"Dean, why can't you give this Cassie your own address? You know I love you kid, but I'm tired of sorting your mail from the Roadhouse's. Invest in a damn P.O. box."

Ellen threw three envelopes at my head with a smile that was meant to appear sweet, but it was downright vile. That woman was the mother I bet mine would be in another life.

"You secretly love me Ellen! Don't deny it!"

She scoffed and yelled after Ash, another guy who wandered into the Roadhouse and ended up being adopted. I didn't mind it, I had a job and money that was my own, not my old man's, and I was making friends. Plus I've slept with both Ash and Jo—so it's like I nailed both my boss' kids. Once it was a fun evening of the three of us at the same time.

I glanced down at the three envelopes, each with the apartment I shared with Balthazar as the address to be sent to. At least Balthazar and I were replaced with a nice tenant, one who actually forwarded mail. I've heard stories of some who don't.

I settled down in the corner booth, the one reserved for our breaks. I wasn't on shift, wasn't even supposed to work today. I was on lunch from the mechanic shop I picked up extra cash with a few streets over. I'd never be able to thank Bobby enough for letting me tinker with all our family cars growing up. Especially with Baby, I keep her in such good shape now with proper tools and supplies at my disposal.

I haven't opened a letter since the night Balthazar and I parted ways. I've accumulated twenty-seven. He keeps writing. He keeps sending me letters. They just sit in the box under my bed with all the others.

I shuffle them between my fingers and feel a body slide in beside me, it's Jo. Her hand slides up my thigh as she nudges me with her shoulder.

"Dean, you've got to let this Cassie know what's going on with you. You've gotten twelve letters since you've been here and I haven't seen you open a single one. Do you even write back?"

I shook my head.

"You got it bad Dean-o. Cassie's lucky. Love like that's rare, I don't know why you two are wasting it like this. I'll have Ash whip up your usual and I'll bring you a beer."

She patted my thigh and was gone. I stared down at the letters. With a deep breath I decided to go with the most recent, what could it hurt? I turned the envelope over and slid the knife on the table along the top fold, roughly opening it up. I slid out the single sheet of paper—huh, his letters were at least three.

I unfolded it and the sight of his familiar handwriting, not on the outside of an envelope, made the breath catch in my throat. It was short, the shortest letter to date.

Dean,

I take your silence as you breaking our agreement. In that case I'm letting you know my father's approved the arranged engagement between a business partner's daughter and I upon his most recent visit to the campus here in Oxford. I took up a formal education; you'd love the campus. We could be us, we could be together and no one would think twice about it. You'd have known if you'd dared read my last two letters.

I want to hate you, but I can't, I won't.

I love you and I always will.

Her name is Meg, Meg Crowley. She reminds me of you, so I suppose if I'm to settle in life, a second rate version of you is doable. I let her use me; she knows all about you—about us. However, we're getting married in two months time in the backyard of my father's manor. That means I'm going home.

I don't even know where you are anymore. Are you safe? Are you well? Are you even still alive? Are you, I mean, do you still love me?

Eternally Yours,

Cass

The world stopped. Everything stopped. I couldn't breath, I'd choke on the air if I even attempted. My mind blanked out—Cass was getting married to someone who wasn't me.

I could feel the building sting in the corners of my eyes, the build up of unshed tears—I couldn't do this here, not now, not with the reputation I've got for myself.

"Sweetie what's the matter, you look like you've seen a ghost?"

I blinked, glanced up at Ellen, and the breath I'd been holding escaped in the most awful sound I've ever heard. She quickly maneuvered herself in beside me and pressed my face into her shoulder.

"You're all the same, you know? You think you're so tough, so hard, but you're always the ones that are so sensitive, you just don't like seeing it. I'm pretty sure whatever's got you feeling this way is both of your faults, not just yours, so don't go weighing yourself down with that bad habit of self-imposed guilt you tend to do, you hear me Dean Winchester?"

I nodded as she continued to rub my back. I handed her the letter, at this point I don't think I could care who actually read it. She knew I was never picky about my choice in bed partners.

"You still love him, you wouldn't be reacting like this if you didn't. How long has it been since you've seen each other?"

I took a few deep breaths before pulling back and wiping at my face.

"Two years next month. We, we made plans to run away from the lives we had to be together…technically I have a fiancé of my own waiting for me, Michael always said he'd wait till he was old and gray if he had to. That night, I mean, I come from money Ellen, ridiculous money. I don't have to work forever kind of money. I was willing to give it all up for him, for Cass. He was too, his, his dad had been denying him this one travel study for years, but he caught wind of our plans and wouldn't you know, Cass got his trip…I went to go meet him the very next morning at dawn, just like we planned, instead I meet his dad. I've only been home once, that was to pick up my car and since then I've been here. Before that I was with a guy named Balthazar, we had a place a few states west, had the whole domestic thing going between us. We were both running."

She leveled me with this look, I knew, I knew the next words that were going to come out of her mouth were going to be I have to go home.

"You know what you have to do right? And don't you dare give me that 'I'm stupid' look! You get your ass in that car of yours and you go home and you get your man. He's spelled it out right here, he loves you, he'll always choose you; he wouldn't have told you when and where he's getting married if there was any hope at all that you'd be there. He wouldn't still write you letters, and speaking of, have you even written him back? Are there more than just the twelve I've had to give you?"

I curled in on myself—this was open, too open. I don't do this, not with anyone. Well, not since Castiel. I nodded.

"I've got twenty-seven more in a box under my bed."

"Unopened?"

I nodded. She cuffed me on the back of the head.

"You're a bigger idiot than I originally thought Dean Winchester. I'm calling Jim, you're going home and you'll damn well write that boy back or so help me boy I don't drive you back where you came from myself the day of that wedding. An invitation will find you I'm sure. You will be there. What the two of you do when that day comes is entirely up to the two of you. If I lived up to my family's expectations I'm pretty sure I'd be someone's housewife and without Jo, and Ash, and this dump of a haven that I love. You'll eat your lunch and then go home, you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good."

She pressed a kiss to my forehead and ruffled my hair before sliding out of the booth.