Dean was smiling. It was a beautiful smile; the type that commanded attention. The type that made you think that maybe, just maybe; everything would be okay. The happy little crinkles next to his eyes, momentarily wrinkling the freckled skin; the crooked lilt of his mouth; the way his emerald eyes would sparkle with delight. Cas had to take in every detail he could so that he could memorize this smile, because he knew it would probably be ages before he saw it again. He drank in the sight of that smile. It overwhelmed him. It intoxicated him. He was very much in love with this man. And he was sure Dean reciprocated the feeling, but there was something else. The fear of losing someone whose life had become so incredibly intertwined with your own that if they were taken away from you, your world would unravel. It was a horrible, metallic feeling. The feeling of desperation that associated itself with loss tasted like blood that was not his own. He couldn't love this man. To love this man meant certain death. It would be a fire consuming him until there was nothing left but ashes. Passion must be watered down; spread out thinly until it was a vague, bland feeling. It was physically painful to consider. But if he didn't, it would be worse. As Cas looked at Dean's smile, he found himself feeling hollow. He put the picture back down onto the bedside table and left it there.