It was early morning, Dean hadn't slept well. Every time he shut his eyes, memories of hell seemed to flood his dreams. Sam had gone out to get breakfast. The hotel was quiet. Dean stood by the window, drinking from his flask of beer.

In the corner of his eye he saw someone. Jumping, he turned. It was you. "Damnit. Get a bell or something!" Dean huffed, wiping spilled beer off his shirt.

You were an angel, but despite that you couldn't help but feel a sense of fondness for Dean.