AN: The boys are struggling and Cas is doing his best to keep them steady. Can they find hope in the midst of such turmoil? Read to find out!


Stone One

As an angel, I have witnessed humans in every possible context. Nothing can been hidden from angels – unless, of course, the human has been warded. Not many humans know they could or even should ward themselves against us.

I have seen humans commit wonderful and terrible acts. I've seen their intimate moments as clearly as their public displays. Humanity has actually changed very little during the past several millennia. The world in which they live certainly has changed, but the people who live in this world are virtually the same. They fight for their survival. They love. They hate. They fear and they are fearless. Some struggle with guilt, depression or anxiety. Some live very joyful lives. Some are greedy and selfish while others are kind and give much too much of themselves. They fight with their families, their friends, and their lovers. Sometimes they reconcile. Sometimes they don't.

These brothers before me have had many fights, verbal and physical. They sometimes have disagreed with each other on a core level. Occasionally, even I have wondered if they could bridge the gap between them. Yet, they always did. They always forgive each other. More importantly, they they always find a way to believe in each other.

During private moments between them, even when I've been present, I look away. I felt they always deserved that, perhaps more than others, because I am their friend as well as an angel.

Right now during this conversation, I can not look away. And it is one of the most painful interactions I have witnessed. I am torn between wanting to walk away and wanting to protect then. At the moment, I am hidden from their view, and I feel guilty about that. But it is necessary, for my role has their guardian has taken a higher precedence than my role as their friend.

Both are radiating a great amount of distress and I fear both are near their breaking points. So I watch, ready to intervene if I must. At one point, I think I may have to when Dean says they need to learn to let each other go.

Sam pales considerably, momentarily at a loss for words. When he does speak, his voice quivers as if his greatest fear has finally come true. "We're still here because we've never given up on each other."

"And I'm not giving up on you, now." Dean's reply is quick, but it doesn't quite alleviate his younger brother's despair. The older brother looks equally anguished, as if the thought of following through with his own suggestion leaves the taste of fear in his mouth.

I watch, uncomfortable not only because I am invading their privacy but also because I sense a measure of defeat in both brothers as Dean tries to explain that too many have been lost so they can be saved. He mentions their father, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, Kevin and Charlie. Sam nods in understanding. Dean assures him that he doesn't mean now, but the time will come when one of them will be in mortal danger again. They should consider the price to be saved.

Eventually they come to an uneasy agreement. When the time comes, they'll let go. The question that remains unanswered is how they will know when the time is right. Sam seems to have more to say, but he walks away. He needs some space to process.

Dean drops into a chair with a thud, covering his face with his hands. After a few moments, he rubs the back of his hand across his moist cheeks. Normally, he would chide me about personal space or perhaps encourage me to make a little noise as I enter the room. This time, he just stares at me, his eyes begging me to help him.

"Are you alright?" I ask as I pull up a chair across from him. Of course I already know the answer, but I hope he will open up without too much pressure from me.

"You made me sleep," he says, and I confirm that I did.

"You were having some difficulty and you needed to take a step back."

"Some difficulty. You think?" He scoffs at my choice of words. "Man, I can't get a grip. It's like something was taken from me when the Mark was removed. A part of me is gone."

"What part is that?"

"The part that helps me deal. I …." His sentence is cut off by his emotion.

"You didn't lose that part of yourself, Dean," I try to reassure him. "You were wounded when the Mark was removed. You need to heal."

"I can't …," he admits. "I can't do this."

"You can."

"What if I can't?" his voice rises in desperation.

"Sam and I are here to help you," I offer, and I know what he's thinking. "I know how difficult it is for you to accept help from anyone. You believe it to be a weakness to not be able to fight this alone. But Dean, there is no greater strength than accepting help from the people who care about you."

Dean doesn't answer, but it seems he doubts that my presence, or Sam's, is enough. I won't let him know, but I wonder too if we are enough to get him through this.

"You must not give up," I appeal to him, unable to restrain the worry creeping from my voice. I know what he tried to do to himself, and he knows that I know. "Promise me you'll keep fighting this."

"Yeah," he mumbles weakly, his eyes cast down. "Okay."

His answer isn't good enough for me, so I keep my eyes on him until he lifts his head. "Okay," he says, his voice stronger, though not by much.

And then he asks me to check on Sam. Always the big brother — the protector. I know that as long as he's worried about Sam, he won't harm himself. So I agree to check on his younger sibling so he might gain some peace of mind.

I find Sam lying on his bed still fully clothed staring at the ceiling. He doesn't see me because I don't let him. I know these brothers too well. If I asked, he would say he's fine. I don't have the patience at the moment to listen to him lie. But for now, there is one thing I can do. As I touch Sam's forehead, his eyes close and he drifts off into a deep sleep.

xxxxxxXxxxxxx

Sleep induced by an angel feels different that natural sleep. During the past two months, Cas has used his power to force me to sleep a couple of times. When I woke up this time, I knew he had done it again. The numbers on the clock at my bedside tells me it's 7:15. I have no idea whether it's a.m. or p.m. I could have been sleeping for days for all I know.

Each time Cas made me sleep, my dreams had been vivid. But now I'm waking up from a dream that was even more intense. Dean had used the word "revealing" to describe his dream. I realize that the same word applies to mine. It makes me wonder if Cas forced these images in our heads.

I rub a hand across my eyes and feel the moisture from tears I must have shed while I was asleep. I saw things from my life that I remember well and things I could not have known. I saw my mother in flames on the ceiling and my brother carry me to safety from the burning house. I saw Dad come scoop us both up and rush us away from the fire. I was only six months old so that could not have been a memory.

I saw many things I remembered but had not fully appreciated and some things I had long forgotten. I saw my brother take care of me even when he was only a child himself. Though I had always known that Dean made many sacrifices for me, I never knew how many. Some were small and seemingly insignificant — like letting me have the last bowl of cereal. Some had repercussions that Dean still lives with today, such as choosing to leave Sonny's home for boys and a chance for a normal life.

I wonder who he would be now if he stayed at that home. A mechanic? A husband? Father? I wonder who I would be — a hunter or a lawyer or perhaps even Lucifer's vessel. Without Dean, I don't know if I could have resisted the devil.

I saw how many times Dean acted as a buffer between me and Dad — taking the blame when I screwed up or sometimes as a physical barrier when Dad and I argued. He would just stand between us letting every harsh word filter through him as if that would ease the anger between Dad and me.

The most common phrase Dean heard from Dad in those formative years was "watch out for Sammy." And he did. Without fail and without complaint. For the first time, I understand why it felt like such a betrayal to him when I left for Stanford.

Even when I left, Dean didn't stop looking after me. He told me once how sometimes Dad would swing by Stanford to make sure I was okay. Dean never mentioned that he checked up on me as well — more frequently than I could have imagined. Even after I had rejected him repeatedly during my freshman year. I wish that leaving that life had not meant cutting ties with my family. I wish it had not meant leaving my brother behind. And I wish I could have known how frightened Dean had been of being left alone even then.

If the dream ended there, it would have been enough to bring me to my knees. But it had more to reveal to me. I saw every moment in our relationship. Dean saved me, protected me, stood up for me, fought with me, and sacrificed himself for me countless times. We were too often angry and even disappointed with each other. We bickered frequently. I resented him for a long time for being so bossy — for taking charge of my life when all I wanted was independence.

A couple of times, I thought I would never be able to forgive my brother for whatever unforgivable thing he had done — but how could I not forgive him? When I needed Dean, he was always there. Always. My stubborn, sometimes overbearing, usually overprotective, and certainly bigger than life brother never gave up on me.

When Dean says that someone is like family to him, there is no higher compliment he can give. When he calls me brother, he's telling me how much I mean to him. When he calls me his little brother, he's saying he will watch out me.

While Dad was consumed with finding the yellow-eyed demon that killed Mom, and I was obsessed with finding a way out of the hunter's life, Dean had thrown himself into keeping our family together. Nothing was more important to him. I guess I've always known that, but I'm ashamed to see that I haven't always appreciated it.

I pull myself out of bed and look into the smoky mirror that hangs above the sink in my room. I rub my hand across the beard that now hides my face. My hair is now past my shoulders and much too shaggy. My eyes are underlined by dark circles. My God, I'm a mess. The excess hair doesn't begin hide the agony I feel. And Dean could see it despite my feeble efforts to hide it.

I realize now that when Dean told me that we need to learn to let each other go, he meant that I need to let him go. Even now, he is trying to protect me.

I think back to what I wanted just a few months ago. I wanted Dean free of the Mark. I wanted him alive. I just wanted my big brother back. Now that I have him back, I wonder why that hasn't been enough. Why am I still standing on an edge almost ready to fall?

I've always known that my brother keeps his pain buried deep inside. He's locked it down so he could do whatever he needed to do — like watching out for me. Now that the Mark has been ripped out of him, that dam has been broken. Years of hurt are pouring out. Cas says he's overwhelmed, and I can see that he is.

I realize that my brother only needs one thing from me — to be as strong for him as he has been for me for all of these years. He needs me to pull myself together. He needs for me to lock down my struggles so I can help him with his.

I need to clean myself up.