AN: Okay so hello. My reasoning for writing this little 'over-used' plot idea (Aside from the fact that I love the concept…) is that a while ago I read a fic similar to this that had Dean thrown into the future, but replaced 'Future-Dean' entirely. While it was wonderful, I thought, "Wait, when Dean was sent into the future last time, the current Dean was still there…" So I thought it would be fun to attempt a future, domestic fic with the real Dean still there. Apologies if you did something like this before me; I truly didn't mean to copy. (Oh and if you see any errors or just plain think a part needs revision, drop a review sometime and I'll try to mend it.) Alright, sorry. The author's notes will not be as long again. Enjoy.

The hunt wasn't supposed to be easy. Sam had read the report in the newspaper ahead of time a concluded that there must have been a nest of at least fourteen. They had their weapons for decapitation at the ready, a little dead man's blood stored in their pockets for easy access, and, their greatest weapon, Castiel. Together the trio advanced on the nest, located in an abandoned shoe factory a few blocks from the brother's current motel. The windows were haphazardly boarded shut and, as holds true with most neglected buildings, covered in various displays of graffiti.

"Vamps, always picking the homiest of places." Dean mused, trying to break the silence. Sam placated him with a forced smile, while Castiel looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. Really, what was new there? He shouldn't be, and isn't, surprised at their reactions.

Instead, Dean pursed his lips and allowed a light sigh to escape between them. A beat of silence passed. Another.

"I don't believe this is the common conception of a normal home." Castiel stated, almost sounding a bit smug.

Sam raised his eyebrows. This wasn't the first time Cas had taken a joke too literally, and wasn't near the last. Dean, never one for subtlety, couldn't restrain his sigh this time, but before he could correct his friend's mistake, said friend raised a hand in recognition.

"Yes, a joke, I understand." He drew out the word 'joke' as if he didn't feel right saying it. Dean huffed out a laugh and twirled his rather large knife between his fingers.

"Yeah Cas, good job."

The angel frowned at that. Dean always addressed him as if he were a child. Granted, he sometimes didn't quite grasp some human concepts such as sarcasm, he didn't appreciate being mocked. Ever since the 'baby in a trench coat' comment, Castiel had no problem in displaying his discontent at said behavior from Dean. Looking up again, Cas fixed Dean with his best attempt at a menacing glare. It only earned a friendly pat on the back.

"Awe, come on man. Don't get prissy on me."

The glare intensified. "I'm not being…prissy." He spat. "Whoa dude, okay. Sorry." Dean offered, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Guys, this isn't the time. We're like," a quick mental count "two hundred feet away from the nest. This factory is going to be crawling with vamps. We'll need to be, uh, vigilant." Sam stated, taking on a no-nonsense tone. Cas nodded. "Yes, I agree." Dean just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, alright."

The two siblings raised their knives in preparation, both also holding flashlights. Sam placed a swift kick to the middle of the door, effectively tearing it from it's hinges. The three proceeded to file in and scope the place out.

Two passages, each with their own doors, split the building into two parts. Dean's head lolled up to the ceiling in exasperation. "Looks like we're splitting up." Sam nodded in affirmation. "Got it, I'll take the left. You and Cas go right. Need any help just call."

Before either could argue, Sam pushed past the doors and took off down the long hallway. "Damn it Sammy. Cas-" Dean cut himself short when he noticed he was alone in the used-to-be-entrance. He pointed the flashlight down the right passage and made out a trench coated figure, already stalking down hallway.

"Wait up!" Dean called pathetically. How was he already losing control of the situation? Jogging, he caught up to Castiel and matched his pace. Together they reached another set of double doors.

The last thing Dean remembered was pushing open the doors. The rest was a blur.

Blow to the head.

Flash light dropped.

Hissing noises from behind and ahead.

One blind punch. Two. Three.

Swipe of the knife.

Knife fell to the ground.

"DEAN!"

"Cas?"

More hissing.

Son of a bitch.

Flashlight kicked.

Fall to the floor.

Son of a bitch.

Cas smites two vampires.

Another blow to the head and chest.

"Dean!"

Hissing, more god damn hissing.

Louder. "Dean!"

Two fingers pressed to the head.

Black