"Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be peace when you are done.

Lay your weary head to rest,

don't you cry no more."

-Kansas

Castiel stared at Dean, trying to understand the information he'd just been given.

"Dean..." He croaked. What was he going to say? What could he say? Dean had just told him that he had the Mark of Cain. There's nothing you can say to that.

Cas felt a tear roll down his cheek. He knew there was nothing he could do.

"I know, Cas. I know." Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

"Why?" Cas struggled to push the sound through his lips. "Why would you do something like that? After all that's happened."

Dean sat down on the hood of the Impala, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

"I- I don't know, man. I thought-" Dean opened his eyes and stared straight at Cas. "I thought I could end it once and for all."

Cas sat next to the broken man and clasped his hands together.

"Please tell me you knew." Cas felt his voice shaking.

Dean nodded but didn't say anything as he ran a hand through his hair.

The two sat silently, staring out at the endless road in front of them.

"I wish," Dean started. "I wish things could've been different."

Cas nodded his head in agreement. He looked at the stars and remembered how he and the boys used to sit on the hood of the Impala and just stare silently at the stars. Better days, he thought.

Cas looked at Dean and tried to smile. "I promise you that I will fix this."

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas had already "zapped" away.

"I wish you could, Cas." Dean slid off the car and onto the ground before looking up at the sky again. "I really wish you could."

The church Castiel had taken himself to was dark and empty, but he didn't mind. It was exactly what he needed right then.

Cas walked up to the altar and knelt, hands clasping on the way down.

"Please..." Cas closed his eyes and slumped, hands falling into his lap half-clasped. "Please, just this once..." He looked up at the crucifix on the wall. "Help me."

He closed his eyes again and felt a rush of air and suddenly felt warm sun on his face.

Cas opened his eyes and tilted his head, eyes squinted at the sight before him.

Cas stood on a cliff that overlooked an ocean, sun warm and breeze softly bringing in the sea air. And seated on the edge of the cliff, his back to Castiel, was Chuck Shirley.

"Hello, Castiel." Chuck said, not looking back at the angel.

Cas looked at the man, squinting even harder.

"You gonna join me or what?" Chuck looked over his shoulder and smirked.

Cas tentatively walked forwards and slowly sat down with his legs hanging off like Chuck's.

"I should've known..." He grumbled, shaking his head.

Chuck laughed, deep but still with a hint of sadness. "Yeah, you should've."

He looked at Cas, his smile cracking. "You said you wanted help, Cas."

"I-" Cas looked at his hands, clasped together in his lap and sighed. "I just want them to be happy."

"Me, too." Chuck said simply.

Cas looked at him and frowned. Why would he do all this if he wanted them happy.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Chuck answered, seemingly reading his mind. "Just listen."

Cas shifted in his seat and looked intently at the man.

"I have a job for you."

Lawrence, Kansas, November 2, 1983

Mary Winchester woke to hearing her 4 year old screaming.

She quickly pulled on her robe, glancing at the clock that glowed "2:37" before running into the hall and through his door, flipping on the light as she went.

Little Dean was curled up as close to the wall as he could, crying and screaming.

"It's okay, it's okay. Shhh." Mary pulled her son into her lap and held him as he whimpered. "It was just a dream."

Mary heard her husband run up the stairs and the small *thump* of him catching onto the door frame.

"Is he okay?" John asked, catching his breath.

Mary just nodded as Dean started to mutter into her robe. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"M-m-me and S-s-sammy," he choked out in sobs. "We w-w-were in trouble and..." Dean looked up at his mother, still clutching her robe in both hands. "There was an angel watching over us. Just like you said."

Mary looked into son's wide, green eyes and smiled.

"What did he look like?" She whispered, conspiratorially.

"I'm gonna go check on Sam." John smiled and left so they could have their privacy.

"He was tall with blue eyes and he wore a trenchcoat!" Dean bounced up and down on his mother's lap, all fears forgotten.

Mary furrowed her brows. "Trenchcoat?"

Dean nodded excitedly. "Yeah, and he said he'd fix it."

"Fix what?" Mary tried to still her voice and push the memories of her past from her mind. Please let it just be a dream.

Dean tilted his head. "I don't remember. But... It scared me." He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his fists.

Mary held him close and stood before laying him back in his bed and covering him with his blankets.

"Well, it doesn't have to scare you anymore." She said, kissing his forehead and walking to the door.

"I love you, mommy." Dean mumbled sleepily.

"I love you, too." She flipped the lightswitch back down, smiling.

And just as she was turning her head, she thought she caught a glimpse of the angel Dean had described coming out of the corner and sitting on the chair at the end of Dean's bed. But as soon as she looked back, he was gone.

She walked down the hall to Sammy's nursery, shaking her head as if to clear it of the memories.

Johns Hopkins University, 22 Years Later

Dean Winchester had grown up seeing that angel everywhere he went. At the park, at school, at the church his mother took him to every Sunday when he was growing up, even at his High School graduation. But only when he was nervous or afraid or sad. And no one else ever saw him.

He would sometimes wake up at night from a nightmare and see him sitting on a chair or standing in the corner and smiling at him. Once in a while he would even whisper: "Go back to sleep. I'll watch over you."

As Dean got older, he began to think that the man wasn't real but instead was just something his imagination cooked up stemming from what his mother told him every night. "Angels are watching over you."

Walking across the university campus, Dean smiled at his childish thoughts. Angels weren't real, just a story his mother told him to help him sleep. And he hadn't seen the trenchcoat-clad man since before he left home for college.

His thoughts turned to his family: His brother was still in High School when Dean had been offered a full ride through Johns Hopkins, but now "little" Sammy was at the University of Michigan with a scholarship for their Automotive Engineering program where he'd met his girlfriend, Jess Moore, who had switched schools from Stanford.
Dean's father, John, still owned that old shop with his friend and was planning on retiring when Sam graduated and could take over for him.
And his mother, Mary. Dean had always gotten calls and letters from her while he was in school telling him how proud she was and how much she missed him. She was still that loving mother he'd always had and she'd only grown more beautiful with age. "Like fine wine," his father had said.

Dean had come to Johns Hopkins to be a surgeon but he'd switched professions for neonatologist after he'd learned how much he loved children and how comfortable they were with him.

The future looked bright, for everyone. But Dean still felt like he was missing something.

He couldn't place it, but he had a hole that he couldn't fill.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a scream that was quickly silenced by a growl of some sort.

Dean found himself suddenly racing towards the sound and into an alley where he found a man on the ground, his throat all but gone.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he spun around to see the man in the trenchcoat.

"You just couldn't stay away from hunting, could you?" The man smirked slightly.