#therefore...

That time when Jackles was on top of Misha and Destiel.

Donnie gazed up, up, up into the sky.

Glimmering points and clusters of lights sparkled in the darkness. The moon, a waning gibbous, glowed among them.

It was a clear sky. It was summer, so the night was warm enough that he didn't need a jacket. The gentle, cool breeze smelled of the nearby patch of violet lavender.

His eyes jumped between the stars. They reminded him of eyes, staring, watching, observing. But not in a malicious way; more in the way that his ancestors did, simply making sure that they were safe.

He sat on the cold grass, pulling his knees to his plastron, still looking up at the sprawling, glittering points of light.

Science was gently released; the knowledge of the fact that the stars were just burning balls of hydrogen, the knowledge of the fact that the stars he saw were dead or dying, that knowledge was carefully put down. 

He’d pick it up later. But not right now. He let his mind wander through fantasies.

He wondered if there were things behind those eyes; whether spirits, deities, or something else, he wasn't sure. 

But he knew they were there to protect.

So he sat there, letting his eyes jump between points of light.