This one’s not for you, Cas. If you can hear it, that’s good, and I want you to know that we’re still in your corner, buddy. You hang in there; don’t let the bastards get you down. Because it’s been months now, and you weren’t just not ok when you left, you weren’t even you. You were less you than when you were you but you didn’t know you were you. And there is no way, no way you’d have ignored me this long if something else weren’t going on, or that if it were just upstairs shit you’d leave me out of the loop after what went down with you and Crowley. So this one? Hand over the phone. This is for whatever seriously stupid motherfucker has my angel and I know damned well is listening. You think you’re hot crap on a stick, don’t you? You’ve got yourself a real live made in China goddamned Seraph, and you’re pulling his strings like Pinocchio. Well guess what, dickface? He’s a real live boy, and he’s ours. See, my name’s Dean Winchester, and I’ve got a lot of guns, an attitude problem, and a brother, Sam, about the size of one of those east coast New-something states. If you haven’t heard of us, you could ask Lucifer, Michael, Azazel, Alastair, Zachariah, Lillith, Samhain, Dick Roman, or some of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Or not. Because we ganked every one of those assholes, and that’s just the first line of our resumes. And maybe you think you’re cool. Maybe you think you’re fine, you’re different, because we could never get to you wherever the fuck you are. And sure, right now, ok. You win. We have no goddamned clue. We have no hint of an idea of a clue where you are, or even who or what you are. Except all we need to know is that you’re the thing that’s got Cas, and my Dad hunted the demon that took our Mom for 22 years that were our real impressionable ones, if you get my drift. That angel may be your trophy, but he’s our family, and he’s my friend, you piece of shit. So you just go out and take your three-headed puppy on a nice little walk. Have some baby-blood ice cream or whatever stuffs your Oreo. Because when I find you - and I will find you - you’re gonna wish you’d never been hatched. Because there’s a lot of shit I swore I’d never do again, and the longer I’m without the angel on my shoulder, the more I’m starting to reconsider. Capiche?