Cas's cries of agony rang out through the entire bunker. It chilled Dean's blood. It made his heart freeze. Next thing he knew, he was racing downstairs. Sam was leaning over the bed as Cas writhed in pain.

It was excruciating.

Unbearable.

A pain that burned hotter than the flames of Hell.

Dean stood in the door way, helpless as Cas screamed his name, begging him, pleading him to make the pain stop. But Dean couldn't help. In that moment, he could do nothing. He could do nothing but watch his friend cry out for him. Watch his friend, who before was so noble and fierce, as angels should be, become broken and impaired, not only physically but mentally.

Dean couldn't do a thing. Not a damn thing. Is that all he could do!? Just stand by and listen to Cas call out to him!? It wasn't fair. Of course, Dean knew most things in life weren't. He was reminded of that every day. Every morning when he woke up, every night when he went to bed. He and Sammy stayed in cheap-ass motels, lived off of credit card fraud, survived off of fast food, were stuck in a car together practically 24/7, and had a crappy job which they never got any thanks for.

They saw people die on a weekly basis. They'd lost everything because of hunting. The Life was anything but fair, but if Dean had to ask to be cut a brake, now was the time. Right when he himself was wondering how much of Cas's screaming he could take—silence. Sam checked for a pulse, as a just-in-case.

"He just passed out, that's all…"

As Sam wiped his palms on his jeans, Dean heaved out a sigh of relief. But he could still hear the cries. His ears still rang with them, and he thought he'd never scrape the experience from his brain. He barely caught the words as they escaped Sam's lips.

"I'm going out to make a run."

Dean didn't turn his head until he heard his keys jingle.

"What?"

"I'm going out. To make a run."

He release a light scoff.

"Like hell you are. Give me the keys Sam."

Sam shoved the car keys in his jacket as Dean extended his hand, motioning for Sam to give 'em up with a few fingers.

"Sam, you're in no condition to be—"

"No, Dean. Listen."

Dean shut up, raising his eyebrows at his brother as if to say, 'Go on. I'm listening.'

"You need to stay here. With Cas."

Dean opened his mouth to say something. But… what? Hell, he couldn't argue with that, and Sam knew it. The wide smirk that grew on the younger Winchester's face made Dean want to pop him right in the jaw. With no other options left, Dean simply retorted with a, "bitch," under his breath, watching Sam's smug grin spread further.

"Jerk."

The keys jangled in Sam's pocket as he headed for the door, pausing only as he heard his brother say, "hey,' from behind him. Sam turned to look at him and he grasped the cool brass handle.

"You wreck my car, I'll kill you."

The younger flashed his brother one last grin before stepping out into the chill of the night.