Dean struggled to sit upright. Whether it was from his injuries or the shock, he couldn't move his legs. He shifted himself back as best he could until his back was against the wet wall and he leaned his head against the side of a dumpster.

"Cas," he called. The alley remained silent as he lay slumped against the garbage, the only sound was his own stilted breath. No one walked by, no cars drove past, it was deserted and the only light came from a streetlamp out on the main road, throwing everything in to a dim orange silhouette. He didn't know how long he lay there, fighting to stay awake, knowing that if he gave himself up to the exhaustion that was building inside him he would never wake up. "I'm sorry Sammy," he whispered, feeling suddenly as though it was important for him to say everything he needed to say, even if no one was listening. "I'm so sorry for everything."

He grew colder and his breaths became shaky. He tried to stow his panic and focussed solely on breathing in and out, over and over, determined to keep on living just a little longer. A long while later he finally heard footsteps enter the alley.

"Cas," he said, squinting up into the faint light coming from the street beyond. A tall, thin shape came in to view. He couldn't make out any features, but he saw a flash of red hair.

"I'm afraid not," said Abbadon, strolling up to him casually. "You look terrible," she added. Dean forced himself to give a sarcastic smile.

"Well I feel super," he said. She crouched down beside him and he felt her hand press hard against his bleeding back. He closed his eyes and tried to muffle his cries of pain through gritted teeth. She didn't let go of him until he was almost unconscious.

"You have been a pain in my ass since day one, Dean Winchester, but killing Quentin was the last straw." Dean felt tears slip down his face, mingled with the cold sweat but nevertheless, he managed to string a few words together.

"What… kind… of a name… is Quentin?" Abbadon stepped back from him and stood up. He felt that invisible pressure around his neck as she dragged him upright without even needing to touch him.

"I would have killed you as soon as I heard that Quentin was dead," she said as he struggled to breathe, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground, feeling more hot blood drip down his back. "But I decided this would be a much more fitting death. You don't get to go out in a blaze of glory, not anymore." She seemed to have had this speech prepared for a long time. Somewhere far in the back of his mind, he tried to form a smart-assed comment, but the pressure building in his head and the spasms of pain radiating out from his back made it impossible.

"Do you know what I hate most about you, Dean?" Abbadon continued. "You think you're important, you actually think you make a difference. I'm not going to let you have any sense of importance anymore. You are nothing. You get to die in an alleyway like a cheap hooker, just like the insignificant scum that you are." Dean could no longer see, fighting hopelessly against Abbadon's hold around his neck, but he could hear the smile in her voice. She finally released him and he slid down the wall. His arm collided hard with the dumpster and he heard something crack before landing in a crumpled heap on the slimy ground.

"See you in Hell, Dean." Just as quickly as she had arrived, Abbadon was gone.

"Cas," he called, but he stopped when a terrible thought occurred to him. Cas was too weak to reach him, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear his pleas. Dean didn't want to torment him like that, it wasn't fair. He shoved his fear to the back of his mind, determined to face this by himself. All he could focus on was the foul smell of the garbage that he was lying in and the hiss of the rain on the ground. He looked around, and his feeble attempts at being brave crumbled away. He couldn't believe this was how he was going to die, in a stinking alley in a pool of blood, paralysed and scared.

"Sammy," he called in to the silence. "Anybody? Please." He could feel himself begin to slip into oblivion. "I don't want to go to Hell again," he choked between shuddering breaths. He felt his eyes close as he was dragged down in to blackness.

He woke to the sound of Cas's voice, he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently and let himself imagine for a second that it had all been a horrible dream and Cas was waking him after a nap in the bunker. He opened his eyes and saw the angel crouched next to him, staring intently at him.

"Dean, say something."

"Hey," he said. He didn't even have time to be thankful that he was still alive before he noticed that there was something very wrong with Cas. The angel could barely stop himself from collapsing, the hem of his coat trailing in the filthy water that covered the ground. If Dean didn't know any better he would have said he was blackout drunk, grabbing Dean's shoulder tightly to stop himself tipping over. "Cas you shouldn't have come," he said.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he said, his words a little slurred. "It took me some time to be able to locate you and I found it very difficult to fly." Cas reached out a trembling hand, ready to heal Dean, but he pushed him away.

"No Cas," he said. "You're not strong enough, you'll kill yourself."

"I can't allow you to die," he said, his usually stoic face a mess of emotions. Dean took Cas's hand and held it tightly, partly to stop him from healing him, but also because he didn't want to feel alone.

"Maybe Sammy's right," Dean said, with an attempt at a laugh. "Maybe it's time to accept my fate."

"No," Cas growled. "You're exhausted and weak, you don't mean that."

"Yeah, I do," Dean said. "Everyone has to die sometime. I can't fight it anymore Cas, I'm done."

"Stop it Dean. Let me heal you."

"No."

"Then at least let me take you to a hospital." Cas stood up, never letting go of Dean's hand, and tried to pull him to his feet, but their combined strength was nothing short of pitiful.

"There's no point," Dean said, slumping back against the wall, feeling his breath slow once more. Cas fell to his knees beside him, his face a mixture of grief and exhaustion. "Look at the state of us," Dean murmured, smiling a little as he let go of Cas's hand. "Just take care of Sammy." Cas stared at him, looking as though he was searching for the right words.

"Dean, I - "

"Hello boys." Dean opened his eyes, complete surprise dragging him back from the brink of unconsciousness. Silhouetted against the faint orange light was Crowley, and standing beside him was a much taller, much broader shape.

"Sammy?"

A/N Just a short chapter this week but I really hope you enjoyed it, I promise it won't always be so depressing. I would love it if you could leave a review with any thoughts, feelings, suggestions etc. Hearing from you really makes my day. I hope you're well. CMPerry :)