A/N- I don't own supernatural, all credits and characters go to respective owners and CW. This is for entertainment purpose only, no infringement intended. It's a story I wrote after season 5, all errors are mine. Critiques are welcomed.
The man woke up at the break of dawn. He looked outside of the window where the neighborhood dog barks gleefully at anything or anyone passing by. The hoses turned on suddenly and he realized he woke up way too early. He hated waking up early, when his mind wanders beyond his control. His memory,grief and loneliness creeps up despite the apple pie life he is currently living, he felt dead. The shallow breathing next to him, the warmth radiating off another body, the big house in the suburb Kansas, none of them tethered him to this world, he is sickeningly lonely. But you see, he is dean Winchester, and a Winchester boy never breaks his promise to his family and he made a promise to his brother that he will leave him to rot in hell while he shall go ahead and live a normal happy life. How ironic and ridiculous it is he can't say, not to Sammy who was willing to sacrifice everything to avert the apocalypse. Sam had always been the noble one. He was fucking noble.
One of these days, Dean knows he is going to break. Especially at times like this when he woke up from a dream he had only a vague recollection of. A dream with monsters and demons, a dream that'd be terrifying for most people,yet is familiar and even endearing to him, a dream where he was back to back with his brother and trusted ally and fought against the supernatural evil sons of bitches. It was exhilarating. And then he came back to this reality with nothing and no body he can ever get close to and knowing he had lost everything for nothing...he wandered if this is how his trench coated angel felt when he rebelled against heaven for him.
Well, whatever, not like the angel pays attention to hairless ape like him anymore after he got beefed up and became the new sheriff in heaven. The fucking bastard hadn't even visited once. Dean knows he wasn't exactly the chatty company right after he lost his brother to lucifer, but can you blame the guy? He just lost the only blood he had in the world. But the angel should knew, he should had been there, invading his personal space and asking annoying questions, yet serves as the only reminder to the world dean had cut ties from that it wasn't all that bad.
Maybe, maybe if the angel stayed, Dean would have still hunted, it wasn't exactly the life Sammy made him promised but he'd be happy and Sammy would have forgave the little improvisation he made. Right? And...but there was no and, was there? Dean's hands were shaky as he reached for the vodka bottle hidden beneath his pillow in place of the colt and freezes when he heard, no, felt the presence, the bending of air and space behind him."Hello, Dean". He wanders if he had already broke.