A.N. No matter how Sam-centric this prologue seems, this story is very much about Dean, and it's mostly his POV. About his psyche after he got out of purgatory, his anger, his faith, how he wants to give up, and his choice in the end. Will their relationship prevail? Will Dean give up? Find out! :))

And don't worry, not all of the story is this sappy and slow.. I'm just not accustomed to writing from Sams POV :P Anyways, Enjoy.

Prologue

The rain is just beginning to fall when Sam leaves the motel. He considers going back for an umbrella, decides against it. He is cold already, anyways. He has been this cold for months now, one more night wouldn't make a difference, he thinks bitterly.

The impala is parked just in front of the door of his motel room, but he chooses to ignore it, and walks down the street through the rain. The impala has too many memories in it, and without someone to relieve them with, he doesn't want it anywhere near him. It isn't his to begin with. It's Deans. Deans, whom he should have-

Sam shakes his head, it doesn't matter anymore, hadn't he given up on this a long time ago?

The bar Sam enters is too small and too loud, and he feels a bang in his chest from the all too familiar atmosphere around. He doesn't even like it, it's not the place he wants to be at, he's only here because the hunt is over, and the girl is still at his place, and the day was too long for not being drunk right now.

Sam sits by the counter, goes through the motions, sips beer after beer 'till he feels fuzzy enough and the emotions seem to disperse. He wishes for something more wet, somehow.

"Can I get you another one, sweetheart?" The bartender says in a seductive voice, and the only thoughts that whirl in his brain are 'I haven't realised my glass is empty' and 'It's sipping, how will I get back.'

The girl gets his attention as she motions towards the tap, and he shakes his head, and ignores her disappointed look. She is a curly and petite redhead, and she has obviously set her eyes on him, but he can only think; Dean would have liked her.

When he leaves the bar, it's late in the night, or early in the morning, his mind is a little more fuzzy, his wallet a little thinner, and the girl is most likely out of his motel room. And he definitely hasn't had enough to drink, he thinks.

He begins the long walk back home, going street after street at a slow, steady pace. Nobody is waiting for him anyways, he reminds himself. Everybody who should is already dead, or unavailable, as Cas would say it. He huffs angrily, being in purgatory equals being unavailable now, does it?

His thoughts wander, he drowns in a memory.

"Cas, you're here! Where have you been? Crowley said you were in-"

"-purgatory, yes. I managed to zap out somehow." Castiel answered stoically, calmly, and Sam wanted to ask if he was back to normal, but the worry for his brother took over.

"Where is Dean? Where have you zapped him to, Cas? And why just now, it's been days!" Sam all but yelled, panic setting in at the thought of the few days in which he though Crowley said the truth, in which he thought Dean was-

"I didn't get him out. He was the one who stabbed-"

"What are you talking about? What do you mean, you didn't get him out?" The threat and danger in his voice must have been palpable, because even the angel took a step back. Sam didn't hear it, didn't know how his voice sounded, or how he looked, what and expression he was making, he could only think of Castiels words. 'I didn't get him out.'

"I appeared in purgatory only because the impact of Romans death pulled me in, so I could zap out. But Dean is a prisoner there, Sam, I can't get him out." Something wasn't right, Sam could hear panic in the angels voice, in Castiel's voice, and Cas never panicked. It made goosebumps appear all over Sam's skin.

"But this is still good news. Now he have a means to communicate. We can make a plan and get Dean-"

"I can't get back in, Sam, I'm sorry." Castiel cut him off.

"What do you mean? But you zapped out, so you can-"

"I thought so as well, but as soon as I left, I knew I couldn't return. Dean is on his own." He cut in again.

"But.. But you could- The angels have to help! They can find a way! We destroyed Roman, cleaned up your mess, they have to do something!" His voice sounded desperate now, and he knew he was speaking a fairytale before Castiel replied.

"I am sorry Sam, but even if they wanted to, they couldn't help us." A fact, a cold, hard fact which slapped Sam in the face. 'Cause facts were the only things Castiel ever hurt him with. He snorted angrily.

"Of course they could! They revived me and Dean a thousand time, this less-"

"I'm afraid you don't understand. This isn't like any other prison. It's not like it only has guards and stone walls surrounding it. My father made this prison, the purgatory has the strongest chains holding it together."

"But we have to do something. We can't just leave him there!" His voice sounded weak and defeated, it reflected his feelings perfectly. All he wanted was for Castiel to stop all this, to tell him he was just joking, or he just forgot Dean there. But Castiel never joked, and he never forgot.

He turned around, his shoulders slumped, but he was still determined, "There must be a way!"

He thought he heard a soft I'm sorry, before the fluttering of wings, and when he turned around the angel was gone.

"What are you sorry for? We will find a way to get him back."

That seems like so long ago, Sam thinks, even though it's only a few months back. Back then, he was still set on getting Dean out of purgatory, on saving the day, on reuniting with his only family, on a happy ending.

"I miss you." He whispers into the rain that pours in buckets down his face, and his eyes widen as he thinks he hears his name whispered with a familiar voice. It's impossible, he thinks as he turns around, but he forgets the Winchesters specialise in impossible, and there stands Dean, drenched, bloody, on the verge of falling, and so very real, just there, that Sam wants to pass out. Yet he hasn't got the chance to do so, Dean is falling before him, and he runs, a little sloppily, and catches his very much alive brother in an embrace.