It was a routine now, going to Castiel’s grave and placing letters down. Dean did it every Thursday evening. Most of the workers knew him by name and would throw him sympathetic looks that Dean choose’s to ignore. Along with letters, he always brought fresh flowers, roses because Castiel loved those. 

      Dean closed his eyes and pictured Cas picking out roses in front of the apartment, placing them in his hair and giving them to Dean. That was such a good day. It was before the war, before Dean changed and left Castiel. 

        His thoughts always ended up there. The thought of how Castiel needed him, but Dean didn’t see it so he left, and let Castiel slip right through, right to his death bed. 

       "My fault.“ He muttered underneath his breath. 

        Dean said no more, just stared at the engravings on the tombstone. He sat there for hours, even after the cemetary workers left, and suggested that he head back home. Dean didn’t move. Tonight was one of those night that Dean decided to sleep next to Cas’ grave.

       Some consider it wrong, but it’s the only way Dean does sleep at night. Sometimes he thinks that he can feel Cas’ fingers running through his hair, the warmth of his body next to his. Dean missed Cas so much, he would do anything to see his sparkling eyes, to feel the warmth of his body next to his, anything… 

Plot twist guys...

What if Cas get’s REALLY sick due to his failing grace, he get’s so bad that Sammy ends up putting him in the hospital, because he doesn’t know what else to do, he can’t find his Grace, etc… Deanmon ends up escaping the bunker in search of his blade. Cas tries to contact him, but he just simply doesn’t care about anything else but his blade. Eventually Sammy manages to find, and convince Dean to visit Cas in the hospital. But he barley made it in time.
Cas dies on a Thursday.