Currently, Dean was on his own. Driving down a familiar Kansas highway, to God knows where. Normally bright green eyes were dulled as they watched the trees fly by them. He had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, still bruised and bloody from all the violence that occured tonight. All of him was bruised and bloody from tonight, but none of the blood was his. Flashes of Charlie and her disemboweled body flashed in his mind and he gripped the wheel tighter.

She was dead. Charlie Bradbury was dead.

"And it's all my fault." He whispered. "Why didn't you just give up the fucking book Charlie?"

Dean was tired. Just so fucking tired of it all. The job, the constant being on the road, the not having any real connections outside of his brother and a few select friends. Having the people he loved getting ripped away from him and Sam in the most horrific of ways. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Ash, Jessica, Kevin, SAM!

Charlie

And he was angry too, so fucking angry. Had been ever since he got the hikki of death on his arm. The massacre of the Styne Family had done nothing to sate it either. If anything it only increased it. And this was some normal anger that people feel when they T-boned by accident. This was a white-hot malicious rage that just burned inside his chest. Burning up everything that made him, him. It was something out of the fucking bible.

What Cas had said earlier played over and over in his head as he drove. "I'm the one that's going to have to watch you murder the world."

Dean knew he was right. Eventually that is what it will come too. Cain wasn't able to resist so why the hell would he be able to resist? One day he's going to snap and give in, or maybe it'll be over time. Either way, it's inevitable, so he'll do his best to minimize the damage. Isolate himself from people like Cain did. Maybe he'll find himself a nice cabin near a lake and just retire for the rest of eternity.

Dean nodded his head as he made up his mind. He was going to reti-

RING! RING!

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out. What the fuck now? He thought digging the phone out of his pocket. He was expecting Sam or Cas calling but the last thing he expected was to read John Constantine on the caller ID. "Why is he calling?" Then he pressed answer.

"John Constantine, you still smoking those cancer sticks?" He said in a southern drawl.

"Heh. If I die from cancer after all the shit I've been through, well that means I've won." A british voice that practically ripped swagger answered.

On any other day Dean would've smirked and kept up the banter, but he wasn't in the mood right now. He's not sure he'll ever be in the mood for it again. Instead he cut straight through the bullshit, and got to business. "What do you want John?"

The wandering magic man doesn't call unless he wants something. Whether its information or equipment. He never calls the Winchesters for a social call.

John was silent and then, "I need to ask you a favor mate."

"No." Was the immediate reply.

"Good-wait what? What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, Constantine. I'm done with this horseshit call someone else with whatever favor you need." He sighed into phone.

Apparently John couldn't quite process what he was hearing. "You. Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester. You're done with hunting?"

"Yes John I'm done. Now goodbye." He moved to hang up the phone.

"Wait! Wait! Just hear me out, mate. This is about life and death here." He explained hastily.

Dean stopped, halfway to pressing the end button. He'd heard that line of a million times in his years hunting. Tiredly he said, "It's always life and death in our kind of work John."

Ain't that the fucking truth.

Either oblivious to Dean's depressing tone or ignoring John continued on. "Yeah but it's different now. This is a bit of a "save the world" situation here. Isn't that you and brother's thing? Your the guys that save the world."

"Save the world?" Dean repeated. It was confusing, Dean hadn't heard of any apocalypses lately. He was usually on top of stuff like that. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oooh so now you wanna know mate? Are you willing to listen or are you to thick headed for that?"

"The only thing too thick understand is your accent Johnny English, now tell me what the fuck is going on." Dean demanded.

"Well an old friend of mine is up against a jack off named Damien Darhk…"