After they had unleashed the darkness, Dean had taken Sam's every straw of advice. 'Get to bed early', he'd said. 'This has been stressful for all of us, Dean - Charlie, the mark and now this 'the Darkness' crap? We're - particularly you - are going to need your rest.' He'd even managed to drift off once or twice. Every time he did so, however, he'd snap back, pictures flashing through his mind. Most of them were distorted or broken, like detached fragments, tiny pieces of the mark that still remained. The color red, the feel of blood running down his hands - now intertwined with the guilt and the dread and the sadness that seemed to just build and build.

On one hand, it felt great. Dean hadn't felt true, raw emotion since he'd had the mark; that little red blemish had just sucked it all out of him. On the other hand, before now? He hadn't wanted to put a knife to his own throat.

He sighed, arching his back and pressing his head against the bed frame, thinking to himself about the events that he couldn't believe had just happened a few hours prior. When the black smoke had cleared around them it had left nothing but devastation in its wake. It reminded Dean of when Cass had raised him from Hell; how all of the trees within a fifty mile radius had been flattened. Even now Dean was still surprised by how much damage had been done. Thinking of Cass, his heart wrenched.

Cass.

Now... that was another tale.

Almost as soon as they could muster up enough power to push Baby out of the mud they had turned tail down the road and driven back to where Sam had left Crowley, Rowena and Cass. Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes through forcefully shut eyelids. With their luck, it was no surprise how that had turned out - by the time they had gotten back Crowley was busy face-planting the ground, Rowena had fled and Cass... well, Cass had just been... gone.

'Are you deaf, or do you just find sinking a knife into me kinky?' Dean remembered Crowley growling. He'd tied him up in the bunker for what had to be the sixtieth time that year and sure - maybe torture wasn't really necessary to squeeze the information out of him but Dean hadn't needed the mark of Cain to want to make Crowley pay for almost killing Sam. Yeah, Sam had told him all about that little confrontation. No, Dean didn't give a rats ass who's fault it was. 'I told you already, Squirrel - Rowena turned Cass all 'incredible hulk' on me, took off with the codex and just when I think I'm about to die I see this great big flash of blue light. Next thing I know I'm lying down on the ground and your prince charming is nowhere to be seen.'

Dean had responded by plunging his knife into Crowley's shoulder, more to tear off his contemptuous smirk then anything else.

Dean dragged his hands down his face now, furrowing his brow and pulling his eyelids. No longer bothering to keep his eyes shut he sat up, the white bed-sheets sliding to his waist. "Where are you, Cass...?"

Crash.

Dean jolted awake, every muscle tightening. He threw the covers off of himself, reaching for his gun. "...Cass?" He called cautiously. He sneaked towards the door, gun poised at his ear. That had better have just have been Sam tripping over an extension cord, or so help me, he thought. It was dark out in the hallway. The shadows appeared to warp on the grey walls, exaggerating objects in a manner that made Dean feel anxious and small. His careful eyes scanned the bunker once and found nothing. A second time and Dean felt a lump catch in his throat, a wave of dread washing over him.

In the center of the room was a dark, shadowy figure.

Dean didn't think it had been there before.

No, it definitely hadn't been there before.

For a moment the two just paused, staring at each other in the darkness, waiting to see who moved first. In a split second the figure lurched, stumbling back. Its back collided with something - it was too dark to make out exactly what - and Dean heard a low grunt of pain.

This was his chance.

In the split second the intruder needed to recover, Dean had loaded his gun and had pinned him against the ground, every instinct he had telling him that this person was bad news. He could hear this guy's heartbeat and short, shallow breaths, however - he sounded genuinely scared. "What are you doing here?" He growled. When he received no clear answer, his voice raised two decibels. One part of him felt bad for scaring whoever this guy was - on the other hand, however, they had broken into the bunker and that could only mean trouble. "Answer me, dammit!"

There was silence. "... Dean?"

The moment he heard that voice it were as if someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart. His composure melted instantly and he backed off, pulling himself up. "... Cass." He returned his friend's name, his eyes gentle yet stern. A look of confusion slid over Dean's face. "What happened to you, Cass? We were worried sick about you!"

"Where have I..." Castiel shook his head. Now that he was up close to Cass, eyes focused only on Cass's own, Dean could make out an outline of his expression in the darkness. It was a look of confusion that could have rivaled Dean's own - and it filled Dean with a sense of dread. "Dean..."

Before Castiel could say anything more, the lights of the bunker flickered on with a low hum. "Dean? Dean, is everything alright?" Dean heard the heavy, trademark footsteps of Sam reverberating down the hall. "I heard you yelling and-

Sam stopped in his tracks when he saw Cass. "Is that-

"Cass, yeah. Looks like luck is on our side for once." Dean smiled, biting his lip. When Dean turned to Castiel however, that smile faltered.

"W-where am I?" Castiel looked nauseous - hurt, even. "D-dean... Why is Sam here? I thought you said he -

Dean placed a firm hand on Castiel's shoulder. His touch seemed to calm the angel down a little. "Cass... you're in the bunker. Don't you recognize...?"

"...Cass... What did you think Dean said about me?" Sam asked gently. Castiel was still shaking and terrified and beneath the calm demeanor, both Winchesters felt a familiar deep sense of morbidity. It could never just be something simple, could it?

Castiel looked up at Sam, sniffing slightly. "Y-you're supposed to be in Stanford, studying law, aren't you?"

Dean and Sam both frowned. "Cass..." Sam began. "That was years ago... and you weren't even there at the time."

"Yeah, Cass. ... Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Dean said slowly.

"I... I don't know." The tears watering in Castiel's eyes broke Dean's heart. He had never seen the angel this upset before. "Dean... I... I think there's something wrong with my memory."

"Okay, Cass. Just calm down and tell us what you remember."

Dean had sat Castiel down on the couch whilst Sam went off to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee. The angel appeared to have calmed down significantly by now, although he was still shaking a little. He bunched the blanket Dean had fetched him in his hands and wrapped it around himself further, blinking out the last of his tears. "I... I remember that you said Sam was in Stanford with his girlfriend. W-we weren't in a 'bunker' either. We... we were in a normal house."

Dean frowned. "Us? A normal house? ... Cass, Sammy and I haven't lived in a 'normal' house since we were kids - we've got to keep moving around."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "How come, Dean?"

Dean felt like he'd just been slapped in the face. "Cass... do you really not remember what me and Sam do for a living?"

"...You're a mechanic, aren't you?"

Dean stared down at Castiel, speechless. "... Cass..." He began weakly. Dean could feel his knees buckling. "Tell me... have you ever heard of monsters...?"

"Monsters?" Castiel seemed surprised. "Of course I have. Ghosts, werewolves... you mean those sorts of monsters?" He shook his head. "I don't understand why you're asking me, though."

"This might surprise you, Cass..." Dean sighed. 'But monsters? ...They're real. Me and Sam...? ... We hunt them."

The look that spread across Castiel's face was one that Dean had seen a thousand times. It was a look of strong disbelief and of mild amusement, mingled with a growing shock. "S-seriously? You've got to be joking, right?" He laughed, hoping for some reassurance. "I mean... I remember it all so clearly. Y-you're a mechanic, not a vampire slayer or whatever the heck it is you do. I met you at a party, Dean! I have years and years of memories - and now what you're trying to tell me is that they're all fake?"

"Memories can be implanted." Dean flatlined. "... Whatever you remember, Cass... its obviously not what really happened."

"No! I refuse to accept that." Castiel yelled. He was suddenly on his feet. His eyes burnt into Dean like red hot needles, stinging Dean and crumbling away the wall of numbness Dean had built. "Do you mean to tell me that everything that happened between me and you never happened?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Cass." It was a half truth. Dean had some idea - he just didn't want to believe it. Castiel had said that they were living together, sure - but Castiel was his best friend.

Castiel took a deep breath, visibly hurt. It made Dean feel inexplicably guilty - he felt like he had just grabbed a knife and ripped the angel's heart out. "We're dating, Dean. ...We've been going out for 5 years now."

Dean could see the fresh tears in Castiel's eyes now. He felt like he should have been able to come up with some grandeur speech to comfort the angel, to be the strong and confident one like he always was. He felt like he should have known exactly what to do and how to react - after all, Dean always had a plan. It wasn't always a good plan but it had always worked out in the end; when Sam had said 'yes' to Lucifer, driving in there radio blaring had been his plan. When Sam had been soulless, Death had been his plan. When Sam had been dying, Gadreel had been his plan. Castiel, however, had done it. In one fell swoop, Castiel's words had finally broken him.

So instead of doing any of those things, Dean simply got up off of the couch and walked away, struggling to hold back tears.