The end of the world had finally come. The past few years had led up to this, and now it was over. Dean drove his precious car down a dirt road, listening to his usual background music. No one was left. There were very few survivors, and they were all as alone as Dean. There was only one difference between him and them, and that was the fact that Dean knew what had caused all of this. They didn't.

Everyone else was just sitting at dinner, reading newspapers, and tucking their kids into bed when suddenly everything was gone. Quick as a flash. Dean thought of them as fortunate. They didn't know all of the gory details. Only few people did, and most of those people were somewhere else, never to be on Earth again.

Including Sam.

Oh, Dean had already tried making deals. It was a lost cause. His soul was once wanted by Hell, Michael, everybody. But now that he was actually willing to give everything up, no one would make a damn deal! He drove faster down the desolate lane. He had no idea where he was going. He didn't give a fuck. It felt like as long as he kept moving, he would be able to keep it together. Dean had always found comfort in speed. Getting things done fast. Sammy was the one that thought before he leapt.

Now who's gonna make all of the responsible decisions? He thought angrily. He felt his eyes start stinging, and tears began to well up. He pushed the gas pedal harder.

Everyone he loved was gone! Hell, almost everyone on Earth was gone! What was the point in living in this place? He had tried so desperately to save Sam. He had said good-bye to him too many times. Without knowing it, Dean had began to think that there was always a way to bring Sam back, no matter what the cost. But there was no way this time. This time he was absolutely positively gone, and Dean could do nothing about it.

"FUCK!" he banged his fist on the steering wheel, again and again. At that moment, there was one thing he knew with all certainty: he needed a beer, no, he need lots of beers.

Dean drove around until he found an abandoned liquor store. Wanting to feel that there was some human life out there, he left some money on the counter.

Then he went and found a hotel. Due to all the years of hunting, he still felt paranoid when he walked in. He had his gun ready as he scoped the entire place. There was a tiny bit of disappointment when he didn't find anything. Hell, he would have even taken a demon and been happy. The most a demon could do was kill him, and right now, that didn't sound so bad.

Dean had just cracked open his first beer when he got the feeling that someone was watching him. He jerked around and the first thing he saw was the familiar tan trench coat. Then his eyes wandered up to Castiel's face. He blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Cas?" he said stupidly.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said in that deep, authorative voice.

"Man its good to see you," Dean said roughly. But was started out as happiness to see him turned quickly into anger. "What the hell took you so long?"

"I had some business to take care of," he said vaguely.

"I see the apocalypse hasn't changed your way of never giving a straight answer," Dean said sarcastically. Castiel didn't answer, and Dean chugged a whole beer in one shot. "Aaah, now that's what I'm talking about," he cleared his throat.

"Its all over, Dean. Everything."

"Yippee," Dean said, twirling hid fingers in the air lazily. "And where does that leave me?"

"You can lead a normal life, now."

"How am I supposed to that when everyone's dead?" he shook his head and chugged another beer.

"Life is what you make it, no matter the circumstances. Believe it or not, Dean, your world will heal from this tragedy."

"Oh, shut the hell up! What am I supposed to make of my life when everyone I've ever known is GONE!" he shouted. "You angels aren't allowed to have feelings. You have no idea what its like!" Even though he knew it was pointless, he threw an empty beer bottle at Castiel's head. Cas dodged it with ease, his tranquil expression never changing. That calmness always bugged the hell outta Dean.

"Oh, Dean Winchester. I know you've had a tough, unfair life. I've seen the whole thing. But now's your chance to finally do what you want. Don't you understand that? No more hunting, no more monsters."

Dean didn't say anything. He drank the rest of his twelve pack, and felt the sudden emptiness, and knew Cas was gone. Fuck living. He would take monsters and demons and night after night of dingy motels if it meant Sam and Bobby and Dad and Mom could come back. Cas didn't understand any of that. He was like a robot. During their time of knowing each other, Dean was stupid enough to believe that Cas cared somewhat about him, but no. He was still the calm, emotionless bastard that Dean had first met.

Dean started to feel that familiar blanket of haze that covered his mind. He was buzzed, and he welcomed it. It was like that blanket was protecting his mind from the hurt he knew was there. He just wasn't ready to face it yet. It had already been a week, and the fact that everyone was gone was still a shock. How did anyone ever get used to that?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A month had passed, and Dean had cried, broken several windows, yelled, complained, and cried some more. It was like there was this huge gaping hole in his stomach, and no matter how much he drank, it was never filled. The days of crying were over now. He felt totally drained of tears.

Now his routine consisted of drinking, sleeping, driving to a liquor store, and drinking and sleeping some more. He was somewhere in Maine, sleeping off his latest drunken state, when Castiel woke him up.

"Cas, what the hell?"

The angel stood there and looked at Dean in a way that made him feel like a 5-year-old. His stomach started to feel like it was spinning. Fucking hangovers.

"Ok," Dean said groggily. "I'm not really in the mood, so go on back to neverland, alright?" he took the pillow and covered his face, focusing on not throwing up.

"You know, Dean, when I said to go live your life, this isn't exactly what I meant."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll get over it." Dean threw the pillow to the floor. "Now can you shut that light off, please?" he rolled over on his stomach, which was growling loudly. How long had it been since he ate? He didn't remember.

Before he knew what was going on, he was thrown onto the floor. Cas had lifted the mattress up. That really didn't help his stomach. "Do you mind?" he asked bitingly.

"Nope. Get up. Do something productive."

"Fuck off!" Dean got up clumsily from the floor. He was more alert now; and more pissed. "I'm doing the best I can!"

"Sure you are, if that's what you would call this," Castiel looked around the cheap motel room with a critical expression. Dean was close to beating the crap out of him. What right did he have, storming in here and telling him how to live his pointless life? All of those people he had saved hunting were dead, now, most likely. What the hell was the point? He felt a stab of pain through his hollow- feeling stomach. It felt like he was going to pass out again. He steadied himself.

"I know you think I'm a cold heartless being," Cas said, and for once his voice had some kind of feeling; hurt. "But that's not true."

"Yeah, right." Dean said skeptically. "You don't know what its like, dammit!" he said. How can he emphasize the pain he was feeling? It was impossible to put into words! "I HAVE NO ONE!" Dean felt like he was going to cry again. I'm such a pansy.

"That's not true." Castiel crossed the room in a flash, until he was right in Dean's face. Dean kept his eyes shut. How humiliating it was to cry in front of him. Then something totally unexpected happened. Cas slowly leaned his head forward, and kissed Dean with soft, yet sturdy, lips. Dean gasped, but didn't push him away. He got this feeling inside of him, like that hole in his stomach was a little less big.

After a few moments of wordless pleasure, Castiel broke apart from him. "You have me."