Chapter 30.

Sleep was impossible. When his eyes were open, he thought about Anael and about the others and about how stupid and selfish he had been and when he closed his eyes, he remembered the feeling of her flesh against his, her warm breath on his body and all the pleasures of the night before.

He had never envied Sam, not really. Sam had earned every second of happiness and Eileen had been too perfect for Sam for Dean ever to resent anything about her, but it felt unfair. It felt cruel that he was doomed to this lonely, empty life. He loved all of them. He was happy for them. If he could have perfect happiness by the sacrifice of any happiness of theirs, he would never do it, but Sam had Eileen, Cas had Jules, Charlie had Lydia and Dean? He had an old, much-loved Impala and that was it.

Outside, it was a cool September night and he felt he might need some cool air, so he went out of the bunker and climbed to the hillside above. The night was clear and the stars were showing above the trees. He lay on his back on the ground and stared up at them.

Somehow, it helped. Maybe it reminded him how small his issues were in a vast and mostly hostile universe and it helped a lot that he had always been good at seeing the positives. Sam had hated drifting between schools, Dean had been glad of the fresh start and no homework. There were positives here. He and Anael were okay. They were friends. That was enough. It had to be enough.

He'd lived a celibate life for a while, although it was as alien to his nature as cutting alcohol out of his life. He liked sex, but he didn't need it. Of course, it would have been a lot easier if even the frickin' trees had not had to remind him of slender limbs and subtle curves and an earthy sensuality married to a celestial intellect and the charm of a devil.

He had chased empty sex for a long time and never felt a moment's guilt. He didn't deceive anyone ... well, okay, he'd lie about his job, but he'd never tended to make any commitment beyond breakfast and he'd found plenty of women for whom a few hours of uncomplicated fun was more than acceptable.

Those encounters were, perhaps, nothing to be proud of, but he refused to be ashamed of them either. He had an itch, he scratched it. He stayed as close to sane as a Winchester could hope for and Sam didn't have to share a car with his frustration and irritable nature.

With the Anael thing, it was different. He was ashamed. It made no sense. What made it so bad and the others not bad at all?

His father's voice echoed in his head. "I'm not angry that you stole, I'm angry that you got caught. I taught you better than that. You make mistakes, you face the consequences." Those consequences had turned out okay. For a brief time, he hadn't had to think about anyone but himself. He had only stolen food to survive and what you did to survive was okay.

And what he did to survive later was okay, too much to drink, random sexual encounters, going downstairs in the middle of the night when they were at Bobby's place, because the guy never seemed to go to bed and would listen to whatever dumb thoughts were spiralling in his head.

It was okay to have needs and okay to satisfy them, but if you were supposed to be staking out a werewolf lair, you choked down jerky and swigged cold coffee that tasted of the flask. You didn't slip off to a four-star hotel for a banquet. Soldiers eat to live, they don't live to eat.

There was a part of him screaming that this was all crap, that a soldier who kept on saving the world had the right to more than the basics, but sometimes, his Dad would say, "I'm not hungry." and push the food away, because Dean had split between three what would barely feed two. John had stuck to his own rules.

Anael was not the basics. She was not a moment of distraction, a brief substitute for the affection he truly craved. She felt like the real thing, someone with whom he could have a deep and lasting connection but denial and self-denial were hard habits to break and every time he thought of it, they both yelled, "No!"

He had been making bargains his whole life. "If Sam can live, I can bear Hell." "If Sam can be happy, I don't need to be." "If Sam gets a childhood, I don't need any of that crap." Sarah called them truths engraved in stone, but sometimes they weren't true. Eileen had come along and he had made another secret bargain with the universe, "Let Sam keep this and I won't ask for anything for myself." He knew the universe. It was a son of a bitch. If he reneged on the deal now ...

Somewhere in his mind, the feeling had become a certainty, that if he had anything good, something would be taken from Sam to balance it out. It made no real sense, but it didn't need to. His wants and needs were like a blade suspended above his brother. It was his job to bury the blade where it could do no harm, to live with the are minimum he could endure so his brother could be happy.

Now Sam had a wife he loved. They were having a baby. How could he think of himself at a time like this? Even if it were all nonsense ... and he was ninety-nine percent sure that it was ... that last one percent represented an unnecessary risk. He'd take risks ith his own happiness, not with Sam's.

He rarely thought of himself, but the night before, he had forgotten everyone else and done something selfish. Except, it hadn't been wholly selfish. Anael's needs and desires had been involved too and while his sexual adventures had almost always been tender and generous, with Anael, there had been another component. Theirs had been loving.

The more he thought of it, the less sense it made and the more conflicted and confused he became. Okay, so he probably loved her and she, maybe, loved him and that was all cute and great and Hallmark Channel, but what did he really have to offer her? He found her intellect fascinating, but wouldn't she quickly find his almost non-existent? They had great sex, as far as he was concerned, but not the kind that blew out every light at the farmhouse. Whatever way you looked at it, she was a celestial 10 and he was a Kansas 6.