Dean sat in the Impala, parked along the side of backroad in Nebraska. The morning sun was barely peaking above the horizon behind him and the car was chilly, but he didn't notice. He'd been numb for days now. He cleaned the gun on his lap with steady hands and a resting frown.

It had been exactly six months since Castiel had….turned. He remembered the panic that gripped his chest when Sam burst through the door of the Bunker. Those three words still echoed in his head. "Dean, it's Cas."

They spent months searching for a cure or a spell or someone that could help. They tried to find an answer. What happened? Why? Dean had dropped to his knees in his room and begged Chuck to return. To just listen. But no help came. No answer was found. Castiel continued his killing and torturing and slowly eradicated everyone the brothers knew.

When it came time to confront him, Dean felt ready. Their plan was definitely not fool proof but it was the best they had. If it worked on Lucifer….it could work on whatever the hell Cas was now. Right? They could get their friend back.

No. Dean's hands trembled as he reached for a polishing cloth. Three days. It had been three days since Sam had knelt before him, telling him to get up and that they would be okay. Dean's jaw still hurt every time he moved it, thanks to the backhanded blow from Cas. The image of Sam's bloodied face in front of him, urging him to keep going, turned to the bloodied gasp of pain as a knife was ripped across Sam's throat from behind.

The shock of the hot blood soaking Dean's front mixed with the limp body in his arms was too much. He had stared dumbly as Cas smirked down at them, the knife still in his hand. Dean couldn't even remember what Cas had said before he had disappeared. The tormented sound Dean had made as he scooped his bigger, younger brother into his arms was not one any person should have to make.

Dean burned Sam's body in the field where they had burned Mary's. And Garth's. Claire. Jody. And all of the hunters and friends the brothers had known along the way. The lines of crosses covered too much of the field.

Dean stared out the window as the sun rose into the sky. The clouds were pinks and oranges. He was thankful for none of the dark reds or blues or purples. None of the colors of blood, bruises, or pain. A figure shifted in the passenger seat beside him but he didn't turn to them. He knew Cas was dead. It wasn't actually him.

The memory of gushing blood and burning light slammed back into Dean's mind. He couldn't forget the pain in his chest as the angel burned out of the vessel and disappeared, gone from the meat suit he had used and abused for so long. Dean had burned Cas's body in the same meadow, because even though Cas had murdered everyone else, he was still family.

With a long, slow breath, Dean lifted his cleaned gun. He stared at it, not remembering where it had come from. Was this one from Sam? Or from some pawn shop in some small forgotten town? Some of the empty alcohol bottles rattled under his seat as he shifted.

"I'm sorry Sam." He said out loud, breaking the stillness of the morning. His mouth was dry and his voice cracked when he said his brother's name. He hadn't spoken in days. "I failed you and I'm sorry." His eyes burned with tears that quickly began leaking down his cheeks. "I love you, Sammy." He whispered.

"Just get on with it already." Castiel said in the passenger seat. Dean ignored him. He isn't real. I killed him. His heart lurched as his breathing hitched with a sob.

"Cas…." He whispered as he rested the handgun against the steering wheel and hung his head. Everything was so heavy. "I couldn't save you."

"Do it." Castiel said beside him, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"I'm sorry." Dean said through the lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. He lifted his head and struggled to bring the gun to his mouth. It was so hard, like every force was pushing against his arm. He used his other as support until the barrel rested against his lips.

"I love you, Cas." He said in a steady voice before the cold metal touched the roof of his mouth and he pulled the trigger.