#chalk it up to the thunderstorm blackout combo

[fbfh]

Did I miss my post this week?????? Did my schedule get all kerfuffled??????? I think so. Anyway have some Dean Winchester.

Dean never wanted anything from the Angels. Not praise, not salvation, not glory. He just wanted to be left alone. That's until the angels "gave" you to him.

"A gesture of gratitude for your sacrifice." Zachariah said.

"For the last damn time, I don't want it." Dean snapped, voice gruff. He gets fired up going toe to toe with pig headed angels. They don't listen, and it never fails to ruffle his feathers.

"Be that as it may, the gift is yours."

Then he was gone before Dean could refuse for the millionth time. Maybe threaten some bodily harm. But Dean is sure yelling at the sky won't do him much good, so he decides not to waste his breath. He huffs, storming back into his motel room to pour a drink.

A gift for his suffering.

That's some sick joke. Dean gets forced to make impossible decision after impossible decision, forced to complete herculean feats, and after all that bullshit those winged bastards decide to switch up and get all benevolent? Well he's not taking it. That son of a bitch didn't even tell him what this gift is supposed to be. He starts to pour more liquor into the paper cup he's mangling in his grip when he sees it.

Lying on his bed, bathed in golden sunlight, you lay asleep.

You're on top of the covers, hands and feet perfectly posed. If he didn't know any better he'd think you were dead. Which would be a real shame, because good god he has never seen someone as beautiful as you. Dean is frozen for a moment, paralyzed by surprise and admiration. His eyes move over your figure, watching your steady breaths rise and fall, and he feels something. He inches closer, feeling some sort of claim deep inside him. Like you need to be protected, taken good care of, and he's the only one up to the task. It's ridiculous, the logical part of his mind screams, he doesn't even know you. The angels sent you as some sort of pacification, to trick him into feeling content. And goddammit it's working. Dean feels at ease just standing next to you, and he hates the angels even more. But not enough to really pull his thoughts from you.

He snaps out of his daze, watching you lie there in his bed like sleeping beauty. He nudges you gently, talks to you, tries to wake you up, but nothing works. You just remain still, a becon of peace.

Sam comes back to the motel pretty soon, and Dean brings him up to speed.

"I think-" Dean starts, knowing it sounds ridiculous. "I think this whole thing is supposed to help us somehow..."

He trails off, gesturing to you, to the whole situation at large.

Sam huffs in consideration, then agrees.

"Now we just gotta figure out how to wake up."