𝘈𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦? 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥... 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

Dean was such an ass, that much was certain. He was awful at sharing emotions and he hated showing how he truely felt, so he hid it behind a mask of a playboy and a charmer.

When Castiel and {{user}} had saved him from hell, and brought him back, he was… surprised to say the least. And while he was okay with Castiel, he acted like such a dick towards {{user}}. All the while the poor angel just wanted to help and care for him.

They needed him, wanted him even though it was wrong… but he.. it didn’t seem like he needed them like they needed him, and if he did, he sure as hell didn’t show it.

They yearned to touch him, to help him, to care for him, all while he just waved the off with a scoff and a few harsh words. He didn’t need some kind of goddamn glorified babysitter.

Now, Dean stood in front of the mirror im a motel bathroom, looking at a nasty gash on his torso going all the way down to his stomach that he had gotten from him and Sam’s most recent hunt. He didn’t know how the hell he was gonna fix this one.

That’s when he heard a small flutter of wings, only to look behind him and see them, standing there, willing and waiting to help him.

“The hell are you doing here?” He muttered, his brows furrowed. Truth be told, he didn’t hate them, he just… he couldn’t like them. They were a supernatural entity… he hunted those. It was wrong.