Charlie slammed her fist against the steering wheel as her engine spluttered and died, forcing her to the side of the road. The engine temperature warning lights flashed in the dark and she groaned.

Overheated.

Great.

One glance at the pine lined road in the dark and she knew she was stranded until morning. Despite this she grabbed a flashlight and opened her car door, tucking her hand gun into the holster on her thigh.

She popped open the hood and steam billowed out, plastering her bangs to her forehead.

Wonderful.

A few moments of examining and filling with the engine confirmed her fears. There was a leak in her radiator. Any attempt at driving her beloved jeep in this condition would result in the engine blowing completely.

She shook her hand and slammed the hood down, glancing up and down the road to see if anyone was around. Judging that there would be nothing that could harm her severely, she decided that the best course of action was to sleep in the jeep and hike to a service station in the morning

She shot Dean A quick test message explaining her predicament, and reassuring him that she would be fine, and to stay with Sammy and Kevin.

His response was terse and concerned, but he agreed with her, wholeheartedly.

SPNSPNSPN

Castiel settle onto a bench outside a service station, staring at the bag before him. Naturally he understood the dynamics of opening it but after several frustrating and failed attempts he simply sat there.

It did not matter how many time he pulled and tugged at the sides of the bag, it simply refused to relinquish it's contents. At first, he considered brute strength, figuring that the cellophane bag would be nothing. But when he was met with resistance, he simply sat and stared at them

In his entire existence he had never met such resistance to his power. His strength was being outmatched by a simple human made bag of fried starch.

Humiliating.

His next institutions was to cut it open, but he had lost his blade in the battle with Metatron, and there was no sort of shape object around.

He sighed, hanging his head and tossing the bag to his side of the bench, defeated.

He let himself be lulled by the falling of rain on the tin roof of his temporary shelter. The next thing that flickered through his thoughts was the sensation of heaviness that overwhelmed his body.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean was in the kitchen, taking a damp cloth and scrubbing the grime from the crevices in the oven, a task that he had yet to complete, even after weeks of living in his bunker.

The cleaning was therapeutic, if he was honest with himself. He didn't have to think or focus on any specific thing. He could simply move about the room, scrubbing every surface while his mind went blissfully still. He continued like this for what seemed like hours, until his phone vibrated on the counter surface.

"Radiator Leak. Overheated Engine. I'll be in tomorrow."

He sighed and shook himself, tossing the rag into the sink before wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Need me to come out? Sam and Kev are asleep."

He stepped forward and began to pick up the cleaning supplies from around the room in preparation or the trip he would more than likely make.

"Nah, I'll just crash in the car. Got my Guardian, I'll be fine."

Dean paused for a moment and mulled over the words.

"Guardian?"

"It's a gun Winchester. Take care of the small one and moose. I'm fine."

"Good Night, then."

There was a significant pause in the messages, as Dean moved from cleaning the kitchen to cleaning the main study area. His phone buzzed once ore in his shirt pocket, and he glanced down to see one last message from his friend.

"Get some rest Captain. I mean it."

The hunter sighed and sat the stack of books that he ha picked up back onto the table, his entire body seeming to fol with exhaustion. He laughed to himself and braced his hands against the table, shaking his head.

"You're tired's all Winchester. Get some rest. Sammy's safe, you're alive there's nothing gnawing on your ass so why won't you sleep?"

The answer was painfully obvious, of course. He'd been through this loop dozens if not hundreds of times. It seems like he can't go a year without Cas dying, or Sam getting mortally wounded. It really was something that grates on a man.

He flicked off the main lights and sulked to is room in the near dark, the soft glow of the flood lamps guiding his way.

He barely managed to kick off hsi shoes before he collapsed on top of his bed, unconsciousness claiming him quickly.