Dean was angry. Dean was angry at everything; God, the world, every-damn-thing. In fact there were only two things he wasn't angry at; Sam and Castiel. But other than that, everything. Dean was mad that he gave and gave and gave to this world and nothing ever happened to him that was good.
He knew that people like him didn't get the good life, it comes with the territory, and it had never bothered him before. It hadn't bothered him when he'd been wrenched out of Lisa and Ben's arms, out of his almost normal life. It hadn't bothered him when he'd thought he had his brother back, only to discover Sammy had no soul. It hadn't bothered him.
But now, he's really pissed about it. Now he'd found something (someone) he wants enough for it to make him angry. Castiel.
For a while life seemed to be going well. Sam and Gabriel had finally opened their stupid eyes and found each other. It had made Dean happy just to see Sam happy, although the smug smirk on Gabriel's face was something he could've done without. And then things started going right for him and Castiel, and Dean started to worry; when was the hammer going to fall?
Then, fall it did.
Now Dean is watching, day-by-day, as Castiel tears himself up a little more. The war was killing him. Dean found out about Castiel's weapon, his soul powered, war machine. It was slowly killing Castiel, driving him insane.
Castiel no longer came home looking pure and holy. Now he came home covered in angelic blood and smelling of holy death. He is the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen, but he's slowly rotting away from the inside.
One night Dean rolls over to see Castiel asleep, a frown on his face even then. "Come back to me Cas," he says, missing the peaceful serenity that used to rest upon Castiel's brow. "Please come back."
