Is it really that bad to dwell in the past? For Jack, time had stopped the day Cas had died and a year later, Jack's life as an ER doctor is still a blur of saving others, his heart was stuck in the past. He thought that the only way to keep his fiancé alive, was through memories. The only thing he had left of him, their memories: Their first date, late evenings on the couch, a shared morning...everything was a precious keepsake now. This is a collection of Jack's memories in no true order. It may even seem a little fragmented at times. It's a journey through the beautiful, messy and heartbreaking reality of loving someone and losing them, proving that even in the darkest times, love refuses to be supressed. [One-Shot collection]

Flowers can't grow back to what they were once they're dead, right? Well that's what Jack thought. He had learned to live without Cas. Or at least tried to. One morning, after a night spend with a stranger, Jack wakes up suffocating in guilt. Because that wasn't supposed to happen. Not in their home. Not in their bed Not when he still loved Casper. And then a familiar voice comes from the bedroom doorway. Jack looks up only to find him standing there. Beautiful Impossibly alive Yet still so pretty like on the day he had lost him. Maybe this wasn't a punishment. Maybe this was a chance. A chance to say goodbye. Or it was the last thing Jack needed to let go of the past and live in the present. But was he ready for that?

Some flowers meant to say: I love you Some meant to say: I'm sorry And some other just meant: Home For Jack and Cas, flowers became their own little language- a small way of saying everything they sometimes struggle to express. Until one ordinary morning, Cas left the apartement with a smile on his face because he was about to spend his day on a festival with his best-friend. He promised to text He promised to come home He promised he would see Jack later. But later never came. Beneath the harsh hospital light, Jack sat next to the man he loves, holding his hand and waiting for him to open his eyes. Because surely he will wake up. He has to. So every other day Jack brings him fresh flowers. But at some point he simply stopped. And the old petals witled. The colors dulled. And somewhere along grief, memory and denial, Jack finally realized something.