Chapter 49.

Sarah looked at the tables in the storeroom. Dean watched her face, hoping they would do. She had a stack of trestle tables in her barn, apparently, but why go through all the logistical complications if something as good could be found in the bunker?

Paul stood behind them. "If they'll do the job, Mark and I can put them out for you."

"Oh, they will be good." she said, "They're stronger than mine. Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Just tell us where you want 'em and we'll set 'em up." said Paul.

"And if they need help, there's me, there's Bobby, there's Phil. I can grab as many helpers as you need, but you are not doing any heavy lifting." said Dean.

"I've been moving tables my whole life." she said.

"Then it must be someone else's turn." said Dean.

"I'll get Mark." said Paul, "You figure out the layout, Mrs Kranz."

"You call me Sarah, Paul. No friend of Castiel's needs to call me Mrs Kranz."

"I'm not so sure he considers me much of a friend." said Paul, "We got off to a shaky start."

"Really? He says you're a good, reliable hunter." she said.

"There was a little friction at first." said Dean, "In Apocalypse World, angels were all monsters. Nobody's fault. All's fine now."

"Good." said Sarah, "And now you're helping with the party."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I figure I owe him. He really said I'm a good hunter?"

"Several times." she said. She looked at Dean, "Do you have a floorplan I can use?"

"Yeah, I can print one for you in the library. Paul, get the tables to the garage. We'll have the layout for you soon."

"No problem." said Paul.

Dean and Sarah went to the library. He printed a floorplan of the garage and she set to work on it with a pencil. As she sketched in the tables, he watched, admiring her clear, practical work. It reminded him of his father. "You're good at that." he said.

"Lots of practice." she said, "And I hope to get a lot more. I hope you and I are still friends."

"Yeah, we are." he said, "Your intentions are good. I just think you need to accept that it's too late for me. Maybe twenty years ago, I could have chosen a different way, but now there's layer upon layer of darkness and the most you can do is uncover more of it and risk it getting loose."

"Is Sam also beyond help?" said Sarah.

"God, I hope not." said Dean.

"How about Castiel?"

"Cas is strong." he said.

"So you're the weak one? Sorry, but I'm not seeing it."

"I have a hard time giving up on people too." he said.

"I hate to argue with you, Dean, but I must. Your self-image is way off. You were four years old when you carried Sam out of that burning house. That's a heroic act for a little child. But I'm willing to bet that the only thing you think of about that night is that you didn't save your mom."

"That's not ... " he began, but he saw the look in her eyes and decided not to attempt the lie. "Yeah, okay." he said.

"You've been protecting your brother ever since, always willing to die for him, to go to Hell for him. There's really nothing you wouldn't do for him. You're a good brother."

"If I were that great a brother, Sam would never have gone to Hell. You say I've been protecting my brother ever since. I'd say I've been failing to protect him."

"The most exceptional angel, an angel who has seen everything about you, loves you more than anyone else on Earth and you, my dear, confused boy, think he is merely imagining that you have any value."

"Angels are dumb." he said.

"Not that one. He sees you very clearly. We've spent many hours discussing you and he knows every facet of your personality. He sees you a lot more accurately than you see yourself. Yet you're certain that one day, he will see you're not worthy of love and he'll go. And sometimes, just because you think it will hurt less if you are expecting it, you push him away and say things that hurt him, because if he's going to walk away, better sooner, rather than later."

"If I need his love that much, why would I push him away at all?" said Dean.

"For the same reason you don't want to heal. You can be a very cruel judge." she said, "Oh, not of other people. You get why they do the stupid things they do and you have a lot more patience with them than you pretend. You'll risk your life for some very tarnished souls. That Dean Winchester, though, you don't give that kid an inch."

"That kid is not a kid. He doesn't have that excuse."

"So many negative emotions, all wrapped up in a tight ball of self-loathing and the first and worst accusation: little Dean let his mother die. Your mother died, my dear. You had no power to stop it."

"What did you two talk about?" he said.

"Is there something you want me to talk about with her? I will happily do it. Mary is a lovely woman. I find we have a lot in common. For example, we both think Dean Winchester is wonderful and we both want to see him happy."

"No hunter is ever happy." said Dean.

"Then you can be the first." she said, "You've always been something of an innovator."

"Help the angel. Help my brother. The closest I will ever get to happiness is knowing they are both okay. I don't need anything else."

"You need to live again."

"Life hurts."

"And this half-life doesn't?" she said.

"Not really." he said, "You get numb."

"And that hurts too. You forget, I'm not a civilian. I've been through the same battles, told myself all the same excuses to stop fighting and, like you, I never did entirely stop. We're not made for surrender, you and I. When we fall, we still crawl forward, even when we think we want to die. But why grovel in the mud when you can stand up, grab a banner and march on?"

"When the battlefield is endless, what's the point? If there could be an end to this, a moment when we all toast a final victory, then maybe it would be worth trying to piece together this shattered life, but if the darkness never stops coming, wasting time on this mess is an indulgence we can't afford."

"Then the same must apply to Sam and Castiel. Should I stop trying to help them too?"

"No. They're different."

"The only difference is the value you place on them, a value equal to the one they place on you. Castiel is terrified of losing you. Sometimes, the fear paralyses him. He can barely think. Sam, of course, cannot bear the thought of life without you. Even if you hate Dean Winchester, can't you find a little compassion for those who love him?"

"Can we focus on the party for now?" he said.

She looked down at the plan. "We should take this to Paul and Mark."

He picked it up. "Good idea."