A/N: DONE! I'm so glad I finished this, I felt like I took my time with this chapter, (sorry) but it was worth it.

Opening his eyes, Dean was sprawled out in the backseat of the Impala, the familiar warmth of the seat and the rumbling of the engine was a comfort to him. Head throbbing and eyes burning, Dean sat up and tied to ignore the amount of pain that the simple action caused. He saw his father in the driver's seat, hands clenched so hard around the steering wheel that they were almost white. Dean was relieved when he saw Sammy in the passenger seat, sleeping peacefully. But what was that on Sam's head? It looked like a bruise. Almost violently, Dean was bombarded with memories of what had happened. Sammy tied up and knocked out. Castiel, the 'Angel of the Lord' who Dean stabbed. And John, who betrayed his sons. Anger bubbled up within Dean. How dare his fucking dad, who hurt both Dean and Sammy, then have the fucking audacity to still drive them around the fucking country like everything was okay. Reaching for his knife in his jeans, Dean was surprised to find that his blade wasn't there.

"I took your knife," His father said, voice low and gruff. His eyes focused on the road ahead of him, not even looking at his eldest son. "I took it because I knew you were gonna respond like this, Dean."

"How else am I gonna respond dad? You were gonna kill me, kill Sammy! How do you think I'm gonna fucking respond?" Dean roared before he reached for John's handgun in the waistband of his father's pants. Unwavering, Dean aimed the firearm at John's head. Immediately, his father hit the brakes and the car stopped. Dean realised they were at some highway, surrounded by nothing but barren desert. There was a sign for a motel and gas station, 17 miles ahead. A jeep drove by. A lonely telephone pole and that was it. Nothing else but the Winchesters and the Impala.

"Dean," John said, his voice rough. "I get that you're angry-"

"I'm not angry dad! I'm fucking pissed! You bastard, give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right now!" Dean yelled loud enough to wake Sam, whose eyes widened at the scene between Dean and his father.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sammy asked, his eyes were big and suddenly full of tears at the realization that his big brother was actually going to shoot their father.

"Sammy, you know what dad done to you, right? No father should ever do that, hunter or not. They don't fucking use their kid as a sacrifice." Dean tried to keep his voice comforting, trying to reassure his baby brother whilst holding a gun to his father's head.

"But Dean, he's our dad! We can't kill him!"

"Yes we can, Sammy! He was gonna hurt you!"

"Dean, let me explain wha-" John was cut off by Sam.

"Dean, you're just being a hypocrite! You're mad at dad for tryna kill me, but you're about to do the same thing!" Sammy cried, tears were streaming down his broken face.

"Dean, stop this, right now!" John screamed, not daring to move, because he knew that his son, without hesitation will pull the trigger on him.

"What? Sammy, are you on dad's side now?" Dean asked his brother, ignoring his father as his temper increased.

"No! I will always be on your side, Dean. I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret!"

"Trust me Sammy, I won't regret this." Dean's finger tightened on the trigger, his hand steady.

"Dean, you're a hunter, not a murderer." Sammy said, seriously, for a kid of sixteen, he seemed so wise, so mature. Dean held his gaze with Sammy's. Sam's puppy eyes were red with tears and he looked terrified. He seemed terrified of Dean. If there was one thing Dean was going to achieve in his bleak, miserable life, it was to protect Sammy, make him happy no matter the cost. Swallowing a lot more than saliva, Dean let the gun drop from his father's temple but still aimed it at John, just in case. "Get out." Was all Dean said to his father through gritted teeth.

"What? Son, are you cra-"

"I'm not your son, I never have been. Now get the fuck outta the car."

"Dean-"

"You should just be lucky I'm letting you live, old man." Dean sneered. When John didn't move Dean slammed the muzzle of the gun forcefully to John's temple, causing him to gasp in pain.

"GET OUT!" Dean roared. "Just because I won't kill you, doesn't mean I won't shoot you so that it'll hurt like a bitch."

Reluctantly, John reached for the door handle and opened it gingerly. Taking one step out of the car he turned around to face his sons.

"What d'ya expect me to do, Dean? Do you want me to apologise? I'll explain everything to-"

"There's a motel about twenty miles down. Hitch a ride there, call Bobby. Hell, go to Vegas and marry a stripper if you want to. I don't care; just don't let me see your face again."

"You don't mean that, son."

"If it weren't for Sammy stopping me, you'd be dead in a ditch by now." Dean snarled.

"What have I taught you 'bout family, son? This aint how a family is supposed to act." John told his eldest son.

"That's the thing, dad. We aren't a family. Haven't been one for a long time." That was all Dean said before he hit the gas and drove away, putting more distance between him and his father. Anxiety was growing within Dean, as he realised he had just done what he thought he was far too scared to do: stand up to his father.

"Dean?" Sam asked. He had remained quiet during Dean and John's talk, not daring to say a word. But now it was just him and Dean, and he felt safe.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Looking at his younger brother, Dean smiled. A genuine, heart-warming smile. His little brother returned it.

"We're okay, right?" Sammy asked.

"Yeah, Sammy. We're okay."

…

Castiel was Disturbed. That was the only word to describe what had happened. The Angel had carried out his task that his superiors had told him to do and had confronted John Winchester whilst he was in a dream-state. Castiel had told the Winchester of his task and of the destiny of the righteous man and how to achieve it. John had complied and was to carry out the task, the sacrificing of his youngest son Samuel to prove his devotion to the Lord. The plan was simple, it was supposed to run like clockwork. Until Dean Winchester had intervened thus changing the course of destiny.

Dean Winchester. When Castiel, had first met Dean, the human male was brash, rude and stabbed the Angel, and even though it did not physically affect Castiel, he was still aggravated that the boy had the gall to attack an Angel of the Lord. Dean had also defied both his and Castiel's father's wishes to not interrupt the sacrifice of Samuel Winchester. But then, it was as if Dean Winchester had redeemed himself by volunteering to take his brother's place. Dean Winchester confronted a warrior of Heaven and would have willingly be used a sacrifice, to save the life of his younger brother. To be honest, it had surprised Castiel, many of his brothers did not hide their distaste for humanity and would say unpleasant things about his Father's creations. Just a bunch of mud-monkeys. Plumbing on two legs. Uriel would say.

Dean Winchester was the first human Castiel had ever met, and Dean had such a kind soul and was so pure of heart that the Angel couldn't fathom why his brothers had such a hatred for humans, and wanted to bring forth the Apocalypse to eradicate humanity. Dean Winchester was a shining example of the Lord's creations, as beautiful as the stars in his Father's universe. But Castiel was scared; he had felt so strongly for Dean Winchester. And it was even more terrifying because before the Castiel met Dean, the Angel had never felt before.

…

Dean knew that something supernatural was going on. Silence drowned out the distant sound of civilisation and only Dean's deep breaths and bird calls were the only thing to be heard in the isolated forest. Dean hated birds, their cawing at obnoxious times in the morning wake Dean up from his well needed shut-eye, and whenever he has a hunt in the forest, they always have to chirp whenever they saw him; alerting whatever thing Dean was hunting his location. And birds were always so loud, that Dean couldn't hear jack shit on a hunt. Basically, Dean felt like blasting their feathery asses full of gunpowder.

Dean's soft, hunter tread in the grass was a soothing sound for him, calming the Winchester for what he would do next. Dean liked the forest; it was where he felt relaxed. It had a wilderness ambience to it, yet it could be so tranquil.

Keeping a look out, Dean scanned the vegetation around him, searching for something supernatural. So far, no such luck. After him and Sammy left their dad, they went to a motel in Denver and after several days, Dean made Sammy enrol in high school so that he could complete his junior year. Dean got a job at an auto-shop as a mechanic but he also done local hunts on the side. After hunting for a decade, it was hard for him to break the habit, much to Sam's dismay.

Dean had spent several days doing research, and he had found out that the victims who went hiking in Colorado were found 2 weeks later, in a ditch with slash marks on their jugulars. Dean wasn't able to do a coronary investigation as he didn't have any official ID's made in such a short space of time, but people were dying and Dean had to act fast. Disregarding that, Dean was fairly confident with this hunt. Sure, the death patterns were a little off, but the Winchester was adamant that he was dealing with a Wendigo and it was the thing that was ganking people. Even Sammy, who had a good eye for researching, had agreed with his older brother.

Dean had his machete in the waistband of his jeans, but he was wielding his shotgun full of salt rounds just in case. Not forgetting he also had the box of matches and lighter fluid, to Molotov the Wendigo. Yeah sure, Dean knew the consequences of hunting a creature this dangerous by himself; it was hard enough to torch a Wendigo with two people. Hunters were like lone wolves; never joining the pack otherwise they would have to conform to the packs rules of Alpha/Beta. Painfully, Dean got hit with a pang of longing for his father, his hunting partner. Dean always thought he was a freakin' awesome hunter, but now he felt lonely and lost. But despite how much John had apologized, Dean knew he could never forgive his father for what he mercilessly put Sam through. Dean reused Sammy's plea to help Dean on the hunt as he couldn't bare it if his baby brother got injured.

Rustling was heard in the undergrowth, and Dean instantly went into hunter mode; he tightly gripped his weapons and was mentally figuring the most appropriate tactic to frying the sonofabitch. Anticipation filled the air, but it was countered by Dean's growing anxiety. Taking several breaths and putting his finger on the trigger, Dean prepared himself for the Wendigo that would burst through the trees. There! Rapidly, a figure was approaching Dean in the distance, but unlike the usual Wendigos that Dean hunts, this one seemed a little slower, Dean could actually make out its figure as it was heading straight for Dean.

Dean hit the trigger repeatedly, several bullets hit the target yet the damn monster was still on his ass. It didn't even falter. Dean dropped the gun and took out the lighter fluid and matches ready, with the machete to use, but as the Wendigo got closer, Dean realised it wasn't a Wendigo. It looked almost human.

Dean snapped out of a daze and focused on the thing that was approaching him. Dean realised the thing coming at him had porcelain skin, and it had distinguishable facial features, with dark brown hair, with dark eyes to match. This definitely wasn't a Wendigo. It might have even passed for human, apart from the hungry look in its eyes.

But Dean knew, whatever this creature was, it was the one that killed all those innocent people. Gripping the machete for dear life, Dean got ready to swing. The beast was about 20 meters away from Dean, and the Winchester prepared to strike the bitch as it came sprinting at him. Dean's reflexes kicked in, his muscles burning with anticipation; adrenalin flooded his body, making everything have a buzz to it.

Getting into a stance, Dean got ready; he was indecisive about whether to strike a blow to his heart, to slit his neck or try to completely decapitate the fucker. He'd only get one shot, the bastard seemed intent to kill Dean at any costs. What Dean definitely wasn't expecting was the creature to open his mouth and to see retractable fangs. What the fuck? It seemed almost like a-

Vampire! And like using a baseball bat, Dean forcefully swung the machete, to behead the bastard.

Dean wasn't even sure that Vamps existed, but he knew he made the right decision to aim for the head as he definitely did not want the fucker's fangs next to him.

The machete sliced clean through the neck, only a little rough when the sleek metal hit bone. The sound of thudding when the head hit the floor first, then the rest of the body followed. Breathing deeply, Dean leaned against the bark of a tree as he closed his eyes to try and gather his thoughts. How the fuck were Vampires still around? Dad's friend Danny Elkins said that they were all extinct, because of hunters. But the hunters were obviously wrong as one Vamp was definitely alive and kickin'. Until Dean sorted it out. This was the thing that was causing the deaths? How did it even survive this long? Dean let his thoughts wonder off, slipping into his usual post-hunt phase.

But again, something was nagging at the back of his mind. The Winchester tried to mentally go over everything he knew about the bloodsuckers. Eventually, Dean gave up and tried to pull himself up off the hard earth. Dean glanced at the dismembered head; he needed to torch the body, leave no evidence behind. Hah, it's not like the vamp has any buddies. Shit. Dean remembered what was playing on his mind: Vamps always hunt in a group. Dread bubbled up within Dean, as he forced himself to stand. Vamps were always in a group, a nest. The alpha of the nest would send several betas to go hunt for their food, a.k.a humans. And Dean had just killed one of them. Shit.

Scrambling up to a hunters stance, Dean looked around the area. Call it a hunter's instinct, but Dean was certain that they were more Vampires on the way. Keeping an eye out, Dean scanned the vast amount of trees for any sign of movement.

Dean saw vague humanoid shapes approaching him. Two of them. Dean put his body into a defensive stance, his muscles tensing. The first Vamp with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes sprinted out of the trees; her dainty feet were barely touching the ground. Suddenly she stopped in front of the Winchester, sizing him up.

"Hey pretty boy!" She growled, her voice was a striking contrast to her innocent, delicate appearance. "Wanna join us for dinner?" She suggested, a hungry look in her cerulean eyes.

I am dinner, you mean…Dean thought. "I'd rather just have a cheeseburger." Dean retorted before he swung the machete clean through her neck, her golden curls went bouncing as her head fell to the ground. These guys must have been newly made vampires; they seemed inexperienced, focused too much on their bloodlust that they didn't bother fighting.

One more vamp… Dean thought. Gripping his machete tightly and ignoring the throbbing in his arm, Dean waited, listening to any noises that would give the predator away.

At every rustling sound, Dean would abruptly turn his head only to find nothing there apart from the trees. It's messing with me…The Vamp was trying to spook Dean. The scuttling stopped and everything went silent. Even the birds. Only Dean's harsh breathing was to be heard in the forest. Immediately, a deafening high-pitched sound pierced his ears.

The Winchester roared in pain but he could not hear himself scream, the wailing noise was that loud. Ears drums bursting, Dean dropped to the floor and put his hands to cover his ears in a futile attempt to stop the deafening noise from permanently affecting his hearing. The high-pitched noise resonated through his body and Dean felt something warm and wet against the sides of his face. Dean put his hands to cup his ears and he pulled them away to find out they were covered in blood. Dean felt everything vibrate, like the bass when he was in the impala and blasted the 'stones on the speakers, but this time everything was painful. Something hard collided into Dean's torso, making him sprawl into the hard, muddy earth, leaving Dean winded and struggling for oxygen. Opening his green eyes, Dean found himself grappling with a blond-haired Vamp, his fangs, deadly sharp, aiming for Dean's throat.

The noise was still blasting; it was resonating at a higher pitch and was seemingly getting louder as the fight between the human and the Vampire intensified. Dean made his fist collide with the Vamp's jaw, knocking him back into the ground. The creature fluidly sprang back up and grabbed Dean by the neck, getting a good grip, his fist wrapped around the delicate flesh of Dean's throat and squeezed hard. Black spots appeared in Dean's vision and his body went limp. Just when he thought he was going to die of asphyxiation, the tight grip on his throat loosened. Relief flooded through Dean but soon fizzled out as the vamp's fist tightened on his throat again. The whole 'pretending to strangle Dean' act lasted for several minutes. Every time Dean tried to close his eyes, he would just be jarred awake by the bloodsucker.

"Sorry about that." The vampire snarled, bearing his fangs. "I know I'm not meant to play with my food, but I like how desperate you are for oxygen; it will make your blood even more delectable."

Dean could barely hear what the vamp was saying; the blaring noise was becoming dangerously loud now, Dean had no idea how the Vamp wasn't writhing in pain by the sheer volume. The creature was still pretending to strangle Dean.

"You're a hunter, yes? No one else is that experienced in killing my brethren unless you hunt us for a living." The Vamp tilted his head in a childlike manner. He grinned devilishly, his fangs getting caught in his bottom lip, causing it to bleed. Blood was welling profusely from his lip, and he pressed his lips to Dean's. NO! Dean's tried to hold the Vamp back but it was too late. Unlike the stories, humans don't turn into Vamps by being bitten by one; they turn into a Vamp by being fed the Vamp's blood. Dean could taste the tangy, metallic taste of the blood in his mouth, he tried to spit it out but he knew he was too late. He was going to change; he was going to turn into one of them. Dean felt as if he could not be in anymore pain. Until he felt fangs pierce the soft flesh of his neck.

Dean screamed, eyes opening wide at the amount of pain the Vampire had inflicted on him. Blood exited the wound in Dean's neck and the Vampire was sucking on his throat, trying to get as much blood as possible. Lapping at the blood, the Vampire was obviously too distracted to see Dean reach for his machete and behead him.

The head rolled several times before coming to a stop on the springy grass. Relief and victory flooded through Dean, as he realised he had ganked three Vamps. Too bad it had cost Dean his humanity. The piercingly loud noise died down, or maybe Dean went deaf due to the sheer volume, but testing out his theory, Dean swayed his head back and forth in the pile of leaves he was lying in, expecting to hear a rustling noise. But there was nothing. Silence. Dean knew that permanent, irreparable damage had been done to his ears. Lying back down, the Winchester tried to control his erratic breaths, he could feel it, feel himself turning into a vampire, and the poisoned blood was running sickly slow through Dean's body, leaving pain behind. Dean felt he had been contaminated, and the toxic substance was defiling what was left of his humanity.

Flooding out of his neck, the blood seemed to create a puddle around Dean. The blood loss made him feel dizzy and nauseated, his vision blurring, but Dean refused to close his eyes as Dean knew that if he did, the next time Dean opened his eyes, he would be a monster. He'd be a predator, ruthlessly killing innocent people.

Dean hoped he would bleed out first; he'd rather die than be inhuman. Dean stretched out his hand, reaching for his machete which was several meters away from where he was lying down. Dean never thought he'd die by killing himself, it always seemed to him like an easy way out, a last resort, but Dean was desperate. Dean ignored the pain and tried fumbling for his weapon but it was too far away. It wasn't until a pair of black dress shoes came into his line of sight that Dean stopped and looked. It was quite unusual to find people hiking in monkey suits and when Dean lifted his gaze to see something other than feet, Dean's heart dropped. There, flapping in the wind was tan colored material, a trench coat. And if Dean looked higher he knew he would see deep blue eyes staring at him. Shit. No. No. NO.

Castiel squatted down so that he could look Dean in the eye. Dean cringed from the unwavering blue gaze that was set upon him so intensely. Embarrassed, Dean turned his head away from Castiel, he didn't want anybody, even some supernatural prick, looking at the Winchester in his final moments. Seeing Dean for a weakling and a pathetic excuse for a human. Tears formed in Dean's eyes as he realized how much he disappointed his mother, how he couldn't avenge her death. Or Sammy, now that Dean was either going to a) die or b) turn into a vamp; Dean would never see his baby brother again, who he promised he would keep safe. Dean was even crying for his father, a man he never made proud.

Castiel gently turned Dean's head to face him. The man's bright azure eyes were full of sadness and understanding, which was not was Dean was expecting. He was expecting Castiel to get revenge, by stabbing Dean in the chest. Castiel's lips were moving slightly, and Dean realized he must have been talking to him, but Dean couldn't hear. Castiel realized Dean's situation and looked infinitely sad. Oh well, at least he could get payback on Dean for knifing him.

Softly, Castiel outstretched his arm and softly touched Dean's forehead. And the pain… disappeared. Dean's neck wasn't a mangled mess anymore, the blood that was gushing out of his throat stopped. The poison invading his body had gone. He could hear the trees rustling in the wind and Dean knew his hearing had returned. And it was all thanks to Castiel. Warily, Dean turned to face him.

Dean's voice was gruff, not giving anything away. "What did you do to me?" Dean asked.

"I healed you, Dean; it would not have been beneficial for you to be a blood-sucking parasite." Castiel stated, his voice monotone, which contrasted heavily with his bright blue eyes. They seemed to convey so much emotion.

"Parasite? You mean a vamp?" Dean asked.

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, and Dean vaguely remembered that Cas had done that right before Dean had stabbed him. Dean would've called the action adorable. But he didn't.

"Yes," Castiel said, with a frown on his face. "A Vamp." He tried out the word with a frown of his face, as if it was the most offensive word he had ever said. He pronounced the word so awkwardly that Dean might have laughed.

"Well, what about my hearing? You healed that too. Why?" Dean inquired. Dean could understand why Cas had prevented Dean from becoming a blood sucking murderous vampire who would kill anything he could stick his fangs into, but why did Cas go through the trouble of healing Dean's hearing? It wasn't going to affect anybody but Dean, so what was the point?

Castiel sighed heavily and moved to sit on a boulder, he put his head on his arms and even though he was some supernatural prick, Dean thought that Castiel seemed like a guy who had a tough day at work. It made Cas seem less threatening, less scary. Cautiously, Dean moved so that he was sitting opposite Castiel.

"My true voice can be overwhelming to humans, Dean. I saw that you were outnumbered by the onslaught of Vampires so I tried to warn you. I didn't realise how loud I was." He looked up at Dean, his blue eyes apologetic. Damn. If Sammy had his puppy eyes, Castiel was sure working the hurt kitten look.

"Warn me…? Wait. That noise, that was you?" At Castiel's nod of confirmation, Dean remarked "Next time buddy, lower the volume." Even just thinking about the noise made Dean's ears ache.

"My apologies, humans are very fragile, sometimes it's hard for me to refrain myself."

"Yeah, so what are you? Some high-class demon?" Dean asked.

"Dean, you know what I am." Castiel said it as a statement, not a question.

What? Cas never said what he was, the only time was right before Dean had stabbed him. He said he was- "You're an Angel?" Dean scoffed. At Castiel's stiff nod of affirmation, Dean felt his heart drop.

"Angels don't exist, and if they did, they wouldn't be wearing raincoats." Dean said. After remembering what Cas was going to do to Sammy he felt his blood boil. "Angels wouldn't kill innocent children!" Dean roared.

Castiel's face was impassive. "I told you, I am an Angel and I had orders. I was told to let the sacrifice of Samuel Winchester commence."

Something was playing on Dean's mind, something didn't add up. "Yeah, so why did you save me? A few days ago you were ready to kill my brother without giving a shit and-"

"That's not true, Dean. I didn't wish to kill a human child." Castiel said softly, remorse evident in his eyes.

"But you were gonna if I didn't stop you. And why exactly would an Angel want to save me, huh?" Dean asked incredulously. "I mean, look at me, I'm the furthest you can get from a saint."

"I don't believe that, Dean. And I don't think you believe it either." Castiel's deep blue eyes were assessing Dean, making him feel venerable, exposed. It made Dean feel uncomfortable and he wanted Cas out of his face as soon as possible, so Dean picked up the shotgun off the floor and shot Castiel in the heart. Twice. Gunshots echoed throughout the forest. Unsurprisingly, Castiel was still standing, Dean knew it wouldn't affect Castiel, but he just really wanted Cas to get the message and leave. The Angel looked back at Dean, with hurt clear in his eyes. Disappointment was there too. Even a little anger.

Castiel looked at Dean, properly looked at him, the full extent of his blue-eyed gaze on the Winchester. "You may find this hard to believe Dean, but I saved you because you deserve to be saved."

With that, a rush of wind and Castiel was gone. Surprised, Dean scanned the trees to see if the guy was hiding, but he had actually vanished, and Dean could have sworn that the moment Castiel left that Dean had heard feathers. And for some reason, Dean doubted it was the birds that made the noise. Dusting his jeans and wiping the wetness in his eyes, Dean moved over to collect the dismembered vamps to burn.

As the bodies were drowning in the flames, Dean could hear bird calls in the distance, almost as if they were celebrating the deaths of the Vampires that had inhabited the forest. And this time, as Dean was scooping up ashy remains, he didn't really mind the noise the birds were making.

A/N: And I hoped that I didn't make this chapter too Twilight-ish with the whole 'vampires in the forest, finding out the truth about a supernatural being, blah blah blah.' My friend pointed this out to me and now I cannot unsee.