Bryce's chants were so vigorous that a fine sweat broke out over his naked body. He grimaced, as if in pain, rocking back and forth as he slowly drained the blood from a snake into a bowl.

In the middle of the night, Sam sat bolt upright where he had been sleeping on the floor: hair plastered to his head, t-shirt stuck to the sweat on his chest. He gasped for air and tossed off the blanket.

Across the hall, he could hear Cassie's garbled shouts, rhythmically intermingled with Dean's grunts. Heat spread across his chest and into his groin. He stared at the door and mouthed the word, "Fuck."

Shortly before dawn, Cassie stumbled from her bedroom. Sam was already seated at the kitchen table. She pulled her silk robe more tightly around her and crossed her arms over her chest. Feeling awkward for no apparent reason, he started to stand, but stayed seated. "Dean?"

"He's still asleep."

He nodded and found he couldn't stop himself. His hands wrung together nervously. "I really need to talk to him."

"Do you want me to wake him up?" There was none of the usual kindness in her voice.

Sam chalked it up to the early hour. "Uh … no." He lied.

Cassie made her way across the room and tried to sound indifferent, "So, you guys are hitting the road today?"

"Um…" He huffed a fake laugh. "Did Dean say that?"

"Yeah. Said your father called."

"Oh. Yeah." Sam was still nodding and feeling like a bigger moron by the moment.

Without another word, Cassie vanished into the bathroom. She didn't know what was with these boys and their father and she was determined not to care.

Sam had been up for hours. He couldn't wait anymore. He charged into Cassie's room; the air was thick with the smell of sex. Warmth washed over him, followed by a pang of jealousy. He ignored it and shook his brother by the shoulders until Dean's face crunched up in annoyance. His eyes reluctantly started to flutter open. "What?"

"Did Dad really call?" If he had, his timing couldn't be worse.

"What?" Dean's morning muddled brain tried to make sense of his brother's words.

"Cassie said…"

Finally, Dean leaned up on his elbows. "No. I had to tell her something."

Sam sighed, relieved that they didn't have to deal with their father at the moment. "We need to talk."

"OK." Dean dropped himself back down with his eyes closed, committed to continue sleeping while his dorky little brother talked.

Sam ripped the blanket off and turned his head away, not needing an eyeful of his brother's morning wood. "Dean. Get up. Now."

"Aw, fuck." Very slowly, not unlike a zombie, Dean sat up and pulled on his clothes while Sam paced as if he was trying to wear a path in the carpet.

When Dean headed for the bathroom where the shower was running, Sam stood in his way. "No. Now."

Dean gestured to the door. "I got to piss."

"No time."

Dean grumbled. "No time to piss?"

"No. Let's go." Sam grabbed the keys to the apartment that Cassie had loaned him and corralled his brother down the steps. Once they were outside, he prodded his groggy brother into the park across the street.

Before they had gotten very far, Dean stopped and relieved himself against a tree. Once his pants were closed again, he looked at Sam with slowly blinking eyes, "All right. I'm all ears, you nutcase."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it."

"Spit it out." Dean sniffed, sleepily.

"We can't leave. I mean, I could. But you can't." He paced, nervously.

"Sam, fucking be still and tell me what's going on." He scratched his ear and yawned.

Sam had no idea how his brother would take his revelation. He searched the park for a good segue: a woman jogged by, a group of men were playing soccer. There were herds of kids at a playground. Sam pretended to watch them when actually his attention was solely focused on Dean.

Dean looked at Sam impatiently, then did an about face, walking back toward the apartment. "Dude, I need coffee."

A Frisbee nearly took Dean's head off. Reflexes sharp, even half asleep, he ducked. Then, he picked it up and searched the clearing for its owner.

It couldn't have been more perfect if Sam had cast the moment himself. A little boy ran over to retrieve it. He apologized and thanked Dean sweetly before returning to his game with his dad. By the time Dean was standing upright again, he was wearing an almost smitten expression.

Sam smiled at the cosmic nod. He had the kid pegged at about four or five, but he had absolutely nothing to go on. He liked kids, but had practically no experience with them outside of having rescued more than a few from their worst nightmares. He had met a few of Jess' little cousins, tossed a ball around with them, but was far from an expert.

Dean, on the other hand, he'd seen with kids and knew that despite all odds, he had a natural rapport with them. Maybe it was because he was just a big kid himself. Sam had a sense that his brother would either be the same kind of shitty, militaristic, authoritarian father theirs had been or the kind of dad Sam himself wished he'd had. Enough stalling, Sam dived in. "Ever thought of having them?"

"Not really." Dean lied. Sam was trying to psycho-analyze him again and at six in the morning. So, he threw him back a curve ball. "I like practicing."

His tactic backfired. The thought of sex just made him think of leaving Cassie. His mood soured almost instantly and he added, "Seems like it would be a good idea to get rid of the boogeyman before bringing more kids into the world."

Sam knew full well that Dean was deflecting, because it would be too frigging difficult to just have a real discussion. Fine. Dean, could be like that all he wanted. Sam would just have to show him that it wasn't hard to talk about something seriously for a change. "Jess and I used to talk about it. She wanted eight."

"Sheesh." Now, that sounded like a nightmare to Dean.

"Yeah. I had talked her down to five." Sam smiled, then frowned. Thinking of Jessica usually had that effect on him.

Dean could sense his brother starting to tense. He couldn't really imagine how much that must have sucked, to see her up on the roof like that, unable to do a goddam thing to save her. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want Sam to think about it. Fine. He'd talk about his fucking feelings. Sort of. "Cassie's a career girl, you know. Plans to do foreign correspondence, maybe war journalism, that kind of thing and work her way up to the White House press corp."

"Yeah, that sounds like her." Sam felt a strange sense of pride, as if Cassie were already his sister in law. Or something.

"What it doesn't really sound like is a family of five." Dean and Cassie had strategically avoided any real talk of the future. Considering their past, it was a miracle that they even had a present.

But it wasn't like it hadn't gone through Dean's head. Back then and now. They'd had a real nice time last night, for a change. But Dean knew he had no business thinking about or acting like he and Cassie had a chance. He didn't even trust himself to be alone with her without Sam in the next room to keep him from harming her.

"You never know. Jess also planned on being on the Supreme Court by 50, so…" He huffed a bitter laugh. "I have no doubt, she would have found a way to do it all."

While they had been talking, the father of the young boy approached, "He wants to know if you guys want to play?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. Dean shook his head at the guy. "Nah, we're cool."

Dean had no doubt that Cassie would accomplish anything she set her mind to, with or without him. He had just wanted to stick around until he could be sure that she had her mind set on … what? Waiting for him? Waiting for him to do what? It's not like his job was ever going to be over. There would always be evil shit to deal with, right? So, what was the point?

What did Sam want him to do? It was Sam's brilliant fucking idea to come back and 'get some closure.' How do you get closure on walking away from something you want so fucking badly?

Sam hated to interrupt Dean's reverie, but he had to tell his brother what he knew before his head burst with the information. "Dean. Are you happy? With Cassie."

Dean smirked, "I haven't been laid this much since … last time I was with Cassie, so, yeah. How could I not be happy? But all good things must end." He shrugged like he couldn't possibly care less. He was so practiced at it that he almost convinced himself, sometimes.

Sam ignored Dean's non-answer and began working up to the point. "You're not using protection, are you?"

Dean flinched, "Seriously, Dad?"

"Seriously."

Dean smirked. "Well, we were, but then we ran out, so … I'm clean. She's clean."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's ignorant answer. "Condoms are not just protection against STDs, Dean."

"She's a modern woman. I assume she's on the pill."

He could honestly brain Dean sometimes. "You assume? Kind of an important thing not to be sure about."

"Jesus, Sam. She doesn't want to get knocked up any more than I … What is your deal?" It dawned on Dean that they had been talking about kids for Sam's entire talk.

"What do you think Cassie would do if she got pregnant? You think she'd keep it?" Sam was coming around the home stretch.

"Are we seriously having this conversation? You're like a high school counselor. One of the creepy ones who tries to touch your leg."

Sam made a face to show just how disturbing that image was.

"What? That never happened to you?" Dean shrugged. "Wait. Why? Did she say something? Sam."

Sam didn't answer. He knew that Dean didn't put any stock in his dreams. Dean joked about them and played it off, because deep down he didn't take the premonitions seriously. Ever since what had happened to Jess, Sam had been afraid to sleep, afraid to dream. The more real his dreams felt, the more certain he was that they would become reality, sooner or later.

This was the first time one of these lucid dreams had been about something pleasant, kind of. Pleasant, if Dean and Cassie wanted a kid. Cassie had looked totally blissful pushing the tan-skinned, green-eyed, golden haired child on a swing. Dean had been nowhere to be seen. Maybe it wasn't even his kid. Maybe Sam was misinterpreting the dream.

But those eyes. The shape and the color were too familiar. Sam was sure. "Would you want her to keep it?"

It finally dawned on Dean what Sam was saying. "Shit. Holy shit."

He practically dropped his body onto a bench. He stared ahead, breathing shallowly with his mouth open. "Holy shit."

He glanced up at Sam. "Fuck."

Then, Dean rose from the bench and took off running towards the apartment building.

Cassie was sitting on the sofa next to Bryce. Dean didn't even bother to close the door behind him. Her friend's face fell. Her mouth opened in surprise. "Thought you were gone."

Out of breath, he walked over, fell on his knees and took her face in both hands. "No. No. Never."

He kissed her long and languid until she pulled back and inhaled sharply, "Okay."

Ignoring Bryce's irate glare, Dean began to wind his silver ring from his finger. "I have been such an asshole. I don't mean to be, I swear. It's just … Whatever it is, I will fix it."

Cassie shook her head to try to clear it. "OK. You're giving me whiplash, Dean."

"I am never going to leave you again. I swear."

He grabbed her hand in his and tried to put his silver ring on her ring finger, pointer, middle finger. It fit snugly on her thumb. He kissed the palm of her hand and nestled his face against it. His eyes squeezed tight against the tears welling up in his throat. Finally, he buried his face against her stomach with his arms tightly around her waist.

Dumbfounded, she looked up at Bryce and Sam, who had just stepped into the open door. For lack of a better idea, she ran her hand soothingly over Dean's hair and tried to convince him to stand.