It had all started whenever the two of you were drunk at the Roadhouse. He asked you to dance, even if you had said that "dancing was a dangerous game", the two of you had still wound up on the dance floor. And, after a few old country songs had stopped playing on the jukebox the two of you had made your way out to Dean's car. The night hadn't ended there. No, it had ended with the two of you tangled up with each other in the backseat of Dean's Impala. That's how the relationship had continued for a while. Neither one of you were looking for love. Just someone to be with for the night.

After all of these months your mind had drastically changed. You no longer wanted to hookup in cheap motels or the back of his car, no, you wanted everything. It could be love. The two of you understood each other so well. Always had. It was almost like the two of you had been made for each other. You knew that you would pay for it though. Things were messy. It would end in a heartache. You knew that Dean might even cut things off. That was the thought you tried pushing out of your mind. You would ask Dean for something real. You were never gonna love again. He was everything to you.

It was another night just like every other one you spent with Dean. The two of you laid on the cheap mattress of the motel, both bars beneath the tangled sheets. You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, resting your head against Dean's chest. You were content to listen to his heart best. The steady pace kept your anxiety from spiking as you debated how to start this conversation. You knew that you needed to be quick, the two of you never laid here for long.

"Dean?" You said softly, looking up at him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he met your gaze. You never said his name like that. "What's wrong?" He asked, his voice gruff as it always was.