Dean was in his room, staring at the ceiling. It was 2:00 in the morning and he had spent the last two hours trying to get to sleep (without much success). He could usually sleep through anything… but not tonight.

His mind wouldn't shut off, as tired as his body was. Earlier, when him, Sam and, Bobby gathered for dinner (Castiel refuses to eat), Dean couldn't stop looking at his little brother. Sam's hair was matted and unwashed. He had dark circles under his eyes and had lost a little too much weight for Dean's comfort.

Not much conversation had passed while they ate, but they might as well have had an argument, the air was so thick with tension. It was almost too much. It had left Dean not thinking about Sam's condition, or even his addiction—because the eldest Winchester brother knew that wasn't what was bothering Sam.

If I had spent months preparing to kill Lilith, only to be responsible for the death of billions of people because I let Lucifer out of his cage… "I wouldn't be too happy either," Dean thought.

Dean remembered being trapped in Heaven's waiting room talking to Zechariah about Sam. Dean had demanded what they were going to do to him. They thought they were going to kill him or torture him.

And he had been right.

Well… they hadn't done anything physically to him. "Just a whole lot worse than that," Dean thought out loud. The worries Dean had had two months ago were right to have… Sam was destroyed. His spirit is gone and all that's left is the torture of guilt.

The worst kind of torture.

Dean shivered at the memory of his own guilt (that he had managed to bury under everything else he had to deal with). And as much as Dean hated it, Sam's problems were small compared to what was going on outside the walls of this safe haven. But the only way we're going to survive is if Sam decides to try and climb out of the emotional hole he's in.

They were all under pressure. And for the first time in his life—Dean had enough pressure to keep him up through the night. And it sucks.

Dean sat up and swung his legs out of bed so he was sitting on his mattress. He put his head in his hands.

"There are plenty of fates worse than yours."

"My ass," Dean muttered. Being a working stiff on Wall Street was a hell of a lot better than this. Who ever had to kill Lucifer in the history of the world?

The answer is no one. There is only one story, and it's about some archangel (who, of course, was a freaking hammer) putting Lucifer in his cage in the first place. Dean wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the angels—let alone the archangels.

And from what Dean had read about the guy who had defeated Lucifer before, no one can even go near him. He is one of the few angels who actually talk to God face-to-face as opposed to prayer.

Dean stood up and walked over to his window, looking out over the vast landscape that still looked normal. The full moon was huge in the sky tonight. Castiel had explained to Dean that the full moon would halt the Apocalypse for as long as it was in the sky. "Three days," Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

Nothing was right these days. The crappy part was that Cas only had limited knowledge—even for an angel. That was yet another reason why Dean needed her.

Somewhere inside him, Dean knew he had other things to worry about, but Anna always somehow managed to come back to the top of the pile. Dean needed… they all needed her. Anna was probably the most knowledgeable angel that was cheering for Team Human to win this war.

Dean was mostly worried, however. What if she had been captured by the angels?

She's too clever for that.

What is she was… what with the apocalypse…?

She's too smart for that.

Dean punched the wall, and as much as it hurt, he wouldn't let his pain show. "Then where is she?" he demanded through his teeth.

He suddenly felt dizzy on his feet. He had to grip the window sill so he wouldn't pass out. Dean yawned, and he felt immediate relief as he walked over to his bed. He was out before his head hit the pillow.

He was back at the lake. He sat comfortably on a beach chair as he waited for a bite at his fishing pole. But secretly didn't want anything to come. This was perfect, right now, where he was.

The sky was cloudy, but as bright as a sunny day.

He stared up at the clouds and smiled. He grinned as the skies opened to reveal the beautiful crisp blue sky. He stood up and let go of the fishing pole which fell into the water. He held out his arms, as if he was welcoming someone into his arms. He started to rise, but no fear pierced his heart.

It was as if he was expecting this. It was like a repetition of the ascension of the son of God. It was as subtly glorious as the one that had happened 2000 years before. Before he knew it, a light was bathing his very being in wave after wave of peace… love… everything good.

That was why he almost felt like death had taken him when he heard fearful panting. It wasn't coming from him. His arms were still out in a welcoming gesture when something slammed into his chest. He automatically brought his hands out to catch whatever had hit him before it could escape.

At first he was infuriated that his peace had been ruined… but then he heard that sweet voice mutter his name, "Dean?"

He caught site of panicked brown eyes. Shock could be heard in his voice as he replied, "Anna?"

His eyes snapped open. The green in them were practically singing in mourning of the peace he had lost. Everything that had been bothering him earlier came rushing in, but none of it helped with the one thing that his mind was reeling about.

Anna had been captured.