On Friday, Dean was old.

Or, at least he thought so.

Small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, marks around his lips -Sam had called them 'laughing-lines', though Dean found it hard to recall any time he had laughed hard enough to leave crinkles- and he was getting slower. He seemed to be the only one who noticed this, as his brother rolled his eyes at him whenever he tried to talk about it. Dean tried to get himself in better shape, tried to keep his agility and strength. His strength was never lost of course, and he still had to best senses, but his agility was becoming quite rusty. That could have been from the fact that the Winchester had stopped hunting and there really was no need for such skills anymore, but Dean was sure it was because he was getting old. Forty-two...it was such a big number in his mind. In a few years he'd be fifty, then eighty, maybe even get to a hundred. So he kept training; running, jumping, stabbing, climbing. Anything he could do, he'd do it.

But the main reason he honed his skills, was to keep his family safe.

Yes, Dean had an actual family. Not a group of close-knit friends, no. He had a wife -a very pregnant wife at that- a home, a dog, and a life. There were no monsters, or vampires, or demons. No heaven and hell, no angels, no nothing. He still had his fake ID's, plus his guns and knifes hidden under the Impala's hood, but that was the only reminder that yes, he had once been a hunter, and yes, he was no where near normal. And also the hand-shaped burn mark on his shoulder from a certain angel he hadn't seen in years. His wife, Amy, asked about that quite a lot, but Dean gave small mumbled excuses, or the usual "I don't want to talk about it". She never asked or pried about his past, though she did know it had been rough. Dean was in no hurry to tell her everything about his history, as he wasn't quite sure how she would handle the idea of her husband once being a man who hunted monsters who were supposed to hide under childrens beds, being ripped apart by hell hounds, being raised from perdition by a holy tax accountant, starting the apocalypse, stopping the apocalypse, and everything else. And Sam wouldn't be too happy with him if he told Amy that he was filled with demon blood.

Fingers tapping the arm of his chair lightly, Green eyes wandering around the grassy fields dotted with houses, Dean sighed. The sky was blue and clear, the air was fresh and crisp, and the sun was warm and bright. He didn't smile though, simply watched the land before him with a solemn expression. The door creaked beside him, and he turned his head to see the face of Amy. Hazel eyes met his own, followed by a bright smile that graced her oval-shaped face. She looked extremely weary, but Dean could expect no less from a woman carrying a baby. Dark black hair pulled into a very messy bun, she absently blew at a strand that had strayed onto her forehead as she sat down carefully onto the bench where Dean sat. Amy rested a hand on her stomach, looking at the large bulge before letting her soft gaze return to her husband. Finally, the ex-hunter let a grin tug at the corners of his lips, and gently placed his own hand down upon her belly. He felt the movement inside her womb, half-lidded eyes widening slightly. A kick. Glancing between Amy and her stomach, he nearly jumped as another kick, stronger than the last, hit his palm with force. Whoever was inside there was either ready to break out and kick his ass, or simply very happy to see him.

Hopefully it was the latter.

On Saturday, Caroline was born.

Amy's water broke at two a.m., they had arrived at the hospital at two thirty five a.m., and after two hours in labor, the babe had finally come out to join the world of the living. Dean hovered protectively over his wife and child as they laid in the hospital bed, bags under the woman's eyes, but the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen graced her face when those big green eyes opened up wide. They were breathtaking, those eyes. Dean reached out his left hand, trying to stroke her little bald head, though it was hard to and he ended up having to move to the other side of the bed to do so. Amy had literally crushed his hand during the birth, a clean cotton bandage around it that hid the finger-shaped bruises forming on his palms. Sammy had called, and would arrive in the next five minutes to see his little niece. But time wasn't really something Dean thought about right now. No, as he looked down at Amy and Caroline -his family- all thoughts flew out of his mind, and a strange peace came over his body. She was just so small, and frail, and beautiful. He'd never seen something so amazing in his entire life, and he'd seen many things. The light touch on his arm alerted him of Amy slowly, carefully handing their child to him. Cautious, almost nervous, Dean put the babe into his arms and looked down at his daughter. Technically, this was his second daughter, which was very strange to think about at the moment knowing Sam had been the one to kill his first and he was currently on his way over.

But he hadn't felt such love for the first as he felt now. Little lips parted slightly as those green eyes took him in, and Dean did the same in return. He began to memorize everything about her; the small, curly hint of hair on her forehead, her little chubby cheeks, those grabby hands, that tiny smile. He let her clasp onto his finger, letting out a breathless laugh. "Hey there." His voice was barely above a whisper, but instantly she responded. Caroline bit into his finger, though it was more slobbery than painful considering she had no teeth and all gum. Dean heard echoing footsteps, but didn't bother to look up. Nothing could distract him right now. Only a touch to his shoulder brought him back to the real world. Looking up, Sam's dimpled grin greeted him. His brother loomed over him as he always did, being the giant he was. Dean turned to fully face Sam, carefully holding out the baby. "Look Sammy...I'm...I'm a dad..." For some reason he could not explain, his voice came out as raspy wisps. The word 'dad' now seemed foreign on his tongue, but Dean would get used to the title. Sam nodded enthusiastically, combing his fingers through his hair as he began to ramble about something. Dean couldn't really hear him all that well, his voice fading out slowly as Dean began to study his child again.

A sudden chill down his spine made him look around, eyes landing onto the window of the door. A figure, with messy brown hair, a five o'clock shadow, and a trenchcoat stood outside.

Dean stood stiff.

...Cas...?

He blinked.

And suddenly, the figure was gone. Nurses bustled about through the hall, not seeming to take notice of the vacant space where a man used to be. His brows scrunched together as he stared at the spot intensely. He could have sworn-

"...and you're a- Dean, you okay?"

Shaking his head, the ex-hunter and new father shooed the thoughts away. "I think I just-" No, he had been daydreaming. He'd gotten up too early and was in desperate need of a coffee and a burger. He looked to his concerned brother with a smile, nodding his head. "I'm fine Sammy. I'm fine. Just...I mean..." He let out a long puff of air through his nostrils, gazing down at the sleeping Caroline in his arms. "I've got a baby." He suddenly froze. He had a baby. He had a baby. He had come to that realization just now, that this little squirming thing in his arms was a part of him. "Shit Sammy...I've got a baby!" He nearly screamed the words, though quickly quieted himself down at the whine Caroline produced. Sam only laughed at his brothers fright, patting his shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You'll be a great dad, I know it." He reassured the nervous Dean.

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean looked away. "I guess." Shifting uncomfortably, the new father quietly walked over to Amy, who reached out eagerly for her child. Leaning over, her rested a kiss on her damp forehead before taking Sam by the arm and leading him out of the room. "Now come on Sammy, let's go to the cafeteria. I heard they had great pudding here." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, chuckling softly. "Maybe if we're lucky there'll still be some pie there. Though, between you and me, I saw this fat dude come in earlier and I'm pretty sure he devoured everything." Dean smirked at seeing his brother try to muffle a bubble of laughter rising in his throat, taking a moment to look behind his shoulder, chest tightening at the flash of deep, mellow blue eyes, and the distant rustle of wings.

On Sunday, Dean was Mr. Mommy.

Caroline was getting big, two years old now, and was getting a bit hard to handle. It didn't help that Dean had been called back to hunting once more after an incident with some angry demons near his area, and Amy was left to care for their child by herself most of the time. He'd told her -lied to her- that he had found a very challenging job that required him to travel quite a bit. She didn't mind at first, or at least he thought she hadn't, but after three weeks of him randomly appearing and disappearing, she had blown up in a fiery rage, telling him that he couldn't do this to her, that she needed a break, that he would see what it was like to be the caretaker twenty-four-seven. So he accepted the challenge, letting her buy tickets to Florida for her own little 'getaway'. Dean had thought it would be easy, as all he had to do was feed Caroline, bathe her, and tuck her in. Oh, how wrong he had been. Constantly, she was asking him to play, begging him for the toys that flashed on the tv in her gibberish language, and managing to get through the locks on the drawers and eating everything there was, once even getting into his beer. He wasn't planning on telling Amy he'd gotten their kid drunk.

But there were fun times in it, like now for example. He was sitting on the ground, legs folded Indian-style as he watched Caroline lay on her belly and doodle obscure shapes with different colored crayons. Most of them Dean couldn't make out, most of them squiggles and dots, though Caroline said that the gray blob on her paper was a 'doggy'. Dean only complimented her work, distantly running the crayon around between his fingers and staring at the paper in front of him. He was thinking about the demons again, though he should have been concentrating on something less miserable around his daughter. Sam had told him he would be fine on his own, that he could take care of whatever mangy hell monster crawled up from the pit. But being a Winchester, nothing was ever 'easy', and he worried for his little brother. What if he got hurt? What if Lucifer rose again? It wasn't a nice thing to think about, and the older Winchester tried to shake the thoughts away. Caroline provided as a good distraction, as she suddenly shoved a piece of paper into his face.

"Ca'!"

The strange word was not new to Dean. He'd heard it thousands of times before, and knew it now as her imaginary friend. He didn't know what it was: a furry purple monster, a giant cat, he didn't know. She always said that he had the best smile though, and that was all he really knew about 'Ca', whoever or whatever it was. Dean took the picture into his hands, screwing his eyes together to try and figure out exactly what the picture was of. A pink blob with olive dot coated with streaks of brown indicated that it was Caroline herself. But what was next to her...well, Dean hadn't a clue. A strange circle with two blue dots he assumed were eyes in the middle, what looked like a cows -possibly a bulls?- head on one side, though he could hardly tell as it was a squiggly brown thing with two horns and a pair of blue dots -eyes again. Yet another head on the other side, this one looked like a demented horse with black stripes. Was it a...zebra...? Yeah, it looked something like it. A rather long neck, two arms, one large stick hand holding Caroline's own. A scribbled cloth of some sort covered its lower half, but what caught Dean were the big, black wings on the creatures back. They were crudely drawn yes, but Dean could easily recognize them as wings. "Is that Ca'?" He questioned softly.

Caroline nodded excitedly, pointing to the thing on the paper with a chubby finger. "Ca' Ca'! He big-big! Like U'cle Sammy!" She said spreading her arms out wide as to show exactly how big the thing was. Dean gave her a smile, looking back to the paper. It was only a drawing, nothing he should honestly be worried about. But there was just something about it...

Throwing away the thoughts, Deans stomach grumbled loudly. It was soon accompanied by Caroline's own low growls from her small stomach. Grinning, Dean scooted towards her. "Our bellies are telling us to get some grub Carrie. What do you think it would like best, bacon cheeseburgers or spaghetti?" Knowing they were her two favorite meals, it wasn't much of a surprise that the two year old exploded with excitement, knocking over toys and making papers fly into the air as she shot up from her sitting position and ran around.

"Cheesy cheesy cheesy cheesy bug'rs!"

On Monday, Amy screamed.

Dean had been sleeping rather peacefully, but fell right out of bed when he heard that high-pitched shriek. Eyes adjusting to the dark immediately, Dean flew the blankets off of his body and in the next few seconds had a knife in one hand and holy water in the other, flying down the stairs. It had gone deathly silent when he had reached the bottom of the steps, the only sound was rough breathes. The small patter of feet made him look back up the staircase, heart beating fast as he saw a very frightened and confused Caroline at the top of the steps. "Get back to your room Caroline." Dean growled lowly. She shrunk back. Muscles tensing at the echo of footsteps coming from the kitchen, the hunter feared for his wife. "Caroline, get to your room NOW!" Without hesitation the little three year old scrambled back into her quarters, slamming the door hard as the sound of a lock clicking relieved Dean for a moment. He'd taught her well.

Head whipping back towards the kitchen, the sound of footsteps seemed to stop. It was too dark to see now, the cold floor under his bare feet making a shiver go down his spine. The only thing that illuminated the dark was the dim light of the open refrigerator, and that only made Dean more cautious. It felt like something out of a horror movie -but then again, Dean's life was practically a horror film series in itself. Slowly, he walked towards the kitchen entrance, pressing himself on the wall outside of the doorway. Breathing out slowly, he gripped the knife tight in his hands, and leaped into the kitchen. The lights suddenly went on as he entered, though they flickered, some even sparking before they burned out, though enough were still on to allow him to see the mess of his kitchen. The milk was pouring out on the floor, creating a white pool on the wood. A bowl of fruit was shattered on the ground, a few shards caught into on of the oranges, the rest of the fruits rolling around uselessly. The frying pan was laying on the floor -several of them, actually- along with a loaf of bread and several cups. Thankfully, most of them had been plastic cups, so there wasn't many glass shards on the ground.

But Dean wasn't paying attention to that, he was scrambling towards his fallen wife.

Amy had a nasty bruise on her forehead and a cut on her lip, but other than that she was fine. He checked her pulse, putting two fingers to her mouth to feel her warm breath. Holding her head in his hands, he looked to his left. He had seen the sight many times before in many different places, and they always looked the same. It was a dead body, male, with balding ginger hair, a round beer-belly, and beefy hands that were twisted the wrong way. Bruises were forming on the demons wrists, looking a lot like the shape of someone's hands. But what caught Dean was the monsters face. He was sure Amy couldn't have killed a man, more or less a demon, and the thing had most likely knocked her out before she even got to fight it off. But what Dean saw only confirmed his thoughts. It's eyes were burned out, black marks around his opened mouth. He knew only one creature who could do such a thing, and silently looked up to the ceiling. The lights flickered once more. But Dean didn't have time to think about the burned demons eye sockets or the flickering lights as he quickly snatched the phone off the table next to him, dialing in a number as quickly as he could and putting the device up to his ear. "Sam, I need you to get here now. No, I won't give you five more minutes. You need to get her right now."

On Tuesday, the world fell apart.

Sam and Bobby had come over, it was a warm summers day, and Dean was having a barbeque. A few of their surrounding neighbors had joined their small party, other cautious of the Winchesters next door. After the demon attack, things hadn't quite been the same. Sam had decided it was better he moved closer to his brother in case another attack happened -after all, they were still the number one target for most demons- and the police were still not buying Deans story after two years. He'd quickly conjured a story of how a crazy guy broke into their house, knocked out Amy with a frying pan, fought Dean a little, and proceeded to burn his eyes out with a lighter he had in his pocket. It was absolutely absurd, but it was the only thing he could come up with at the time. It was really hard to think with Amy practically screaming in his ear and clawing at his arms. He'd managed to calm her down when he said Caroline was okay. But now Sam and himself were driving around the perimeter of their small woodland area, keeping a look out for anything; demons, ghosts, ghouls, even angels. Sam had been more than suspicious when he'd heard Deans true story. Their heavenly companion hadn't shown his face in years, and Sam was sure he wasn't back just to say 'Hi'. Angels always had some reason to meddle with them.

But Dean wished that the angel had shown up that day. They had been grilling the burgers, happy and hungry from the delicious fumes from the meat. Bobby was laughing with one of his neighbors, a beer in his hand. Amy was sitting in a cushioned seat, a content smile on her face as she watched younger Winchester play with her child. Caroline was tiny compared to her giant uncle, even when Sammy was on his hands and knees. Her short, light brown hair bounced on her shoulders as she laughed, riding on the older mans back as he pretended to be a horse. Dean thought he looked more like a moose, in all honesty. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining bright and the sky a beautiful shade of blue, not a single cloud in the sky. The grass was lush and green, and the old golden Labrador Dean had dubbed as Buddy was rolling in it blissfully, getting green stains on his back as he trotted back over to the crowd. Dean looked around at the peaceful scene, and smiled. Nothing could ruin a day like this.

Or, at least he'd thought.

Before he could even turn around, Sammy let out a yelp and Bobby's beer smashed onto the ground as it slipped out of his hands. Buddy barked, whining and whimpering as he backed away. And the man wished he hadn't turned around. He'd wished he'd stayed frozen, now only wanting to watch the burgers catch fire then to watch his daughter. She'd puked up blood. It was staining the grass a disgusting brown color, a few splatters of red on the back of Sam's shirt. But his younger brother didn't seem to notice, staring at the little girl who'd once been on his back in shock. Caroline tried to cry out, but it came out as a muffled gurgle as she threw up more of the warm, thick, slimy, crimson substance. Amy was at her side at once, patting her back as her own body shook with fear. Bobby was already dialing 911, while the neighbors that had come were trying to help Caroline in any way they could. But Dean simply stood there, eyes wide and jaw tight. He didn't notice the lights of the ambulance as it arrived, and barely realized he was riding in the vehicle with his daughter and wife until the little five year old finally managed to scream out above her bloody vomit.

The hunter couldn't make out the words, but he quickly came to the side of her stretcher. He held her hand, watching her shake as those big green eyes looked into his. The man wasn't quite sure what he said to her, "It'll be okay", "You're fine", "Don't cry". But he knew this wasn't okay, that she wasn't fine, and she had every damn right to cry. The nurse suddenly pushed him out of the way to press her gloves hands around Carolines stomach. The little girl protested against this, kicking and screaming in pain.

Dean numbly held onto Amy, who had somehow managed to cling onto him through the bumpy ride. He covered his wife's eyes by curling his body around her protectively as the nurse began to collect the bloody vomit in a bucket. In an instant, Dean was sitting in the waiting room of the Hospital, feet tapping the clean floors and fingernails scratching into the wooden armrests of his chair.

Where was an angel when you needed one?

On Wednesday, Caroline died.

It had been stomach cancer -Dean couldn't help but feel a bit of irony at that- or at least the doctors had said. The hunter didn't believe it at first, was sure that it was some demon, possibly even heaven, coming and getting its revenge. He'd tried everything; excorcims, chants, potions, charms, psychics, anything he could think of. He'd even prayed when he couldn't do anymore, when Bobby and Sam told him it was enough. He prayed to God, to Cas, to anyone, to heal his baby girl, let her live. He begged, every damn night, that they would spare her. She was too young, she'd barely began living! She'd never go to high school, never get her first car, nor her first kiss -though Dean was rather happy about that one. She'd never graduate, never marry, never have children of her own. All because they hadn't seen the signs of the cancer coming. Dean wanted to pummel the doctor they took Caroline to before, blaming that idiotic man for not seeing it. He had to put his anger on something, and that man was the only thing he could think of. Besides Castiel.

The angel was never there when he needed him. And Dean knew he was actually there, watching, waiting. For what, he didn't know, and didn't care. The next time he saw that scruffy angel in that shitty trenchcoat, he'd beat him to death. He didn't care if he broke both his hands in the process, he'd try his hardest to pound down on that infuriating blank face. Eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at the floor of the Hospital, tears openly coming down from his eyes and wetting his cheeks. Dean didn't care if people saw him crying, he didn't care what they thought. His little girl -once so full of life- was dead. His lips trembled as strangled sobs came from his throat, remembering the way she used to scramble around the kitchen floor, the way she used to count all the stars at night before she went to sleep, the way she always asked him to check her closet for monsters.

His gruff hands swept over his face as he growled, combing his fingers through his hair as he stamped his foot down hard onto the ground.

Of course it had to be the monster he couldn't protect her from that killed his little Caroline.

Looking up, Dean saw a doctor coming his way. Hands gripped tightly onto a clipboard, he looked at Dean with a sympathetic expression. "You're wife said she was going to her sisters house." Dean numbly nodded. The doctor cleared his throat. "If you'd like...would you like to, um, see your daughter?"

The hunter looked up at the doctor with red, watery, puffy eyes. "Y-Yeah." He choked out. The doctor grabbed him by the shoulder, gently helping him get up off the seat. Dean didn't pay much attention to where they were going, though knew they'd turned down eight corners now. The doctor finally let go of his shoulder, pausing at the door in front of the two. Dean twitched slightly at the soft look the doctor gave him. He didn't need the guys sympathy, he didn't need anything from him. Dean, not waiting for the doctors mouth to open, pushed past the man and into the room. It's rather white and clean, and the hunter is unfazed by the smell. He'd smelled death before, too many times to count. But his eyes were hard as he watched the doctor slowly moved about the room, stopping at one metal table. A lumpy cloth had been placed over something; Dean already knew what it is. Readying himself for the sight, Dean sucked in a breath. The doctor gently lifted the white sheet off of the body, revealing the pale face of Caroline. Her eyes were closed, her chubby cheeks no longer the rosy shade of red they once were.

Dean can barely hold in his emotions as he approached the table. Gently, he put a hand on her cheek. He almost recoiled from how cold it was. The doctor cleared his throat once more. "I'll leave you alone...you have fifteen minutes." Dean heard the clicking of the doctors shoes as he left, the door slowly shutting behind the man. And suddenly all the rage and frustration, sadness and grief come out of him. He tried not to pound his fists down on the metal table, not wanting to disturb Carolines small form. He leaned down, brows scrunched together as he kissed her forehead gently. Her skin was so cold...it wasn't right. Her light brown locks lay around her head, and Dean slowly carded his fingers through them. It would be the last time he would be able to do so.

Dean barely noticed the slight flutter of wings, already leaning over his dead childs body, letting his tears drop onto her unnaturally white skin. It wasn't until he heard a small sigh behind him did he whip his body around, still curling protectively over the small girls body. In front of him stood another man, a bit shorter than himself, with messy brown hair, a backwards tie, a dirty trenchcoat, and looked in need of a shave. His blue eyes were filled with concern and sadness at Deans current state; face red, cheeks wet, shirt buttoned oddly, and breathing turned into rugged pants for air. Castiel took a step forwards. "Dean, I-"

He didn't get out much else before the man lunged forwards and tackled him, sufficiently knocking him down onto his back. There was a savage look in the hunters eyes, expression pained and sorrowful. "You bastard! You could've saved her! You could've helped her!" He growled out, tone low and menacing. He resisted the urge to shout, that would bring unwanted attention. Dean looked straight into those blue eyes, breathing out heavily. "But you did nothing." He hissed. "You just stood by and watched as she died. It was so much easier that way, wasn't it? It would have taken a lot of effort to actually do something. I'm sure you've got a lot more important busines to deal with though, huh?" Dean had pushed himself off the angel by now, standing at his full height. Castiel was slowly getting to his feet, and the two men were nearly nose to nose by now.

The angel backed away, knowing that Dean liked to have his 'personal-space'. "I couldn't intervene Dean. It was just meant to happen..." Castiel trailed off from there.

The man could barely contain himself at the moment. "Just meant to happen? It was 'just meant to happen?' What the hell 'Cas, I mean really!" Dean threw his hands into the air. "Why does my life have to be so horrible?! First I'm the freaking vessel for Micheal, then I'm trying to stop the Apocolypse and trying to save the world, and even after all that crap I'm not done! I've dealt with gods, and demons, and angels, and heaven, and hell, and everything bad anyone could ever imagine! I just wanted some peace, I thought the sob story part of my life was over! But-I just-I-!" Sobs finally crept up his throat, his eyes filling with tears again. He could barely see the blurry angels frustrated expression as he cried.

"You think I didn't try to stop it?! I watched over her Dean! The moment she crept into the womb, I was there watching over her! I was there the moment she took her first breath, I was there when she took her first step outside, making sure it was safe! You didn't see me, but I was there." The angels deep gravely voice was was beginning to soften from his loud tone. "I even revealed myself to her...talked to her...she saw me as I was. She saw-"

Dean faltered. "Wait- are you telling me she saw you? Like the real you?" He questioned slowly, his anger beginning to rise again.

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

The the hunter paused. "Caroline...could see angels...? How did you know?"

The angel shifted about. "I...didn't know for sure, but..."

Dean exploded. "You risked burning my kids eyes out?! You wanted to make her blind?! What if she couldn't see angels, what then? 'Oopsie-daisy, my mistake! She'll just have to live without her sight forever!'" The man was seething with rage. The angel backed away slightly, clearly seeing that Dean was in no mood to be reasoned with.

But Castiel tried to anyways. "But she was fine! I tested it out before I revealed my full form to her, and Caroline didn't even feel a burning sensation. I was her friend for some time Dean, she told me many things. Most of them were about ponies and butterflies, but she did tell me much about you." Dean tensed up more. 'Ca? That had been Cas all along? Caroline's innocent little imaginary friend had been the high-and-mighty angel? It was rather hard to wrap his brain around it. Castiel continued. "Dean...you couldn't have done anything. You were a wonderful father, and I know you would've done anything to stop this...but..." The angel sucked in a breath. "I was there, you know. Always watching. Protected you from the demons that sought you out. I was always watching Dean. Always." Dean lowered his gaze to the ground. Yeah, he was thankful that 'Cas had been there, but he wasn't going to forgive him anytime soon. A hand was placed gently upon his shoulder. "I would've done-"

"Get out."

The angel recoiled at the mans dark tone. "What?" He blinked.

Slowly, the hunter returned to his place beside the metal table where his child lay. "I said: Get. Out. As in leave. I don't want to hear anymore apologies 'Cas. I don't want to hear another damn word that comes out of your mouth." His shoulders shuddered slightly as he curled his body over the small little girls own cold one. "Don't try coming back to me 'Cas. Unless you've got some miracle up your sleeve that'll bring her back to life, I don't want to hear it." Castiel opened his mouth. "And I swear, if you spout one more excuse about 'how it was meant to be', I'll stick an angel blade right down your throat." Dean said nothing more. He didn't have to, didn't want to.

He heard Castiel standing there, heard his soft breathing. He didn't turn around though, just looked down at his baby. His little, innocent baby.

He knew his fifteen minutes were up when the doctor walked in, not even realizing what had gone on.

Castiel had left long before the man even touched the doorknob.

On Thursday, Dean was at the park.

He didn't exactly remember how he'd gotten there, but didn't pay that detail any mind. Hunched over on the bench he sat on, he watched as the small children played on the playground. His green eyes watched them not with softness nor amusement, instead a steely expression on his stone face. Things had only gotten harder after Caroline died. They'd gotten her cremated -a hunter habit, he supposed- but life didn't go on as it should have. Amy wasn't the woman he'd married, nor he the man she had married. They were both colder, hearts suddenly turned to stone. Dean went to the bar most of the time, trying to forget his troubles and drown them in the sweet alcohol that always burned his throat. Amy soon went to go live with her sister permanently, saying "she couldn't live in that house anymore, it held too many reminders of...her". It pained Dean that she couldn't even say her own daughters name any longer, the mere sight of the word causing her to break down into awful fits. So Dean was left alone at the house he'd grown to love, or once loved, with their golden Labrador Buddy to keep him company. Sam always came over, constantly checking on his older brother to see if he was okay. The younger Winchester had confiscated most of his weapons, fearing Dean would try something reckless. The hunter didn't blame him; Dean didn't even trust himself with a knife anymore.

Even after six months, he wasn't getting over her death. So many loved ones had died, and he'd always moved on. But this...this had been his breaking point. His neighbors tried to give him their condolences, but he quickly shoved them away. Again, he didn't need anyone's sympathy, he didn't need anyone telling him that 'I know what you're going through'. No, they didn't know what he was going through. That didn't have a damn clue as to what he was going through. But Deans mind was rather blank as he sat in the park, watching as a few people jogged, listening to their music, some moms exchanging advice about how to care for their children. Dean remembered when he'd been sucked into one of those conversations at the park before, the extreme awkwardness of it all. At the recollection of the memory, he almost smiled. Key word being almost. He didn't really smile anymore either, feeling there really wasn't any reason to be happy. His wife was gone, his daughter was gone, his life was gone. He was an empty shell, filled only with nothing but grief and anger. Oh, so much anger. He wasn't even sure what the anger was for, but all he knew was that he had a boiling rage bubbling in his stomach. Sighing quietly to himself, he looked over to his left. Maybe there was a burger place nearby. He was quite famished.

Though his blank, green eyes didn't find a fast-food joint, only the sight of a very familiar angel sitting beside him.

Castiel was far on the other side of the bench, looking at Dean with something near pity and fear. Probably from the last time they'd met up. The hunter instantly froze up before snarling at the man in the trench coat beside him. "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was rather hollow and a bit raspy. Dean hadn't used it in quite a while other than sighing and giving short answers to his therapist -it had been Sams idea, not his.

The angel, elbows on his knees and fist under his chin, looked at Dean with a solemn expression. The fear and pity had evaporated. "This is a dream Dean. Although I know you would like to hurt me, please, let me speak first." Deans hands were instantly at the angels throat. Dream or not, he was still going to beat the living crap out of Castiel for invading his mind after he specifically requested -not requested, threatened- for the angel to keep away from him. Mellow blue eyes stared into his own fiery green ones. "If you wish me not to speak, let me show you..." He sounded out of breath, and his words came in short wisps. Dean wasn't surprised -he was literally crushing his throat beneath his hands. He didn't care what Castiel had to show him, he didn't care. All he wanted, needed to do was-

"Daddy?"

Deans grip instantly loosened. His eyes widened. He knew that voice. He knew that voice by heart. But- no, no, it couldn't be. She was...he knew she was...

He quickly let go of the angels neck to turn his body around fully. His mouth hung open as he stared at the sight in front of him. A little girl, only looking about five, stared at him with large green eyes. Her light brown hair hung on her shoulders, a delighted expression on her chubby face. Rosy cheeks, a beautiful smile, and creamy skin -Dean already knew who this was. He had known the second he heard her voice, the second he turned to see her. Though he'd never seen her dressed the way she was. A perfectly white dress, embroidered with little white flowers, went down to her knees. She wore no shoes, her little toes digging into the ground slightly. But he was quite startled by the feathery, golden wings protruding from her shoulder blades, calmly at her sides at the moment. But he didn't care if she had grown a second head Dean was so happy. He was off the bench in half a second, crouching to the ground and embracing her in a tight hug. His hand held her head against his shoulder, fingers feeling those soft locks once more. He could hear her breathing, those soft puffs of air tickling his ear. He laughed -the first time in a long time- as he held her close, just wanting to hold her forever. The wings stretched out slightly in surprise from the sudden tight grip, but soon relaxed once again to her sides. Dean just held her to his chest for a long time, laughing, smiling, and crying all at once. He didn't say a word, though he wanted to say so much. "I missed you", "I love you", "Come back to me", "Don't leave me". He wanted to say so much, but he remained silent.

Caroline, feeling the wet drops on her back, tried to get a glimpse of her fathers face. "Daddy? Why're you crying daddy? Are you sad daddy?"

Finally, Dean pulled away. He stared at her face, memorizing it in detail in a way he hadn't done since she had been born. He smiled a gentle smile, his breath finally returning to his chest. "No sweetie. I'm not sad. These are happy tears." He gripped her by the shoulders tightly, as if she would evaporate into the air if he ever let her go. "Daddy's just so happy you're back." He whispered, and placed a kiss on her forehead. Caroline giggled, still rather confused. Her daddy was so silly.

Caroline grabbed Deans hand, pulling him up to his full height. "Daddy, can I go play on the playground Daddy? Can I? Can I please?" Dean hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't ever want to let her out of his sight ever again. But those big, pleading, puppy-dogs eyes could not be resisted, and he gave her a smile. It wasn't a real smile, one of the fakest he'd ever given anyone. He nodded his head, and she went bounding over to the slides. Dean watched her play with the other children, knowing they were only figments of his own mind. This was a dream after all. Everything here was fake. Though he desperately hoped that Caroline was real.

The soft breathing to his right made him look over. Castiel was by his side once more. "She is real Dean." He reassured him, easily reading his thoughts. Dean looked the angel over again, eyes widening a bit. Nothing had changed about Castiel's clothing, everything was the same. It was simply the big, black wings on Castiels back that caught him off guard. He'd never seen the angels wings -shadows of them, yes, but never the real thing- and quickly took them in. They were much larger than Carolines own, much more ruffled, and a bunches of feathers missing here and there. They batted slightly as Dean stared at them before his gaze returned back to the angels face.

He was not staring at the hunter, instead just looking into the open space with thought. "I'm sorry I could not bring her back Dean. I truly am. I thought for months of how I could gain your trust again, until Caroline passed me by." His baritone voice was easing into a soft, low tone. "She said she wanted to see you Dean, asked me to bring her to you. Her own heaven gave her you Dean, but she knew it was only a shadow, a simple clone. She wanted to see the real you again Dean, and knew how badly you wanted to see her." He sighed, looking to his left. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to bring her to you...I was being monitored by the other angels. They thought you would...'corrupt' her pure spirit even further. Said you would only give her grief. That she was fine in her paradise." Castiel finally looked back to Dean. "I've broken the rules so many times for you before. I thought that one more time wouldn't hurt."

Through teary eyes, Dean smiled. He slowly wrapped his arms around the angels neck, burying his head into Castiels shoulder. No tears came from his eyes, but his body trembled. With excitement or sadness, he didn't know, and never truly would know. All he knew was that there was always one person upstairs he could count on, no matter what. "Thank you 'Cas...you have no idea what this means to me."

The angel smiled. A tiny smile, but a smile all the same. He was glad to have made his friend pleased.

And for that night, Dean played with his little girl for one last time, happy, bissful, free.

And then he woke up.