"Saturday Night at the movies, who cares what picture you see, when you're hugging your baby..."

"Cas, honey, I love you but please, please stop singing that song." You wouldn't really mind him singing it so much, if he could actually sing... and got the right tune. You were driving home after seeing the latest movie on date night, saturday. The whole reason why your 'date' kept singing the song, because the theatre had it on repeat over the sound system. Subtle. This was the 7th date that Castiel had taken you on; well, more like the 17th, but the 7th since you realised he liked you and wasn't just wanting to make a friend. As you drive home, listening to Cas sing one of his tuneless tunes and having a good time in his own little world beside you, you think back through the past few years; Running into the Winchesters while on that Werewolf case, becoming part of their little 'Scooby Gang' and travelling around and helping them with their hunts since then Cas joining the gang over the past year... Thinking about all the good times you've had with them all, especially the Winchesters; especially Dean.

Your thoughts are broken by the bright red lights signalling you to stop, and a small sigh escapes your lips. "Dean..." your melancholy whisper the only sign to indicate your feeling on the subject of Dean Winchester. You like him sure enough, he's alright you guess; He's quite funny, not bad looking, cares a lot for his brother and has shown such impressive skill in what he does. You sigh again and shake your head at yourself. Why can't you tell the truth? To yourself, let alone Dean? As you sit there, staring at the florescent lights as they change, mimicking your clarity of your situation; Red 'I do like him, he is nice I guess, and he always makes me laugh...' Amber 'Ok, I more than like him..." Green 'I love him.'

Actually not only do you love him, but you're in love with him, and have been for the past three years; through his cruel times, through his times in hell, even when he's gone off without a word of explanation to find Sam or to find a way to help him. You've loved him through your fights, even when you're worried sick about him and praying that he finds his way back home. You've sat there in your house, a place that they've come to call home too, for days just starring out of the window waiting to see that blasted black devil car of his. The amount of times you've visited the bunker, sometimes 2-3 times a day just to make sure they're not there. Even, no, Especially when he's been hospitalised; you'd sit there, all day holding his hand or stroking his hair, telling him "It's going to be okay" or "I'm always here." until you're asked to leave by the nurses. Though sometimes, when he's been in a critical condition, Sam's had to drag you from his side. You love him, you love him to a point it's painful as you know he'll never love you back. You've flirted and you've acted like you're together for a laugh sometimes, but that's just for fun and entertainment. So when Castiel joined and started treating you differently you decided that you'd give it a shot; see if being with someone who showed you that they liked you, really liked you, would make you forget.

"We're home!" you exclaim as you both make your way through the door. "Oh hey guys, how was the movie?" Sam is the first to greet you, his nose glued to his computer as usual. "I didn't expect it to have as much blood as it did." You say, shrugging your jacket off and throwing it onto the kitchen table. "Wait, didn't you go see that new horror movie? Blood Pact?" Sam is leaning back on the hind legs of his chair, staring at you with puppy dog eyes, "Seriously? You got scared by that?" though tone condescending. He turns his head away from you and begins to laugh, which was a red rag to your particular bull. Calmly, you walk behind the laughing Winchester and give his chair a slight kick with your heel, sending him backwards and onto the floor. "Oh, Sammy are you ok?" You fake ask, 'rushing' over to him as he lay there. "You know, you really shouldn't sit on a chair like that, you could hurt yourself." You say, giving him a sly smile and a wink before walking away. Sam bores holes into your head as you retrieve a drink from the fridge, "But come on," he starts, with a twinge of annoyance in his voice as he gets up from the floor, "We've seen worse things than that in person, and it's Sam!" Though before you have time to retaliate, a warm sensation wraps round your shoulders as you feel someone hug you from behind. "Leave her be Sam, I think she's lovely and adorable when she's scared." Castiel says before planting a soft kiss on your cheek, "Though I think she's that all the time."

"Think who's what all the time?" Dean walks into the kitchen; no shoes, jeans and a plain black T, sending your heart racing. "(Name), I was just saying that I think she's lovely." Castiel brings a hand up to your chin and tilts your head towards him, eyes meeting yours. "Ah, ok then..." Dean says nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head "Has anyone seen Dad's journal?"

"Oh sorry," you start, trying to wiggle free from Cas's grasp, "It's in my room. Sam said I could read through it before Cas and I went out." You apologise as you walk past him to the kitchen door. At which point Dean puts his hands on your shoulders, yanking your heart into your throat, and says "I'll come get it then." As you both enter your room you cross over to the chair in the corner "here it is, sorry I should've given it back when I left." You hand the journal back to Dean with a smile before brushing past him to exit your room. "You and Cas seem to have bit of a thing." This random statement causes you to turn back in his direction. Confusion evident in your face he illiterates, "Going out to the movies, weekends away, getting all huggy in front of people." His expression is one of a smile, and his voice the usual upbeat-dirty tone; but his eyes, his eyes were different somehow. If you didn't know better you would have said it was hurt, even jealousy. But you do know better, and you know that it's just wishful thinking on your part; a romantic notion with nothing but heartbreak as its outcome. "Yeah, sorry about that too, he just gets a little confused about personal space sometimes."

"Yeah, though I doubt you mind the random hugging and the thing where he stands way too close when he speaks." Dean chuckles, walking over and leaning against a wall, flicking through John's journal as he does so. "The random cuddles I don't mind because I love cuddles anyway, but I do find the standing too close a little unnerving sometimes." You say truthfully as you rest against your door frame. "Really? I thought you guys would have got a lot closer with each other."

"What do you mean by that?" You ask him, pretending to be insulted, though you still didn't want him thinking that about you. "You know," he starts, a little flustered and hurrying to explain himself, "you guys spending lots of alone time together. Which is great, I'm glad that you've finally found someone that you feel that close to and intimate with." This makes you happy to hear. "Though I'm more happy for him; the fact that he's got you." This statement catches you off guard. "Why?" you ask, genuinely confused; though mainly by the sincerity in his voice than the statement itself. "Well, it's just that I can't think of anyone better than you to be with. I mean you can be scary sometimes when on a hunt, but just how sweet, kind and considerate you are makes you perfect for Cas." His words are soft and sweet and cause a smile to cross your face. Seeing this he gives an embarrassed cough and looks at his feet, "That's all I was thinking."

"I haven't slept with him Dean."

"Really? You haven't?" His head shoots up at your confession. "No." you confirm with a shake of your head. "Why not? I thought that you guys..."

"Because of the weekends away?" You interrupt, the question more knowing than really asking. "Yeah" He admits, crossing his legs as he does so. You see him looking at you in interest, and as you answer your eyes can't help but wonder; "Well I can see why you think that," Over strong, protective arms, "but no, we haven't." Along defined chest muscles, poorly hidden by tight black fabric, "There are lots of reasons really..." Then up; over his defined neck, chiselled chin, kissable lips and beautiful, captivating eyes. "Cas not much of a mover?" Deans dirty chuckle breaks you from your musings and back to reality. "N-no, but he doesn't have the intention to make a move on me." You move to your bedside cabinet, busying yourself with unpacking the bag from your last hunting trip. "What?"

"He says that he's just happy with spending time with me." You answer truthfully as you carry on unpacking, "He doesn't want to move too fast and scare me off, he wants to take it as slowly as I do." You stop what you're doing and just smile, thinking about Castiel and his sensitive ways. "Which is so sweet and considerate of him. That really is one of the things I love about him"

"Oh, so you do love him then?" Dean asks, putting his hands in his pockets and walking aimlessly towards your door. "Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Dean questions; body language cool and confident as he simply leans against the door, but voice betraying him as, for certain this time, you hear anxiety. "I do really care for him, and I do have those kind of feelings towards him." You stop your actions and stare at your hands for a moment, "But I can't love him, not fully"

"Why's that?" At his question you have a decision to make. But you'd already decided subconsciously from the moment he asked you that first question; If you're going to tell him the truth, you might as well tell him all of it. "I'm in love with someone else."

"Who?" You sit on the side of your bed nearest the window and farthest away from Dean with your back turned, thinking carefully about what to say. But, as you sit there starring at your trembling hands, you can think of only one thing; "Someone who doesn't feel the same way."

"Why don't you tell him?" He asks, sincerity and concern in his voice. You know you shouldn't say what you're about to, but he keeps asking the questions and you just can't lie to him anymore. You can't lie to yourself anymore. "For the same reason Cas doesn't make a move on me;" you sigh, marking the beginning of your own exposé. "I love him so much that I'm content just being his friend and knowing him the way I do. He's been through so much already that I just wanted him to know that I'm here for him." your fervent smile can be heard in your voice, evidence that your reasons are true. "I wanted him to trust and feel that he can depend on me and if I got that by being his friend, then that's what I'd be." However, as you stare out of the window, "But now, as the years have passed," your warm voice fades, to be replaced by pain "my feelings have escalated so much that I fight to find any sign that he feels the same; I give up living my own life just to be a small part of his, and it's killing me."

"I'll ask him." Deans' voice is so quiet that it's barely audible, and this makes you turn round and ask "Sorry?" as you're not sure you heard him correctly. "I'll ask him for you." He says, raising his head as well as his voice. "I can see that this is hurting you (Name), so I'll ask him because then you'll know and you can put your mind to rest." His voice is so sincere and his clarify just how much he wishes to help you. But you honestly have no idea who he's talking about. "Ask who?"

"Sammy." He answers enthusiastically. "You are talking about Sam?" He questions as the look on your face changes, darkening his revelation. "You're not talking about Sam."

"I'm not talking about Sam." You assure him truthfully, though beginning to regret your decision to be truthful. "But then who else could..." He pauses and raises his head in realisation. He turns to look at you, tone soft and cautious "It's me."

"What?" You say in mock surprise while inside begging that he doesn't pry any further. "Don't be stupid, of course not." You turn away, hiding your pain as stand and begin straightening out your curtains. He closes the door and walks slowly towards you; his shrinking proximity causing you to busy yourself further. "It's me isn't it?" His voice low and wrought with uncertainty. But you put your back to him, turning your attention to the urgent task of arranging and rearranging the roses on your windowsill; tears swelling and threatening to expose the secret you've fought to keep. Through a weak chuckle you try to quell your exposure, "No, of course it's not Dean..."

"(Name!)" His hand grabs your arm, forcing your body to turn to him, though your face stays staring at the flowers; the intricate layers of velvet petals a mirror to your inner turmoil. "(Name)", he reaches out his hand, but before he can touch your cheek a soft "Don't" escapes your lips; a pleading whisper. Lowering your head to hide your tears, you gently brush his hands away before walking towards your door. "So that's it?" Dean questions, the anger in his voice pausing your hand, "I find out that you're in love with me and you just, what? Walk away?"

"Please Dean, don't." You plead, slowly removing your hand from the door and lifting your gaze. "No (Name), You can't do this to someone; you tell them that your in love with them, that that love causes you unspeakable pain then go out with another guy, " Dean walks towards you in a rage, voice cracking "not just another guy but one of his friends." He paces your room before returning to his position at the window, "No (Name), that's just cruel."

"How is that any more cruel than the things you've done to me?" You bark, spinning round on your heel to face him; your tears and anger in full view. "How is that anymore cruel than your flirting with me, or grabbing me and bringing me in for hugs and embraces or telling people that I'm your girl and yours and no one else's? How is that any more cruel when you do all that then go off with someone else? When you just drop me to be with your latest conquest and pick me up again when you need to look good or find another way in to somewhere or how to kill something." You know that it's all going to come out now, but you'd been caught red handed and you were damned if you were going to let him make you the one to feel guilty. "Well if I'm so terrible, why don't you just forget about me and go off with Cas? Move on and be with someone who makes you happy, because God knows I don't want to be the cause of so much pain."

"What do you think I'm trying to do Dean?" You walk forward a few steps, making a conscience effort not to go over there and slap him silly for being such a fucking moron. "I'm trying to 'move on', I'm trying to be with someone who proves that they really want me." As you talk, your hand gestures become more and more erratic, and as he listens, he moves to and leans against a bed post. "He takes me away for weekends just because he wants to spend time with me; He took me to the Bellagio in Las Vegas," you pause your pacing as your hands come up to your face in remembrance, "God, even to the Four Seasons in Italy." You turn away and walk a little distance, stopping just before your door. "I saw the most beautiful sights and witnessed unspeakable pleasures that some will never experience." You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves and calming your feelings. "But I couldn't enjoy them fully. I couldn't, because he wasn't you." You turn to look at him, his gaze meeting yours as he raises his head to your last words. All anger and hurt gone from your system you turn and walk closer to him and, with a soft and calm voice, open your heart. "It wasn't you holding my hand, it wasn't you sneaking in to watch me sleep, it wasn't you I danced into the night with." His eyes return to the floor as he shuffles his position; legs and arms crossed but still leaning against the bed post, listening to your every word.

"I'm trying Dean, I'm trying so hard to focus on Cas and making it work. But I know that it never will because I am hopelessly and completely devoted to you." You turn to the dresser on your left and lean your hands against it, starring into the mirror as you continue your declaration. "I am so in love with you that I will always love you, no matter what." You change position so that your back is against the dresser and your looking directly at him. "You're the perfect guy Dean; You're brave in situations that even Sam or Bobby can't be, you are the most selfless person I have ever met and your need to help everybody in anyway you can is amazing, along with just how loyal you are." You continue your outpour as you make your way to the bedpost opposite him. "But you're not perfect to me. I mean you are perfect to me, but you're not perfect towards me." Your hands grip against the wood, trying desperately not to cry and show your crumbling resolve. You rest your head against your clutched hands, closing your eyes as you continue, "I am so in love with you Dean," Your voice quavers, "to a point that every time you're name is mentioned in a good light, or someone thanks you, or you show just how good you are, at what you do and as a person, I feel such pride, such happiness for you."

Your heart pounds with every word, every confession you make and your mind is screaming at you to stop and just walk away. But your heart, your soul, needs you to carry on; you need to know, and you need him to know. "I feel things for your achievements that I haven't even felt for my own, I feel pain more severe for your losses, hurts and defeats than I ever will mine. But this love is the reason for my feeling sick every time you're with another woman, the reason my chest tightens when you kiss, pursue or hold someone else." You raise your head to look at him; the face, the body and being that you have come to feel such adoration for; not moving a muscle and keeping his head down and out of your gaze. "I know it's pathetic and I know I'm so much stronger than this, but I die a little knowing that your first and last sight of the day..." you look away as your voice trails off in sadness, "will never be me." As you look into the distorted reflection of your jewellery box you continue in a low, soft tone. "For three years I have been in love with you Dean, but for three years I have just been your safety blanket; your little pick-me-up when the job gets too much, or your little doll when you need to impress or trick someone; she speaks six languages, she plays piano, she can use ever weapon known to man. I'm your puppet, played with when you want entertainment and show then discarded again."

He moves, the impact of the last statement evident in the gesture. As you notice this, you take a step from behind the bedpost and towards him, softening your voice further and wearing a wry smile. "But I don't ever try to leave or hate you for it, because I can't." Tears begin to form on your lashes, though your time for caring has long since past. "I can't cut my own strings and be free from you Dean, I couldn't even if I wanted to. So you must do it for me." You walk slowly towards him, tears falling in waves and every step feeling like a mile. "You need to tell me that I have no chance with you, that there's no future with you because that is the only way, the only way I will ever be free." You stand before him, voice wrought with pain and eyes betraying every shred of pride or self respect you've tried to keep throughout this confession. "And this, you shouldn't feel guilty or cruel by this because either way, it's my release; if you let go or tighten you're grip of me it will be a release."

As you stand there, "So, please Dean," baring your soul and showing every weakness and every ounce of mortality that you have fought so long and so hard to hide, "I am begging you, please just tell me," you prepare yourself to ask the one thing that will give you the peace you need.

"Do you want me?" His eyes finally find yours, "Or do you need me?"