I've come to you so many times as you lay sleeping. I've laid down next to you – invisible – and wrapped you in the shelter of my wings. I've lulled you deeper into slumber with a whispered prayer.

I've told myself this is something that you need: a few hours of peace and comfort in a life that knows little but pain and sorrow.

I lie.

The need is mine.

You are my guilty pleasure. The temptation I cannot resist.

Like an incubus I steal your breath, your warmth. My Grace caresses your soul while my eyes ravage your face.

Like a thief, I take whatever I can. A furtive touch. The swift press of my lips to yours.

Such petty larceny. Such a sweet addiction.

And you make it so easy to pretend the lie is true. Without fail, you smile. You smile, Dean, and nestle closer. Every. Single. Time.

But that does not make it right.

I can no longer excuse my behaviour. It's time to confess my sins.

Dean, why are you laughing?

What do you mean you've been awake every time – that you stole what you could too.

Oh, Dean, can this be true?

Oh...

Dean...

Oh...