"Dean," Sam said exasperated, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, "you should've agreed. I told you; there is nothing we can do. It's what everyone told us from the start. We can't change our destiny, Dean. We tried, by god we tried but there is nothing left we can do! And you know it. We both know it. I have to say yes!"

"You'll not play meat-suit for Lucifer Sammy! I won't let you," Dean shouted back, sick of having that argument yet again. "I'm not gonna sit back and watch the devil ride you until there's nothing but a drooling idiot left, so he can go on bringing about the apocalypse. It's not gonna happen. We'll find another way."

"There is no other way," Sam yelled back, taking a swig of his beer.

After Dean had returned from his meeting with Death – Death with a capital 'D' as in he-who-calls-us-and-we-shall-die – he told them what Death demanded in exchange for his ring; the only remaining ring of the fore horsemen the Winchesters hadn't got a hold of yet.

Death demanded Dean should let this brother agree to be Lucifer's vessel. He in return told Death in a very harsh and colourful language where he could stick his magical ring.

Now they were exactly where they had started – back to square one.

At the moment hey were all back at Bobby's, drinking beer and arguing about their further course of action. Sam sat cross-legged on the couch, nursing his bottle. Bobby sat in his usual spot behind the desk, while Dean paced up and down. Castiel stood sullen in a corner beside the door. Brooding.

Walking out of the room, Bobby decided to leave them to it. No sense getting involved again. Last time he tried to settle the discussion without violence they yelled at him from all directions for taking sides.

"Idijits!"

They've had this argument at least a hundred times before, in the last couple of weeks. Bobby desperately hoped they would stop this nonsense soon, so they could do something useful like averting the apocalypse, not discussing how not to stop it.

Like a pair of kindergarten children those Winchesters; every last one of them, bickering, bickering, bickering. All day long!

Maybe the apocalypse wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

"We'll find a way! End of discussion."

Glaring at his brother he stopped pacing. He threw a sideways glance at Cas for some back up, but he didn't seem to notice it. He nursed his beer, like all the answers are in the bottle.

Drunken angel – what a great addition for 'Team Free Will'.

"Dean... ," Sam whined, giving Dean his best hurt-puppy look.

"I said: end of discussion."

This was driving him crazy. He hadn't fought this long against angels and demons and whatever else came their way, only to loose now. Once, told Cas that there was a way to avert the big final fight between heaven and hell, that there is no destiny. Giving in now would be like admitting he had been wrong, that Cas had lost his friend, his home, his powers for nothing.

No! They had to find a way.

They had to.

If not for their own sake than for Cas'.

"But Dean..."

Of course, Sam wouldn't take no for an answer, he had to persuade him to let him do this. Dean couldn't protect his little brother at the cost of the world. Was he really willing let every single person on this godforsaken planet die to protect Sammy?

By god, he hopped not.

At some point he had so see sense and realise that they had no other choice. Their only way to cheat destiny, was to accept it and hope for the best - trying to defeat Lucifer in his own body under his own terms. Not waiting around for some miracle to happen.

Who knew... maybe paradise wasn't so bad after all? No more fighting, no more running away, nor more trying... peace... .

Doesn't sound too bad.

"Oh come on," came a voice behind them out of nowhere. "Have a little faith, Sammy-boy!"

Every single head whipped around.

Cas looked sluggish up from his next alcoholic drink, even Bobby stuck his head back in from the kitchen.

A new – and never quite welcome – guest had appeared on Booby's couch, feet propped up on the coffee-table, a glass of fine old Craig whiskey in hand. Despite hanging outside like looming shadows, he wore dark shades, halfway covering a pair of brown-grey eyes.

His cloth were kept in different kinds of black.

Black trousers, black shirt, black tie and a knee long black coat – even his hair was black.

With a slight smirk, he looked first at the Winchester boys, than at Bobby and lastly at Castiel, raising his glass in a toast.

"Upssssss... that should have been the angels line, not mine."

He smiled an unpleasant, sarcastic smile.

"So sorry."

TBC...