Back with a second part to this fic. I hope you enjoy. Sorry it's really long... it just... yeah. R&R please!

You see my old man's got a problem
He live with the bottle that's the way it is
He says his body's too old for working
His body's too young to look like his
My mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said somebody's got to take care of him
So I quit school and that's what I did

Dean Winchester learned to drive at eleven years old. He had always been tall for his age, and because of the stresses on his young body, he had always looked older than he actually was. His dad took him and Sam to an empty lot, handed Dean the keys and said, "Get in, son." At the time Dean had been ecstatic; then he realized John only taught him how to drive so they could leave town sooner. John had sprained his ankle pretty severely on a hunt, and despite the doctor's warning against activities more strenuous than driving, the oldest Winchester rested only long enough to find the next hunt and teach his oldest son to drive so his ankle would be better rested for the upcoming hunt.

Dean's enthusiasm waned after that realization.

Still, it was fun to drive the Impala, and Dad was giving Dean all his attention for something that, for once, didn't involve hunting. Dean relished the learning opportunity and every chance to drive the Impala afterward. Dad started letting him drive during the day when they were travelling between jobs, provided they were leaving town peacefully. Dean treasured those times; even all these years later Dean finds himself thinking back over countless car trips across the continental US, sun filtering through trees and warming the pavement of the old routes and state highways the small family preferred to take instead of larger interstates. If he closed his eyes, he can recall with near perfect clarity how his dad's low chuckles mixed with Sammy's loud laughter and the sounds of classic rock. The Impala thrummed with power and life and family and Dean would give anything for those days.

He can remember the day Dad gifted him the Impala. He was seventeen then, and he stood in the cold parking lot of a Wisconsin motel staring uncomprehendingly at his father. His twelve year old little brother bounced with barely containable excitement next to their dad. "She's mine?" Dean had finally repeated stupidly.

Dad smiled, face softened by amusement and affection. "All yours, Dean-o." When it became clear that Dean was only capable of blinking at the older man, his father sighed and tossed Dean the keys. Dean caught them reflexively. "I know you'll take good care of her." Dean stumbled over his thanks, clutching the keys to his chest. Dad just laughed and jerked his thumb towards the classic car. "Get in already, kiddo. Drive her around. There's money for gas in the glove box, so take your time driving. Just be home by dark and we'll get something to eat." Sam was already in on the passenger side, still bouncing with second-hand excitement. Dean beamed, and in a rare moment of emotion, threw himself into his father's arms. The oldest Winchester huffed in surprise but wrapped his arms around his son all the same.

"Thanks, Dad," Dean mumbled into the old leather jacket. He felt the arms around him tighten and the brush of his father's beard across his head.

"You're welcome, Dean." The words were whispered in his ear. "You deserve her." They stayed in the embrace longer than either would have in other circumstances, relishing the closeness that neither experienced often. They finally separated when Sam leaned over the bench and honked the horn.

"Dean! Come on! Let's go!"

Dad brushed a quick hand over his eyes, chuckling. "Better get going, kiddo. I'll see you for supper, and not a moment sooner."

Dean smiled brightly and slid into the Impala, taking his spot next to his brother. Within moments, they were bickering over music and where to go on their drive. As Dean prepared to pull out of the motel parking lot, his eyes flicked to his father's figure in the rear view mirror. His dad waved, and as Dean watched, turned to re-enter the motel. Dean thought nothing of it, mind and attention already returning to his little brother and the car he still couldn't believe was his. When Dean and Sam returned to the motel, hours later and full of junk food and soda, it was to find John packing the cab of the black truck he had bought two months ago. Dean felt his heart sinking, laughter dying in his chest as he parked and opened his door. "Dad?"

John barely spared him a glance, and that told his son so much more than his words.

"Hey, Dean, Sam," John said. "I'm gonna be gone for a few weeks. Gotta call from another hunter in Minnesota, he needs help with a pretty nasty wendigo, it's already killed four people, and Jackson's worried it will go into hibernation soon. You know how they are." It's like he thought more details would make the fact he was leaving easier to acquit. "I have to go."

Dean just nodded woodenly, face blank, but Sam narrowed his eyes. "It's Dean's birthday."

"Sam-" Dean started, but his little brother cut him off.

"It's Dean's birthday today," Sam said, his voice rising. "Your son is turning seventeen, and you're just going to give him the best present ever, promise to take him to dinner, and then leave? To go to Minnesota and help another hunter we don't really know instead of spend time with your son-"

"People's lives are at stake, Sam-" John started angrily.

"And Dean doesn't mean more to you than some random strangers's lives?"

"Samuel Winchester, I did not raise you to disregard the lives of others this way-"

"You didn't raise me, Dean did!" Sam shouted.

John's nostrils flared. "Go inside, Sam."

Sam opened his mouth, apparently not done arguing, but was stopped by Dean's hand on the back of his neck.

"Go inside, Sammy," Dean said gently. "It's okay." Sam snapped his jaw shut and with one last glare at John, stomped inside. Dean waited until the door was slammed shut before he turned green eyes to his father.

"I have to go, Dean," John started angrily. "This monster has already hurt so many, and I need to stop it from hurting anyone else."

"I know."

"It's not like I want to leave you boys, I just can't let other families get hurt like ours did."

"I know."

"Not if I can do something about it. It's not that I want to go, Dean. I don't have a choice."

A soft, motherly voice flits through Dean's head, whispering an answer to a long forgotten question. Everyone has a choice, Dean. Sometimes people just don't make the right ones. "I know, Dad."

"I left money for you boys in an envelope on top of the fridge. Go get something to eat tonight, and pick up a pie on the way home."

"Okay."

"It should be enough to last you the next few days. I'll be back in five days, seven at the most."

Sure you will. "Yes, sir."

"Stay at the motel if you're not at school, alright? And yes, Dean, you have to go to school. Keep the doors locked and you remember the rules about the cell phones, right?"

Dean barely managed not to roll his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"And I know it goes without saying but-"

"Watch out for Sammy," Dean chorused with his Dad. He actually did roll his eyes for that one. "Yes, sir."

John opened the driver side door of his truck, then paused. "I meant what I said, Dean. You deserve that car." He met the eyes of his oldest. "You deserve a helluva lot more than the car, but she's what I can give you." John glanced over at the Impala fondly. "Take good care of her, son."

Even in that moment, as much as he loved Baby, he resented her a little for holding more of John Winchester's heart than his own family did. The thought was gone almost as soon as it appeared, however, and Dean just smiled. "I will, Dad."

John nodded and climbed into the truck. Dean turned back towards the motel- towards Sam- when a honk startled him into turning around. As he backed out, John waved to his oldest and shouted, "Happy birthday, son!"

Dean just raised a hand in acknowledgement and went inside to collect his brother.

He then spent the rest of his seventeenth birthday talking down his furious younger brother, eating mediocre burgers at the sub-par diner in town, then packing up his little brother and driving his new car to the countryside, where he sped aimlessly down old roads until the moon was high in the sky, the constellations were clearly visible, and his brother was asleep, head resting on Dean's leg, and then he drove back into town, and then drove some more. He didn't stop driving until the sky began brightening with the first suggestions of dawn. He had long since calmed; it wasn't the first time his father had left, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but he had Sam and he had the Impala. And that was really all he needed.

Taking off for long drives became his go-to coping method for years afterward. If he was angry or frustrated or needed to think, he got in Baby and drove. Sam even accompanied him on those drives sometimes. Dean's calming technique was less reliable in terms of helping his little brother, but Sam had enough respect and love for the old car that occasionally just directing "Sam. Car. Now." and driving for an hour or so had worked to soothe his soul.

Baby was not only a safe harbor for his thoughts but also for his person. Dean can not begin to count the number of times he had slept on the Chevy's benches rather than a bed. When he was younger, and John had just started this hunting thing, the small family would often crash in the car, snuggled close together on the same bench. As the boys grew, those instances grew more uncommon, but every now and then while the boys were still small, the Winchesters would just pull off the side of the road and sleep. Once Sam and Dean grew to be too big to share the back seat, the times they slept in the old Chevy dropped to nearly zero. Then came The Fight and Sam stormed off to college, and a few days later John stormed off to Montana, and Dean was left behind with nothing but Baby. Oh, he talked to Sam every week, almost, during that first years, and his Dad would call in and check up on him, either with orders to meet him for a hunt or a case for Dean to take care of himself. But eventually Sam stopped calling, and then stopped answering, and then one day Dean called to find that the number was disconnected. In a panic, Dean raced to Palo Alto, tracked down his brother and watched as his perfectly happy, perfectly healthy, perfectly safe little brother came home to an apartment just off campus and kissed a beautiful blonde hello before heading inside. Dean understood then, so he smiled sadly and sent his brother mental good wishes, and left him alone.

Three hours outside Palo Alto, John sent him a text. Hoping it was a request to meet up for a hunt, or even just a simple "How are you" from the man he hadn't seen in person in six months, Dean eagerly opened the message; coordinates, complete with orders to take care of it. Alone.

He pulled off at the next exit and found the nearest bar.

Dean got shitfaced and slept in the Impala that night.

After that, Dean rarely spent the night anywhere that wasn't the Impala. In fact, during the two years of Sam's silence, Dean only slept in a bed if he met up with his father, which was rarely, or stayed all night with a woman, which was about as common. (The staying all night part; Dean saw plenty of action.) The Impala became the literal roof over his head; the only thing he owned in the world. When he picked up Sam to drive to Jericho, that motel was the first he set foot in since the rugaru hunt with Caleb two months ago. Even then, it was Caleb's room, not his, and he never let the older hunter know he was crashing in his car.

Once he and Sam traveled together again, Dean made the switch back to motels every night. That's not to say the boys never spent the odd early morning hours pulled to the side of the road and asleep on their respective benches, but it was again a rare occurrence.

For years the brothers traveled, and the Impala carried them through it all. Sam teased Dean about his "unhealthy" love for the car, but when Dean settled into the driver's seat after 40 long years in Hell, he couldn't help but notice that the Impala was in perfect condition. Sam could tease all he wanted, but he loved the damn car too. The Impala was treated to monthly check-ups at Dean's master hand, regular oil changes, and car washes whenever opportunity arose.

Dean usually did the washing, but Sam often sat at his side, either silently researching or loudly offering his opinion on any matter of subjects. After the angel saved him from Hell, car washing sessions were occasionally witnessed by Castiel.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and the Impala was in desperate need of a wash. The total shitshow that was their lives had meant Baby needed to be moved down a few pegs on the priority list. But Dean planned on remedying that today. Dean sent Sam across the street to get sandwiches and beer while he carefully prepped the supplies for washing the classic car. As he started the water, Dean heard the flutter of wings that signified Castiel had dropped in to say-

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas," Dean returned easily, soaping the water and dunking the sponge.

"I have news on Lilith's whereabouts," the angel began saying in monotone. "It is urgent that you and Sam..." he trailed off, voice taking on a curious tone. Dean flicked his eyes over to the angel. Cas had donned Dean's favorite expression. The man's blue eyes watched Dean's movements with curiosity, head tilted in confusion. Dean smiled to himself.

"Me and Sam..." Dean prompted with a smile.

Castiel seemed to snap himself out of it slightly. "Yes, as I was saying, it is imperative that you and Sam stop whatever you're doing and take up the hunt."

Clever angel, Dean thought. He's asking what I'm doing. Shaking his head, Dean continued soaping the car. "No can do, Cas. Baby here needs this wash, and she's gonna get it. Sam's grabbing food right now, but he'll be back soon. You can tell us what's up with that demon bitch, and we'll get right on it as soon as Baby is clean." Dean was in a good enough mood today to play along with the curious angel's subtle dig for information. The angel was growing on him, he'll admit it, and Dean was starting to look forward to the times the angel would drop in and talk with him. It wasn't that Cast was a dick, Dean had determined, it was that Cas had only ever been around other dick angels, and Dean was determined to expose the angel to other ways of thinking, and bring out the cool badass he already knew was hidden in their somewhere.

Castiel inched closer. "You're washing your car." Dean nodded. "I see. So this is akin to when humans clean themselves, like with showers or baths."

Dean chuckled. "That's right, Cas."

The angel nodded in satisfaction that he understood. The pair stood in silence for another few moments. Dean waited patiently. "I fail to comprehend how this takes precedence over stopping Lilith, Dean," Cas finally said. Any other day, the hunter may have reacted poorly to what could be seen as a slight towards his car, but today Dean was calm enough to hear the genuine confusion in the angel's voice that could have been mistaken for irritation. "If it was yourself, or Sam, in need of cleaning, I could understand, but this automobile has no sentience. It won't know or feel the difference."

"She, Cas," Dean corrected. "Baby is a she."

Cas's head tilted further in confusion. "Inanimate objects do not have genders, Dean."

Dean sighed as he wrung out the sponge over the dirty bucket. Thinking, Dean dropped the sponge in the clean water again, then turned to face the angel. "Look, Cas. It's kinda hard to explain, or to understand, so it might take a while to really get it, but Baby is a part of this family. She's been a part of this family longer than me, even. And to keep her in good shape- actually to keep any car in good shape- we need to take care of her. And part of that is making sure her engine is well maintained, yeah, but it's also making sure she's clean. A car is like a woman, Cas- if you treat her right, she'll never leave you." Dean picked up the sponge again. "Mark my words, Cas, one day you'll understand why this car is so important."

Silence fell between the two. Dean sensed the angel's acquiescence to Dean's wishes fairly quickly. After all, Castiel hadn't been trying to change the hunter's mind, only trying to understand it. When the silence continued between them, Dean assumed Cas had decided to stick around until Sam returned and observe. Dean was startled when the angel spoke again. "Would... would you like assistance?" the angel asked hesitantly. Castiel's stance was firm, even if his body language was unsure, and his blue eyes were sincere.

Dean smiled. "Drop the coat somewhere out of the way and roll up your sleeves, then grab that bucket and start rinsing the other side with the sponge."

Castiel did as instructed, watching Dean's movements before copying them easily on the other side of the Impala. Again, silence fell between them, comfortable and content. Sam returned with food only three short minutes later.

"Uh..."

Dean shot his brother a grin. "Pull up a chair or make yourself useful, Sammy," he said as he flicked water playfully at Cas. "Missed a spot there, angel."

Reflexively, Cas whipped his own sponge at Dean in retaliation. "Did not."

Apparently deciding not to question it, Sam took a seat on the green cooler and opened his sandwich and a beer. "What brings you to our neck of the woods, Cas?"

Dean listened to the angel explain to his brother why he had stopped in as he washed Baby's chrome. Straightening, Dean noticed Cas had stopped working while talking to Sam, and an idea struck the hunter. Casually picking up the bucket next to him, Dean moved closer to Cas under the guise of washing the car. Coming to a rest nearby Cas, Dean listened to Sam ask a question as he set down the bucket and continued to wash the car. Cas answered Sam's question, only for his nerd little brother to follow it up with another. Dean saw his moment. As the angel opened his mouth to respond to Sam, Dean moved with lethal speed born of years of training. Quickly dunking the sponge, Dean raised it over Cas' head and squeezed with all his might, sending soapy water all over the angel's dark head.

Dean laughed at the rigid surprise written in Cas' shoulders, but before he could do more than drop the sponge back in the bucket, the tables turned. Faster than Dean could comprehend, Castiel was picking up the heavy, five gallon water bucket and hefting it over his head, thoroughly soaking him with dirty soap water. Dean sputtered and blinked furiously at the surprising turn of events. He heard his brother laughing loudly off to the side. "What the fuck, Cas?" was all he could manage.

"What the fuck, Dean?" Cas parroted back at him, still holding the bucket.

If Sam had been laughing before, he was howling now.

Annoyance and amusement were warring in the angel's sky blue eyes. The hunter shared a long look with Castiel; and for the first time, the look wasn't laced with challenges, assessments and judgments. Dean could feel the piercing blue gaze searching his soul for connection and communication, to convey the emotions and thoughts he hadn't the words to express. And Dean was doing the same, trying to let Cas know with his eyes that it was all in good fun, he wasn't angry or itching for a fight, he simply wanted the angel to stick around and have fun. The stare ended when Cas blinked at him once, slowly- which Dean instinctively knew meant Cas understood Dean and accepted it. Dean blinked once with a smile.

Sam was still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "That was the funniest shit I've seen in years," he giggled. "I wish I had a camera! Man, Dean, your face when Cas just-" here Sam mimed lifting a bucket and dumping it "-man it was priceless." Sam snickered. "Cas, you're my hero."

Dean mock scowled at his brother. "Laugh it up, asshat."

Sam snorted and laughed again, and Cas even joined him with a light laugh of his own. Dean continued his annoyed act, but inside he was basking in the complete feeling of home.

Dean looked back on that memory a lot as the years passed. He would give anything for those days on the road again. His baby, his brother, and his angel all at his side to stop the apocalypse. Those were the last true days of happiness. He's lost so much since then.

First was Sam. He just couldn't trust the damn kid any more, and shortly after Lucifer rose from the Cage, the brothers went their separate ways. (And damn it if Dean wasn't thinking that stupid Journey song for the next few days.) Even though Dean thought it was for the best, it still hurt like hell to see the backside of his brother walking away from him.

Little Joanna Harvelle was the next to be lost to the fight. She was cornered by demons just outside Cleveland, working a lead from Dean on tracking down the Colt. Jo took out more than half of them before hellhounds ripped her to pieces. Dean was drunk for a week after hearing the news. He didn't know if Sam heard. They didn't talk these days.

Ellen went next, a little over a month later. Suicide. In the voice message she left Dean, she said she was sorry but she just wasn't strong enough to go on without her baby, knowing she was with her daddy in the next life. Dean found her and gave her the proper send off. Somehow Ellen's death was harder to take than Jo's. Dean still didn't know if Sam knew about how the Winchesters were the cause of the Harvelle's extinction, and his grief and guilt were too strong to bare the news.

Dean never did find out if Sam knew, because six months after Ellen, It happened. Sam said yes to the Devil in Detroit, and any secret hopes Dean had harbored for reconciliation were dashed to the ground. Satan was walking around wearing his brother's skin, and Sammy was gone. That was a hard blow; sometimes Dean would say it was the hardest blow of all. He was drunk for a week at Bobby's place, and when he left, Cas tagged along for the ride. They wandered the country aimlessly, killing all manner of demons, angels, and monsters in their path.

Then the Croat virus broke over the world, and Dean and Castiel devoted themselves to helping as many people as possible. The problem is, Dean complained to his best friend, that we save these people, and they can't stay safe cuz there ain't a safe place to go! Dean can remember how Cas had straightened to attention and eagerly suggested making a safe place. He even suggested a location- Camp Chitaqua. Dean was skeptical but with Cas' encouragement and enthusiasm, he threw himself into the project. They set up the camp to their liking, and then went recruiting. Anyone they saved, they brought back to Camp Chitaqua. After a while, the goal changed from "save as many as possible" to "keep as many alive as possible". (When Dean first suggested this mission change, hesitant of his friend's reaction, Cas had merely shrugged and said, It's your call, fearless leader. I've got your back.) They still lost people, but not as many. And, harsh as it may be, Dean didn't care as much; he tried not to form bonds with any of his campers for that reason. (He would fight to protect any of them, but in his heart, Dean knew the only person at Camp Chitaqua he actually cared about protecting rarely left his side.)

The hardest blow since Detroit came about a year after the event. Every since they started the camp, Dean begged Bobby to come stay with them. The old hunter gently refused every time. Dean and Cas made regular trips to Souix Falls, and brought Bobby supplies and rations and another plea to leave with them. Three months after the start of Camp Chitaqua, Dean slammed on the brakes in the Impala, barely allowing the car to stop before scrambling out. Cas was quick to slide over and park the damn car before he, too, exited the car to join his best friend as they stared in horror at the burned remains of Bobby's home. Dean begged Cas to help him search the wreckage. Dean found the body, and Cas stood a silent, tearful vigil over his charge and his friend as he grieved loudly.

Dean finally collapsed from the despair and exhaustion warring within him. Cas carried him to the Impala and tucked him inside, whispering soft orders to sleep and let Cas take care of everything. Too bone weary to do anything other than follow orders, Dean succumbed to his exhaustion.

When Dean awoke, he hoped it had just been a bad dream. But he knew it wasn't. Sitting up slowly, Dean took stock of his surroundings. He was still in the Impala, alone. Feeling a little desperate, Dean raked his eyes across the property. He spotted what he was looking for off to his right, and Dean quietly exited the car. Bobby was wrapped in a clean white sheet and resting on a pyre of wood from the wreckage. Cas stood nearby, standing guard over Bobby and Dean. Dean came to stand next to his friend. "Hey," he whispered.

Cas started and wiped a quick hand down his face that didn't quite erase the evidence of his tears. "Oh, hello, Dean."

Dean pretended not to see. "Thanks for everything." Cas only shrugged uncomfortably. Dean took out a lighter, and lit the pyre. The two friends watched the fire burn in silence before Dean spoke. "Bobby-" the hunter choked, then cleared his throat. "Bobby, you were amazing. An amazing hunter, an amazing mechanic, an amazing friend, and an amazing father." Dean sucked in another quick breath. "Cuz I hope to God that's what you know you are to me. Especially since John died, but even before that too. I always knew you had my back, y'know? And that was more than I could say about my own dad. I appreciate everything you did for S-Sammy," Dean fumbled the name, "you did wonders for that kid, I know you did. For me too. Man, Bobby, you pulled my ass out of the fire so many times, I..." Dean trailed off. "It's gonna be hard going on without you," he finally choked out. Dean screwed up his eyes but a few tears escaped anyway. "I wanna hate you for leaving me. I wanna hate you for being so goddamn stubborn about leaving your place. Why could you just come with Cas and me, huh?" Another quick breath. "But I don't hate you. I just miss you." Dean took a few steadying breaths. "I just miss you so damn much already."

Cas was silent at his side, far away enough for Dean not to feel smothered, but close enough for the hunter to know he was there. Dean turned to him questioningly, head tilted in invitation. After a moment's hesitation, Cas spoke. "I can't really follow Dean with any eloquence, but I hope you know, Bobby, that I am sorry. Sorry I could not heal your legs, and that I was not here to protect you from this fate. You ought to have lived a longer life. I valued your friendship, and your conversation. You have my utmost respect. There may not be many people left on this world, and even fewer good ones, but while you were with us, you were one of the best. You will be missed."

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas' shoulders, and the fallen angel's arm automatically raised to mirror the movement. The pair shared a sad smile, and simply waited until the pyre ceased to burn.

Cas offered to drive back to camp, but Dean refused. Castiel may not have been fully human yet, but he was no longer totally angelic either; as much as as his best friend was loathe to admit it, he needed sleep. He had already sacrificed a night's rest for Dean to grieve and Dean would be damned if he lost his only remaining pillar of strength to exhaustion. Dean managed to convince his friend to sleep in the passenger seat of the Impala, and as soon as Dean was certain the fallen angel was asleep, he pulled off the road next to an empty field. Dean quietly left the slumbering angel with a mental apology-prayer flicked his way and trudged through the field until he was what he deemed was an acceptable distance from the only two things he felt regret at leaving behind.

Dean tilted his face toward the darkening sky. "Alright, you winged dicks! Yes! Do you hear me? Yes! YES! YES! Michael! Yes!" Dean waited, but there was nothing. "Are you all deaf now? Isn't this what you wanted? I'm here! I'm willing! Yes! I'll be Michael's vessel." Nothing. "Wow, you douchebags are really going to milk this, aren't you? Yes! Y-e-s! Yes! Si! Ja! Oui! Accipio! Um.. shit, what was it in Enochian, Cas taught me... oh, noib! Noib!" There was a rumble of thunder and clouds rolled in to cover the sun. "What? You don't like you're own language? What the fuck is with you guys!? First you won't get off my ass about this, and now you're just going to ignore me!?" Tears pooled unbidden in Dean's green eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I just want it to stop... make it stop..."

The rain started at the same time as his tears.

Dean sobbed in the center of a wheat field in Iowa as the heavens mocked him and soaked him in rain. As a mercy of the season, the rain wasn't cold- just warm and wet. As Dean cried, he sensed the approach of someone. Too tired to care, Dean barely started when a warm coat was laid over him. Automatically reaching for the lapels to pull it closer, Dean caught a whiff of rain and honey and glimpsed the tan hues of a familiar coat.

Castiel settled beside him, expression forlorn. The new human was quite wet himself, but it apparently didn't bother him. In contrast to the hunter's defeated posture, Cas sat cross-legged and comfortable. Cas sat in silence for a minutes, head tilted up to the sky and allowing the rain to wash over him. Dean was beginning to feel guilty about running off and leaving his friend behind as he pursued something that clearly was never going to work anyway. The hunter opened his mouth to apologize, but Castiel's soft rumble stopped him.

"Rain is one of the things I love the most about being on Earth," Cas said, quietly. "I love the smell of rain- in the dirt, on pavement, in cities, in the country... it makes everything seem so clean. It's like a fresh start." Cas opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. "Watching from Heaven, rain doesn't look nearly as amazing. It reminds me vaguely of the Flood, with Noah. It's a rather unspectacular... pouring, I suppose. I don't know, it's hard to describe." The fallen angel's face scrunched slightly. "I have always enjoyed this view infinitely more. I think rain from Earth's surface is a good example of what my father was trying to teach my brothers and sisters when he asked us to love humans- his creations- more. Things are more beautiful on Earth; and that makes them worth protecting. It saddens me that my family can't see that." Cas turned blue eyes on Dean. "That they chose to leave over staying."

In that moment, the hunter could read in his best friend's eyes that the ex-angel knew exactly what Dean had been trying to do. Dean dropped his eyes to the ground.

"The angels are gone, Dean," Castiel said, gently. "They have been for a while now. I sensed their departure just before my grace failed." Dean winced at the reminder of what his friend gave up for him. "But even if they were..." Cas trailed off. "I actually don't know if it would make things better or worse."

Dean snorted. "So everything is hopeless now. Sam is gone, Jo and Ellen are gone, Bobby is-" Dean choked. "Lucifer walks the Earth, and now we don't even have angels to help fight him." Dean looked helplessly at Cas. "What even is the point of all this, Cas? We can't win."

"Maybe not," Cas acknowledged sadly. "But that doesn't mean we stop fighting, Dean." Cas stood, and pulled Dean with him. "Your brother may be gone, and your friends too, but you're not alone, Dean." Cas began pulling Dean back toward the road. "You have the camp, Risa, Chuck, me and the Impala. We're part of your family now, and we aren't leaving, not for a long time. But no matter how hopeless it looks, you can't leave us either." Dean raised his eyes to meet his best friend's, mildly surprised to see a small smile on his friend's face. "I have been reliably informed that that's what family does."

Dean gave a weak but honest laugh. "Ok, Cas," he said softly. "Ok." They continued their wet trek across the field to the only home they had left, leaning on each other for support.

All of these thoughts and memories flashed through the hunter's mind as he sat, motionless, in the driver's seat of the old 1967 Chevrolet Impala. The green-eyed man sat on her front bench, running his hands over her vinyl seats and steering wheel, over the vents that held age-old Legos, and over the hard paneling where two sets of initials were carved.

D.W.

S.W.

Dean's fingers lingered over the rough S.

He had thrown himself into the fight after learning the angels had abandoned them. He had saved, and killed, and sacrificed, and cried, and for what? For him to be abandoned once again by something he loved? When would the world stop taking his family from him? What had he done to deserve this?

A creak pulled him from his thoughts, and when the car dipped slightly, Dean didn't bother turning. He knew who had slipped into the car's interior with him.

"She's gone," Dean said. His voice was monotone, and he hated himself for not being able to muster emotion for her loyalty. "Came out to give her a tune up, but apparently she's given up on me, too." Dean gave a rough twist of the keys. "Won't even pretend to start."

His voice was still empty. What was wrong with him?

"Dean..." Cas's voice was soft. "I'm sorry." Dean glanced over out of the corner of his eye. Cas truly looked sad, for him and the loss of the car. "There is no way to fix her?"

Dean shook his head. "Even if there was..." Dean looked out of the front windshield, eyes hard. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Well. She's a relic of a time long gone." Why did he sound so dead? "Another one bites the dust, I guess."

"Dean..." Cas kept saying his name and sounding sad, like he knew what Dean was feeling. Fingers tightened. What did he know about Dean's feelings. "I'm so, so sorry." More importantly

"It's okay, Cas." The angel followed his lead on getting out.

Why couldn't he feel anything?

He dropped the keys to the ground and turned away.

"It's just a car."

So remember we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
I had a feeling that I belonged
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone