Dean lay in bed one night, a very important night as it was. It was the night before his wedding, an event Dean never thought relatively possible. Was he really getting this, or was it all just a fantastical dream? Was a Djinn feasting on his happiness? That could be a possibility, but if that were the case Mary would be here. No matter what, Mary would be a part of Dean's happy place.

So this was real, he was going to be standing at the altar tomorrow at two thirty, staring into Cas' eyes, waiting to say those two precious words. He'd be vowing, smiling, wanting nothing more than to be bound to Cas properly, like Cas had wanted, under the eyes of his Father.

Thinking for awhile, Dean began to wonder what made him so special. Cas could have anyone he wanted, yet he chose Dean. Compared to some, Dean was nothing special. Others had tons of family, lots of money, and no battle scars that woke them from nightmares here and there. Dean was Dean.

He loved cars and music, leather and plaid. Many of the people who loved him were gone, there was hardly anyone to prove that Dean was worth keeping around. There was Sam, but he'd prove anything to make Dean happy. There was Charlie, but she was hopping around so often that Dean never knew where she was. Except tomorrow, he knew where she'd be tomorrow.

Maybe Cas loved him because it's the things Dean loved that make him up, not the people who loved him. You are what you love, not who loves you.

Dean loved pie and rain, when he wasn't standing in it. He loved diner burgers and late nights, staring up into the sky after a long day on the hood of the Impala. There were so many other things, like saving people. Dean's rank in Charlie's nightmare proved that, although he didn't quite realize it. He was an army doctor, not some grunt on the front lines getting himself killed. He was the one stitching people up and helping them hold on till the next sunrise.

Movies, Dean loved movies also. Tolkien and Vonnegut, he loved their books. The Impala, Dean loved his baby. His childhood resided in that car, carefully engraved into every seam. All three Winchester's (okay, two Winchester's and one soon to be Winchester) initials were scratched into the left hand, backseat door of her.

Beer, that wasn't something Dean necessarily loved but it was something that eased the pain of loving something. It was love's Advil.

What else? Nesting, having a home for the first time in his life. A place where he can come back to after every hunt, a place like Bobby had. He had a permanent home and not just a new motel every week. He could wake up in the same bed till the day he died, cook in the same kitchen, and fall asleep on the same couch, read in the same library. It could almost be compared to a fixed point in time. Dean finally had that, something fixed and immovable in his life. And he loved it.

There was Sam, whom he learned so much from. How to get over an addiction and not let it consume you, recover. After the demon blood with Sam, Dean began drinking less and less. He also learned how to let go from Sam, how to recover from loss. Another thing Sam taught him was that it's okay to not be the way your parents want you to be. You can do the same things, but for all different reasons. You could love a type of person they'd never in a million years would, even go as far as threatening those who did.

Sam also taught him that everyone has good in them, even when they think they're rooted in evil. Dean may have character flaws, but those don't define him. He is what he loves, not his mistakes.

And lastly, there's Cas, the most important love of all. He showed Dean that being different and even a bit awkward at time is okay. It's perfectly fine to be different. Loving him showed Dean that not everything is as you'd expect it, but that doesn't make it a bad thing. It can be good, even better than originally thought. Like losing Cas time after time, because each time Cas came back a new promise was made and it was never broken, all the way till the last time, when Cas promised he'd never leave again. And he hasn't.

Mostly, it's the way Cas makes him feel that Dean cares about. Screw the lessons he was taught, it's the way his breath hitches when Cas touches him a certain way, whether it's cupping Dean's cheek in his hand or something else. Whenever Cas laughs, especially if Dean's the one who caused it, he feel his chest warmth. Hell, that happens every time Dean lays his eyes on the fallen angel.

There's that, too. Cas fell to spend a long and human life with Dean, who never asked or brought it up. Of course the aftermath of the fall was bad for while, but everyone got through it okay. It's the thought that someone would give up the most basic and lasting part of them to be with him that makes Dean nearly combust. Cas loves him enough to give up who he is just to do something as small as growing old with him. In the long run, maybe it's not that small. Being able to change and mold alongside someone, at the same rate, must feel pretty damn nice.

That night, instead of falling asleep with worries littering his head, Dean fell asleep with a final sense of peace that removed all worry and gave him the assurance that he was worth it after all; he was a pretty good guy. A guy loved by many, although it didn't matter how many people loved him. It was the things Dean loved that made him special, that little flake of gold in a stack of coal.

Dean loved Cas. That was all that really mattered, isn't it?