Lisa opened the door to the guest room softly the following morning. Sam was sleeping fitfully on the bed, and Dean was sitting on the floor beside the bed, allowing Sam's hand to clutch his clothing, while he skimmed through a magazine about cars.

"You want me to take him while you get dressed and showered?" She asked softly. Dean looked at her quizzically. No one had ever asked to take over the care of Sammy while he got cleaned up. Most people assumed that Dean wouldn't leave Sam's side, that he was the only one he felt capable of taking care of Sammy. And while that had been true when he was four years old, it hadn't held true throughout most of his life. There had been plenty of times throughout the years that he'd wished that their Dad had helped take care of the kid, and as they grew older and Dad left, he wished that Bobby had offered to help.

Dean was only four years older than Sam, and sometimes, that gap didn't seem so big, and those were the times when Sam was sick or hurt and Dean didn't know what to do, how to help. And then there were the times he was afraid that Sam might die. That fear was something unimaginable. Because without Sammy who would he have had? But he had muddled through those times, he had neglected to shower, neglected to shave, neglected to change clothes, neglected to eat because he couldn't leave his brother's side. He was used to it. So, as time passed, Dean became possessive, and even when he did need help, his pride prevented him. It became something that defined him.

Now, here stood a woman, who had allowed him and his crazy life to enter her house, darken her normal with his paranormal, and here she was offering to sit with Sam while he got cleaned up. He knew that this was a moment of decision that was significant. He had been trying so hard to live this normal, and he wasn't very good at it, but he was determined to do his best. So, it was a time of clean slates, and he swallowed, allowed himself to give up some control and said:

"Yeah, actually I'd like that." She smiled and came in. Dean pried Sam's fingers out of his shirt and moved away. Sam stirred restlessly, and Lisa took Dean's place on the floor, and Sam immediately grabbed the sleeve of the shirt that Lisa was wearing.

"Wow. He has a grip." She whispered.

"When you get back from hell, you need something real to hold on to." Lisa looked up at Dean, and like a war veteran the memories of the war were flashing in his eyes, they looked dark, and scary, and if the vice grip on her sleeve was any indication, the war these boys have fought, was far gorier, far scarier, far more horrific than any war ever fought. She reached for Dean's hand, the connection shook him from his memories, as she knew it would, she had brought Dean out of those states a couple of times, and she found that touch was far more effective than any sound, any smell, anything. He blinked once and looked back to her.

"What do I need to know?" She asked. Dean felt a small smile tug at his lips. She was treating him like Sam's father, she hadn't met Sam but for a total of five minutes, and she had already figured out that Dean was closer to a father figure than an brother, and for the first time in his life, someone who figured that out, wasn't mocking them, wasn't calling them codependent, asking them if they had sex, she wasn't treating them like freaks. She was simply treating him like another parent, like she was going to watch the next door neighbor kid and she wanted to know what kind of juice the kid drank. Dean licked his lips, and for the first time felt proud for being the one to raise his little brother, and not like a freak.

"Just sit there and let him hold onto you. If he wakes up and calls for me, send him into the bathroom."

"Okay." She said and got comfortable beside the bed with his little brother's gigantic hand clutching at the shirt she had stolen from Dean weeks ago.

Dean managed to shower and dress without any issues, and he didn't hear his baby brother howling or yelling, or even talking, so all was good.

It happened when he was shaving. He looked up and Castiel was in the mirror.

"Jesus!" Dean exclaimed, his heart pounding six thousand miles an hour. He hit his palm against the vanity. "Cass! We've freaking talked about this!"

"I am sorry."

"What do you want that it couldn't wait?" he asked glaring at Cass in the mirror.

"You and your brother are needed."

"What the hell?"

"You and Sam are a team."

"Yeah, so?"

"God wants you to fight the evil that is roaming the earth."

"Cass, we've done that our whole lives. Sammy is back from Hell. He needs time, he needs to be okay just for a little bit."

"There isn't time for Sam to recuperate. God…"

"God can freaking shut his damn cake hole. He can chill out. Send someone else, send someone else with a fake destiny that he can't change, that he has to sacrifice his family for, yeah that should do it. Let us rest."

"Dean, you and Sam…" Dean turned around and came toe to toe with the angel.

"Are retired. We are done. We are going to live apple pie lives and we will be fine, let someone else do God's dirty work. We're done." His green eyes were intense, and his tone indicated resolution and unwavering determination.

"Please do not force my hand."

"Or what? You'll be like Zechariah and screw with us until we do your bidding?"

"Dean…"

"No. Don't "Dean" me. Get out Cass. Unless you are here to visit Sam, check on him, help him be better, then just get out of this house. There is a kid and a woman here who don't need this. And there is a man clutching a woman's shirt because he's so scared and tired and broken because he saved the world. He doesn't need to go back out on the road, he doesn't need this. He needs to rest, and get his slice of the pie, and be done. So unless, you are here to check on him, and make him feel better then get the hell out."

And just as quickly as he appeared he disappeared. Dean seething and breathing as if he had just run the mile in ten seconds. How dare Cass, how dare God, just come here and demand more of them. Hadn't they done enough, hadn't they given enough, hadn't they sacrificed enough? Yes, Dean decided, they had.