He tossed and turned that night as his mind bounced between deep sleep and vivid nightmares. Not of the vampire, surprisingly, but instead the nightmares consisted of all the other terrors he saw and killed on a daily basis. Demons and Wendigos danced a dance of death inside his head as they killed his brother Sam over and over, all of them laughing their cruel, menacing laughter. Sometimes the nightmares got so intense that he would actually wake up screaming and drenched in sweat.

And that's exactly what he did that night. He dreamed that somehow Sam, who's eyes revealed that he was a demon, got hold of his demon knife and had him pinned down and was seconds away from slashing Dean's throat. Then, out of nowhere, Cas appeared behind Sam, gave Dean a gesture to remain quiet, and then he swiftly bit down into demon Sam's neck, draining him of blood within seconds.

When he abruptly woke up, he was panting. As he struggled to get his heart rate back to normal, an idea came to him. He needed a way to repay that vampire for being so uncharacteristically kind and saving his already doomed life. He knew that a thank-you card was too simple, and yet a bouquet of flowers was a plain no. His mind was racing the day before with all the possibilities he could pursue, until finally, he came to one idea. In fact, it was so obviously perfect that he was amazed that he only just now had been thinking about it. His idea started with the fact that:

Vampires need blood.

That much was easy to understand. Blood to a vampire was like pie to Dean; a necessity to survive. He figured that since the vampire let him go yesterday, it was pretty unlikely that he got his required daily blood percentage. For some crazy, messed up reason, this actually made Dean feel bad.

Don't get him wrong, he was more than glad that people weren't getting attacked by too many vampires, he was freakin' overjoyed even.

However, the vampire had been so nice that his plan to help just seemed like the right thing to do.

Figuring that he had no chance of getting back to sleep, Dean decided to get out of bed completely. While he went through his morning routine, he pieced together the details of his plan.

As he let his pancakes cook until they were solid enough to flip, he picked up his cell phone and instinctively dialed his brother Sam's number. He had a hunch that despite the early hour his brother would still answer his phone, and after three rings, his theory was proven correct.

"Hello?" Came the sleep heavy answer.

"Rise and shine Sammy, I need your help."

Dean heard Sam groan and what sounded like a mumbled curse. This made him smile slightly.

"Dean it's freakin' five a.m. What use could I possibly be of to you?" Sam yawned loudly for an added measure to emphasize underline and italicize how tired he was.

Unfortunately, Dean did not get the message.

"Listen little bro I'm gonna need you to sweet talk that wife of yours, I'm kind of in a situation." Dean tried to sound completely casual, but he knew that Sam could always see right through him.

Sam furrowed his brow as he glanced to look at his sleeping wife, who was currently a mess of blonde curls and quiet, soft snoring.

"What can Jess help you with?"

"Well, it's like this Sammy," Dean started, rather uncertainly, "She still works at that blood bank right?"

Seven arguments, six compromises, and one burnt pancake later, Dean's plan was nearly complete. Although he had expected Sam to argue with him about why "borrowing" a few bags of blood was bad and then to hear Sam and Jess arguing about whether or not they wanted to help, he didn't predict that Jess would have actually wanted to talk to him directly.

Arguing with someone as sweet and fragile as Jess was like telling a child they're about to die. There's no logical way to do it.

"Oh Dean," cooed Jess in that sweet, sweet voice of her's, "Now just what is this all about stealing blood I hear?" Dean tried to explain that he wanted to simply reward a vampire by giving him a bag or two of blood while not sounding like a madman, which was no easy task.

"Good heavens!" Jess exclaimed, kind of sarcastically, Dean noted, "Seems like a rather peculiar vamp you got on your hands. Based on the way you described him, this seems very important to you... I'll be happy to help Dean!"

Her agreement to help both relieved and confused Dean. Why had the way he described Cas been what sold her? What the crap was she implying? Had it been because he hadn't called Cas a good for nothing, blood sucking vampire? Maybe she had presumed they were friends because of how he may or may not have lingered on the description of his eyes for a bit too long, perhaps. Had his mutual respect for the guy come off as admiration? Whatever the reason, Dean was just glad that he would soon have a gift to rid him of the obligation he felt towards his acquaintance.