Imagine you have a close friend, who loves you in every conceivable way, wholly and without fail. For whatever reason, they don’t believe you feel the same - and maybe they’re right. Who’s to say.
You sit bedside as your friend is dying. They are awake, cognizant as their end approaches. Maybe they confess, unburdening their heart onto you. Maybe they just give you a heavy-eyed look, to the same effect. Either way, something is reaching for them, and they are very nearly in its grasp.
With the stage set just so, I know precisely what I would do. I think we all know what we would do.
We also know what Dean Winchester would do:
And yet.



















