Not too far from where Castiel woke up in jail and at about the same time, someone else woke up.

Dean blinked awake as his alarm blared before slamming the clock on the bedside table to turn it off. He sat up and turned, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed sleep out of his eyes while the clock read 8 am in searing red numbers.

He shuffled out of his small bedroom to a slightly bigger living room that had a combined kitchen and eating area across it. The apartment's other bedroom and single bathroom were on Dean's right as he headed towards food and coffee with the front door on his left. He passed the crappy, old plaid sofa and run-down TV as he sighed from being up so early.

The apartment's other occupant was already awake and made coffee for the both of them. He is way too happy to be awake this early, Dean thought about his brother, Sam.

"Morning," Sam smiled. Dean just grunted and accepted the cup of black coffee handed to him.

"Why are you up so early?" Dean asked, finally starting to actually wake up. "It's a freaking Saturday, Sam."

"It's late May, finals are coming up," Sam said, like it was obvious.

"And?"

"You are so not a morning person. A bunch of us are getting together to study at the library," Sam explained.

"You and only you would be happy about that," Dean teased, taking a long drink of coffee. "But someone's gotta be the brains of this family and it sure ain't me."

"Would you be able to drop me off before you go to work?"

"Sure," Dean said, "is that one girl going to be there?"

"Who, Jessica?" Dean nodded. "Maybe."

"You're not studying at all, are you?" Dean smirked, finishing his coffee.

"Shut up," Sam said with a laugh. "Can you take me?"

"Yeah, let me get dressed and we can go," Dean got up, put his mug in the sink and headed to his room to change.

Once Sam was at the library to supposedly study, Dean headed to work at Singer Auto where he was a mechanic. Sam and Dean's dad used to own the place with Bobby Singer but he passed away a few years ago.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted as he walked into the shop.

"Ready to get to work?" came the gruff reply. He was in his office, behind his desk, wearing his trademark baseball hat with the garage's logo.

Dean smiled. He was always ready to work on cars, could work for hours and it would fly by.

This particular Saturday wasn't too busy so Bobby let Dean go after five hours at two. He said bye to Bobby, grabbed his leather jacket and headed to his own 1967 Chevy Impala. As much time as he put into the cars at work, he put about ten times more work and love into this car. Besides Sam, this Impala and their crappy apartment was all their dad really left Dean. That, and debt.

Dean drove to where he usually went after work, a parking lot of a convenience store. A group of guys were already sitting on the curb, or standing, in front of the store. The owner tried to get them to stop loitering once but a group of guys with guns aren't easily swayed.

A few of the guys greeted Dean as he got out of his beloved car and he nodded back. He walked over to one guy and shook his hand.

"Hey, Benny," Dean said to a man with an old-fashioned hat and a short-trimmed beard.

"How was work?" Benny answered.

"The usual." To be honest, Benny was the only guy that Dean really liked in this group. The rest were just low-life gang members.

You're not much better, Dean thought. The nicer side of his brain chimed in with, "You joined for the right reasons."

"Like that matters," came the retaliation.

"Sometimes, that's all that matters."

Dean's internal moral crisis was interrupted by the gang's leader, wearing all black and who had an air of power about him.

"Good, we're all here," he said, looking pointedly at Dean. "Now we can get to business. It seems as if someone has been selling on our turf."

Dean rolled his eyes while some of the guys started yelling and swearing. It just seemed petty to Dean but some of them appeared to actually be offended which kind of made Dean laugh.

"Something funny, Winchester?" the leader asked.

"No," Dean said, turning his laugh into a cough.

"We know it was, don't we?" he continued. "Why don't we find some of them and make them pay!"

As the cheers turned to excitement, Dean walked over to the black-clad man to talk.

"Are you sure you want to start a war, Crowley?"

"They're the ones who want a war," Crowley argued.

"Someone's going to get hurt."

"You're going to get hurt," Crowley said menacingly, getting in Dean's face, "if you don't do as I say."

Dean wasn't scared of Crowley but he wasn't going to fight him.

"I'm just saying…"

"We can't let those guys sell on our turf, to our people. You know how we work, this is why we're here," Crowley reasoned.

"No, you know why I'm here," Dean snapped. The group had started to pay attention now and had gone quiet. Dean stepped back before it escalated into something no one wanted.

"All right boys," Crowley smiled over Dean's shoulder. "Go kick some ass."

Dean and Benny walked down the street, following Crowley's orders even though neither of them wanted to. They had been walking for so long it had turned dark.

"This is bullshit," Dean spat.

"I know, brother, but it's what we have to do," Benny tried to reason. "It's either we try to find of their guys to beat up or we get beat up for not listening."

Dean didn't say anything and just took a drag from his cigarette.

"Besides," Benny went on, inhaling off his own smoke, "we can't have anyone else selling to our people, our customers. That's how we get paid."

"Speak for yourself, I have a real job," Dean countered.

"So do I, the diner, but extra money never hurt anyone," Benny said. Dean couldn't argue against that and kept smoking. "You should back Crowley up, you are his second in command."

"I never asked to be."

Both of them finished their cigarettes, crushing the butts under their boots.

Right when they continued walking, they heard a gunshot that sounded like it came from the street over. They looked at each other and then started running.