Prayers of a Grieving Man

Weeks of watching Castiel sleep while hooked up to a bunch of machines and tubes was the worst sight Dean woke up to every morning. He'd started doing a better job of hiding his grief for Gabe and Balthazar's sake. If things got really bad he'd go for a drive or sit by the dock and fish. Not today though. Today it was just too much. No amount of fishing or driving could muffle the foreboding beeping of Castiel's heart monitor. That was why he now stood at a crossroad, waiting silently in the cold.

"Well, well, well," a voice cooed from behind. Dean turned slowly, eyes falling on a lovely young woman with dark curls and a slimming black dress that showed off her curves. "Dean Winchester." She stepped towards him, raking her eyes over his body. There wasn't much to see. Though he had been eating better, he was still thin and he had grown paler from the first few days locked in the bedroom with Cas. He'd gotten some color back, but he still could ace a role as Snow White. "What are we dealing today, Winchester?" Her eyes flicked red when she said his name. Dean pulled something from the inside of his coat then, pulling out Castiel's tan trench coat.

"Wake him," Dean ordered. The demon's grin grew and she reached out for the coat. Dean pulled it away from her painted red nails and held it close to her chest. The demon's smile fell and she pulled her hand back from the trench coat.

"Alright," she stated. Dean frowned.

"Really? No fight? 'No why would we bring back your angel back' like the last times? Just…alright?" Dean questioned. The demon laughed and twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

"Don't worry, there's still a catch and it's the same as before. Neither Lord Crowley or I would think of making it that easy," she reassured. Dean bristled at the mention of Crowley, but didn't say anything about the king. Instead, he asked for the price. The demon's grin just grew larger. "Stop your search for the angels under our care. Tell your monster buddies to drop the search and pretend you never knew about them," the demon stated. "Do that and we have a deal." Dean shook his head, fingers clutching at the coat in his hands tighter.

"I…can't do that," he mumbled. The demon's eyes flicked back to a normal shade of brown.

"Excuse me?" she huffed, brows creasing. Dean shook his head.

"I said I can't. I'm not abandoning those angels. Not one." The demon let out a sigh, looking upwards like she was cursing the heavens.

"Sorry, Dean. That's the deal."

"No," Dean hissed, hands balling up into fists. "NO!" Dean screamed, marching towards her. "There has to be another way!"

"Nope," she sighed, irritably. "Honestly, I don't understand why you keep doing this to yourself. You're angel's gone, Dean. He's –" Dean let out an angry cry and pulled out Ruby's knife. He charged.

"Bring back my angel!" The knife sliced through open air and Dean looked around to find himself alone. Dean screamed out into the dark, falling to his knees and letting the gravel road slice open his jeans and cut up his hands. Tears burned in his eyes and he clutched at the coat in his hand, pleading and praying to anyone he could think of. He received no answer.

Dean had called Sammy and told him that he was going to stay the night at a hotel since he was 'too far' from home. Sam had dumbly believed him. In reality, Dean hadn't gone to a hotel. He'd left the crossroad and went to a convent instead. That was a first. Usually he would go to a bar for a bit after his failed attempts at making a deal. Why he continued to try he didn't know either. Maybe it was the hope that the price would be different? Maybe it was the hope that there would be something or someone out there that could help?

He had hesitated at the doors, but forced himself inside eventually. The church was beautiful on the inside, nothing at all like the outside. From the outside it looked like any white painted church with an old bell on the steeple and boards in need of a fresh coat of paint. The inside was breathtaking. Stain-glass windows took up most of the wall space in the church. Each image in the glass seemed to tell a story. Some told the story of Christ being nailed to the cross and others spoke stories or Noah or Moses. There was even one of several cherubs dancing together in a garden. The place was lit by candles, giving off an eerie darkness. No one else was inside with what he could see. Dean stepped over the threshold and marched down the aisle, taking a seat at a pew in the second row. Dean leaned forward in the pew, folding his hands and lowering his head as he began to pray.

"Hey, uh…God, it's Dean Winchester," Dean took in a shaky breath. "I know you've got to hate hearing my messages by now, but…Cas hasn't changed and we haven't even come close to finding the other angels Crowley has." Dean sighed, closing his eyes. "I just wanted…wanted to ask you to…to help. If not me then them. They're your kids. I thought you wanted them to have a second chance? I'll do anything, God. Just help me –"

"Sorry to interrupt, Son." Dean snapped out of his prayers and turned his gaze to the man hovering next to him. He had dark skin and was dressed as a priest. Correction: he was a priest.

"Oh, uh, sorry, Father," Dean stuttered. "I'll go –" the priest rested a hand on Dean's shoulder and pushed him back down again.

"No, need to my son. Please continue. I was just curios. I haven't seen you here before," the priest stated. Dean settled back down.

"I usually don't come to these places," Dean admitted. The priest tilted his head.

"What's changed your mind?" Dean hesitated and the priest laughed. "Come now, Son. I'm a priest. I'm sworn to secrecy." Dean nodded and stared at the window with several cherubs on it.

"My…best friend is in a coma and his siblings have been kidnapped. I've prayed to him and God so much, but nothing's ever worked. I thought that if I came here it would make some kind of difference, but…I'm losing whatever hope I had," he admitted. "Hell, I feel like I'm losing my mind at times!" The priest continued to watch Dean silently. "It feels like I'm talking to a fucking statue." The priest nodded in understanding.

"Yes, I know the feeling," the priest sighed. Dean rose a brow at the priest and the man laughed. "Believe me. Men like I have doubts sometimes." Dean nodded and looked back to his hand, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. "God is always with us though." Dean snorted at that and the priest raised a brow. "What?"

"Then why doesn't he answer my prayers?" Dean asked. The priest shook his head and squeezed Dean's shoulder lightly.

"My son, sometimes our Father cannot help us with all our problems directly, but he can help us go in the right direction." Dean thought over the priest's words and back to when he and Sam had first met God. God had been watching the entire time, pushing things in the right direction to assist him in his plan for the angels and Heaven, but it had been Dean and his family that did the dirty work. What was he doing now to help? Was he the one pushing Dean to the crossroads every other week? Was he the one filling Dean and the others with nightmares of one less angel?

Dean looked up towards the cross hanging on the wall for a moment before getting to his feet. Fuck God then. He held out a hand to the priest.

"Thanks, Father." The priest smiled and shook Dean's hand.

"I'll pray for your friend," he said gently, earning a light smile from the hunter. Dean pulled his hand back then and shuffled out of the pew and towards the doors. He reached to push the wide doors open, but paused, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Cas, buddy? I'll find a way and everything will be okay again…I promise." The hunter was done praying to God and putting false hope on the bastard. It was time he gave his hope to something else. What or who that was Dean was eager to find out and pull his family from the hell they'd been sucked into. Dean opened his eyes again and shoved the doors open, striding through them and leaving the priest alone in the candlelight of his church.

"Do you think it will be enough?" a woman's voice questioned. The priest turned his gaze towards one of the windows to his left to see a nun smirking at him.

"Lydia," he sighed. "I thought you were resting in Heaven still? That de-aging spell really took it out of you." Lydia shrugged and walked over, taking a seat next to him.

"Don't worry about it, Joshua. I'm feeling somewhat better," she reassured. "So, hope?" Joshua sighed, closing his eyes.

"Dean Winchester has always surprised us in the past. I'm sure he will again," Joshua stated. Lydia nodded, but still didn't look convinced.

"Something's going to happen. That's why you tried to help him just now. You know something is coming." Joshua didn't answer her and Lydia's eyes burned with anger. She slammed a hand against the hard wood of the pew causing the bang to echo throughout the church. "Joshua, these are your brothers! I can easily cast a spell or something to help. Just say the word. We can change whatever it is-" Joshua held up a hand to silence her.

"Everything happens for a reason, Lydia. Sometimes bad and sometimes good. What's happening is needed for our Fathers intentions to truly work." Lydia snorted, turning her enraged glare to the cross on the wall.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean I have to watch children and the families they are given to go through hell," she huffed, shuffling out of the pew. She flicked her wrist towards the wall with the cross on it and a door to Heaven appeared. She hovered over the threshold, turning her head to smile at the angel. "I just hope Winchester's hope will be enough." She turned back around and stepped into the door. A blinding light surrounded the door and in a blink of an eye both Lydia and the door were gone. Joshua lowered his head then, folding his hands together. His lips moved silently as he prayed to his father. He prayed for his siblings, praying for their safety and their health. He prayed for Castiel and the missing angels most of all though. He felt his own grief with each prayer, but he forced himself to keep his faith in his father's judgment. He had to. Hope was all he had.