A/N: Hey guys I'm back! I'll be updating this story on Thursday's again and I should be getting back into the swing of things. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back on my feet but this story is not dead and it will continue.

Again, I'm sorry for making you guys wait like you have done. Please enjoy and let me know what you think.

Warning: There's quite a bit of going into Dean's mind and it's not the best of places. Sorry.

2009 – February

Part 2

Wyoming – Cheyenne

Beeps... Pain... Everywhere... An ache in his chest... The smell of stale cleanliness... "The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell."... "As he breaks, so shall it break."...

Dean slowly flicked his eyes open with a small wheezing breath. It hurt to do that. It hurt to breathe. He scrunched his eyes shut and dug his fingers into the bed sheets to ride out a small wave of pain before he dared to open his eyes again to the brightly lit room. It took his blurred vision a few moments to adjust before he fixed his gaze on a series of machines with wires leading up to his battered body. He could feel something cold running along his cheeks and he realised he was wearing a nasal cannula to help him to breathe. He let out a gasp and slowly moved his head to look at the only chair in his room.

Empty.

He closed his eyes again and tried to ride out the brief spurt of fire inside his chest before he let out another heavy, shaky breath. The last thing his mind told him he remembered was Alastair informing Dean that he'd broken the first seal. He knew there was other stuff; Alastair getting free and beating the crap out of him, but his brain was caught on those words and what they meant.

Dean had jump started the apocalypse. It was his fault the world was going to go down the drain. He felt his breathing rise a little and with it a new wave of aches twisted inside of his chest, making him gasp painfully. The apocalypse. He screwed his eyes shut and let his head tilt back against the pillow as he tried to convince himself that somehow, it was a dream, that it actually hadn't happened but the truth lay in his bruised and battered body.

He'd broke.

"Dean?"

He snapped his eyes open and turned tired eyes to Sam who took a few steps into the room and looked Dean over once with a light smile. "Sam," he muttered.

"How you feeling?"

He couldn't bring himself to joke, to make a remark about how it feels like the nurses got a little handsy when they changed him out of his clothes. All he could do was give Sam the look that said plenty, that this time it had hurt. This time, Dean had no words and he turned his gaze away from Sam. He couldn't look him in the eyes, didn't want to, not after knowing what he'd done.

"I'll go grab you some food," Sam mumbled and Dean just nodded at the excuse to give him some space to himself. He didn't need it, but he wanted it, craved it. He scoffed to himself, his eyes drifting to the empty door frame for a few seconds and his mind flashed back to almost three years ago when he'd stood in a similar door frame and watched as Doctors failed to save his father's life.

He took another deep breath, closed his eyes and turned his head away from the offending empty space but his mind wouldn't stop going over what had happened, over Alastair's words and the beating he'd received. He could feel every bruise across his body with every inch that he shifted and he tried to remember exactly what had happened since Alastair had gotten free and used him as a punching bag.

He remembered seeing a flash of blue eyes before he fell to the ground... "Crap," somebody had whispered, Natalie he was sure, and Dean was sure he was fighting a darkness inside his own mind. There was the sound of several people moving, then Charlotte's voice coaxing him awake..."Dean?" "Char?" …. Then she was gone and he remembered Alastair saying something before he lost the ability to cling to reality.

"Charlotte," he whispered to himself with a frown, making a move to sit up in his bed. He hissed in pain and could hear the monitors race with his movements.

"Hey, hey, relax, Dean, relax, you're not going anywhere," Sam urged as he tried to press Dean back against the bed.

Dean tried to shake his brother's hands off of him but only succeeded in making himself grunt in pain before he managed to sit up, pillows stacked up behind him. "Charlotte? Natalie? Are they alright?"

There was a hesitation before Sam said, "They're fine, both just resting in a different room. I checked in on them, they're fine."

Dean frowned at his brother, his body screaming for him to sleep and he closed his eyes and let the pain in as he muttered, "What's happened?"

"Dean-"

"What's happened?" Dean urged, his breaking voice laced with pain, fear and worry.

There was a few seconds before Sam gave his brother an uncertain look and shook his head, "I don't know. But they're alive and going to be fine."

Natalie couldn't stop drumming her fingers on the edge of the arm rest, her eyes focused on nothing as she stared at the bed. Every now and then she managed to flick her eyes to Charlotte's sleeping form before she went back to tapping her fingers nervously whilst freaking out about what she'd seen.

Sam... doing something- demonic. She didn't want to use that word, didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't think of any other way to describe what she'd seen. Sam had marched in their, raised his hand, slammed Alastair against the wall and killed him. Sam had killed a demon with his bare hands, without even touching him.

It scared her and she couldn't stop thinking about how a person could possibly do that without something evil helping. He'd come in before to ask her how she was – a migraine had left her light-headed whenever she stood up – and to ask how Charlotte was doing. She couldn't look him in the eyes without staring, trying to figure out what she couldn't see. She'd muttered something about Charlotte needing the rest and that she was fine with a knocked head and a few bruises. She could feel Sam staring at her, could feel the shift in the air between them and almost breathed a sigh of relief when he made an excuse to check on Dean.

There was a noise from the bed and Natalie looked up to see Charlotte groan, one arm curled up across her stomach as she turned in the bed to face her, her knees drawn part of the way up to her chest. It took a few moments for Charlotte to open her eyes and another few seconds before she focused on Natalie with tired eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Natalie whispered as she sat up in her chair a little.

Charlotte shrugged one shoulder and Natalie's eyes were drawn to the finger line bruises across her neck. "I don't know," she croaked, her eyes crinkling in pain. A severely bruised throat meant that talking was painful.

Natalie leaned back in her seat, her eyes starting to drift off with her mind. She wasn't focused on Charlotte as she spoke, "The Doctor said that you could be released later, just rest and take it easy," and the words sounded distant, almost as if she wasn't conscious that she was saying them.

There was silence for several seconds, Natalie lost in her own thoughts and theories before she heard Charlotte croak, "What?"

Natalie shook her head with a crease in her brows. "It's nothing."

"Nat," she murmured, her face twisting as she carried on speaking in a whisper, "something's bugging you, I know you so don't-"

"Stop talking." Charlotte clamped her mouth shut and stared up at Natalie with tired, waiting eyes. Natalie sighed and put her head in her hands with a shake of her head. "It's Sam," she mumbled between her fingers. After a few seconds she pulled her face away to look at Charlotte as she explained to her what she'd seen and how Sam had acted so calmly afterwards and how she'd freaked out when Sam had tried to see if she was alright.

She waited... and waited...

Eventually Charlotte's eyes darkened and she glared at the door. "Tell Sam I want to talk to him," she grumbled, voice laced with pain, soreness and venom.

"No, you need to rest."

"I need to knock some sense into that idiot," she mumbled, making a start to sit up.

Natalie reached forward and pushed back down against Charlotte's shoulders. "One, you're not going anywhere. Two, shut up, you shouldn't be talking and I know I'm going to regret asking this," she moved away once she was satisfied Charlotte wasn't going to getting up again and reached for some paper and a pen the nurses had given them to help ease Charlotte's throat, "but why would you want to kick his ass?"

Natalie could feel electricity in the air with the tension in Charlotte's shoulders as she stared at her. There was something going on, something she didn't know and Natalie regretted asking the question. But she needed to know. It wasn't right and Charlotte's reaction hadn't been what she had expected.

Charlotte took the paper and pen and sat up with a wince, her body hunching at the waist slightly before she glanced at Natalie again, sighed and started to write:

Before I explain anything else know that Sam is still Sam.

Natalie nodded and waited, worried about what Charlotte was going to write down. There was hesitation in her hands before she started to write again:

When Sam was a baby this demon, Azazel came along and wanted to use him as part of a demon army. He poured some of his own blood into Sam which gave him some weird powers. There were others like him, others with demon blood inside of them.

Charlotte's hand paused and Natalie's eyes just stared at the page. Demon blood? Demon blood? Demon army? She dug her fingers into the arms of the chair as she tried to rationalise that Sam didn't ask for it, that he had no choice in that matter. She also tried to remind herself that it was still Sam. Right?

Look he can do some weird stuff, Dean's been telling me. But apparently whilst Dean was in hell Sam met a demon called Ruby and started to do stuff. Dean was vague on the details but I got the gist that-

Natalie stood up, not giving Charlotte a chance to finish the sentence she was on. "What kind of weird stuff?" she muttered, her back to the other woman as she ran a hand over her mouth. She'd never heard of this kind of thing and finding out that there was something deeply wrong with Sam, it frightened her a little, especially after what she'd seen him do.

Sam stood on the periphery of the room with a worried frown. Natalie had gone out to get some food for herself and Charlotte and Sam had tried to talk to her again, but she'd brushed him with a, "Not now Sam." He wanted to apologise to Natalie, explain everything to her because he knew that she'd seen him, seen what he had done. She'd barely looked at him and it hurt to know that she couldn't bear to anywhere near him.

Charlotte had seen the awful attempt at a conversation and he watched as she clenched a hand around her stomach and shifted with a hiss of pain. "So when are you going to tell me how bad it is?"

She glared at him as he entered the room. "Two broken ribs," she managed.

Sam pinched his eyes shut with a sigh, "Sorry, I forgot about your throat." She didn't stop glaring at him and he sat down in Natalie's chair with another sigh. He fixed his eyes on her and watched as her gaze slowly softened before she looked away and hung her head. He noticed now how tired and worn out she looked, how exhausted every inch of her body looked. "Natalie wouldn't tell me what was wrong with you, just that you needed rest."

"Broken ribs," Charlotte snapped dully, her eyes not quite focusing on Sam.

He watched as her fingers fiddled with the sheet that was covering her legs and he reached out to grab her hand and still her nervous fingers. She froze and he squeezed her hand. "I've seen you ready to kick demons asses with more than just a couple of broken ribs, how bad is it?"

She stared at his hand a moment longer before she let out a shallow laugh and turned her head away from him with a pitiful expression. She pulled her hand away from his and brought her knees up to her chest. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable before and he straightened up a little as he listened to her voice shake out a small, "It's bad, I guess." She shrugged and he watched as she sniffed and wiped a hand over face. "Probably for the best," she whispered hoarsely and he frowned as she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Charlotte?" he frowned, leaning forward in his seat.

She raised a hand to her mouth and shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. Her other hand tightened its hold on the sheets and he watched in despair as she started to cry, still shaking her head as she covered her eyes with her hand, with both hands, and cried.

"Charlotte?" Natalie said and Sam stood up as Natalie rushed to her side. The other hunter perched herself on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against her chest. Sam watched on fear as Charlotte clung to Natalie and shook her shoulders with muffled tears. Natalie glanced up at Sam with an uneasy expression and sighed. "What were you two talking about?"

"I asked her what was wrong with her, what was really wrong and she just-"

"Jesus Christ," Natalie muttered as she felt Charlotte press herself further against her frame. "Do not tell Dean," she warned.

"Nat?"

She let go of Charlotte with one hand to reach out for the pen and paper Charlotte had been using. She flipped it to a clean page and wrote three word; She was pregnant.

"Are you alright?"

"No thanks to you."

"You need to be more careful."

If Dean had more energy he'd hiss at Cas, but his entire body still ached and he took a breath before he mumbled, "You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap." He'd been surprised Cas had turned up in the first place, even more surprised that he was asking how Dean was, but the last thing he needed was to be told to be more careful when it wasn't his fault.

Castiel spoke gently, his voice low as he said, "That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead."

Dean had the heart to look a little sorry for Cas. "Was it the demons?"

Cas looked away with a firm expression and Dean could see regret in the angel's eyes. "It was disobedience. He was working against us."

Dean met his gaze for a few seconds before he looked away, his mind shouting for him to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since he woke up, since Alastair had told him. He licked his lips and took another breath to steady himself before he looked back up to Cas and carefully asked, "Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?" By the time he'd finished his words started to sound fearful of the truth.

"Yes."

Dean looked away. He'd been hoping that it was all wrong, that it wasn't true. There'd been a small part of him that had been wishing that it was an awful joke the universe was having at his expense. Another part of him had hoped Cas wouldn't have been so blunt about it. If he felt bad before he felt worse now.

"When we discovered Lilith's plan for you," Cas started and Dean could almost hear the reluctance in Cas' voice. The angel wanted to believe his words but something was telling Dean that Cas wasn't quite so certain of himself, "we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you-"

"Jump started the apocalypse?"

There was a pause before Cas said, "We were too late."

Dean took a sharp intake of breath. If he'd held out a little longer then this wouldn't have happened. If he'd been stronger then he could've stopped this before it had started. "Why didn't you just leave me there, then?" he asked, his voice almost shaking with anger at himself.

"It is not blame that falls on you, Dean," Cas started and Dean partly hoped that the carefully constructed words coming out of his mouth would bring relief, "it's fate." It didn't help, it only made him feel worse. Fate meant that it was supposed to happen, that he was supposed to go to hell and rip apart those souls. Fate meant that he was supposed to enjoy what he did and he felt himself hate himself that little bit more. "The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it."

Redeem himself? Make up for what he'd done? The death that was coming? The end of the world? Dean needed more than ambiguity for an answer. "Lucifer?" he started, watching Cas carefully with fear in his voice. His hands were shaking by his sides as he spoke, finding himself growing more worried with each passing word that came out of his mouth. "The apocalypse? What does that mean?" He watched Cas look away, a frown creasing his own brows and he knew that any moment Cas was about to fly away to find his own answers, but Dean was desperate for answers of his own. "Hey!" he mustered, trying to chase away the panic that was fighting inside of his chest, "Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Bull!" Cas was an angel, angels were all knowing right? Right?

"I don't," Cas reiterated, turning to give Dean a firm look that told him the angel wasn't lying and he could see a slight ebb of concern in his eyes. "Dean, they don't tell me much. I know, our fate rests with you."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. He never asked for this. He never asked to have his soul ripped apart. He never asked to try to hold out against an infinity of pain and suffering like he'd never experienced before. He never asked to become a hunter. He never asked for any of this and he didn't dare stop the self doubt and matter of fact hurt that crept into his voice as he said, "Well then you guys are screwed." He felt his eyes begin to sting and the tears started to creep into his voice with a tone of vulnerability, "I can't do it Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right, I'm not all here. I'm not- I'm not strong enough." He had to pause to take a shaky breath, to finish what he'd started saying. It was too much to ask of him, of one guy who wants nothing to do with this. The look Cas gave him was pitying and it broke the hold Dean had had on his tears. He let them go, turning to look away from the angel to save himself some grace. "Well I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me."