Dean was on his knees. He was fairly sure at least one of his legs was broken, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Blood was soaking into his jeans. Half of his side was numb from Sam's desperate blows.
Dean closed his eyes and muttered, "Damnit Sammy... I told you not to get in my way..."
The First Blade was resonating in his hand, but it couldn't drown out his grief and guilt. Not this time. Sam wasn't the only broken body lying around. Dean couldn't bring himself to look. Maybe if he just sat here he would loose enough blood to join Sam.
There was a familiar whooshing sound, then a pair of soft, warm lips were pressed against his. There was a tickle and a gust of hot air, the angel's wings, and Dean's wounds were healed. Dean opened his eyes and stared into baby blue ones.
"Hello Dean." He said it softly, gently. Dean's face broke and tears were streaking through the dirt and blood.
"I'm sorry."