A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. The title can probably tell you a little bit about what this story will be about, but if not, you'll find out soon enough. ;) Please feel free to criticize me, I'm still learning. Thank you. Also, this is set sometime during season four after "Sex and Violence." If you haven't seen that episode, go watch it. It's great.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Sam, Dean, or Castiel.

The Black Death

Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes,

We all fall down...

Another argument.

Another slam of the door.

And another trip to the bar, for Dean Winchester.

It had been a couple of weeks since the brothers' big blowout with the siren. Even though they knew the Nick was the one who had told them to "talk things out," they also knew that what they said had been thoughts stored in their minds pretty much ever since Dean came back from Hell. And now that they'd just been put out into the open like that, they knew there was no way of taking them back. All they could do was try to deal with it; pretend that it never happened.

Of course, for Dean, that wasn't so easy. Sam's harsh words still rang in his head.

"Okay, fine. You wanna know why I didn't tell you about Ruby? How we're hunting down Lilith? Because you're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back."

Dean drank another shot of whiskey and motioned to the bartender to get another. The man looked at Dean for a second questioningly, remembering the 5 drinks before that, and then did as he'd been asked. Dean finished that one as well, but then set the glass down in front of him and stared at it. Had he really been holding Sam back?

"Hey, buddy, you alright?" Dean glanced up and nodded before focusing his attention back on the glass. The bartender shrugged and then walked away to help another customer.

"I'm a better hunter than you are, stronger, smarter. I can take out demons you're too scared to go near."

"That's crap," Dean mumbled, reliving the fight in his head.

"You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Whining at all the souls you tortured in Hell."

Dean shoved the glass away.

"Boo hoo."

"Dean."

The older man sitting in the barstool jumped when he heard the strong, familiar voice behind him. Then he settled, feeling a little frustrated. "What do you want, Cas?"

Castiel sat in the stool next to him. "We need to talk."

"Of course we do," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He handed the glass to the bartender when he came back. The guy held it up, silently asking if Dean wanted more, but Dean shook his head and the man walked away with it. Dean turned back to Castiel. "What do you want?"

"The growing gap between you and your brother needs to stop. You both are going to have to work together to beat Lucifer, and that won't happen unless you two are able to work together."

"I'm not the one who doesn't want to 'work together,' remember?" Dean turned around in the stool. "That'd be Sam. Go talk to him about it." Slamming some money down on the counter, he stood and started to walk away. Castiel followed him. "I already talked to your brother." Dean stopped right in front of the door and turned around to face the angel. "You did? …what'd he say?"

"He seems to agree with you on the fact that he doesn't need you," Castiel answered blankly. Dean snorted. "I knew it," he snorted as he walked out of the bar. Once again, Castiel followed him.

"Dean, you need to fix this. Whether Sam knows it or not, he does need you. Just as much as you need him."

Dean whirled around. "I don't need him. I could do just fine on my own." He paused and looked at the ground for a moment. Then he turned around and left the angel standing on the dark sidewalk.

Castiel stood there and watched the 30 year old man walk away. He sighed. "These are strange orders."

When Dean made it back to the motel, he wasn't surprised to find his little brother asleep on his bed. He stared at him for a second before putting his room key and jacket down on the table and lying down in his own bed, the one closest to the door. He didn't bother taking a shower or anything. He'd be up before Sam in the morning anyway; he'd just take it then.

He laid on his stomach, head resting peacefully on the pillow. He really wished things could be back to normal with him and Sam, he really did. But Sam was the one who damaged their relationship. Not Dean. And Sam was the only one who could fix it.

That was Dean's last thought before drifting off to sleep. He never noticed Castiel standing in the darkest corner of their room.

As quietly as he could, Cas made his way to stand in between the beds the brothers were asleep in. He looked over to his left at Sam, then to his right at Dean. Then, without a word, he placed two fingers of one hand on Sam's forehead, and did the same with Dean. The Winchesters disappeared from their beds. Castiel stood there before disappearing along with them.

"I hope this works…"