Alright, this has been based on a very crazy dream of mine, so forgive me for all the crazy ass shit. Oh, forgive me for any misspelings as well, English isn't my maternal language.

Disclaimer: None of the characters presented are mine, sadly.


Dean was old. So terrible, terrible old.

Sitting in the empty room, he felt as like the walls were shouting at him and his miserable existence: "we are empty, and so is your heart" they'd scream, "we are falling at pieces, and so are you" they'd complete. And the bad thing was: they were right.

As the years passed by, he has tried not to thing about his past, and the things he'd done. He was so young then, and so inconsequent. He thought the world was his to use. And when people he liked started to die, started to disappear, started to leave him alone to drown in his greedy, he made pacts. He dealt his own soul so many times, he was not sure to whom it belonged anymore.

His wife and son had been the first ones to pass away. She died giving the boy's birth. The baby died a little while after. He had never found strength to cry their deaths.

Then, it was his brother, his only family, the person he loved most in the world. He tried to never think about how Sammy threw himself from that tower, taking along with him the demon of yellow eyes before Dean had a chance to make deal with him to bring his wife's life back. He found out later that his little brother had actually saved his life back in that day, since the demon had no intention to bring lifes back. He was there to take away lifes. Dean's life.

The last one to vanish had been Castiel. Cas, as he was used to call the angel, had simply disappeared one day. Dean went to the angel's room to talk, and there was nothing. No Castiel. No letter. Nothing. He assumed Castiel had gone back to Heaven. But who knows?

So there he was, dying slowly, guilty of so many sins he knew he wasn't going to meet his brother, his wife, his son, and Castiel in Heaven. He was cursed to spend the rest of the eternity in Hell, with demons that hatred him because of the many times they were fooled by Dean.

"Hey, someone left you a gift, Mr. Winchester. Do you wanna see it?"

The young, lovely girl who worked in the asylum entered the room with a suitcase. Smiling at Dean, she left it in front of him, and then left the room.

Who'd leave him anything? Dean thought. Everyone he knew was dead already… Oh, but there was this one person, of course. Bobby.

Ironically, the man he'd expect to die first had been the one who survived for longer. The old drunk man lived as long as Dean himself. He had died the past week, and Dean swore it would be the last time he'd cry.

He looked intrigued to the suitcase. Bobby was a good friend, indeed, but had nothing to been left. Maybe two or three bottles of alcohol.

Dean opened the suitcase and found it empty, with only a note inside "Thought you'd like to have your life back, even if just for a while" it was written. He furrowed his eyebrows. Was the old man drunk when he wrote it? Because surely nothing was inside. Dean raised the suitcase, and found it oddly heavy. Something surely was inside. He turned it down, and found another compartment. Sitting in his bed, he opened it. And started to cry more than he ever cried.

Inside were just a few things. His wife's tiara. His collar, the one his brother made to him and that he thought was lost forever. And Castiel trench-coat.

Taking his friend's coast in one hand, and his brother's collar in another, Dean cried. He caressed both of them, remembered them. Then he let them down and took his wife's tiara in his hands. And he cried for her for the first time.

Maybe it passed hours, maybe just seconds, but he managed to control himself. He sat there for a long moment, just looking at everything, when he felt a hand in his shoulder. Jumping slightly, he looked back. There was Castiel, in his trench-coat, smiling at him.

"Hello Dean."

Dean had no idea how to react. He fell silent, and his eyes once more left tears stream down his face.

"Cas."

Castiel's hand was still in his shoulder, and Dean felt something change. His body wasn't weak anymore, his sight could see longer and better. He stood up and looked himself in the mirror across the room, and the face that looked back at him was a young one, that he thought was lost forever.

"I've been talking to God since I came back Heaven, Dean." Castiel said, standing still behind a very shocked Winchester. "He agreed to let you go there, if you are truly sorry for everyone you've made suffer. This is your last chance. Will you come with me?"

Castiel extended his hand, and waited for Dean to take it. Now stronger, with a new whole life to be lived, this was the choice he'd have to make. Go to Heaven now, or have a second chance down here?

He looked dead into old friend's eyes, and he knew.

He made his hand into a fist, and punched the angel's face with all his strenght.

"You thought I'd believe in that shit, didn't you?"

He took the other's head, and threw it in the closest wall.

"I. Am. Not. Stupid."

He marked every word beating Castiel's head against the wall.

"I know what you really want. You want to take me to Hell, isn't it, Lucifer?"

The familiar face in front of him started to change, as a smirk opened in Castiel mouth. No, that wasn't Castiel anymore. It had never been, actually. It was Lucifer all along.

"Well, it was a good chance, after all."

With only one open hand, Lucifer threw Dean across the room.

Lucifer, however, didn't know that Dean had been expecting him for a long, long time. One of the few things Castiel did after going away, had been explaining to Dean how to kill the master of Hell.

"There's a knife that can kill him. This knife can kill any angel. Lucifer's a fallen angel, but an angel indeed."

Happened that Luficer threw Dean to the exactly spot where he had hidden this knife. With a fluid movement, Lucifer jumped to Dean. And with a fluid movement, Lucifer was dead.

Breathing heavily, Dean said:

"This is a dream."

Confused for the reason to why he'd say that out of the blue, he repeated it again, and this time stronger.

"This is a dream!"

He wasn't alone, and his friends weren't dead. It had all been a dream. And as a mantra, Dean kept murmuring:

"Please, let it be a dream. Please, let it be a dream. Please-"

Dean heard noises, and his eyes opened by themselves.

"Dean, are you coming or not? The beach will be there at any time, but they are saying it will rain, and we want to enjoy at least one day of sun!"

That voice was Sammy's.

"Why we can't take him asleep? He won't be bothered, will he?"

That voice was Castiel's.

"Idjit, of course he will! He's Dean Winchester, he bitches about everything!"

Dean laughed. That was definitely Bobby's.

"DEAN, COME DOWN NOW!"

Jo's voice.

He felt the urge to cry. It had all been a dream. His family wasn't dead. It was down there, waiting to go to the beach with him. He was not alone, and he'd never be.

Smiling, he jumped from bed and went down stair.