"It's okay, Dean. God and his angels are watching over you.". Dean tried his best to tune out the woman, focusing his thoughts on the patter of rain hitting the sod around him. As Dean watched the heavyset men lower his father's casket into the ground, he made a realization. When faced with great tragedy, humans had the urge to "console" the hurt with prayers. He swore, if he heard one more prayer dedicated to him and his family, he was going to vomit. When it came to the Winchester household, there wasn't too much faith to be spread. John Winchester used to say "No pictures, no proof" when it came to higher power. If you were lucky enough to know John back in the day, you'd know how devout he used to be. He used to even attend service with his beloved wife, Mary. But after she died, it seemed that all of the hope and faith broke inside of him. John was a realist who couldn't bring himself to believe in a god who had taken everything from him. Sadly, John's piss poor attitude was passed on to his boys, especially Dean. Dean knew of all the awful things that happened every day, he wouldn't put his faith in a God that purposefully inflicted misery. It took finding his father dead for Dean to completely lose faith. He found it painfully ironic how quickly good people were taken. His old man was good, even when he wasn't always the best father. He always put the well being of others before himself and even sometimes before his children. It seemed as though others got more attention from John than did both boys combined. He may have been an ass, but he didn't deserve to die, not like that. It didn't really hit Dean until he was standing before his dad's grave. He was completely alone now. His lucky little brother was off making something of himself and couldn't currently make it down for the memorial. It had taken everything in Dean and John to send their little Sammy to college and he couldn't miss finals. Dean lifted his head and took a quick glance at all the sobbing men and women. He was surrounded by faces that he couldn't name and their stupid prayers. If he had to endure more apologies, he was gonna drink himself dead. Like father like son, I guess. Now that John was in the ground and the sun was setting, "loved ones" started to disperse and make their way over to Dean.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" The generous woman next door to his parent's, now unoccupied, house put her frail hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean's gruff scowl softened.

"I'm doing okay. I wish my brother could've made it down, but I'm okay." Dean's eyes trailing down to his loafers.

"I am very sorry, dear. I'll make sure to mention you this Sunday." His lips pressing into as thin line.

"Thank you so much, Judy. I appreciate that." Dean brought his hands to rest on her arms to really sell the thanks.

"You're very welcome, Dean. Just take care of yourself. Oh, and that little brother of yours!" Judy quickly turned and walked toward her waiting daughter. Out of basic instinct, Dean rolled his eyes. He wanted so bad to like the old woman. It wasn't her fault that he was strictly anti-pity. Dean looked around the now empty cemetery, his eyes catching his father's blossom covered grave. With one short nod in his dad's direction, he strutted to the parking lot. Now that his dad was 6 feet under, Dean was now the proud owner of a polished black Impala. It had been years since he was officially behind the wheel of the hot rod. John made it very clear that if anyone touched Baby, there'd be hell to pay. Dean turned the key in the ignition and instantly fell in love. He had completely forgotten how glorious the purr of that car sounded. He placed his hand on the 8-ball shift, Note to self; Change shift handle IMMEDIATELY Dean thought. After putting the car in drive, he was off. Dean stuck his elbow out the window, despite the rain, and headed for the main road. Dean and Baby cruised down the streets, trying to pinpoint a destination. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he was certain that he did not want to go home. Anywhere but there. I mean, it was a Friday night. Even though he just buried his dad, who said he couldn't have fun?

He wasn't sure how, but Dean ended up at the bar of a rather popular nightclub. The dimly lit room was full of sweaty 20 something year-olds who have had already too much to drink and men looking to take advantage. The club scene wasn't really in Dean's nature, but being the social butterfly he was, he could adapt.

"Hi." A tall blonde woman was suddenly standing in front of Dean. As she spoke, she kept this almost devious smirk on her face.

"How you doing?" Dean leaned his elbow on the bar, dazzling her with his green gems.

"I'm doing pretty good, hot stuff. Wanna buy me a drink?" Before Dean could respond, she waved over the bartender. Dean wasn't going to be rude, so he slapped down a few bills and paid for her daiquiri. She gave Dean an appreciative, almost daring, smile and chugged her drink. While Dean continued to flatter this woman, he tried to put purpose behind his actions. What was the point? He wasn't too interested in sleeping with anyone at the moment., so why continue?

"Wanna get outta her?" She jerked her thumb towards the exit, tilting her head. Before he knew it, they were in Baby, headed to his flat. Dean questioned himself all the way back to his apartment. He couldn't shake the confusion as he forced "April" up against his apartment door and sucked on her neck. He couldn't quite understand why while their hot sweaty bodies eagerly pawed at each other. He contemplated every action as he watched her arch her back in response to his thick hands grazing her body. All he could think was why. This wasn't Dean's first rodeo and he guessed it wasn't hers either. They were both experienced adults looking for a quicky. After their little rendezvous, Dean spoke up.

"That was great, it really was," He started his "morning after" speech, pulling on his boxer briefs. "I can call you a cab or something if you'd like." He may have been kicking her out, but he wasn't going to be an ass about it. Her brows crinkled in the middle and she scoffed.

"What so that's it? We're gonna screw and now you're dumping me, just like that." Dean turned around to see April's hands on her hips, her eyes screaming disgust.

"I have to work early tomorrow. I'd really love to have you stick around, believe me, but I can't." Dean gave her his classic crooked smile as he reached for his phone.

"You know what? I don't need you to call me a cab, I'll do it myself." April grabbed the last of her very limited clothing and stormed out of the bedroom and then slamming the front door. Dean sighed and ran a clammy hand through his hair. Dean didn't really see a point in one night stands anyway. You get intimate with someone you just met and for what? To never see them again? It all just seemed like a huge waste of time and drinks aren't cheap! It all just felt like some part of a huge routine and he wasn't sure how to break it. Now that his dad wasn't around to give him advice, he wasn't completely sure what his game plan was. He had an okay job working for a family friend. He had his own place, not too nice but not too bad. He had okay friends, not the best, but okay. Everything in his life was kinda meh. Dean was now officially in the late 20's stage of the life cycle and it made him uneasy thinking about it. It had been meh for a really long time, actually. Now that he put some thought into it. That wasn't the most uplifting thing. Dean had an average degree, average job, average life. The more thought he put into it, the more prominent the empty feeling in his gut became. The most important people in his life were gone. Dad was dead and Sam was off living his own successful life while Dean was stuck being "just average". He realized why he slept with that woman from the bar, he's lonely. He had no actual connection to the platinum blonde mess, but she was willing and he was desperate. Surprising, this was the first time in awhile that two bodies had been in his bed. God, I'm pathetic. He thought, head in hands. The night of his father's funeral and Dean couldn't even mourn like a normal person, he went out, got drunk and fucked the first thing that showed him attention. What is wrong with me? What sensible, healthy human being would act like this? It didn't have to be like this. Dean reached over to his bedside table slowly opened the wooden drawer. He had a very un-average solution to his problems. He set his eyes on his custom ivory Colt. It would be easy. He could actually do something right for once... Numb, he grabbed towards the gun and balanced its weight in his hands. He cocked the gun. Without hesitation, he placed the gun to his temple. Dean just wanted it to be over.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. It was funny. He had always bashed people who apologized too much, but here he was. Apologizing like the people around him. He knew that they didn't really mean it, they couldn't have. They barely knew him. They only said their 'sorries' so they would seem like compassionate people. So they'd seem like good people in the eyes of the Lord. It all ties back to faith, whether he wanted to believe it or not. And just like those people, he didn't mean it either. He couldn't mean what he didn't feel. Sure, it was awful what he was about to do, but it was for the better. A sense of individuality. He pulled the trigger, ready to let go.

Click.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. Dean was no yokel. If he was handed a gun, he could handle it well. And guns, especially his gun, did NOT jam. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Through his cloudy wet vision, he saw a figure standing at the edge of his bedroom. Taken aback, Dean quickly scrambled backward on his bed, trying to put as much distance between him and the strange man as possible. The man quirked his head to the side, never leaving Dean's gaze. This couldn't be happening! How did this dude even get in here? Dean and the trenched man just stared at each other, both trying to place what was going on. Like they were discovering a new species for the first time. Dean suddenly saw the man's eyes, practically glowing in the dark of his room. They were a beautiful ocean blue, so pure and doe like. Dean made sure to focus on the man's pupils as his flushed lips parted.

"Hello, Dean."

Hey! Hopefully, you liked it. I'm not the best at narratives :P Let me know in the comments if you guys want me to continue! Let me knw if there are any errors too! ;3

-NeigalPink