I still remember it like it was yesterday, the day I realized I was in love with Dean Winchester.

I watched in mild amusement as Dean tried to call his brother over and over again before I appeared behind him, "You can't reach him, Dean. You're outside your coverage zone," I said.

"What are you gonna do to Sam?" he immediately responded.

I was proud of myself for the joke, Dean was always saying I needed a sense of humor, but apparently he didn't find it funny. "Nothing," I sighed as I walked around to face him, "he's gonna do it to himself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, finally looking at me. I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he couldn't see how much I was struggling. He stepped closer, "Oh right, right," he mocked. "Gotta toe the company line."

He was so close. What happened to personal space? I wondered. I could feel his gaze on me so I raised my head and caught his eyes, only to glance away again when he asked, "Why are you here, Cas?"

I looked up again and spoke before I thought, "We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry it ended like this."

I can tell immediately it was the wrong thing to say and I internally cringe at the change in Dean's face. "Sorry?" he demands. He looks away briefly but next thing I know his fist is flying at my face. I hardly have time enough to remember to move my head so he doesn't break his hand. I kept my face perfectly blank as he turned around with a little gasp of pain to nurse his injured hand, it was his fault for trying to right-hook and Angel of the Lord.

"It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than 'Sorry'!" he shouted, spinning to face me again. I felt myself becoming desperate as I begged, "Try to understand, this is long foretold. This is your—" Dean cut me off, of course, "Destiny?" he demanded. My heart twisted at the hopeless, pleading look on his face and I had the sudden overwhelming urge to reach up and smooth the crinkles between his eyebrows with my thumb. "Don't give me that 'holy' crap. Destiny, God's plan," his voice was rising again. "It's all a bunch of lies, ya poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line." he kept staring me in the eye, the expression on his face no longer sad but angry as he gestured pointedly between us. Suddenly he was pleading with me again, leaning in closer. "You know what's real? People, families; that's what's real. And you're gonna watch 'em all burn?"

It's the end of his speech, the unspoken accusation that finally got a reaction out of me. I strode into his precious personal space angrily, almost shouting: "What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here." I felt my eyebrows draw together as I leaned in closer, desperate and angry wondering Why can't he just understand that I'm doing this for him!? "I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise all is forgiven. You'll be at peace! Even with Sam."

For just one second I thought I'd gotten through to him, that he finally understood, but when he leaned down and caught my eyes it wasn't to apologize, or to thank me. "You can take your peace," he said. "and shove it up your lily-white ass."

I looked up at him in confusion. Why was he angry again, didn't he want to be at peace, was that not what he fought for? I wanted him to slow down, go back, tell me what was wrong so I could fix it, but he wasn't done. "I'll take the pain and the guilt, I'll even take Sam as-is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise! This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier, there is a 'right' and there is a 'wrong' here, and you know it."

My head was spinning. No! It's not simple, Dean, it's never simple with you! I shouted in my head, I'm trying to make you happy, why can't you just understand that? Before I realize I've turned away his hand is on my shoulder, spinning me back around. "Look at me!" he shouted. "You know it! You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me, about all of this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp.

I panicked when I realized that I'd failed, that he saw through my mask and he knew now, knew I wasn't a "good soldier", that I couldn't even do this most simple of tasks without screwing up. I desperately tried and look away so he couldn't see that he was right, about all of it, but he followed me, holding my eyes as he shouted.

And then he said the one thing I was not expecting: "help me, please."

I shook my head in wonder and searched for a response. "What would you have me do?" Oh father, was I really considering this? His response was immediate.

"Get me to Sam! We can stop this whole thing before it's too late."

"I do that—we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

What came next was a reminder, a reminder of what it meant to be Dean Winchester: the Righteous Man. He said, "If there is anything worth dying for… this is it."

Suddenly, I could feel Zachariah's presence, watching us, watching me. I was scared, I was overwhelmed. What is it about this man, this human, that makes me want to follow him? I couldn't think, I couldn't talk. I shook my head over and over, trying to tell Dean with my eyes everything I couldn't say with my mouth. A moment passed and Dean started to talk again. I hoped—I prayed—that he'd understood, but my hopes were quickly crushed after the first word, the disgust in his tone was clear as he spat: "You spineless, soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead, we're done." What? No!

"Dean." I said. Please, just this once, understand.

"We're done."