"Dean," Sam started.

"What," replied Dean shortly.

They were speeding down the highway late one night, just getting back from a hunt on a vampire's nest. The hunt had reminded Dean of Benny, thus catalyzing another game in his head of "How Hard Can I Hate Myself Tonight".
Needless to say, he didn't feel like getting into a heart-to-heart with his little brother right now. But Dean could feel it coming anyway.

Sam sighed heavily, "I was just wondering...Something I've been wondering for quite some time now..."

"C'mon, just spit it out already," Dean snapped.

"That night, before we went to hunt Lucifer with The Colt...You didn't sleep," Sam hesitantly stated.

Dean's heart skipped a beat, his eyes suddenly shifting around the road uneasily. He tried to keep his voice normal, though, as he replied, "Yeah, so?"

"Well, why? What were you doing?" Sam finally asked.

"What do you care? That was ages ago!" Dean scoffed.

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing! Let it go," Dean interrupted, a little angry now.

"But—"

"I said drop it!" Dean bellowed.
Sam shakily sighed and then leaned his head against the Impala's window, letting himself slip into dream. While Sam slept, Dean's mind unconsciously wandered to that night:

Jo's head moved closer to Dean's her hand lightly caressing his stubble. Dean closed his eyes, and his mind didn't think "Finally", it didn't think of how hard they were going to go at it, no. Right then, as he felt her breath tickle his lips, all Dean could think about was that this is where he wanted to be...Yet, he wanted to run away.

"No," Jo said, suddenly pulling away.

Dean flinched at the sudden refusal.

Jo smiled, looking at Dean a little pathetically. She continued, "Sweetheart, if this is our last night on Earth then I'm going to spend it with a little thing I call self respect."
She then continued to chuckle a little at even the thought of Dean being so dumb as to think she'd have a one night stand with him, and walked away.

Dean was hurt, torn apart. He had wanted that for so long and for her to tease him like that...

"If you're into that kinda thing," Dean replied even after she had left, taking a long swig out of his beer.

Just then Bobby called from his study room, yelling for everyone to get in there to take a picture. Sam and Ellen protested as they all lined up behind Bobby's wheel chair.

"Shut up, you're drinking my beer," Bobby continued as Cas, Sam Ellen, Dean, Jo, and Bobby all got situated, "Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."

"Ha!" Ellen exclaimed, "Always good to have an optimist around."

"Bobby's right," Cas interjected, "Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on Earth."

Everybody suddenly was very quiet, and very scared. They knew the truth of Cas's words—although, Dean thought, maybe not as literally.

The Doors filled the room with their psychedelic keyboard and guitar as the picture was taken. After that nobody moved for a moment or two. Dean thought of how he didn't want to move because his arm was around Jo, and maybe if he kept it there for a little longer, or forever, he wouldn't have to move. This could just be it. He wish this could just be it,

Now he knew that never could be.

Everyone eventually floated away from one another, though. Nobody felt like drinking and laughing much after that. Everyone went to their separate sleeping areas. Dean and Sam always slept upstairs; whenever they did sleep, at least.

However, after about three a.m. Dean gave up on the notion and decided to go downstairs to get something to drink. His footsteps became softer as he moved past Sam and Bobby's rooms, trying to find places on the staircase that wouldn't creak.

Finally, he made it downstairs.
"A-ha," Dean muttered to himself as he looked in the fridge and found the beer he had been craving. As he stood up and turned around to open the bottle he realized he was standing in the same spot he had been in when he had hit on Jo and she had rejected him.
Suddenly the beer didn't seem so appealing...

"Hello, Dean," Cas's voice suddenly echoed from the kitchen entrance.

Dean jumped and almost dropped the beer.
He gave a long sigh and an eye roll, trying to control the volume of his voice as he almost barked out, "God, Cas, you can't do that! Clear your voice or something first!"

"My apologies, Dean," Cas said, moving closer to him, "However, I am curious to learn why you are up at this hour."

Dean sighed to himself this time, opening up the beer and staring down at the lid as he replied, "Can't sleep..."

"I didn't take you for the nervous type, Dean," Cas commented.

Dean snapped his eyes up at him, "I'm not."

"Then," Cas continued, a little confused, moving even closer, "Why can you not sleep?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. Usually when Cas moved this close to Dean, he would side step him and try to move away; move away from their body contact, move away from the thoughts he refused to acknowledge he was thinking.

However, now Dean allowed the closeness. Over Cas's shoulder he could see Jo sleeping in Bobby's study room's couch. His eyes watered a little, biting down on his lip. He wanted to keep Jo safe, but he knew Cas's words earlier were so foreboding for a reason.
And he knew from previous experience that anything he loved died.

Suddenly, Dean couldn't stop himself from asking, "You won't ever die, right, Cas?"

He looked into the man's ocean blue eyes, trying to replace the tears that now brimmed his own with a strength he knew he did not hold.

"We all die, Dean," Cas replied.

"Yeah, but you won't," Dean said, trying to convince himself, "And if you do it won't be because of me."

"No one's death is because of you," Cas reassured.

Dean chuckled and looked back down at the beer he had opened but not drunk, "I'm a hunter, Cas," he said, looking back up at the angel, "Everyone's death is because of me."

Dean could tell that it took a moment for Cas to think about this response. Then, Cas replied, "You're stupid."

"What?" Dean asked, completely taken aback.

"Yes, you're a hunter. But you kill those things because they kill people. You do not cause their death, they do. If anything, you cause life. You cause life because the people you save are able to go on and have children and be who they want to be. Do not sell yourself shot, Dean Winchester."

"Th-thank you, Cas," Dean breathed. It was all he could think to say. He was speechless.

Cas nodded slowly and then looked down, barely muttering, "In fact, you've created more life than I ever could."

"Cas, buddy, you can't say that," Dean replied, "You saved me!"

Cas looked back up at Dean, his eyebrows raised, obviously feeling unhappiness, yet another emotion that he did not understand.

"Cas," Dean continued, a tear falling down his cheek from the passion he felt, "Cas you do so much. So shut up."

Cas wiped away the tear from Dean's cheek. His hand lingered against the hunter's stubble, softly and hesitantly stroking his cheek. Cas moved even closer so the holy air that he breathed out tickled Dean's moist lips.
Cas's other hand went to Dean's bicep where the his own handprint lay scarred into Dean's tissue.

Dean recalled being stunned, completely unable to move, and yet not wanting to. This time, he didn't want to run away.
But he didn't know how to react, either.

Softly, Cas's lips brushed against Dean's. His eyes closed, while Dean's stayed mostly open, unable to understand the angel's gesture.
Cas moved his lips a little, pushing them into Dean's. And right as Dean was about to react, was about to take a hold of Cas's neck and pull him closer into a full kiss, to push his body against the refrigerator, Cas backed away.
His hand dropped from Dean's bicep, his hand now only touching the air that fell around Dean's cheek.

Cas opened his eyes that were now full of a sorrow that reflected Dean's own self-hatred.

"I'm sorry I let you down," Cas choked out.

A flutter of wings.

Cas was gone.

Dean let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding.

His eyes fell on Jo. She slept as soundly as she had been a few minutes ago.
And Dean knew he couldn't save her.

He thrown away the beer he hadn't even sipped out of, trudged back upstairs and gone to bed. Dean slept better than he had ever before.

Dean gulped.

He was back in the Impala, Sam asleep next to him, more than three years later.

Dean remembered just a couple of months ago when Cas confided in him that if he went to heaven he may kill himself.

They had not kissed since that night many years ago.
Dean had also not slept as well since that night, either.

He promised himself he would never tell Sam.

Nor Cas.

They drove on.