(I went back and changed some stuff, cuz I'm just unable to be pleased. In the first chapter, when their favorite show, Supernatural, is mentioned, instead of Dean and Sam being on the show, it's Dina and Samantha. Yup. Gender bender. *smiley face*)

I loved him.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

I detested him.

It was an unwinnable internal battle. An unbeatable game. One that I was determined to play.

Jody checked in on me every so often. I'd tell her I felt fine, even though she could see right through me. She constantly asked me what was on my mind, but I never said. It's not something one prefers to talk about.

My heart was broken, which caused me to shut the world out, and I ran away from my problems instead of facing them, which lead to a drug addiction that lasted four hellish months, and ever since I went cold turkey, I've been living the life of what one might call a gothic whore. Yeah. Not gonna talk about it.

I just slept most of the time. That's all I could do was sleep. Sleep the day away. Sleep away the pain. I was just glad I never woke up to a wet bed. Not that I would, the state of mind I was in.

I was pretty sure I cried in my sleep. Sometimes I'd wake up with tear lines on my cheeks. Why no one said anything, I'd never know. Maybe they just didn't want to bring it up and make me feel worse.

I wished these fuckers would let me out already. I was fine now, I wasn't in any pain, physically anyway. They were only scar lines now. Just let me the fuck out.

Oh shit. What if they sent me to some loony bin? I knew I was crazy, what if they did too? The nuthouse didn't sound like a five star getaway. And I was sure it wasn't.

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Please God in high heaven, if you're even there, don't let these fuckers send me to a loony bin. In there, I'll never taste scotch again. I mean, c'mon, have a heart, God. I need my medicine, y'know? I know I haven't been one of your most... faithful children, but... it's kinda hard to believe in some glorious greater force when you don't do me many favors. Ya never know, maybe I'll even see you when I get up there soon. Very, very soon. If I'm lucky."

I opened my eyes and sighed again. I looked at the fading wounds on my arms. If it weren't for Dean, these wouldn't be here.

If it weren't for Dean, Z wouldn't be here.

Castiel would still be around.

Pretty soon, the doctor informed me that my blood levels were back to normal, my blood pressure was good and other doctor shit I didn't understand. Basically, I was free to go.

I couldn't have been more eager to leave. I had to get out of this town. Out of this state. Hell, even out of this country if that's what it took. Fuck America, I'll be Canadian. Eh?

I was nearing the front door, the beautiful exit, when I caught sight of... him.

I groaned. "Dean."

"Cas. We really need to talk."

"I thought we already did that."

"Just let me give you a lift. I'm sure you don't have a ride."

"Last I checked, you were a shitty driver." I recalled all the times we would text, and I would usually say how much I wanted to see him, and I'd joke and tell him to hotwire a car and drive his ass to my place. To that, he would say he was a terrible driver. Every time.

"I've gotten better. So, what do you say?"

"Why would I get a fucking ride from you?"

"It's the least I can do. C'mon, I'd like to talk without getting cussed out."

"Well too fucking bad. I'm still pissed, Dean!"

"I know, and I want to properly apologize."

"All those years ago, I stopped caring about anything. Because that's what was holding me back. Whenever I give a shit, I put myself in the line of fire. Don't think I'm gonna give a shit now."

"Just let me give you a ride! Please!"

I knew he would never give up. He was always so stubborn. Like me. We had a lot in common. Maybe that's what I saw in him.

"Fine, you persistent fucker."

He lead me to his car, a white Mustang, which made me sigh. I was already seriously regretting this decision.

"What the fuck is this?" I groaned.

"It's my car. Problem?"

"Do you have no sense in your head? A fuckin' Mustang? A white Mustang?"

"What?"

"First of all, you're supposed to drive in black. Second, a Mustang? Really? C'mon, I thought Supernatural taught you better! 1967 Chevy Impala! That's the dream!"

"Maybe that's your dream, but I can drive a Mustang if I want to drive a fuckin' Mustang! As much as I love the Impala, this is a pretty sweet ride too."

I chuckled bemusedly. "Right. Okay." And I got in the passenger seat. At least the interior was leather. Matched my jacket.

He got in the driver side and started the car. I chuckled quietly, which caught his attention.

"What?"

"The engine. Do you really not hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"When you start the engine, don't you hear that sorta... grinding noise?"

"Um... I dunno. Why?"

I shook my head, still laughing a bit. "Nothin'. No reason. Just get us the fuck outta here."

He backed out of the parking space and soon got us away from the hospital, much to my relief. I couldn't stand those hospital vibes.

"Where to?" He asked me.

This question caught me off guard. I wasn't sure where to exactly. Was I really going to Canada? Or was that just me being a... hoser? Wait, that might just be our mocking of Canada, I don't fucking know.

"Away from here." Was my answer.

"How far away?"

I tried to think about this rationally, but you know what? Fuck it. "Try Canada."

He seemed genuinely surprised. "Canada? Like... the maple leaf fuckers?"

"Are there any other fuckers?"

"But... you hate Canada."

He made a good point. I did hate Canada. A lot. "I hate a lot of things, Dean. This is me, expanding my horizons."

"We're talkin' Canada here, man. That'll be a couple night's drive from here."

"This is me, saying 'fuck it all'. I'm tired of all the heartbreaks in America. Canada or bust."

"Are you sure about this?"

"C'mon, Dean. Road trip."

He sighed defeatedly. "Fine. Canada, eh?"

We drove for a few hours until we were faced with... engine complications.

Dean was inspecting the craptastic engine, having finally managed to open the hood without getting third degree burns. I leaned against the driver door, smoking a cigarette, laughing my ass off.

"It's not fuckin' funny!" Dean snapped.

I only laughed harder. "Your engine is shit!"

He glanced up at me. "Cas, put that thing out. It's nothing but a rolled up piece of lung cancer."

I inhaled more nicotine, slowly blowing it past my lips, watching as the wind carried it off. "Nah."

"Don't you have asthma?"

I shrugged. "Who gives a shit?"

He walked up to me, snatching the cigarette from between my index and middle fingers. He dropped it to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. "I do."

I pointed at him dramatically. "Have I told you lately that you're an ass?"

"For the past two miles." And he returned to his engine.

"You used to be a lot more fun."

"You used to be a lot more stable."

"And what the fuck is that s'posed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what it means. Look at you. You're a mess." He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Oh, yeah, and I'm sure your life is fuckin' peachy."

"Just let me deal with this fucking engine okay?"

I wasn't sure which was crappier; his engine, or his engine repair skills. It was just getting sad. It reached the point where I went over there to check out the thing myself.

"Damn." I muttered.

"What? You see the problem here?"

I looked over at him. "Yeah. There's definitely a problem. Then there's the engine."

He smiled sarcastically. "Ha. Ha. Ha. You're such a comedian. How bout instead of being a comedian, you be a mechanic for a few minutes."

I flashed him an amused grin. "First of all, I believe the engine overheated. That's what caused the car to break down. Second, your starter came loose, which explains the grinding."

"Well, why the fuck didn't you tell me that?"

I chuckled. "Cause it was funny."

Dean was clearly not amused. "Well how do I fix this shit?"

I started cackling at his cluelessness. I couldn't help it if his ignorance cracked me up.

"This isn't funny!"

"Yes it is!"

"C'mon, how do I fix this?"

I managed to settle myself and started walking him through the process. I helped him tighten the bolts on the starter to deal with the grinding.

"You have any coolant?" I asked him once we finished with the bolts.

"Uh... maybe. Could be some in the trunk."

With that, I went to the trunk and popped it open. Thankfully, he had a small bottle of antifreeze amongst other useless shit.

I took the container and rejoined him at the front of the car. I refilled the coolant, using up the whole container.

"That should do it." I muttered, twisting the cap on the now empty container.

"Thanks."

"Whatever. C'mon, let's hit the road."

About five minutes down the road, I was out like a light. I exhausted myself with the engine situation, and my thoughts on Dean. I honestly didn't know what to think of him. I loved that I hated him, but I hated that I loved him. It was plenty tiring.

About two hours later, I was awoken by the sound of a tractor trailer horn blaring. I hated sleeping on the road, but the one thing I hated more than that was being woken up on the road. Or woken up at all.

"Where are we?" I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Somewhere in Minnesota. You tired?" He smirked.

I looked over at him tiredly. "Fuck you and everything you stand for."

He chuckled. "I'll remember that."

I yawned and tried to go back to sleep. To my disappointment, my body wouldn't let me. Fuck this shit.

"Listen, Cas, I think we should... talk." Okay. Fuck this shit.

"Nope."

"Cas, we both have stuff we need to get off our chests. For you, it'll be mostly vulgar."

"Fuck yeah."

"Listen to me. What you've been doing over the years, it's not healthy. All the drinking, the smoking, the... the drugs. It'll be the death of you, Cas."

"Z."

He paused. "What?"

"It's Z. Not Cas."

"You can call yourself Strawberry Shortcake for all I care, but you'll always be Cas to me."

"What were you doing in Iowa?"

He sighed. "Just taking care of some business, that's all."

I scoffed. "Right. And you haven't been following me since I ditched?"

"Cas, I didn't know where the fuck you were. Nobody knew. You just vanished."

"Amazing what a little cash and a bus schedule can do."

"Cas, come on. What the hell happened, man? Where did you go?"

"Took the nearest bus to Indiana. It was... actually there that I started doin' crack. It was amazing, Dean. The way it made me feel... it was pure bliss." I smiled as I reminisced about my first snort. It was ecstasy.

"Why quit if it's so fuckin' fun then?"

My smile faded as I remembered what happened after four months of junkie life. The feeling of ecstasy was replaced by... terror. That feeling like... something was after me. Like I was being hunted. Something was gonna kill me. Gonna find me. Gonna find me.

The sound of Dean's voice snapped me back to reality. I realized I was hugging my knees to my chest, screaming at the top of my lungs. I looked all around me until my eyes met his.

"You okay?" He asked me.

He had pulled the car over to the side of the road, looking me in the eye. I wasn't sure if I was okay. I sincerely doubted it. I was fucking insane.

"F-fine." I stammered.

But I wasn't fine. I wasn't fine at all. And I was sure of one thing.

I needed my monster.