"Angels are watching over us, Sammy."

Sam remembers the way Dean used to ruffle his hair as he lay in bed, the covers tucked tight around his body. He remembers feeling safe and warm, thinking he didn't need angels as long as he had Dean by his side.

Sam used to find comfort in angels; he used to admire their wings and speak words of faith as he stared at stone statues with reverence. He felt as if the stone angels had eyes and would watch him as he walked. They would guide him.

Sam remembers the way Dean spoke of their mum. He would tell Sam that every night as they lay down to sleep, she would whisper, "angels are watching over you," in their ears. Dean doesn't speak of their mother anymore. Not since that day he smoothed Sam's hair over his eyes and told him not to open his eyes, because he would be back soon.

Sam now hates angels. He wants to see their wings burn and their eyes bleed.

"I need to see Cas," Dean always said as he pulled on his leather jacket, a faraway look in his eyes.

Every night he would leave, and Sam would be left staring at the door, cold and alone. He pulled the covers around himself now, and he prayed for the angels. Dean was no longer here.

"Take the pills, Dean."

Dean purses his lips and looks away.

The routine has grown old.

Sam smashed countless glasses and plates in his anger. The dry wall of the new motel of the month chipped and damaged in his rage. "He's not real! How many times do I have to tell you he's not real?"

Hands over his ears and back against the wall, Dean hunched forward in to the safety of his knees. "Cas," he would repeat. "Cas, I need you."

"Help me."

Sam can only shake his head. I can't save you, he thinks.

"I'll be back soon, Sammy, so don't open your eyes."

Dean turned out the lights. That was the last time Sam saw Dean before he met Cas. He came back later that night and shook Sam awake. "They've chosen me." His breathing was laboured and desperate, and although it was dark, Sam could clearly see the panic, fear, and excitement in his brother's eyes. "He's saved my soul from perdition. Castiel has saved me."

Sam musses his big brother's hair and kneels to his eye level. Dean's holding his knees and sitting on the hospital bed, looking every bit as betrayed as he feels. "I'll see you, Dean."

They'll help him, Sam thinks. They'll do what he never could.