Chapter 3: Some nights, I call it a draw

Cas didn't disappoint Dean by saying that he was sleeping on the floor that night.

When Dean walked back into the house after the confrontation outside by the grown ups, he walked back into the dining room. Everyone had migrated to a different part of the house. Cas and Gabriel apparently retired to Cas' new room to start unpacking; Sam and Jo took Anna outside to give her a tour of the outer part of the house (apparently they did the inner part when the new trio arrived earlier in the day); and Bobby and John were in the living room talking about the garage and what new appointments were scheduled for the upcoming weeks. Ellen was in the process of clearing off the table and putting food away.

Feeling guilty for what happened earlier, Dean automatically started helping her. He stacked what dirty dishes were left on the table and carried them into the kitchen, placing them on the counter as they waited to be washed and dried. Grabbing a wash cloth from the sink, he hurried back to the dining room to wipe off the table.

After feeling satisfied with his work, he walked back to the kitchen and started washing the dishes, while Ellen continued putting food away. Even though he knew that the adults were happy enough to give Dean and Cas the punishment they did, Dean still felt guilty. Ellen was like the mother he was never able to have. Knowing that he broke two important rules in the house, and knowing that he disrespected her, he couldn't stop the tears that started to form behind his eyes. Dean Winchester didn't cry. It wasn't manly; it was a sign of weakness, and while growing up he had to stay strong for Sammy.

"Hey, Ellen," he began. A soft hum was heard from behind him. He took that as permission to continue speaking. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I lost my temper over something stupid and I lashed out."

He could feel her gaze shift towards him from behind his back as she finished filling one of the tupper ware containers with food. "Now, Dean. I appreciate you apologizing, but I've known you for 17 years. Even though I don't approve of how you handled the situation, I understand why you acted the way you did." This surprised Dean. He was sure she would have yelled at him some more. He felt her presence beside him before she engulfted him in a hug. "You're more like your mother and father than you give yourself credit for." She must have saw the face he made, because she then said, "that's not necessarily a bad thing." He looked up at her then. This woman who practically raised him as her own, who apparently knew him more than he knew himself. At his confused face she continued. "You have your mothers' love and protectiveness. Anybody who has ever seen you with Jo and Sam knows that you'll do anything for them. But you also have your fathers' hot head and pride." She let this new information sink in a moment before she turned his body to face her as she spoke again. "There is a reason we said the two of you need to get to know each other. Cas and Jo will be living under the same roof for the next year. They will have plenty of time and most likely more than enough arguments to learn what to do and not to do around the other. Sammy easily accepts most people without problem. And as a younger child, Castiel is most likely going to take to him easier than anybody else. You, however," and at this she actually let out a chuckle. "As soon as you disagree with someone who is not Jo or Sam, you block them out. Now, if we are to live together as one, big, happy family this year, we need everybody on board. And with what happened a half hour ago, you were going to push him away and only come around when you had to."

He had to admit, she had a point. Then again, she didn't know the whole story. Only he and Cas knew what happened the previous night, and neither of them were going to tell anyone.

"Now get these dishes done. You have an early day tomorrow and I don't need the captain of the football team going to his first practice dead tired," she said, placing a soft kiss to his temple.

It didn't take long to finish the dishes. Jo, Sam, and Anna came back in a few minutes later and the four of them worked as a team, to wash, dry, hand, and put the dishes away in their proper places. Before any of them knew it, Anna and Gabriel were giving their farewell hugs and kisses to their brother and left to go wherever they were staying at until classes started up. Bobby left soon after, telling Dean not to be late for his shift the next day. Dean was scheduled to come in around one in the afternoon, giving him enough time after practice to get ready for work. John and Sam left about an hour later. Sam giving him a tight hug before leaving, wishing him good luck at practice the next day and begging him not to kill Castiel in his sleep.

As ten at night rolled closer, Cas realized the one dilemma about not stepping foot in the Winchester's house. He made this thought obvious when he told Dean, without looking up from his book, "You're not wearing my clothes to go to bed."

"Hey, Jo." Jo's head popped up from her own book. "Do you know where my spare clothes are for the night? I'm going to need them if you don't want me sleeping in my birthday suit," he said with a smug smirk on his face, as his eyes shifted towards Cas' face gauging his reaction. His smirk grew as he saw disgust wash over the shorter mans' face.

Jo placed her book on the table beside her and got up to retrieve his clothes. When she came back in, she dropped them on his head then headed back to her chair, picking her book up again to start reading.

As Dean got up with his clothes in hand, he unsuccessfully tried to hold back a yawn, and started heading towards the stairs, fighting his body every step as it slowly got heavier and heavier with exhaustion. Without looking back, Dean threw over his shoulder, "and Cas. If you don't want me sleeping in the nude the rest of the week, you're going to have let me go home sooner or later to get some supplies."

Without flipping on the lights at the top of the stairs, Dean made his way to the bedroom in the dark. Until about a year ago, Dean and Sam slept in the same room whenever they stayed the night. Being the older sibling, Dean got to keep his room while Sam moved to a smaller room down the hall. Well, that was until tonight at least. Now Dean was going to have to bunk with Sammy again after this week finished.

He opened the door and flipped the light on. Cas wasn't lying about sleeping on the floor. There was a pillow and a couple of blankets in a messy pile on the ground at the foot of the bed. At least he was kind enough to get them out for me, Dean thought grumpily. He changed, throwing his dirty clothes in a pile off to the corner of the room, made a makeshift bed on the ground, turned the light off, and fell asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

He watched in horror as he stared at Mary's face, unable to move, being forced to memorize the look of pain and fear as the red-orange flames licked her skin, charring her smooth pale flesh into leathery blackness. He stood there for hours, just staring. Unable to close his eyes, to blink away the image now burned directly into his retinas. Once whatever had possession of his body got bored of just watching him stand still, not moving, it let his other senses take control. Glorifying in the pain the new found feelings caused him.

Touch filled his body as the sensation of heat from the surprisingly controlled fire of the nursery tickled his skin. Then the bubble surrounding his head burst as the sound came through, penetrating his eardrums. The roaring of the flames filled his head as they fought for dominance over the screams tearing away from his mothers throat. The crackling of the walls around him, a dull background noise, there but not really.

He wanted to cry. Wanted to scream and run to his mother, pull her from the flames and wrap her up in his arms. Yet, he still could not move. He stood there, not being able to do anything, watching as his mother slowly burned to a crisp in front of his eyes.

His mouth suddenly fell open, the sense of taste filling the cavity. The smoke licked his tongue, making him taste the denseness, the taste of charred skin. As if a hamburger or stake had been left on the grill, forgotten.

Finally, the possessor cursed him with smell. The initial shock alone left him dry heaving with no muscle movement. It was as if he was choking on the nonexistent projectiles in his throat. His mothers skin, the flames itself, the smoke. It overcame him as a scream fought it's way from his own, raw throat.

Dean awoke from the nightmare with a start, inhaling a deep breath of clean, crisp air. It was still dark out, which meant it was still pretty early. Castiel's light breaths rang through the room. Such a soft noise shouldn't ring so loud in the dead of night, but it did. Usually when at Ellen's, Sammy would laying next to him on the soft mattress. As it were, Sam was at home, in his own bed, while Dean was stuck on the hard floor, with nothing but a thin blanket underneath him. Stretching his achy back, he slowly stood up on shaky legs and headed to the door.

This wasn't the first time he had this nightmare. There was no real pattern to them. They came to him in the dead of night at random. The same dream; same outcome. The only thing that ever appeared to change was his age. As he got older and taller, the Dean in his dream did as well. But Mary Winchester still stayed the same age she was the fateful night when John was left wifeless, and his children, motherless.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen in search of a glass of water, more out of need for his dry throat than for actual thirst. There's a thin line between dryness and thirst, and only those few unfortunate souls who had to experience the pain and agony that came with it knew what the difference was. It wasn't something easily explained.

After he finished the water, he rinsed the glass out and placed it in the dish drainer. Making his way up the stairs on still trembling legs, he wondered what the chances of falling back to sleep was. Most nights, he would hug Sammy until he passed out, either from exhaustion or from crying himself to sleep. Dean Winchester had a rule. You don't cry, ever. Crying was a sign of weakness. But his nightmares was the exception. Because while his body grew, even in the dreams, his mind was still a scared four year old.

He didn't realize he was back in the bedroom, under the safety of the covers on the mattress. He didn't realize that an arm wound it's way around his waist as he snuggled closer to the body. He didn't realize at the time that it wasn't his little brother Sammy, who was used to Dean having his nightmares in the middle of the night. And he didn't realize, as his body softly shook with silent tears streaming down his face, that the hand at the end of the arm that was wrapped securely around his body, was rubbing circles in his back, or that a deep, gravely voice was whispering soft words of comfort as he was rocked from side to side.

Dean fell asleep, not realizing that he was in bed, being looked after by the man he fucked on a sink in a strangers bathroom, only the night before, and than abandoned.

Dean woke up a few hours later, wrapped tightly around an unknown body. As the realization sunk in that he was wrapped around Castiel and not Sam, he quickly untangled himself from the other man. It wasn't the most graceful, nor smartest, of things he ever did at eight in the morning. Instead of getting himself separated from the other body and to his own side of the bed, he ended up falling to the floor in a heap of muscle and limbs, grunting as his body hit solid hardwood. It took a moment to gain his bearings, but after shaking the sleep from his head a few times, the sound of uncontrollable laughter met his ears, making him blush, both from embarrassment and annoyance.

Glaring at Castiel, Dean scrambled to his feet, picked up a random shirt from the floor, and fled to the bathroom. Shaking the sleep from his eyes, he rubbed his face with cold water from the sink. Only after he opened his eyes and look down did he realize he was wearing one of Castiels' shirts.

SON OF A BITCH! he yelled at himself. Can't I get one GOD DAMN BREAK?

He barged back into the bedroom, pulled the shirt off, over his head, cursed again, and grabbed the clothes he wore yesterday. Before leaving the room, he turned and pointed at Castiel. "Not. A. Friggin'. Word. To. Anyone. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. We keep this between us. Do you understand?"

Cas couldn't help the smile on his face. With each word out of Dean's mouth it grew wider, until he was silently shaking with laughter, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Dean glared harder, trying to burn a hole through his smug head. Finally Cas was able to control himself long enough to nod his head in agreement.

With a quick 'get dressed' thrown over his shoulder, Dean left for the bathroom again. He quickly got dressed himself, then made his way down to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. He was half way finished his food when Castiel entered the room and sat across from him. Finishing his bowl, Dean looked up and found Cas staring at him quietly. His glare intensified. Taking the bowl to the kitchen, he washed his dishes and made his way back to the dining room.

Cas was still sitting in the same spot as he left him; his eyes still staring at Dean as if he was a puzzle to figure out. He couldn't take it any more. "What the hell is your problem, man?" He almost shouted, but caught himself in time as he realized the early hour. The last thing he needed was a cranky Ellen who got rudely awaken.

"I want to apologize for how I reacted earlier," Cas began. To say Dean was shocked would be an understatement.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he hissed, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

Cas either didn't notice, or he didn't care. "It was wrong of me to react in regards to your specific reactions. I simply could not resist laughing. You should have saw your face, it was quite comical." his lips twitched slightly at the memory, then became puzzled once again as his next words left his mouth. "However, based on what happened during the night, it was insensitive of me." His eyes showed the telltale sign of forming tears.

"Look, enough!" Dean snapped. "I don't need your charity, or your pity. What I need from you is to not make me kill you by the end of this week, so that we can go back to our normal lives where we don't have to babysit each other. Understood?" Cas gave a small nod of the head. "Good. Now get something to eat so I can go home and get my gear."

A half our later they were in the Impala, on the way to Dean's house. "First rule when you're in this car: Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole. Understand?" He didn't wait to see Cas' nod of the head as he rolled the windows down and turned the stereo up to the highest volume; Black Sabbath's End of the Beginning blasting through the speakers.

In no time at all, they pulled up to the house, Dean putting the car in park. "Don't touch anything. Don't look at anything. Don't breath on anything. If you have to look or breath, make sure it's outside the window." He was out of the car before Cas could open his mouth to say anything.

It really didn't take long for Dean to find his football stuff. He had his gear bag packed for weeks now, sitting in his closet, ready to go. Grabbing his duffel bag from under his bed, he packed enough clothes to last the week. Walking into the bathroom, he grabbed his shampoo and conditioner, soap, and toothbrush. If he forgot anything, he was in too much of a hurry to notice; they could come back another day and grab it.

They pulled into the schools parking lot fifteen minutes later. As captain, Dean was required to be the first, if not at least one of the first, people there. Grabbing his gear bag from the backseat, he and Cas got out of the car as another car of students pulled in. Dean waited by the Impala until the players exited their own car, trying to see who he has the unfortunate pleasure of seeing first thing in the morning.

Adam Milligan, Dick Roman, and Nick Pellegrino stepped out of the 1993 Porsche. They walked over to the Impala, gear bags strapped over their shoulders, as they met up with their captain. No one took notice of Castiel as they greeted each other.

"Winchester, good to see you man!" greeted Adam. Nick just grunted an acknowledgment his way, as Dick bypassed the greetings and started walking straight to the locker room. Nick, Adam, and Dean followed him, as the small talk continued; Cas trailed behind. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

"So, Winchester, heard you're our new captain, congrats man!" Adam said, way to energetic this early in the morning.

"Yeah, guess I am," Dean replied. He really didn't want to get into the small talk. He just wanted to get the first practice done and over with; but figuring he might as well play nice, he asked, "so how has your summer been so far?"

Adam was about to answer him, when Nick cut in. Apparently Cas wasn't staying out of sight as well as either of the two thought, because Nick asked, "so what's up with the dweeb behind us?"

Dean looked back, as if to show that he didn't know what Nick was referring to. He caught Cas' glare out of the corner of his eye before looking forward again. Pointing his thumb in Cas' direction, Dean said, "he's my Aunt Ellen's nephew. As punishment, I have to babysit him for a week. He won't be in the way, trust me." He looked back again, just as Cas was about to say something, and gave him a look that said, Don't even think about it! Cas closed his mouth and fell farther behind, keeping as much distance as he could from the jocks in front of him.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to get to the school, changed, and out on the field. Cas stayed in the bleachers, like John said. Since it was the first practice of the year, it was also the easiest. Couch wasn't there, so all Dean had to do was take roll call and start the stretches. He was glad to see that, not only was Nick, Adam, and Dick there, but Micheal, as well as Uriel, Gordon Walker, Azazel, Raphael, and Victor Henrikson.

The stretches were rather simple; lunges, arm circles, jumping jacks, and push ups, to name a few. Then they ran a few laps, getting their heart rates used to the cardio after so long. They ran a few practice plays, testing to see the potential of each others strengths, and working on their weaknesses. Before Dean knew it, it was time to hit the showers.

Walking out of the locker room, dressed in his work clothes, Dean and Cas made their way back to the Impala. As before, Cas kept his mouth shut and looked out the window as the stereo blasted. They pulled into the driveway of Bobby's house and made their way around to the garage.

As Dean worked, Castiel stayed off to the side and out of the way, watching him for lack of something better to do. Every now and then, Dean would get so caught up in his work, that he forgot to be rude to him, and would ask him to hand him a tool that he needed. Each time, Cas didn't know what he was talking about, and each time, Dean would have to stop what he was doing and explain the difference between one type of wrench to another.

It took longer than normal to finish the simple tune up, constantly having to explain what each tool was used for. When it came time for Dean's break, they both walked into Bobby's small office, and grabbed a soda out of the mini fridge in the corner.

"Alright, Cas," Dean said, startling the other man a little. "If you're going to be around me at work, I'm at least going to teach you the types of tools. It took way too long to do that tune up." At the hurt look on Cas' face, Dean quickly added, "it's not your fault, man! I forgot you probably don't know anything about cars."

So the remainder of the half hour was spent with Dean teaching Cas the art of tools. The rest of the shift went by a lot faster than the beginning. The last job of the day was to change the oil of a Ford pick-up.

Dean relished in the thought of teaching someone something new. It might have taken a little bit longer than usual for the simple oil change, but the satisfaction of explaining something to Cas and answering his questions, made his heart flutter just a teensy bit.

The change in Dean's mood was obvious. Instead of rolling down the windows and blasting the music, Dean had the stereo low enough that the music was just simply background noise. The windows were still rolled down, but only just enough that it sent a breeze through the car instead of deafening them.

Cas noticed the change immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Cas look at him like he was some unique puzzle without a solution. After a few minutes, Dean let out a sigh. "Ok, Cas, spill. What is it? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, actually leaning up to look at himself in the rear view mirror.

"Well, you do have some grease on your cheek," Cas joked, a small smile beginning to form on his lips; Deans' own twitching up slightly. It was gone as fast as it appeared, though.

"But, seriously, Cas, what is it?"

Dean knew what the problem was. How could he not? The past few days haven't exactly been easy for him either. Though he supposed he could have acted differently, but he wouldn't be Dean if he didn't freak out. He sighed, bracing himself for Cas' next words.

Cas sighed as well. His face turned serious; any sign of a smile long gone.

"I don't understand, Dean."

Yeah, because that explains everything, he thought to himself. And really, if he really thought about it, it did.

Come on, Winchester! Man up! Take the first step!

"Look, Cas," he began. Shit! he thought. This wasn't Dean Winchester, it couldn't be, not really. Dean Winchester didn't talk about feelings. He didn't have heart to hearts like a girl. Am I growing a vagina now or something?

The tension in the Impala was thick. Even with the windows rolled down halfway, he felt close to suffocating. Cas held his breath while he waited for Dean to continue.

Fuck it! he thought. The best place to start is at the beginning.

He held his breath, not sure if he was preparing himself more for what he was about to say, or for Cas' reaction. He rolled his window down more, sweat building up on his brow.

"Look. Before I begin, I'm just warning you now; I don't do chick-flick moments. So the fact that you're getting anything out of me is a miracle." He took another breath, trying to settle his nerves. His hands shook slightly on the steering wheel; he gripped it tighter, the knuckles on his hands turning white with the pressure.

He took one last breath, held it, then let it out slowly. Nope,he thought. Still doing jack shit for my nerves.

"The other night, at the party. I'm sorry man, I don't know what came over me." There you go, Dean. Baby steps.

Oh, shut up!

Cas nodded, though he wasn't sure if it was in understanding or permission to go on.

He took another deep breath, hands clenching around the leather a little bit harder. "I mean... I'm not gay. I don't know why I did that. I guess I was just really drunk and you were there and it just happened and when I realized what we did I freaked, ya know?" A quick look to the side told him that, no, Cas didn't know. "I mean, I'm not homophobic, if that's what you're worried about, I mean if you swing that way."

You're rambling, Winchester!

I said, 'SHUT UP!'

Cas' voice surprised him when he finally spoke. "I don't understand, Dean," he said, gravel voice softer than he though it could be. "If you're blaming it as a drunken mistake, then why leave the way you did?"

He doesn't understand! Why won't he just understand? Shit!

"Am I going to have to spell it out for you, Cas?"

No response. He just kept staring at Dean, head cocked to the side, brow furrowed, with those wide blue eyes, waiting to understand. He looks like a friggin confused kitten!

"Because I panicked, Cas!" There, I said it!

"And yet, you're still calling me 'Cas'," he deadpanned.

He sighed again. Might as well just get it all out, he told himself.

"Ok, here's the thing, Cas. That night was a first of a lot of things for me. First time with a guy; first time talking during..." he gestured with a hand, "you know... first time saying someone's name; first time looking at someone, like really looking; and first time looking them in the face, in the eyes, during the whole thing. I freaked! I don't know what came over me and I freaked. And next thing I know you're standing in front of me outside Ellen's after I just made a fool of myself singing Bohemian Rhapsody of all things! And then we were yelling at each other at the table." He took a deep breath before continuing, not letting Cas get a word in, because if he does, then he'll never be able to finish. "Next thing I know, I'm having one of my nightmares again and you're holding me and letting me cry and I never get that open, not unless it's with Sammy. Then I freaked out again this morning and you just sat there and laughed! And you really are a cool guy, sort of, once you let your guard down!"

Did you really just say all that?

I think I did?

Holy shit you did!

Quick, look at Cas and find out what he thinks!

He let his gaze drift to the side. Nothing! He just turned in his seat and stared out the window! What the hell?

They were almost back at Ellen's when Cas finally spoke up. "That's a lot to take in, Dean." He sighed, relieved. Well, he isn't yelling. Yet. Oh shut up!

He waited. He didn't know what else to do but wait. As he pulled into the driveway, the deafening silence became too much for him. He turned his baby off, but didn't get out. Cas looked over at him, worry evident in his face. "What is it, Dean?"

"'What is it?' Cas, what the fuck do you think it is?" he exploded. "I just did a big ass, chick-flick induced speech and you just fucking sit there! I don't even do chick-flick with Jo, and she's my best friend!"

Cas cringed. A part of Dean, the sadistic part, was proud to have caused this reaction. But then Cas' face fell, and he opened the door to get out.

Dean grabbed his arm before he could get away. "Cas, wait." He saw Cas look up at him, but instead of the adorable confused kitten face, he now looked like a kicked puppy. "I'm sorry, ok," Dean said again for the umpteenth time within the past hour. "Look," what are you, a broken record? Shut. Up! "I wasn't lying when I said you're a cool guy. I want to be friends, and not just because it will make it easier on everyone if we got along. I'm not the stuck up captain of the football team everyone thinks I'll be. I really do want to be friends." The change in Cas' face was automatic. Hope filled his eyes as his face smoothed out, no longer crestfallen. "Did I mention that you hurt my pride twice in the past twenty four hours?"

The crestfallen look came back. "I'm sorry, Dean." And he believed it.

Dinner that night went as well as could be expected. Ellen and Jo were relieved when Dean and Cas didn't appear to want to rip each others throats out anymore. Dean talked about the teams' first football practice and Cas explained, in great detail, about their day at Bobby's.

When it was time for bed, Dean changed in the bathroom while Cas changed in the bedroom. But, when he went to lay down on the floor, this time Cas interrupted him before he started crouching.

"Dean?" he asked in a small voice. He looked kind of worried, as if he was scared to continue with his thoughts. Dean looked at him and saw that his fingers were fidgeting with the blanket. When he looked up, it wasn't at Dean. He focused his gaze on the ceiling as he continued speaking. "Remember, earlier, how you said you wouldn't care if I was gay or not?" he questioned. Dean remembered, and he let Cas know this by nodding. He took a deep sigh before saying, "Were you serious?" His eyes shifted to Deans' face before turning back to gaze at the ceiling.

"Of course, Cas."

Relief flooded his face for a brief moment before turning worried again. They didn't need to explain the obvious need for the question. Dean understood. But he could tell that Cas wasn't finished wanting to talk. "What is it, Cas?" he asked.

"I was a bit of a jerk last night," he began. "I understand if you choose not to, but if you wanted to, you could sleep in the bed with me. I won't try anything. I promise."

Dean didn't say anything. He leaned forward and grabbed the pillow on the floor, before walking towards the bed.

That night, Dean didn't have any nightmares.

The rest of the week past in a similar way as that first day, minus the nightmare and the embarrassing laughter from Cas the next morning. Football practiced was held Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, and while Dean would get jokes pointed his way, mainly along the lines of 'I see your boyfriend is here again,' he couldn't wait until the afternoons where they could spend time getting to know each other. When they weren't at Bobby's garage (Cas helping Dean however he could while learning new ways to care for a vehicle), they were in Cas' new bedroom.

Dean found out that Cas' favorite colors were black and green (separate, not so good, but together it's like a rain forest waiting to be discovered!); his all time favorite food was potatoes, any shape and form (like mashed potatoes, french fries, and chips); and his dream job was to become a doctor.

One day, near the end of their punishment, Dean asked a question that had been bothering him since they met at the party, but only realized the next day when he wasn't so drunk.

"Hey, Cas," he asked. Cas was laying on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find shapes in the cracks. He hummed, letting Dean know he had his attention. "Where did your parent's come up with your name?"

Cas had actually smirked. "It's a different spelling of the name Cassiel; the Angel of Thursday," he replied. He didn't ask why. Dean figured he had been asked that too many times in his life that he lost count.

He just hummed in acceptance.

When they went to bed that last night, Dean unknowingly wrapped his arm around Castiels' waist, pulling him closer and rubbing his nose in the dark brown, nearly black hair behind the shorter man's ear.

And when he drifted off to sleep that night, he was surprised he didn't know, nor cared, what his last thought meant.

I'm going to miss this.

Notes:

I apologize for the chick-flick moment. At the time when I wrote it, I had five monsters coursing through my system. Though when I reread it to edit, I noticed it wasn't completely horrendous. The typos in Dean's dialogue during that part is on purpose. I wanted to give the affect that he was trying to get it all out at once without pause.