Dean entered the shoddy motel room that night feeling empty—well, emptier than usual. He knew that Sam meant well, and he appreciated it, but his constant positive reinforcement was beginning to grate on Dean. He knew that he would try his hardest to fight the Mark, that he would die trying. But more than anything, he wanted to be as strong as Sam believed him to be.

He spent far too much time worrying that he wasn't.

With a half-hearted smile at Sam, Dean trooped into the bathroom for a shower.

As he undressed mechanically, he thought about what Cas might be doing. The angel left with little warning, as usual, and he hadn't told them exactly what his plans were. Maybe he was figuring out something about his grace. Dean hated to see Cas looking exhausted, to see him fight for strength, to see him dying slowly.

No, he couldn't think about that.

When Dean stepped under the hot water, his mind wandered back to the confession booth earlier that day. It had been…relieving to get some stuff off his chest with a person who couldn't hold it against him.

Not most of it, of course. He was keeping up his agreement with Sam—no more secrets. Sam knew that he was scared. That he didn't want to die. To lose himself.

There was one part Dean couldn't mention to Sam, though.

He was in love with Cas.

He had known it for a while, but it hadn't mattered before. He could never have that life, not with the way he lived. Not when Sammy had to come first and Dean was forced to leave everyone else behind. Again and again.

But now, somehow, it was different. He had—changed is mind? This relationship that he pushed away, discounted as an impossibility, was something that he wanted. He wanted to have these "feelings" "for the first time" as he had put it.

Dean almost laughed aloud at himself and turned off the water. He crowded himself up to the shower wall and rested his forehead against it.

It was just like him, to man up and admit it when the future was so fucked. And how could Cas want him now? There were times—in that bar before the angels fell, lending Cas pajamas in that night he spent with him as a human—when Dean looked into his best friend's eyes and could've sworn he saw the same feelings and promises staring back at him. But even if that was true, the chance that Cas still felt that way after…after everything.

It was the kind of desperate chance a dying Dean Winchester could take.

Dean stepped out of the shower and toweled off. He put on his comfy night shorts, for once, and walked out to see Sam lying in bed, staring blankly at a cheesy infomercial.

"Hey Gigantor," Dean said while he chucked his towel at Sam's head, "I know that face. It's time for your four hours."

Sam made a face, but he turned off the TV and tucked himself under the covers.

"That goes for you too, jerk."

Dean reached into his jeans pocket for his phone. "I will in a minute," he said, throwing Sam a "don't ask" look before going outside.

He hit Cas' speed dial and waited. It rang a few times, and he thought Cas wasn't going to pick up. But just before it went to voicemail, Dean heard a muffled "Hello?"

"Hey Cas," Dean said, suddenly flustered. "You've known Cas for years. Come on!" he thought to himself unhelpfully. "Uh, I hope this isn't a bad time."

"No, not at all," Cas responded more coherently. "I was merely sleeping. I require about two hours a night, at the moment."

"Oh, sorry. I—uh— just wanted to say "hey" and make sure you're okay, I guess."

"I'm alright Dean," Cas spoke softly. "How are you."

"Better than usual, actually," Dean replied truthfully. He noticed as he said it that the Mark hadn't really caused him pain in over an hour. "I just—I know it hasn't been that long, but I um, I miss you."

Cas inhaled quietly. He sounded surprised. "I miss you too, Dean." Cas paused, and Dean wondered just what the hell he was doing. I'm not staying away long. I'll see you sometime next week."

Dean's heart beat a little harder than usual. He swallowed and half-jokingly asked, "Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

Dean closed his eyes. He wanted to say more, to spill his goddamn guts even though he didn't know what he had to say.

But he couldn't, not on the phone. He would see Cas soon enough. And he wouldn't push him away or pretend that he-

He wasn't going to pretend anymore.

"Okay, Cas. Okay."

Dean thought he heard the angel's smile as he responded.

"Sleep well, Dean."