I do not own Supernatural.


I'm in a hospital when I wake up. The steady beeping of the monitor tracks my heart rate. The room is empty and small. I'm alone.

For a brief moment I think I've been returned to the mental hospital. But then I realize the air is too dry. I'm still in Mexico.

I rest my head back on the pillows and the door creaks open.

"Hello." A woman greets, she's obviously a nurse. I look away from her, angry. Why hadn't she let me die? I deserved it. I deserved worse than death.

Dean probably thought the same.

I imagined Dean tracking me down, pushing his long hunting knife into the flesh along my ribs. Carving his name there. I shivered, not entirely out of fear.

"How are you feeling?" She asks carefully, lovely brown eyes and thick dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her accent is sweet and syrupy. When I don't answer she hesitates.

"We had to pump from you stomach." She explains, she shifts awkwardly on her feet.

"You should have let me die." I whisper, voice hoarse from whatever they had shoved down my throat to suck the medication from me. My windpipe was raw and I desperately wanted a glass of water. But I didn't ask for one, even the smallest suffering would help to distract me from the thick gaping hole in my chest that Dean had left.

"You're lucky I don't fucking kill you myself." A hard clear voice grunts as he pushes the door open all the way. Dean's standing their, looking tan and beautiful. He's wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, his combat boots are dark and scuffed.

"D-Dean." I sob, sitting up so suddenly that the machines jolt and one of the needles in my wrist jerks painfully. The blood seeps down and stains the sheet.

"Ay!" The nurse cries, dropping down to tend to my wound. Dean carefully looks away from my blood, his eyes meeting mine.

I must be hallucinating. Dean can't be here. He left me because I was dirty.

"What kind of shit do you think you where pulling?" He demands, voice tightly controlled. His eyes are burning so brightly. I swallowing thickly, unable to do much other than stare at him.

I'm dreaming. I have to be. I feel faint and hazy from the lingering medication in my body, or maybe the blood loss on my wrist.

"You mind giving us a second?" Dean barks out to the nurse as she finishes bandaging my arm. She looks to me carefully, like she may think Dean is an abusive spouse. It makes me have to bite back a snicker.

If she only knew what I let Dean do to me, and what I had him do for me. She would be horrified.

She left with one last worried look sent my way. Dean shut and locked the door behind her. I was annoyed when he did not immediately come to my side.

Instead he paced at the bottom of the bed.

"You better start making up excuses. I want to know how those pills got in your stomach, and I swear to god if you had anything to do with it ..." His voice trailed off, but I shuttered at the threat.

"You abandoned me." I croaked, tears already gathering in my eyes. Dean looked at me with a sharp turn of his head, green eyes blazing.

"What's wrong with you? Haven't we been through enough for you to realize the only way you're getting away from me is if you do fucking stupid shit like this!" Dean's voice reverberates off the walls and echoes in my head. He gestures to me with disgust on his face.

I shrink back on the bed, feeling the tears spill over my cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I whimper, reaching for him. His jaw twitches, and he tries to resist but I see his will crumble. He takes my hand and sits on the bed. The tightness in my shoulders relaxes and I grip his hand tightly.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper, kissing his hands and wrist. He's tanner than I remember. He's probably been down south or here in mexico. So close to me the entire time.

"Remember what I told you, Cas? If anyone's taking you from this world, it's gonna be me." He mutters seriously, eyes hard as he grips my chin so tightly I'll bruise. I nod, turning to mouth at his wrist.

"Forgive me." I beg, tugging at his shirt. Pulling him down on top of me. I'm still woozy and sick feeling, but Dean's here. That's all that matters.

"Always." He slides his hands under my shirt and traces the angel wing scars he's left me.

I'm out of the hospital that night, not legally of course. They insist I stay another few days but Dean says he can take better care of me.

"Where were you?" I ask, curled up with him in the bedroom the gas station owners had still let me stay in.

"I got a tip from a friend that I was being followed. Gordon must have picked up my trail. I couldn't bring them to you, I had to keep you safe so I took off. I knew if I told Sammy where I was then you'd try and find me. I didn't want them to trace my calls either so I just kept running until I was sure their was no way they could have followed me." Dean says. Of course Dean had been trying to protect me. I nodded against his chest, curling around him protectively.

"I love you." I murmured. I felt safe. Dean had called Sam and told him he was safe and to send more meds. Dean insisted that he keep my pill bottles now, and he would give me the right dose.

"I love you too." He smiles against my temple. I flushed as he rolled me back over. Sliding back into my already wet and used hole. I moaned his name, and I could feel him smirking into the back of my neck.

Dean and I left the gas station with the best icee's in the world two days later. We decided to travel around mexico for a little bit. Their computer systems were easier to hack, but not as organized.

I stayed away from Dean's victims, shaking in the Impala until he returned.

"I like when you do it with me." Dean admits, washing his bloody hands in a nearby river after we dump the body.

"I can't, Dean. I loose my mind." I can't control Dean the way I was, I can't drag him down with me until we are both back in prison and separated. I'd rather die than let that happen. Dean's presence helps to calm the attacks but they still come. Dean has a little scratch on his cheek from when I'd had an attack a few days ago.

"I'll help you." Dean says, coming up to wrap me in a possessive hug. I nod into his shoulder.

I can deny Dean nothing. We walk back to the Impala and are heading further into mexico. The windows are rolled down and the music is loud.

Dean nearly has to shout over it when he speaks.

"Benny said you had people calling you Winchester." Dean states, but I can hear the questioning tone to it.

"The night in the snowstorm, you proposed." I reminded, as if he could have forgotten. Dean blushes, and sniffs, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah." He says, lips going pursed. I feel nervousness prick at my neck and turn down 'Renegade' blaring from the speakers.

"Was I wrong too?" I whispered, touching a hole in the worn jeans. Dean looks up, frowning.

"No. God, you're so friggin' needy." He sighs, throwing his arm out behind my shoulders. I lean back into his touch, shutting my eyes. We sit in silence for a moment, Dean is still tense. But the slow lull of the music, and the rumble of the Impala are making me dose.

"It's just, you deserve more than a drunk proposal in the backseat of my car. I should get you a ring or something, we can go get married somewhere in the states. If you want, I mean." Dean shrugs, licking his lips nervously.

I blink, half asleep. His warm voice filling me up so much I think I might burst.

"What?" I ask, feeling content and sleepy.

"I don't have a ring." He frowns, looking at his fingers as if to check. I sit up fully and the words process. I try and hide my wide smile. I see the little twist ties closing our sandwich bags from lunch yesterday. I untwist them and wrap the blue one around Dean's finger. I put the yellow one on mine.

"Fuck," Dean chuckles, a self deprecating smile on his face as he looks at the makeshift ring on his finger.

"I'll get you a ring, I tried a few months ago but the jewelry stores have lots of camera-" I press my lips into his mouth to stop his nervous chatter.

"We still have lots of money. I can take care of you." I'm not sure if Dean is promising me this, or himself. But I smile and nod, curling against his side despite the heat.

I fall asleep watching Dean's thumb rub over the twist tie in small little strokes.

We're staying in a little shack by the ocean, it's secluded and Dean likes to bring our victims here. Tonight he has captured a pedophile who according to his record raped his two young daughters.

"I think you should do it by yourself." I shuffle back, sitting on the table holding all of Dean's dangerous equipment. I'm about to hop down and go to the porch and sit and watch the ocean, but Dean looks up from the man tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

"Come on, Cas. Nothing gets me hotter than having you watch me carve into monsters." Dean spits, turning to look at the paunchy Mexican man with down tilted puppy dog eyes and splotchy facial hair.

It causes me infinite amusement that Dean carefully takes off the twist tie ring and pockets it before killing so he doesn't get it bloody.

"Dean, we shouldn't start me down this road again. It's dangerous." I whisper, calculating all the bacteria that might have grown in the room since I'd last scrubbed the hardwood down in pin-sol. I loved our quaint little home, neat and tidy.

Dean liked it splattered in blood.

"I can handle you. We just need to keep the killing on the monsters. That's all we got to remember." Dean slides between my legs, pushing his large hunting knife into my hand.

"I don't-"

"We'll find a middle ground. We'll kill only really evil people, just like in the beginning That way the attacks go away, and you and me can be happy. You won't be hurting anyone, Cas." Dean coaxes, cupping my jaw. Dean didn't consider 'monsters' as people that could be hurt.

My eyelids flutter shut and he grips my hips.

He pulls me down off the table and leads me across the room to the squirming whimpering man. Dean feels massive behind me, large and strong. My protector. I lean back into his warmth as he guides my hand, enclosed over the blade into the man's fat belly.

"Gonna carve him up, nice and slow." Dean hums against my ear, his free hand still holding my waist tightly against his hips. I can feel him getting hard as the first cry bubbles up from the man's throat.

My breathing picks up.

"I shouldn't. I'm no better than him, I'm just as evil-" I babble, trying to pull back. Dean's hand tightens on my wrist, forcing my knife deeper into his gut, barely missing his vital organs.

"You're not like them, Cas. You're different." Dean assures. Dean is the final word on justice in my mind. If he approves than so do I. A heavy weight that's been laying on my shoulders lifts.

"How?" I choke, feeling tears run hotly down my cheeks at his forgiveness and approval. Dean is everything. He doesn't blame me for my sins.

"You have me, baby. I'll always keep you on the right path." He smiles, thumb brushing over my pulse as he forces me to twist the blade deeper in the man's belly.

A/N: Okay, this really is the end. But I love this fic so much I might add an epilogue or some drabbles. I didn't have Cas getting a matching tattoo on his chest, and I really wanted to add that in their so you may see it coming up. Thank you for all your inspiring reviews! Let me know how you liked the fic with a review!