"Are you sure nothing's bothering you?" Sam asked.

"For the fiftieth time, I'm fine. Could you please just shut the fuck up?" Dean snapped.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. Dean thought he should probably stop taking his anger out on Sam. It wasn't Sam's fault Dean's imagination concocted some ridiculous white picket fence bullshit. He'd learned his lesson and now it was time to move on. No more pining over Cas, writing stupid notes, or any general fucking girlyness.

If only he could get rid of all these damn emotions.

"There's a case about an hour away, but I'm thinking we might need Cas's help. It's-" Sam started.

Dean's hands tightened on the wheel. "We don't need Cas."

"Dean, we're looking at some potentially nasty stuff. Just to be safe, it'll be best to use whatever firepower we have."

"I'm sure Cas has better things to do than hang around us."

"He's basically been living with us for the last month or s-"

"No, Sammy. We managed just fine before Cas came around, we'll be just fine on our own."

Sam was quiet, and Dean relaxed. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, but he hadn't slept more than an hour last night. His brain spent half the time scolding him for being so stupid, and other half pleading with him to just ignore the whole incident and go back to being a lovesick teenager. Luckily, he managed to ignore them both by drinking eight bottles of beer.

"Dean...are we still talking about the case?"

Dean gripped the wheel even tighter and focused on the road. His brother was too damn nosy for his own good.

"Of course. What the hell else would I be talking about?"

"It's just that you were so happy the last few weeks. And now-"

"You're not my therapist, so could you please just shut up."

Sam opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but quickly closed it. Dean relaxed back into the seat, trying to stretch out his fingers without groaning. After returning to the bunker he may or may not have *attempted* to punch a wall. Emphasizes on attempted; his right knuckles were purple and swollen.

Stop acting like a pussy, Dean Winchester. It's over. Just move the fuck on. It's not like it would ever work. What would Sam say? What about other hunters? That would be a fun conversation. Be glad this whole thing ended before you embarrassed yourself even more.

"Dean! Turn here! Turn right!"

Dean snapped out of his trance just in time to swerve into the exit lane. Sam cursed under his breath, and Dean was slammed against the door. Once they were safely off the highway, Dean swore to banish any thoughts of Cas. He couldn't let himself become distracted.


To put it mildly, Sam had no fucking sense of direction. What should have been an hour ride turned into three hours when Sam decided he wanted to take the "scenic route." Two road closures and three detours later, they finally drifted into a sleepy town Dean didn't bother to learn the name of.

The motel actually looked pretty decent given the walls weren't falling down nor were there any suspicious stains on the wall. The sheets were clean and even the bathroom looked like someone cleaned it more than once a month. Dean was thankful that after all that driving he didn't have to worrying about whether someone was murdered in this room.

"I'm going to take the first shower," Sam said, "You can go after me."

Dean nodded and threw his duffel bag on the bed. It was barely nine o'clock, and he was ready to collapse from exhaustion. He knew he should at least look at what case Sammy had found, but he figured he could do it in the morning. Instead, he double checked the duffel to make sure they had all the weapons and other shit they could possibly need. Then he triple checked...and checked again.

Finally, Sam emerged from the bathroom.

"Be ready to go by eight tomorrow," Sam said, "We're stopping by the coroner's office first thing in the morning."

Dean shut the bathroom door. "Got it."

He stripped off his shirt and threw on the sink. Then he turned on the shower and found a clean towel. He was reaching for his belt buckle when he froze.

There, right on the center of the mirror, was a piece of paper, folded in half, with his name written on it. Dean blinked a few times, thinking he was hallucinating, but it was still there. He briefly considered calling for Sam, but then realized he didn't want to look like a complete pussy. Sam probably wrote some motivational speech and hoped Dean would read it when he wasn't looking.

He ripped the note off the mirror and opened it.

Dean,

You make me feel like I have a home.

Dean blinked.

What.

The.

Fuck.

The initial shock quickly wore off and was replaced by anger. Sam was the only one who knew about the notes, and guess who had just been in the bathroom?

Just when Dean thought his life was in complete shambles, his brother was fucking mocking him. Dean imagined Sam laughing as he found those stupid notes, and how his brother probably enjoyed watching Dean make a complete fool of himself.

Dean yanked the door open. "You're a piece of shit Sam!"

Sam looked like a deer caught in headlights. Yea, I know, you little son of a bitch, Dean thought.

"Did you write this?" Dean demanded, holding up the note.

"No, what does it say?"

"Like you don't already know."

"I really don't, Dean, so would you please stop yelling."

Dean tried really hard not to, but he was pretty sure he ended up growling at his brother. He didn't know what else to say, so he gave Sam the bird and went back into the bathroom (purposely slamming the door as hard as possible).

He stayed in the shower until he was positive Sam was asleep. Every shred of dignity he once had burned to ashes. He didn't actually know if he would ever be able to look at Sam or Cas again.

Thankfully, unlike Dean, Sam didn't lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling. When Dean snuck out of the bathroom, the room was completely dark, and Sam was softly snoring. He quietly crawled onto the bed and prayed for sleep.


"Yep, this is the third one this week. We found him along one of the hiking trails just outside of town. He's been completely drained off all his blood, and both of his wrists were shattered. It would appear someone held him down and..well, did this," The coroner said.

The coroner turned around and reached for some papers. Dean looked around. This place was way to chipper for a morgue. The walls were some tan color, and the room was littered with cookies, some candles, a couple magazines, and even a poster. Does a child run this place or something?

"Definitely a vampire," Sam whispered.

"I saw a few abandoned warehouses on the edge of town. I bet that's where their nest is," Dean replied.

Sam nodded. "Well, thank you for your time."

"I'm just glad the FBI is looking into this. The whole town is really rattled," the coroner said.

"I can promise you, my partner and I are going to get to the bottom of this."

Dean politely said goodbye to the coroner, then he and Sam walked back to the Impala. For split second, Dean considered calling Cas. Vampires were crafty little son of a bitches, and Dean had no desire to become an appetizer. But after last night, there was no way he could look Cas in the eye.

"Hey, I'm going to stop by the bathroom real fast," Sam said, "I'll meet you at the car."

Dean semi-acknowledged Sam, but didn't say anything. That was how he decided to handle his brother; do not speak to unless absolutely necessary.

He continued walking, ignoring the women who tried to wave to him at the reception desk. Another thing that annoyed him. Why was everyone so damn friendly in this town? That morning, the motel manager tried to talk to him. Like engage in a conversation! What the hell?

Finally, Dean reached the safety of the Impala. Get it together, Dean told himself, You're acting like a child. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the steering wheel. Only, his head was touching a piece of paper. Dean opened his eyes. Fuck, no, no, no, no.

But there is was, clear as day; a fucking note taped to the steering wheel. Dean debated not opening it, but that would just be admitting that it bugged him. So he opened it like a man.

Dean,

You are adorable when you sleep.

He wanted to punch Sam. Sure, they'd enjoyed pranking each other over the years, but this crossed a line. He didn't think Sam was cruel enough to fuck with Dean's emotion, but he learned new things everyday.

Dean torn the note into as tiny of pieces as he could manage and threw them out the window. Sadly, he also managed to see Sam waltzing towards the car. If I killed him now, would anyone see me? Probably...

Sam opened the door and got in the car. "So where are these warehouses?"

"Fuck you," Dean whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Dean lowered his voice, "You asshole."

He was thankfully Sam didn't say anything because he couldn't guarantee his brother wouldn't end up with a black eye. During the five minute drive across town to the warehouses, the only sound came from the steady hum of the Imapala's engine. When the dark blue warehouse finally came into view, Dean grunted to let Sam know they had arrived.

"Grab the machetes. They should be asleep, so we'll figure out how many of them there are and go from there," Dean said.

"Alright."

Sam handed Dean a machete and they quietly crept towards the entrance of the warehouse. Dean had to admit it was a pretty decent nest. The building looked like it had been recently painted, and there were no cracks or weak spots in the walls. Unfortunately, there seemed to only be one window and door, which did not make Dean feel good.

He peeked inside the window and frowned. There were bunkbeds, sofas, and other furniture, but no vamps. He checked his watch; 9:15. They should be fast asleep.

"Drive the Impala to the parking lot across the street. They have to come back eventually," Sam said.

Dean nodded and retreated back to the car. He found a parking space between a blue truck and a tan minivan that gave them a perfect view of the warehouse. Since all they could do was wait, Dean leaned back against the seat and put his feet up.

He was content to wait in silence, but apparently Sam had other ideas.

"What has been wrong with you lately?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing, just leave me alone."

"No. You started screaming at me last night for no reason, and now you won't even speak to me."

Dean sat up to look his brother in the eyes. "I said leave me alone, Sam. You've already done enough!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means?"

"Dean-"

"I said leave me alone"

"No, Dean-"

"God, what?"

"I was trying to say there's something stuck to your back!"

Dean reached over his shoulder, until he felt the unmistakable texture of paper. He ripped it off his back and opened it with enough force that it was a miracle it didn't rip.

Dean,

I really want to kiss you too.

This time he didn't shred the note; he crumpled it into a ball and threw it at the windshield.

"What was it?" Sam asked.

Dean wanted to kill him. Like actually kill him. There had been no one else in the car, and Sam had the nerve to sit there all innocent. He thought his brother was supposed to be the smart one.

Dean was about to loudly and violently express these feelings, but a group of people suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision. There were about six of them; two women and four men. Dean guessed at least half of them were teenagers, but that didn't mean anything to vampires.

"I say we wait another ten minutes, then try to catch them off guard. There's some dead man's blood in the trunk we can use to knock a few of them out," Sam said.

Dean forced himself to nod even though his head felt like it was about to explode. Maybe he'd just let the vampires eat Sam. It would be quick, easy, and he wouldn't have to do anything. Then, he'd move somewhere Cas couldn't find him and live out the rest of the day as a hermit. It sounded ridiculous even as he thought about it, but his judgement was not top notch.

"Let's go," Sam whispered.

They crept towards the warehouse, trying not to make any noise (which was not an easy task given they were walking on gravel). Dean paused when they got to the door as he realized they had absolutely no way in without making a shit ton of noise. Thankfully, Sam seemed to have that figured out. He stood in front of the door for a few minutes with a couple of metal tools, then slowly opened the door.

The minute Dean stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. The vamps were all asleep, but less than half the beds were taken. He was about to motion to Sam that they should leave when he was thrown against the wall.

He tried to get up, but received a swift kick to the gut. Dean looked up to see a vamp smirking at him. There were definitely more than six now and they were all surrounding him.

"Well, look what we have here," a blonde female said, "Two hunters and their little swords. How cute."

"What should we do with them?" A teen asked.

"I say we eat 'em and throw their bodies in the river. That'll give the locals a fright."

There was a collective cheer and someone lifted Dean off his feet. He couldn't reach his weapon, and he couldn't see Sam anywhere. Dean couldn't believe this was how he was going to die. At least now, he wouldn't ever have to face Cas.

All the sudden the vampire holding him exploded in light. Dean dropped to the ground and frantically felt around for something, anything, to defend himself. Only, when he stood up, every vampire was strewn across the floor with their eyes burned out.

Dean opened his mouth, but was slammed against a wall before he could say anything. Rough hands scraped against his neck as he was held by his shirt collar. Two angry blue eyes were inches away from his face, staring at him with an intensity that made his insides melt.

Cas.

Author's Note

I honestly don't know how this became so long. One moment it was a nice little 1000 word piece, and now….I feel like this chapter ended up being way too much filler, so please tell me if it's not interesting. I meant to have this up last night, but my muse hates me. Anyways...

Lol, so we all obviously know who's writing the notes. You'll have to forgive me, I wanted Dean to be in pain a little longer. In case you're interested, I'm thinking there will be 2-3 more chapters, one of which will be a humorous epilogue involving poor little Sam. Comment if you have the time!