Dean stared at the walls that encased him, the 50 shades of beige adding to the wallowing reverie he found himself trapped in. His dreams, aspirations, future flung aside like how Sam delved into the bottomless black pit. He lay there still, hands clasped over his face as his facade of stability feigned in the face of the overpowering despair.

He was scared, the inevitability of sleep closing in like the demons outside the 4 walls and inside of him, they tormented him ripped him up, he'd rather said Yes to Michael then to live through this. Dean's eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion until they fully closed, the wave of nightmares were imminent, Hell was called it for a reason and the stench of death, fresh as it was, clung to his skin. The incessant screams, the 30 long years of unimaginable pain were nothing compared to the last 10 he kept vividly reliving. Dean's screams were muffled as his mouth kept closed in reality yet the nightmare never threatened to cease.

He woke startled; a cold sweat drenched his shirt. He grabbed it by the hem and discarded the piece of thin cloth that once snugly fit to his torso, not another fucking nightmare, he mumbled under his breath. He meandered around the room, topless, doubl-no triple checking the salt, the gun under his pillow, the knife under the sheets, the hastily drawn devils trap and the angel annoyer or AA he had so wittingly dubbed the sigils.

He sat back down on the bed, pushing his back onto the headboard, his legs tucked against his chest underneath his chin. It was for safety, that extra wall no matter how inconsequential between how he really feels and the thing trying to get closer to him. He closed his eyes momentarily again, the motel room still in his vision, he was frozen to the spot as the crescendo of tortured souls filled the room. Blood spilled out from beneath the mattress pooling on the floor, colouring everything a macabre crimson.

He realised it was terrifying dream when he was awoken by the stroking of his hair,

"Hey Cas," Deans voice unusually timid

"Dean," the bass-like tone resonated through the room, sending chills throughout his body, "are you cold?" as he noticed the breakout of goose-bumps.

"No, no I'm fine," Dean reached out his hand to stop Cas from picking up his shirt, to be honest he was comfortable as the older man raked his hands through his flaxen locks.

"No, I promised I'd look after you," he stood up, pulling off his trench coat and draping it across his shoulders.

"Thanks," Dean's voice reluctant in giving praise, they had become surprisingly close for a human and an angel.

"You're welcome," the room returned to silence briefly "nightmares?"

"Yeah," he sobbed "I can't help it, I remember everything. The pain I could endure, bu-but when I picked up that knife and started slicing...shit Cas!" his voice croaked as emotions took over "I felt powerful and oddly alone, then I come back with fate biting my ass. Sam's gone and no one will give answers, they either don't fuckin' know or don't wanna fuckin' tell me."

Cas' face drooped as he felt the unhealthy grudge radiate from the form that shivered beneath him "What can I do?" the utter turning into more of a sigh.

He knew the question was rhetorical but the constant probing and blatant dismissal continued to add to his festering rage,

"What do you fuckin' think?"

"No, need to be mean," the sadness crept in

"Oh, you're getting good at that," the conversation rising in volume "feelings, the last time I checked you don't have fucking feelings? You just copy other people, I mean come on, who do you think you are? You're not a proper angel by most standards and you fail as human. Pitiful."

"I know," utter defeat laced his words "but at least I know what I am, I don't try and pretend I'm not something else, I know what I've done."

"And what have you done?" he tried to stop himself but he couldn't keep away from the elephant in the room "Nothing that's what you've done, you couldn't find God and you couldn't rescue Sam. I've lost count the amount of times you've switched sides."

"You son of a bi-" Cas cut himself short, the sin of profanity looming on the tip of his tongue "I tried to do what I could, I searched every single day, I betrayed my father for you, I always thought you were a pitiful shell of a man Dean Winchester," this is the first time he's actually been angry, the thought crossed Deans mind "YOU are the one who gave up, YOU are the one who condemned your brother and YOU are the one who kicked this whole thing off. Blame yourself not me."

In that moment of time, it dawned on him, he'd gone too far. Dean's face contorted in a mixture of rage and hurt, he bit on his lip restraining the wrath that wanted to escape. He could taste the metallic blood that dripped onto his tongue; he wiped it off with his thumb and proceeded over to the door closing it to reveal the symbols previously hidden. Cas outstretched arms and voice disappeared in a whirlwind of light. Dean wandered over to the bed, the trench coat lying there as another piece inside of him died. He scrunched it into his hands and cried into the crème fabric as it darkened with salty clarity. Even though he was sheltered by the roof over his head, the sweet cinnamon smell of Cas would always be the shoulder he cries on, it would be his home.

~xXx~

Cas hadn't returned since the incident, Dean was fed up of waiting. He'd already cleared out the liquor cabinet and watched all the casa erotica on repeat, if I ever see another pair of oversized tits again...never thought I'd actually say that. He cleared the room wiping the marks that were dabbled on doors, walls and floors. He packed the duffle bag with his shotgun and the rosary beads that had been floating in the bathroom sink, before collecting Cas' coat folding it neatly and carefully on top.

The impala was parked just outside the door; he threw the bag onto the back seat and drove for what seemed like hours. The night and perpetual darkness broken by infrequent headlights that passed him on the asphalt.

After the loop of Metallica albums had ended for the countless time he pulled into a gas station to fill his baby up, buying whiskey in the classy brown paper bag, he'd always been a cheap date, not to mention a quick fuck. The tape crackled to life, the riffs of the guitar running up and down like the path he had chose to walk. He passed by a pair of crossroads before slamming on the breaks, he reversed sloppily up the road.

The liquid courage that fuelled his momentum when he dug up the middle of the road and buried the box, was wearing thin by the time the deed was done. He took another swig feeling the velvety burn caress every nerve in his body, tension released from his shoulders.

"Where are you bastard? Come out, come out wherever you are," his hard exterior flawed only by the giddiness that accompanied the, quarter full, glass bottle in his hand.

"Nice to see you Dean," her timbre dangerously alluring "come to bargain your soul again."

"Yeah, you see I wan-" a hiccup escaped from his swaying body "I want Sammy back."

"Oh, no can do sugar," the southern drawl adding to her condescending demeanour, "you see he's out of my reach in that little cage of his, do you expect me to bust him out? That costs more than your tiny soul, no matter how precious to the big man he is. You should just give up and get on with your life."

"No, no, you listen to me you son of a bitch! I wan-I need Sammy back...NOW!" he broke down his knees hitting the road beneath him, why the fuck am I crying again?!

"Shh sugar," he looked at her, he was begging to a demon, look how far you've fallen. "How about this, in two days, there's gonna be some demons in the town over. You kill them and come back to me, I'll consider it."

His eyes brimmed with misplaced hope, Demons lie Dean, he repeated the mantra over and over again in his head but he didn't listen, "Thank you."

He ran to the door of his car and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. He looked back at where she once stood to find an empty clearing. He sped off, the alcohol coursing through his blood, who cares if it's a fucking stupid idea.