Spoiler Warning...

AN: Don't read this if you are not up to date on Supernatural!

Just a short little drabble on Dean... My first Supernatural piece... Enjoy

Sam was locked in Bobby's underground room going through demon blood withdrawal, again...

Dean was out in the abandoned junk yard, face turned up to the night sky-- and he prayed-- "help me" was his plea.

Famine had struck hard leaving in his wake an unseen disaster. Dean was broken, "going though the motions" Famine said and Dean knew he was right; laid bare, his innards spilled for the world to see-- but they didn't, know one saw that the man known as Dean Winchester was dead, his shell, the only thing which remained.

And so he prayed, the only recourse left to him now, in his time of dying. It was something he didn't do--ever, but he needed help god-dammit, and if this was what he had to do to gain some sort of relieve then so be it.

A hole had been torn into him, ripping him apart, it was gapping, oozing, blood dripping, and it was infected with a nothingness that he couldn't shake. Not booze or women or food could help him, it was always there. Starting off as a pin prick, a wound not noticed, even by him-- it grew, slowly expanding, going deeper and deeper until it was profound and he hadn't noticed in time to stop it's inevitable descent into him and now, when he looks down its all he can see-- just a wound, a death blow, nothing remaining.

God-- he prayed to a god whose angels thought him dead. Dean Winchester was strong, but even he couldn't do this alone. The apocalypse had come-- he was trapped, even in death he could find no escape-- the angels would only drag him back to the living.

How everything had gotten so completely fucked up he didn't know...