Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

-Robert Front.

Fog danced in the air, swaying with the gentle movement of the sharp, fresh breeze. The moonlight reflected off the dampened alley way path, rain softly falling like glitter. A dog howled in the far, discrete distance. The sound of heavy feet dragging on the cement under walk was overpowering, echoing like the scrape of fingers on a blackboard. A silhouette figure broke through the thick fog, staggering and breathing heavily - Skin dull and pale; almost ghostly. The natural moonlight revealed the bruised and tired body, face blood red and distorted purple. They chocked, collapsing, hitting the freezing ground, Hard; Groaning and curling into a ball, attempting to keep body heat consistent.

"Dean?" A mysterious shadow in the darkness appeared, questioning.

No answer.

The figure moved closer, examining the limp body. "Dean -,"

Groaning, blood-shot eyes popped open, focusing their vision. "C...Cas?" A rusty voice answered.

Head slightly tilted to the side, they curiously replied. "Yes, Dean."

The hunters body relaxed, despite his rigid shaking. Emotion overwhelmed. "I'm Sorry", he whispered.

"I do not understand", The angels rich voice said.

Softly, almost unnoticable by the human ear, Dean sighed, weakly slurring his words. "I've stuffed up. Again."

These were the only words Dean could speak before the darkness was blanketing.

Dean had been drinking. A lot. Drowning one glass down after another, like it was the end of the world. Actually, the apocalypse was strongly evident.
Alcohol was Dean's only release and blockage; From the pain, the memories, and the failure. So he drank. Numbers didn't matter. Dean didn't care what happened anymore - He had given up.
He couldn't tell you what happened at the bar, that memory was non-existent. Dean could have been fighting a supernatural being, or just another drunk. Neither mattered, though. Sam was keeping secrets. Again. Dean couldn't stop him; he couldn't even save his own little brother. Sam was off with his demon bitch, Ruby. Sam would deny this, argue a little with Dean, make promises that he couldn't live up to. But, Dean knew better. He knew Sam was lying, and most of all, he knew he had failed - Everyone.

Good vs. Evil.
God vs. The Devil.
Heaven vs. Hell.

Dean vs. Sam.