You’re never going to read this letter. Sorry. I have just enough alcohol in my system to write it, but not enough to send it.
I left you out of the letter to Bobby and Sam. Sorry for that, too. But they’re going to hate me for it, and I’m not sure I could stand you hating me as well. It’s a shitty move, but I’d rather leave you wondering instead. I’m selfish that way, and I’ve always been selfish about you.
You make me selfish, Cas. You make me want things. For me. Thanks for that, I guess. But also, screw you. Life’s a lot easier when you’re not living it for yourself.
I guess saying yes to Michael is some fucked up combination of living for myself and living for others. Save the world on my own terms, at least. Maybe by someone else’s hand, but fuck it. Besides, you guys deserve the world a lot more than I deserve it.
Cas, do what you want, but do good, man. Go back to heaven and give em hell. Stay on earth and help rebuild. You fought for free will, Mr. Comatose. Don’t forget to use it.
I would ask you to look after Bobby and Sam, but I know they don’t need no looking after. I would ask you to look after yourself, but I know you won’t do that either. Stupid dumb angel who cares too much. You’ll probably open up a puppy orphanage or something once things are settled down. (Name one after me, ok?)
I don’t give advice because I never follow advice given, but I’ll make an exception for you. Just think of it as me returning the favor.
Surround yourself with people you’d die for. But try not to die for them, because the feeling is probably mutual. See what I’m getting at? You probably don’t, and I can picture you frowning at the page you’re never going to read.
Then again, you surprise me a lot, so who knows. Maybe you know exactly what I’m saying. Again, sorry I suck at writing love letters.
The alcohol’s wearing off and I’m sobering up.
Sorry, Cas. For everything.
[incoherent scribbles] - Dean