Cas woke up with a massive headache. Outside the cabin, snow fell over the pine trees, adding to the foot or so that was already on the ground. It was so bright that it hurt to look at, and his whole body ached. The cabin was cold, thanks to the power outage the Croats were so kind as to provide.

The world was violently crashing around his shoulders and everything he ever knew was gone. Dean had become a god and he had his followers, fighting monsters together, clashing in battle after bloody battle.

A word was going through his mind for this feeling, but he couldn't quite remember it...

Withdrawal.

He'd fallen into the throes of addiction slowly and painfully. Drugs, alcohol, sex, drugs, and most of all, drugs.

The ironies of this reality hit him. He used to be such a...virgin. Clean.

And he felt, deep down, that somewhere he was still an angel. An angel in the garden of evil, in the land of gods and monsters.

Temptation and despair. He'd had sex, he'd tried some killer drugs, anything he needed. The medicine to soothe the crushing weight that was everywhere.

He could hear Dean and the girl du jour getting up and preparing some breakfast.

He didn't join in. He took a handful of a dead man's prescription and downed a bottle of liquor, mourning his lost innocence.