #4.
Remember when we took that one case about three years ago, and everything was like a cartoon? It was when you first decided you wanted to become a hunter. I guess looking back, I should have told you no. I should have told you to get far, far away from us. But I didn't, so you stayed. I don't think you ever smiled so much in one day. Was it worth it? You're strapped up to a bunch of machines, breathing in and out of a tube every day, surrounded by clean counters and squeaky floors. Was it worth becoming a hunter, even just for that one time? I mean yeah, you were pretty happy that day, but now you're basically dead
I'm getting off topic. I guess I'm just trying to say that that was a pretty good hunt.
Dean
September 14th, 2015
Dear Cass,
I ate today for the first time in what felt like forever. It was the best damn cheeseburger I'd ever eaten. And I've eaten a lot of burgers in my life, so that's saying something. The waitress who served it wasn't that bad, either. When you wake up, what do you want to do first?
Sam's really bugging me about another case in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I told him no. I don't really want anything to do with that. The car's still sitting out on the grass. Neither one of us has the balls to move it, I guess.
Just come back soon, okay? Then maybe we can go on hunts. Maybe I'll let you ride shotgun.
Dean
September 22nd, 2015
Dear Cass,
Nothing important happened today. I bet Sam won't even read this. I haven't been in the mood to talk lately, and neither has he.
Dean
October 5th, 2015
Dear Cass,
Okay, I guess my last letter was a little snippy. Sorry. Sam finally got me to take a case, and I tell you, it feels good to hunt again. Nothing extreme—just a couple vamps in Lake Forest, Illinois, but it still felt pretty good to chop off some heads. Sam took me out for a beer afterwards, and I'm pretty sure that's the first time Sam's ever offered to go drinking with me.
It was a pretty good night, Cass.
I just need you to wake up.
Dean
October 12th, 2015
Dear Cass,
Another day, another case. After Sam's hospital visit, we're heading back to Shakopee, Minnesota. I guess the thing there from last month just couldn't get enough, so we're going to stop it.
I'll talk to you soon.
Dean
November 12th, 2015
Cass
It's been a month since I last wrote, so sue me. It's been three months since you went comatose on us.
I guess Sam told you what happened last week. Or at least explained what all the noise you must have heard was. I didn't mean to, Cass. I was angry. I thought I could handle seeing you, but I couldn't. I didn't mean to break that vase of flowers, I didn't mean to shove the doctor, and I definitely didn't mean to yell at you. So if you heard any of those words, I'm sorry. I didn't mean them.
You probably think these are all a bunch of excuses and I don't deserve another chance. You're probably right. It wasn't your fault, anyway. God knows it's not.
But God doesn't really have anything to do with this, does he?
Dean
November 24th, 2015
Dear Cass,
You wouldn't believe the case we took today. It involved apple pie, a nerdy freckled kid who I'm pretty sure Sam would have taken home with us if I hadn't stopped him, and this extremely hot bartender who turned out to be a lesbian. But I'll explain it all when you wake up.
Come back, Cass.
Dean
December 7th, 2015
Sam met a girl. Her name's Emily, and I think she's perfect. But don't tell him I said that.
Dean
December 23rd, 2015
Dear Cass,
It was this time last year that you fell. Do you remember that? You disappeared one day, just gone. I know I shouldn't have thought this, but I really thought you were gone for good. It was stupid—you've come back more times than Sam and me combined. But I really thought I'd never see you again, and the thought drove me insane. Sam and I got into a stupid argument and I didn't talk to him for a week. What are you doing to me, Cass?
I remember finding you in a pile of snow just outside the dumpy motel Sam and I were in for the night. When we found you, you woke up—and smiled—and told us you were hungry.
I know I don't like chick-flick moments, buddy, but those tears didn't happen because I had something in my eye. Honestly, I can't even believe you fell for that.
And then later that night, at the motel, when you told me that you fell for me. And I laughed, because it was a strange way to word it—you should have said, you fell from heaven for my sake, or something like that. Otherwise it just sounded like you were in love with me. I mean, I get it—I'm pretty damn irresistible—so if you did mean it like that, I wouldn't blame you.
Truth is, buddy, that was probably one of the best nights of my life.
So Merry Christmas, Cass. And a happy New Year.
Dean
January 10th, 2016
Happy 2016, Cass! Sam told me your room was chalk-full of balloons and flowers and crap. Not my style, but I hope you like them. Sam is meeting Emily's parents this weekend—I'll tell you how it goes.
Dean
January 22nd, 2016
Dear Cass,
How goes everything over there? I realize I haven't asked you that in a while—my bad, I don't want to seem rude.
Emily's parents absolutely adore Sam. Who wouldn't, right? A genius sasquatch man for their daughter is all parents ever want. With the exception of the whole "hunter" thing, but there's been talk of ending it. Of course, there's always talk of ending it, and that hasn't done us any good.
I'm getting sick of this writing thing, Cass. Just wake up.
Dean
February 16th, 2016
Cass
You're not dead yet. So thanks for hanging in there, I guess.
Dean
March 2nd, 2016
Cass
I took the Impala out for a spin for the first time since August. It wasn't the same. Please come home.
Dean
March 18th, 2016
Cass
I've fucking had enough of this. I've been asking and praying and making stupid promises to myself, hoping you'd just wake up, but that obviously hasn't happened yet. I'm sick of this, Cass.
Dean
March 24th, 2016
Dear Cass,
Hey. It's Sam. I just want you to know that I've never seen Dean like this. He disappears for hours at a time, and when he comes back, his eyes are red and he reeks of alcohol. He's pretty sick, Cass, and I think you're the only one who can make him better. Please wake up.
Sam
April 3rd, 2016
That's it. I can't take it anymore. I can't fucking take it. It's been eight months since the accident—since you got in that goddamn car with me and ended up dead in a coma. Do you want an apology? Because I've been apologizing, I swear to you. To God, to myself, to you—and nobody's hearing it. But I'll say it again, if that's what you need.
I'm sorry you fell. I'm sorry you fell for me. I'm sorry I took you drinking, I'm sorry you got in the car. I'm sorry the truck came out of nowhere. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, I'm sorry your legs were crushed and your head hit the glass window.
I'm sorry I got out of there alive.
Is that what you need to hear? I'll say it again, until I'm blue in the face. But that's not gonna solve anything, and we both know that.
I've got to go, Cass. I'll end up saying something I can't take back, even though you probably can't even hear any of this.
Dean
April 25th, 2016
You once told me you were afraid you might kill yourself if you saw the havoc you created in heaven. Well, congratulations. You're slowly but surely getting your wish. Ever think about what your dying might do to me?
May 6th, 2016
I'm getting really sick. I didn't want to tell you, but it's true. If things don't get any better, I just might join you over there.
May 13th, 2016
Can you hear any of this? Will you just fucking speak up if you can? Or move?
May 29th, 2016
I've been unconscious for three days. I just woke up this morning, and my first thought was 'Where's Cass?' Stupid, isn't it? Almost a year passes after the accident, and I still half-expected to see you standing above me when I woke up. I still expected you to be the one to save me.
June 9th, 2016
I think I'm dying, Cass. It's not getting any better. I'm tired all day. I can't move for hours at a time. I'm sick and dizzy and numb and I just want it all to end. Is this how you feel every day? How does your heart keep going? How do those machines keep beeping?
July 3rd, 2016
Sorry it's been so long, Cass. Things still aren't good.
I can't help but think this would all be different if you were still here.
August 16th, 2016
I can't write too well thoughts aren't making much sense but I still needed to I don't know what's happening are you still there?
Can you find me?
September 2nd, 2016. 6:00 a.m.
Dear Cass,
I can't explain it. It's a miracle. I'm better. And I mean better. I can walk, talk, jump, hunt—ask me to do anything, and I can do it. The only thing I'm missing is you, buddy. Maybe you could explain what the hell happened to me today! Whatever it is, I'm okay with it.
I'll write more now, I promise.
Dean
September 2nd, 2016, 2:00 p.m.
Son of a bitch.
September 10th, 2016
Dear Cass,
It's a perfect day. You would love it. I remember that fall is your favorite season—and September is your favorite month. You told me about the change in the air, the colors of the leaves, the feeling of hope it gave you. I laughed it off, called you a girl, or something like that. But Cass, I listened. I always listened.
I listened today, at your funeral. I listened to the wind and the rustle of the leaves on the trees. I listened to Sam, who tried to comfort me. I listened hard and close, but I still couldn't hear you.
It was you, Cass. You saved me. You saved me one last time. I should be—well, I don't know what I should be feeling. I'm mad, because you did this without telling me. I'm confused, because I don't know how it happened. I guess you still got some angel in you. I'm guilty, because I didn't deserve this—and you didn't deserve to die. Mostly I'm sad. Just plain sad. Because you're gone.
Sam won't be reading this letter—that goes without saying.
I remember when we first met in that barn. You looked straight at me and read me like a book. You never stopped, either. Always staring, always reading. I watched you slowly become human. I watched your guilt and relief, your terror and happiness. I'm so sorry. I was never the friend you needed, even when you were always there for me.
But now's not a time for apologies or stuff we wish we had said.
I miss you, buddy. You were my best friend. You fell for me, and in a way, I guess I fell for you, too.
If I had to do it all over again, would I still hunt? Of course. It led me to you.
I'm not very good at endings, so maybe this doesn't need an end.
I'll always be here, if you ever decide to come back—though I doubt you will.
I'll see you soon, Cass.
Love,
Dean
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