It was another one of those nights.

Dean Winchester lay in bed, staring at the wall opposite him. Behind him, he could hear the deep breaths of his brother, Sam, deep asleep. The light of the moon cast a pale light around the motel room, illuminating a few solitary tears on Dean's cheeks and the alarm clock that read 2:30 AM. Crickets hummed beneath the grimy window.

Inside, Dean felt like he was being ripped apart. The deaths of his friends and his father replayed in his head, over and over. The feeling of hopelessness had completely won him over. He lay motionless, letting it consume him.

"Why bother?" The voice in his head asked. "What's the point?" His thoughts drew him to the razor blade of his shaver in the bathroom.

"What the fuck?" Another voice spoke up.

Come on," whispered the voice. "It's your only option. Surely hell is better than this."

"Hell is... hell."

"Admit it. Some part of you loved it."

"That's sick."

"You could escape this pain... This emotion..."

"Stop it." Dean spoke out loud this time. He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

As he patted the water off of his face, Dean caught a look at himself in the mirror. Instant hatred washed over him.

"You won't have to deal with that in hell." The voice was back.

"Shut up," repeated Dean.

"No more emotion, no more of this pain tearing you up inside. You can escape."

"That's not true," said Dean, to his reflection in the mirror.

"It is. You know it is."

Dean glanced at his duffel bag, where his razor was stored.

"Good," murmured the voice.

All reason escaped Dean. Like a puppet, he moved to the bag and pulled out his spare razors, picking one out and holding it in his hand. He stood for several minutes that seemed like hours as tears dripped slowly down his face.

"Dean." The razor clattered to the floor.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said, hurriedly wiping the tears from his face. "Give a guy some warning."

"I apologize. I was just curious as to why you are shaving at 3 in the morning," said Castiel, staring at the blade on the floor. "And why are you crying?" The angel's face was scrunched in confusion.

"That's not- I just- Forget it." Dean picked up the razor and dropped it back with the spares. Cas still leaned on the doorframe, watching him carefully.

"Dean," he said, a sudden realization dawned on his face. "You weren't-"

"No, Cas. Forget it, okay? I'm going back to bed." Castiel stood purposefully in Dean's way.

"Certainly you aren't foolish enough. I have heard of the humans dying of their own causes, but I never thought you..."

"It's nothing you would understand, Cas," Dean said gruffly.

"I'd like to understand, if you don't mind."


"You are aware there is no true death. After perishing you will burn in the fires of hell."

"I'm aware. Something came over me, that's all." Cas raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Sometimes, this whole thing... the demon hunting, the loss of my friends and family, the stress of keeping Sam safe, it gets to me. And I thought... if I could just escape this whole thing..."

"Hell is much, much worse than this."

"Yeah, Cas, I know," Dean shouted. "Something came over me, alright?" Sam stirred in the room behind Cas.

"I apologize if I have angered you. Your logic in this makes no sense to me. If you died-" Cas' voice broke slightly. "If you died, you wouldn't just be hurting yourself." Cas looked away to regain his composure. "Sam, for instance. Your brother would be devastated."

"I wasn't thinking, Cas. I'll go back to bed now. I'm alright."

"I need to make sure you're safe." Something stirred inside Dean. The need to feel Cas' arms around him, the need to feel safe and secure.

"I'm fine. I promise." Dean brushed it away, it must be an after affect of his crazed emotion spree.

"I don't know that. You still seem distressed. Would a hug make you feel any better?" Dean froze, his chocolate eye's locking with the angel's sky- blue ones.

"A- a hug? Come on, Cas. You're joking, right?" Dean forced a laugh.

"I was only offering, If you'd rather pass..."

"No, I- I think a hug would be rather nice."

"Very well."

Dean moved forward, his heart beating out of his chest. He stepped into the angel's open arms and felt them secure around him. He lay his head on Cas' head, locking his own arms behind Cas' back. As he closed his eyes, a feeling of safety, relief, and security washed gently over him.

When Cas pulled away, Dean wanted more than anything to pull him back. Instead, he took a step back.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Not a problem. Anything else I can do?"

Unsure what had come over him, Dean blurted out "One last thing." He closed the gap between him and the angel and pressed his lips against Cas'. Expecting him to pull away, Dean was surprised when Cas lay a hand on his cheek and pulled him closer. A raging desire built up in Dean as he wrapped his arm once again around Cas.

Entwined, the two pressed closer and kissed for one minute, two, three. Eventually, Dean forced himself to pull away.

"That was... nice," said Cas, looking at Dean's prominent cheekbones.

"Er... Sorry, Cas-"

"Don't apologize. I care about you a lot, Dean. A lot more than... you know, other humans."

"I care about you too, Cas. More than other angels."

Cas wanted to pull Dean back into another kiss. Dean felt the same way.

"I need to know you'll be safe tonight."

"You might as well stay, then," whispered Dean.

Cas nodded.

"I'll be here."