Dean gave a tight smile to the busty raven-haired girl in front of him, she was giggling and making sure he got a pretty good view of her expansive chest.
"So. Savings or credit?" she purred seductively.
"Cash." He responded shortly and handed her a fifty dollar note.
He waited as she took ages to count out the $23.50 change, and when she leaned across to give it to him she whispered, "I get off at 5 o'clock. Name's Cindy."
Dean looked at her blankly and said "Thanks, I don't think I'll make it, though."
She turned away, clearly offended, and hissed angrily, "Thank you for shopping at 'Bob's Small Town Needs', valued customer. Next!"
Dean sighed as he chucked the bag containing the shopping in the back of the Impala, a year ago he would have flirted right back and given her his number.
Times change.
He missed the past. The one where he and Sam hunted crazy ass creatures, he picked up chicks left and right and a certain angel was still alive.
He inserted the key into the engine and pulled away from the dingy car park of the only general store in the town. Reminiscing would get him nowhere.
"Now here's yer order sugar. You'd tell Momma if somthin' was botherin' you now woudn't ya?" The bustling middle aged waitress he'd met two weeks earlier said sternly as she plonked Dean's coffee and slice of apple pie down in front of him.
He nodded automatically, "Of course Mrs. Olsen."
"Excellent, now I don't want to see you comin' in here with your depressed face no more. It's getting me down somethin' fierce." She chided as she hovered by his table.
"Sorry Mrs. Olsen." Dean said politely.
"Aw shucks. You don't have to apologize sweetie, you've seen hard things' in yer life ain't ya? I can always tell. You remind a little of my Harold before he went away to a big city. Actin' all tough on the outside, but inside yer still the little boy who wanted to be protected from the monster in his wardrobe." She ruffled his hair sadly and hurried away.
Dean usually hated anyone touching his hair, but this time he didn't even lift a hand to fix it. And if five minutes later she returned with a jam donut and insisted it was on the house, his eyes absolutely didn't prickle and he absolutely didn't rig the lottery before he left so that her bake house would win.
"Hey Dean, it's Sam. I know you haven't replied to any of these but….if you could just call or text, that would be great. I just want to know you're doing okay. Well, hope everything's fine." There was a beep as the message ended and Dean pushed away the phone.
"Gabriel, I'd like to-" he hadn't even finished his sentence before he became conscious of someone standing behind him. He turned around already knowing who it would be.
"Dean." The archangel said, no pretense of warmth in his voice.
"Gabriel." Dean replied grimly, "Look could you tell Sammy that I'm fine, I'm sorry I haven't calle-"
"Why don't you just tell him that yourself? What's so hard about picking up your phone and calling him? I'd have refused to be your stupid messenger boy long ago if Sam wasn't so desperate for any news of his AWOL brother." The voice that had once sung with mischief was weary and disappointed, "All he wants is for you to come home, Dean."
"Where the hell is home?" Dean snapped, "It sure isn't all those shitty motels we've jumped around to. We don't have a home."
"Home is where the people you care most about are!" Gabriel's voice was rising now and Dean felt a shiver he saw shadows of great wings appear on the ground behind the pissed off looking archangel.
"Oh yeah, you'd know so much about that. You don't have a home then do you Gabriel? Because when have you even had one once of compassion for anyone?" Dean laughed coldly before turning away. A blast of heat hit his back and he swore as a gently smoking dead bird landed on his head. "Very funny!" he roared at the scorched circle where Gabriel had stood seconds before.
His phone dinged with a text, "He had enough compassion to tell me your message. – Sam"
Dean swore loudly. Another dead bird hit him in the head.
"Hello Dean." That low voice was so heartbreakingly familiar that Dean nearly cried when he heard it.
"Cas?" He murmured as he unfolded himself from the back seat of the Impala and looked out over the paddock he was parked on.
Castiel was standing there in the middle of the field, beige trench coat unbuttoned and blue tie as haphazard as ever. He gave Dean a sad smile and beckoned.
Dean opened the door of the Impala and got out, even though he was more than 20 yards away from him, he still heard Castiel's words clearly.
"Why didn't you save me Dean?"
Dean recoiled as if something had bitten him, "What no….Cas, I couldn't have. I tried Cas. I really did."
Castiels eyes flashed, "You could have stopped it Dean. You could have stopped the demon tearing my very essence into shreds, tearing my soul from my body and destroying my Grace forever."
"N..no." Dean stammered as a grey mist rose all around them and Castiel grew taller, more accusatory and his face seemed distorted somehow.
"You could have saved me Dean!" The Castiel-thing boomed and then it vanished in an implosion of fog, it's shriek still ringing in Dean's ears as he woke, shivering and gasping in the back seat of the Impala.
You could have stopped it. You could have saved me Dean.
"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded as a woman paced in front of him, examining him carefully. At least, he guessed he could classify it as a woman. One half of its head was the sweet face of a 21 year old and the other a horrific mass of zombie flesh.
The woman gave a sinister smile, one side the teeth gleaming white, the other side grey and black. "I am Hela, Goddess of the Underworld."
Dean stared at her, "You mean as in…. the myths of those horned helmet dudes?"
She snorted contemptuously, "Norse mythology, yes. I have a business agreement with Lucifer."
"Agreement?" Dean asked suspiciously
"He gets the really bad people and I get the mildly bad ones." She paused, then seemingly feeling the need to explain herself, continued with, "There are more of the mildly bad ones but they are a lot easier to handle. Less mass killings and horrific riots to deal with when they get bored." She frowned, "I don't think you ever saw my area of Hell."
"And if you don't mind me asking, what the fuck are you doing in my motel room?" Dean asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.
"Oh I was sent to torment you. Another part of the agreement. Every hundred years I have to go out and do a bit of tormenting to whoever Lucifer wants. It wasn't that bad a deal when you think about it." She replied indifferently, "A bargain if I ever saw one."
Dean clenched his fist, "You going to torture me now? Inflict dire pain and all that crap."
Hela shot him a disdainful look, "Don't be crude, that's Lucifer's area, not mine." She made as if to leave and then turned, "Oh, the last thing your precious little angel said before the hellhounds tore his adorable body apart and threw him into the abyss of no return was your name. He was pleading. Pleading for you to come and save him." She sneered, both sides of her faces now as ugly as the other, "Guess you never cared enough to help him."
She vanished, leaving behind a shell-shocked Dean.
Dean sprinted through the darkened park, away from yet another small town. He heard an angry snarl from behind him and knew he couldn't outrun it. The werewolf had four legs and he only had two. His guns were back in the cheap room he'd rented for the month, he hadn't thought he'd be needing it tonight.
Idiot.
He felt it before it happened. A rush, a displacement of air and 500 kilos of pissed off lycanthrope landed heavily on his back. He wheezed as he lay there in the mud, waiting for the end.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He'd failed Cas and run out on Sammy. It wasn't like the world needed him. Actually would be a relief to go.
At least he'd be free from the crushing guilt that followed him everywhere.
Something crashed into him, carrying him out from under the werewolf's claws. The something was yelling insults and swearing like a sailor.
A second later he slammed into a hard wooden floor, with a furious looking Gabriel on top of him, spitting phrases like 'bloody useless hunters' and 'pathetic assholes who don't have the decency to die in their old age like most , but oh no, they have to go be hipster.'
Dean lifted his head painfully as he felt bruises blooming all up his back. Sam was standing in a corner, pale and trembling his eyes wide and horrified, staring at Dean.
That look, combined with the weight of the last year broke the dam that had been holding back his emotions since Castiel's death. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he sobbed uncontrollably, hating himself for showing such despicable weakness.
Soon arms were around him, and although he heard grumbling from Gabriel about 'touching an idiot more than he wanted to' it was two pairs of hands that laid him gently on a bed. As the tears still flowed hard and fast Dean heard Sam whisper, "It's fine. You're back at home now."
Then despite the crying, despite the utter shit his life had been for the past 12 months, Dean Winchester smiled.