Sam nervously paced the motel room. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Of course. He is only temporarily dead." Cas replied nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Only temporarily." Sam laughed shortly. Dean's body was laying on the bed, his chest still. Sam hated not being able to see his brother breathing.
*gasp*
Dean suddenly jolted to life, sucking in air as if he'd been suffocating.
"Dean!" Sam rushed to his side, helping him sit up. "Deep breaths, calm down."
Dean looked around, his eyes finally resting on Cas. "Put me back." He said in a strangled voice.
"I'm sorry, put you back where?"
"Back with Mom."
"I cannot do that, Dean."
"Can't or won't?!"
"I won't. And if I heard correctly, you promised your mother that you would try to get better."
"God dammit, Cas...you were listening?"
"Does it matter? Dean, come on...please don't leave me." Sam tried to keep from yelling, his voice hushing to a whisper instead.
Dean looked exhausted. "God, I don't know what to do."
"If you could stop trying to kill yourself that would be preferable."
"Thanks, Cas."
Dean watched Sam pack up the duffel bag, getting ready to leave. He eyed the knives, craving the feeling of the cold steel biting into his skin.
Sam noticed. "Dude, stop eye-fucking the knives."
"Shut up." He managed to tear his gaze away. "So what's the plan?"
"Head to the Roadhouse, see if Ash has picked up on anything weird."
"Sounds good."
"Hey," Sam said softly.
"What?"
"I need you with me on this one, okay? It seems like everyone I love dies. Mom, Dad, Jess..." He swallowed hard. "I can't do this without you, De."
Dean felt a pang of guilt. "Alright, Sammy. I'm with you." He playfully punched his brother. "Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?"
"Jerk."
"Bitch."