Dean walked into the old motel room, crusted blood caked to his face. He closed the door gingerly not wanting to wake Sam. Slowly striding over to the playmate cooler to grab a beer, it had been a long day. The effects of the trials were beginning to take their toll on Sam. He was coughing more and the life was slowly fading from his eyes. The trials needed to end and they needed to end soon, or everything would be lost. Dean rubbed his eyes, he needed to wash all of this blood off; he had hunted a vamp, it was nothing that he couldn't handle, but it was never a clean job.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom. The stress was getting to him, he could feel it within his bones. The handle on the sink squeaked as he pushed it back, allowing the hot water to flow. He was to exhausted to shower off, so a hot wet washcloth would just do. He let the white noise of the water fill his mind something to calm him down. He held the washcloth under the water waiting for the water to heat up past lukewarm, but these shitty hotels never had good water heaters. Dean threw the washcloth in the sink.

"Oh. God." he choked. "What am I suppose to do?"

His back was against the cool tiles of the bathroom he slid down sitting on the ground, arms lax and legs sprawled.

"How can Sammy do this he needs his life too! He needs it more than me! All what I have done is for him." his breathing quickened and hitched a couple of times.

"Come on Dean get yourself together now." Dean told himself as he looked up at the ceiling, hoping gravity would push the tears back into his eyes.

He then shut his eyes and lowered his head.

"God, Maybe you aren't listing; But Cas I know you are out there, somewhere. I know you will listen. You may not be able to help heal Sam but could you at least help him with the trials?"

Dean sat there lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out how to help his little brother. Nothing, Sam was really alone in this; it was killing dean that he was unable to help. His prayers to Castiel were hopeless, Cas had flown off with that angel tablet, leaving him and his brother alone.

"Gotta be strong for Sammy." Dean had been telling himself that ever since he saw his mother that dreadful night.

His muscles were sore as he lifted himself up off the bathroom floor. Dean didn't much care for changing and washing up. He was exhausted and needed to sleep. Walking over to his bed he sat down, looking over at his brother. Sam's hand was under his pillow, holding a gun no doubt. His arm partially covering his face while his hair spread out over the other half. Dean sighed, his brother looked so peaceful. After all that he had been through Sam was still a sound sleeper, rolled up in his covers like a cocoon. Dean kinda enjoyed moments like these where the night engulfed all of there worries; where as it seemed nothing would harm them. Dean kicked off his boots and laid on top of the covers.

He grinned when he noticed that Sammy had stolen his pillows, all but one. The rule was when they were kids the first one to the bed gets all the pillows. Dean shut his eyes trying to remember the good times, not the times before Azazel; but the times where he, Sammy and their dad would go fishing, simple family memories, along with his first chupacabra kill that is. Dean just wished everything would last that they could close the gates of hell and they could just get along with there lives. Dean rolled over facing away from Sam he felt so alone. His mouth opened as if to scream but nothing came out. He needed to be strong. Dean thoughts were beginning to trail off as the power of sleep covered him like a cloud it was strange. About to loose consciousness he then felt a warmth over his left shoulder. He knew it was Cas. Dean knew then that he wasn't alone anymore. He slept peacefully that night.