Hey all! I got this idea after watching some of the older seasons. I'm including season 5 stuff. There is some spoiler "like" info in here from 2/4's episode "The Song Remains the Same"

Better Summary: The demon's in hell planned the apocalypse for years. Exploiting every opportunity to set the Winchesters down this path... but what if on the other side... rogue angels and some hunters from Dean and Sam's past had gotten wind of it all and were going to set things into motion to help the boys prevent it.

Let me know what you think... and if anyone knows a good BETA please message me...

Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing... if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfiction... (:

'Yippie for Team Free Will!' Dean though to himself as he felt the alcohol slid down his throat. He felt that slight burn but he craved it. He wanted that twinge to make him remember that he was alive… to make him remember that he was still… him. He wanted to scream and yell, maybe hit something but instead he sat in the dark in their latest cheap hotel room and drank.

He felt like everything was slipping through his fingers, like no matter how hard he tried to keep it together the plan was going to pieces. Maybe Michael was right and free will was all a sham… but he had to believe that there was some other choice. Some other path then the one that would make him a meat-suit in some holy show down between the dysfunctional duo. Something other than this road… where he'd kill his brother as the grand finale.

He took another drink as he looked at Sam. Asleep… laying in bed dreaming of, hell Dean had no clue what Sam dreamed of and he wasn't sure he wanted to know… but that was life as a Winchester. They were manly and strong, they killed things that made grown men piss themselves, they knew more Latin than most professors, and Dean secretly imagined that he'd been in more Kinko's than anyone else on the planet.

Still… He looked at his brother and he felt a knot grip somewhere near the vicinity of where his heart should have been… if it hadn't been ripped out and spit on a long time ago.

He wanted so badly to be angry. At anyone. At Everyone. At Cas, who was still in the same position he'd passed on in earlier, for; pulling him out of one hell and dropping him in another. At his brother for; turning his back on Jake in Cold Oak, for dying, for letting Ruby mind fuck him into killing Lilith, and for oh yeah… for introducing Sam to the joy of a steaming cup of Demon blood in the morning. At Bobby for: not being able to come up with any thing that might help them. At Michael and Lucifer for being whinny Bitches who were to busy with their Daddy issues to play nice.

Mostly he was angry at himself… for getting off the rack., for letting things go this far, and more than anything for believing for one moment that their was a God and that he cared for what happened down here on Earth… that he cared about him and Sam… that he really gave a fuck about anything.

Another drink… yeah that's what he needed.

Another drink… and he'd forget that he was getting worn to the end of the world like a rented tux to prom.

Another drink… the bottle would start to blur around the edges and he'd forget that his baby brother was the Devil's prom dress.

Another drink… and the pit in his stomach that let him know that no matter what they did things were probably going to get worse and never get better would turn into a land of sunshine and candy canes.

Another drink… yeah… fucking… right.

Dean didn't even bother with the glass this time. Life was too short to waste it on shot glasses when what he really needed was an IV drip right into his blood stream. Maybe if he drank himself to death Michael would finally get the picture.

'Yeah' he thought as he pealed the label from the half empty bottle 'that be the best fuck you ever. Opps! Sorry Michael, your vessel decided that he'd rather where his pine pajamas, again, rather than be your play toy. I think that means, you colossal heavenly Douche bag, that you can go screw yourself with a rusty metal fork.'

Dean finished the bottle. He eyes watered but he didn't wipe them. He was a Winchester and he knew how to handle a little pain.

He stood, his knees slightly liquid after consuming so much alcohol to quickly, but his steps where sure. He opened the door to the hotel room and stepped outside. The night was brisk but he didn't feel cold, his skin felt like it was burning up. The motel was pretty much empty… hell the town was pretty much empty, but Dean didn't complain he didn't need an audience for what he wanted to say.

His arms came up from his sides until they where straight out, parallel to his shoulders.

His voice caught the first time he tried to talk, he cleared his throat and tried again.

Looking at the moon, hung low over the forest behind the motel, Dean called out.

"This is your master plan. Huh? This is your big fucking plan? Have me kill my brother? That's your idea of compassion. What happened to loving people… what happened to wanting us to be happy? This is what you want for us…Well, screw you! I'm going to live for me, screw Michael. I'm gonna' steal candy from babies, I'm gonna' swear in churches, I'm gonna' kick puppies; I'm going to urinate on gravestones… You know why? Because you're an asshole. You're douche of major proportions. You're a fucking… I don't know… but I hate you. I hate you for getting Sam's hopes up… for making him believe that you're some merciful God. I hate you for tossing Cas out… he made the mistake of what... helping us… what the fuck is that all about? I hate you for letting Bobby end up in a wheel chair… I hate you for killing my mom. I hate you for every cut, every gun shot, every bruise… EVERYTHING!"

Dean was out of breath. He felt his eyes burning, this time not from the alcohol. He felt all of his anger leave him and his voice dropped an octave.

"You know… I believed for one moment that you were real. I believed that you wouldn't let this happen. I can see that was a waste of time. You're not real…"

Dean was quiet for a moment. He felt empty and tired. In a daze he walked back to the room, stepped inside and closed the door sealing himself in the warm alcohol scented room and passed out on the stained couch in the corner.

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