A/n: I'd like to thank everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story. Thank you to hectatess, and LilyBolt for your last reviews.

Chapter 12

Bobby waited several minutes before venturing out to find Dean. It didn't take him long to find him pressed up against the smashed in driver's side of the still crushed Chevy Impala. Tears had stained his cheeks and his head was tilted upward with his eyes staring up at the sky. He only shifted his gaze slightly when he heard the sound of boots crunching on snow and then returned his attention upward once he had seen who it was.

"I never should have gone to California," he commented in a voice just loud enough to catch the hunter's ears as he approached him.

"Why's that?"

"None of this would have happened. Our lives would never have become the shit show they are now if I would've just ignored what Missouri said that day when I ran into her at the store with Mom." Once again his stomach turned at the mere mention. "Sam would still be a normal guy with a normal life happily married and Mom would...she'd still be alive if I hadn't fucked everything up." A fresh tear fell and he quickly swiped it away not bothering to look and see if his company had noticed it.

The hunter sat himself on an old junker not far from where the elder brother was currently sitting. "You sound like yer brother," the older man pointed out. "None of this is either of you boys' fault," he reassured him. The younger man scoffed but still kept his eyes directed up. "You honestly think you're the reason fer all this? You really believe you're capable of it all? You heard yer brother, a demon came in and fed him its blood when he was only a baby. That puts you at what? Three maybe four years old? What exactly does that even have to do with you?"

"Maybe Sam's-" he stopped as his stomach did another turn. "Maybe that's not, but everything else... Jessica died because of me. And mom..."

"Let's get one thing straight Dean," Bobby said in a stern voice. "What yer mother did was her choice, not yers."

"And she wouldn't have been in that situation and made that choice if it hadn't been for me." Finally his gaze was brought down and landed on the remains of the muscle car.

Having noticed, the elder man sighed. "I was gonna scrap it you know?" the hunter admitted. "But Sam told me you know yer way around cars, so, I kept it."

The older man had moved the vehicle into a small covered area before the winter had completely buried it with the intention on fixing it up. Though the reason why hadn't been clear to him. It would have taken more time and effort than the thing was worth, or at least, what it was worth to him. With its original owner back up and running, he had found himself very grateful that he hadn't actually just gutted it after all.

"I can't deal with this, Bobby." Dean finally met his friend's eyes. "I can't deal with demons and angels and Hell and-and Lucifer and Sammy being a demon and Mom being dead, and Baby being...like this. I just can't."

"No one said life was easy son," the hunter replied gently. "Sometimes, we get dealt the shittiest hand there is, but we just have to grin and bare it. You aren't alone Dean, I know maybe you feel like you are and sure, maybe no one else is goin' through exactly what you are, other than maybe yer brother; but you aren't alone. I'm gonna help you two the best I can and you're both always welcome here. Besides, I feel responsible a bit myself," the older man admitted with a sigh. "After all, I'm the one who told you boys about the supernatural."

"After some serious persisting on Sam's part," Dean reminded him.

"Point is, we could all sit around and feel sorry for ourselves and blame ourselves, but what good will it do? It's not gonna bring back yer Mom or Jessica. It's not gonna make the demon blood in Sam just disappear or him bein' a 'true vessel' for the devil stop. So, we just gotta do what we can do. Dust ourselves off, figure out the next move, and kick it in the ass."

Dean nodded at Bobby. "Thanks Bobby."

"No need for thanks. Apparently, helping out you Winchesters has become my second job. Not that I'm complainin' mind you. Now come on," he said extending a hand towards the younger man. "No sense in us turnin' into popsicles out here, or into a couple'a ladies."

The hunter's light teasing caused the corners of Dean's lips to raise slightly and he allowed his friend to help him to his feet and together they returned to the house.

XXX

Dean turned to his left side, then his right, then his left again. Nothing was ok; not with him, not with Sam, not with the world. There was too much that hadn't been answered and too much that needed to be done. Quietly so he didn't wake his brother sleeping on the floor close by, Dean crept from the couch, grabbed his jacket and shoes, and snuck out the back door. The too early morning air stung and bit into Dean the moment he stepped foot outside. As cold as it was, he found himself grateful it was only chilly and not windy or snowing. The elder Winchester looked around as if to make sure no one was watching him, then sighed heavily, and bowed his head.

"Now I lay me down to sleep..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Father who art in Heaven..." He paused again. "Ok here's the deal. I'm not the praying type so I don't really know what I'm doing here, but...I just, I need answers. Who pulled me out of Hell? Why? Why Sammy? Why is his life shit? He may be a pain at times, but my brother doesn't deserve this. What do you have against me and my family? After everything that we've been through and what's going on with the world, how can anyone believe that you exist?" Dean paused trying to keep himself calm. "A lot of good people have died. Hell, they still are. And now I hear that Lucifer isn't far from rising and he wants to wear my brother for the big coming out party. Where are you in all of this? When is enough enough for you? Huh? What will it take for you to finally give a shit and do something?! The world is on the verge of going to Hell and you're, what? Just kicking back in the clouds with a beer and a big bucket of butter soaked popcorn watching it all happen?!" Dean stopped and took a deep breath, allowing himself to stand in the silence. "Look," he started again gently. " You wanna torture me, fine. I get it. I'm not exactly a believer. In fact I'm not even sure why I'm doing this, but...Sam is. He believes in you. I don't care if you wanna punish me, that's fine; I deserve it. But please, please, don't punish Sammy. The kid's already gone through enough. Please just give my brother a break."

Dean fell quiet. Listening, waiting for any sign to prove him wrong about "The Man Upstairs." When nothing happened the elder Winchester simply nodded his head in disappointment and took a deep breath. "Screw this."

As stealthily as possible, he crept back into the house, snuck into the study room, found a book that should have the answer to his next question, and slipped into the kitchen where he could read without disturbing his sleeping sibling. He thumbed through the pages until he found what he was looking for and not for the first time since being alive again, he wished he could remember his time possessed. No doubt he had learned or been told many things about demons, but hell if he could remember any of them. His eyes scanned the page, taking in all that was needed for his next step and hoping beyond hope that the hunter had everything he needed. Having no clue as to where the older man kept any of his supernatural ingredients, Dean started opening cabinets. Nothing unusually jumped out at him so he moved on to the pantry. Nothing. After the kitchen had been thoroughly checked and he had come up empty handed, the elder Winchester went back into the study room and looked around. It mostly consisted of books and bookcases other than the sofa. Then it dawned on him. He walked quietly over to the desk that occupied many hardback books, including the one he had snatched earlier. Very carefully and slowly, Dean pulled open the top drawer. It squeaked causing him to immediately stop and look over at his brother. When Sam didn't so much as stir, he tried again, slower. Peering in to the drawer, he found nothing. The bottom drawer however proved a lot more useful. Sitting on top of more clutter inside, was exactly everything he needed. Save one thing he himself had to produce. His first thought was wonder how he got so lucky? However the more he pondered it, the more it seemed clear. Dean frowned and shook his head. "Oh Bobby," he whispered to himself. He grabbed the items shoving them in his sweatpants pockets, and tip-toed to the front door. With one last look up the stairs and down the hall, he snatched up the keys to the hunter's Road Runner and silently disappeared through the front door.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to leave a comment. See you next Wednesday!