"Dean."

The voice floated in and out of the haze.

"Dean, wake up."

Awareness started to creep into his system. There was a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. His face was smashed into the table. Dean opened his eyes groggily, noting several empty beer bottles in his vicinity. He lifted his head and a barrage of smells assaulted him: liquor, old smoke and mold. Head swimming, Dean tried to make sense of the once brightly colored wall-paper, now peeling. Right. They were in a motel. They'd stopped to get a room because...because...

"Dean, I'm sorry." Cas's hand left his shoulder as he came from behind to face Dean. He pulled up another chair and sat across from Dean, gazing worriedly into his face.

Dean's eyes roamed the room. Both beds were still made. "Where's Sam?"

"Dean, he's..." Cas trailed off, looking away.

"No. No he isn't. Where's Sammy?"

"Don't you remember?" Cas's grey-blue eyes were dark, heavy, "You killed Gadreel."

"Then where's Sam?" Dean demanded, standing. He started to wander the room, searching for a sign. A duffle bag, a laptop...anything.

"Sam was still the vessel."

Dean's heart plummeted. No. He couldn't have. Wordlessly, Dean collapsed onto the closest bed, burying his head in his hands. The bed shifted and Cas was sitting at Dean's side.

"Bring him back."

"Dean, we promised him, don't you remember?"

Dean didn't. "I don't care. Bring him back."

Cas sighed. "I can't. I don't have the power I used to with this new grace."

There was another pause. Then Dean pushed to his feet. Angrily, he shoved the lamp off the nearby nightstand. It smashed to pieces. Next came the chairs, which he furiously upended. "I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill every last angel until I get into Heaven."

"Dean..." Cas started, standing.

"This is my fault. This is all my fault. I shouldn't even be alive right now."

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that," Cas walked across the room and clasped Dean's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "You did things for the right reason."

Dean sagged under Castiel's grip, lip wobbling. One small tear slid down his right cheek. "I don't want to be alive, then."

"You need sleep." Cas said, trying to keep a quiver out of his voice. "You were drinking most of the night. I was only rousing you to convince you to change to a more comfortable position."

"I-"

"Sleep." Cas commanded, untucking the covers and pointing at the bed. "I was human. I know how important it is."

Dean didn't argue, crawling into bed without even slipping off his shoes. As he closed his eyes, he realized how exhausted he was. "We'll deal with this, Dean." Cas's voice floated into the darkening haze, I'm not going to leave you alone." Then, blessedly, he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Dean..."

He hadn't been asleep for more than a minute. "Yeah, Cas?" he croaked, turning to face the voice.

"Dean, it's me. Sam?"

Dean blinked, then looked up to see the face he'd grown up waking up to. "Sam?" Realization dawned on him and he pushed out of bed to envelope Sam in a tight hug. Sam wasn't gone. "Oh, thank goodness, you're not dead."

After a few seconds Sam squirmed out of the hug. "What? Why did you think I was dead?"

Dean laughed with relief. "I had the worst nightmare, man." He scanned the room, it was the same one as his dream. "Where's Cas?"

Sam looked shocked, "Dean...Cas is dead."