Dean. The first thought that entered his head when he awoke. He didn't know where he was but it was warm, and it smelled very much like his best friend. He didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to. Wherever he was he didn't deserve to be there. He deserved to be out in the cold, in the dark, thinking on his sins. But he wasn't.
It was easy now, not to think destructive thoughts. The smell surrounding him encouraged him to think of one thing. His favourite thing. A thing that involved green eyes, chestnut hair, layers of plaid and the faint smell of motor oil and apple pie. So he lay in warmth and thought of Dean.