Slight filler chapter, again, I'll be back to the total drama after this one. I needed to set a few things up and Sam needed to get a few things out into the open. We all know that in some ways he's the more reasonable one. On a side note, I wrote all but the last part of this chapter while watching the news of the riots in London and my heart was breaking. That sort of thing just shouldn't happen anywhere, I feel for the people who have lost their livelihoods because of these people.

Dean expects Sam to bring up his argument with Castiel as soon as the angel vanishes from the panic room. It is his brother's normal reaction to an emotionally charged situation and it comes as something of a shock when the younger man does not instantly latch onto the debate. Instead he stares at Dean with large, sorrowful, eyes that are just too close to pitying for Dean's peace of mind.

"I don't want to hear it, Sam," he growls, getting to his feet and brushing his brother aside when he tries to help. He walks away and pretends that he does not feel Sam's eyes burning into his back.

He walks away because he does not need Sam or Bobby to tell him what he already knows. Dean knows full well that he is an idiot, knows that he handled this situation badly, but too much has been left to fester between him and Cas. There is still too much unsaid and too many illusions have been shattered. So he does with this what he does best, he puts on a brave face for Bobby and Sam. He pretends that he has brushed it all under the rug as done with but at night when he is staring into his whiskey he knows that he will continue to think about the things that he could have done or said differently. He will continue to wonder if there was another way out of the mess that Cas had gotten them all into.

Sam lets this continue for three days while Dean recovers from Castiel using his soul to as a bandaid. Dean is not stupid enough to think that he would not feel the loss of Castiel keenly. There is far more between them than friendship and he has lost more than he knows how to say, but this total devastation is unexpected. It is like grief and despair is tearing through him, his appetite starts to wane, the alcohol numbs less and he spends much of his time staring at the walls or windows trying to sleep and finding it to be an elusive fantasy.

The only times in the past that he remembers feeling this terrible was the times that his dad and Sam died. The overwhelming nature of this grief is utterly terrifying.

"This has to stop, Dean," Sam tells him finally three day later. Dean is nursing a beer on the front porch staring at the star speckled canvas above and brooding. Although he will never admit to the brooding part.

"What does?" He mutters, taking another swig from his bottle and refusing to look at his brother.

"The sulking. We've all had people betray us, Dean, I know how much it hurts." Sam's words seem to trigger something in the older man, something deep and defensive. Sam broods on things for weeks, months sometimes, until Dean finally has to force him to open up and share the problem. It stings to think that Sam will not let him work this out for himself.

"You think you can compare Ruby to this?" Dean demands, voice cracking slightly with his anger. "Ruby was a goddam demon, we should have seen it coming a mile off. She manipulated you and drugged you until you couldn't see the truth. I should have known. I should have seen Cas was playing us and I missed it, even when you and Bobby saw it I didn't."

"So he made you feel stupid. He was our friend, Dean, of course we trusted him," Sam sits next to him. "He knows everything about us, he knew exactly how to distract us and keep us running in circles. We couldn't have known."

"I should have, Sam," Dean snaps. "All the clues were there and I should have seen them. If I'd just stopped for one damn minute and asked him maybe… it doesn't matter. You're right. We've all been betrayed in the past so why should this be any different?"

"You care about him," Sam replies softly, the words cutting close to that part of himself that the hunter has been trying to drown. "We all do but I think you care a lot more than the rest of us."

"I don't," Dean mumbles. "I can't, not after what he did to you, Sam, I can't forgive that." Dean takes another drink. Castiel, of all the people in Dean's life, knows the messing with Sam in any way is completely off limits as far as Dean is concerned.

"He kept his promise, though," Sam mutters. "He fixed me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to forgive him any time soon, but I've been thinking about why he did it and I sort of get it. I don't agree with him, but he thought he was keeping you safe by not telling us and I can understand that. I'm not telling you to just get over it over-night, Dean, I know better than anyone that you can't just turn off how you feel. What I'm saying is that dwelling on it and drinking until you pass out every night isn't the answer." Sam gets to his feet. "Bobby's got word of a hunt and I think it's time that we got back in the game. Get some sleep, alright?" Dean stays silent and Sam drops a hand down on his shoulder. The elder brother continues to stare out at the dark silhouette of the scrap yard until the younger sighs, squeezes his shoulder once and goes back inside.

When the hunter is alone again he lets his head sink forward and allows a broken sight to be released.

"It's not that easy, Sammy," he breathes.

SPN

Three Months Later:

This was probably not the best idea that he has ever had, Dean concludes as the ghost of Jesse Turner slams him into a wall. Across the room he sees a terrified teenage boy beat a hasty retreat and breathes a sigh of relief. At least the kid is safe and that means one less fatality in this house.

As though the ghost is aware that Dean has succeeded in cheating him of his prize the spirit turns it's attention onto the hunter with a vengeance. Dean's ribs are already cracked at the very least from the beating that he has taken and with his next impact with the wall he feels the unmistakable agony and grind of broken pieces rubbing together. It draws a yell of agony out of him and he hopes that Sam find's Turner's body soon because this has gotten too out of control. Jesse's next shot has Dean flying out of the doorway, shoulder hitting the edge. Under the window he manages to catch a final glimpse of the sawn off shotgun that he only had one chance to fire.

His momentum does not lessen overly after his glancing impact with the door frame and he continues backwards, smashing through the railing at the top of the landing and falling. Dimly he realises that this is it, that he has finally been taken out by a damn ghost of all things. Then he knows nothing other than the sudden, brief, agony of his impact with the floor and Sam's frantic cries of his name.

I needed the time shift, the next chapter is partly written already and please don't throw things at me! That means you, Chelle!

Artemis