Crawl
Dean can feel his skin crawling, like he's being watched. And for a moment, he figures it's Cas - angel on his shoulder and all that. But then there's this slow-burning warmth spreading to his extremities, like the slip-slide of Baby's upholstery, the crinkling cover of motel bedding - the comfort he's only ever felt with the one guy he's supposed to share Heaven with.
"Sam?"
He whips around, eyes searching, arms reaching.
And he holds his breath - one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three - A grating exhale, and he's headed home, to Lisa's, scratching at his neck and thinking it must've been the wind that had him hearing, "Sorry," when he'd turned his back.