It was days like these that Dean wished he wasn't a hunter.
Days that he actually looks at Bobby in his wheelchair, rolling through the house like it was the most natural thing in the world, when it wasn't and it was his fault that the old hunter was like that.
Days that he saw Cas staring out the window into the sky, blue eyes that were usually flat filled with such an expression of want and need that it was awkward to keep looking at the ex-angel, to witness the now-human mans moment of weakness.
Hell, even just having to see Crowley skulking around the salvage yard was enough to set him on edge. Sure, the King of Crossroads was helping them now, but he would never forget Ruby, and her supposed 'help'.
The worst of it was Sam, talking like they had a choice. Dean knew they didn't, knew it now that Gabriel was dead. An archangel was dead, defending them. He didn't even know if he should be thankful towards the annoying prick for helping them out, or be angry that he had died before they could really solidify their alliance. Sam, Sam, Sam. Soon to be Lucifer. He knew it, knew Sam would say yes. The boy had folded to temptation before, and although it was his baby brother, his Sammy he couldn't think of any reason that the man would resist for that long. Hell, he wanted to say yes, let Michael ride him like a damn bitch, wanted it just to end.
Instead they sat in Bobby's home, day after day, waiting for Death or Lucifer or the end to just come, in the mean time putting up a pretense of knowing what they were doing, putting up a pretense of 'We are going to find a way, are going to beat this', pretending that Adam hadn't just been in their lives again, for a brief night before he was ripped away once more.
He knew it was a lie.
It was only a matter of time.