Basically, Dean slept with his eyes open. They were as wide as usual- perhaps a bit rounder- but he was not there in that hospital room. He was borderline catatonic, no more alert than the girl whom he watched like a hawk for the past four days.

All of the guilt and remorse he refused to allow himself to feel over the course of the past month or so would not be repressed any longer. The second he watched that blade penetrate her tender body, all those feelings- guilt, remorse, sympathy- came uncorked. And he had four days of watching her lie there, with tubes snaking out of her body, to let them soak him through to the bone.

I will always love you, Dean Winchester. I will always love you, Dean Winchester. I will always…

The way she looked into his eyes- the way she kissed him- Dean felt that she knew exactly what was about to happen, that she was completely at peace.

Bye, guys.

She was ready to die for him.

Why? Why the hell would you do that for me?

I will always love you, Dean Winchester…

Stubble covered his jaw, fatigue dulled his senses, but he would not leave her until she awoke. In the beginning, the brothers quarreled over who would go on food runs and who would stay by her side. Dean's was the iron will. Sam's tentative infatuation was no match for the forces the gripped Dean inside. This girl had sacrificed her young, innocent life for his without even blinking. The moment he caught her in his arms, he swore to himself that if she kept her life, he would guard it with his. And he was still waiting for the verdict.

"Hello, Dean."

The soft, low voice jolted him from his reverie. He lifted his head and shifted his gaze to just beyond the foot of Lory's bed.

"Great to see you, Cass," he began smoothly, but waxed anguish, "We missed you four days ago when you could have stopped this shit from happening!"

"Please, do not blame me. I had no idea. I was just notified. I came as soon as I heard."

"Well, better late than never. You going to go on and heal her?" grunted Dean, wishing Sam would hurry with that coffee.

Castiel hung his dark head, examining the tiles for a short while.

"What?" Dean urged impatiently

"I'm afraid I cannot heal her."

"You're afraid of what now?" Dean challenged, springing to his feet.

"I cannot interfere with the course of nature… The course of her destiny…"

Dean let out a low, rueful, maddened laugh. When he sobered, the look on his face was savagely irate.

"Listen, buddy, you and your little winged pals Shanghaied her into doing this. Now, you're going to heal her, or so help me, I'm going twiddle my thumbs through each and every single one of those seals."

Castiel did not doubt his words for a moment.

"It isn't that simple."

"WHY THE HELL NOT?!"

"Because she was supposed to die for you!"

It was the first time Dean had heard the angel raise his voice, but that wasn't what gripped him.

"What?"

"The same prophecies that speak of the seals… The prophecies that foretold your coming and your destiny… They spoke of a woman. A shield."

"Lory?" he almost hissed, his wide eyes squinting in disbelief, "I don't understand."

" 'When the righteous woman, serves as shield, buckler, and protector of the righteous man, she shall go with God in the kingdom of Heaven and her blood shall become his and strengthen him against the adversary.' It has been written."

"So you sent her to her death?" Dean asked with a surprising calm despite the blaze and sickness that grew inside him, "You set her up to die."

The angel sighed, "Dean, she was born to die for you. Her love for you is so deep and so pure. It urged her to sacrifice her life for yours when she very well could have fled any time she pleased. That kind of love is God's love."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked sincerely, "Is that supposed to make it easier for me to watch her laid up with tubes hanging out of her and a hole in her belly?"

At that point his entire body trembled and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing.

"It's supposed to help you understand…Maybe not now, but eventually, perhaps…That this is for the best. For the good of mankind."

"Fuck mankind," he half-mumbled, swaying slightly, his eyes affixed upon the poor, fading girl.

"You don't mean that."

The look in his eyes begged to differ.

"Dean," mused Castiel, "the only advice I can give you is to pray."

"Why? Why would I pray to a God who would pull some fucked up shit like this? Especially when it's not going to help. You can't change destiny, right? You just said that."

"You cannot change destiny. I cannot change destiny. But my father- he can do anything."

Dean looked up to refute, but Castiel had disappeared where he stood. It was just he and Lory. He made his way over to her bed, kneeled beside it. Her face was angelic- cherubic.

Not like those dickey angels…

The skin on the back of her hand was like mahogany silk, and he took pleasure in stroking it. It was one of the nicest things he could ever remember feeling. He laughed a bit to himself at the lie he had to tell the hospital in order for them to let him sleep in her room. The irony.

She's my wife!

The laugh turned into a sad smile. She would not live to see her wedding day. She would not live to spend the rest of her life with the kind of man she deserved- Dean's polar opposite. The skin of her hand felt even nicer against his lips.

He looked to the ceiling for a brief moment before he shut his eyes and rest his throbbing forehead against the edge of the bed.

Pray…

For her… Only for her… Dear heavenly father…

"Dean?"

Narrowing escaping whiplash, Dean turned his head to his brother, who carried two Styrofoam cups- one in the crook of the arm, one in his hand, and a paper sack.

"You all right, man?"

Dean nodded, knowing that he was anything but all right.

"Yeah… I'm good."

00000000000000000

The world was a blur for Lory. The last thing she remembered was falling into Dean's strong arms. If she was dead, she couldn't have asked for a more precious last moment. A face hovered over her- an angel?

"Dean?" she croaked weakly, hopefully, not truly expecting it to be him.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Her vision cleared enough to catch his wide grin of elation just before it waned into a warm smirk. He was nearly bearded, but it was him.

"Am I in heaven?" the girl half-whispered.

There are no splitting headaches in heaven…

He chuckled, "No, no yet. Thank God, not yet. How do you feel?"

"Like crap… Like alive crap…But still al- Holy shit!"

She sprang bolt upright in bed, ignoring the morphine-dulled pain in her abdomen.

"What?" he urged, placing a hand on her back, "Are you okay?"

"I'm not dead! Why am I not dead? That doesn't make sense! That was supposed to be my death!"

"Don't sound so disappointed, Emo kid," Dean snorted a bit.

"You don't understand-" she panicked.

He gently reassured her, "No, I do. Castiel explained it to me. It's okay."

"No, it's not! That was the end! I was supposed to die! All those visions led up to my death, which was supposed to be what happened back there, but now I'm not dead and I don't know what happens next! How and I supposed to protect you if I don't know what happens?!"

"Shhhh," he hissed, instinctively taking her in his arms and rocking her from side to side like a weeping child, "Don't worry about it, okay?"

He still barely knew what she was talking about, but he felt it best to ignore that for now.

"I have to protect, you, Dean, but I don't know how-"

"Shhhh," he repeated, "It's okay, Lory. Don't you worry about me. I'm going to be all right. We both are. Okay? Okay?"

"No… I…"

But she digressed as a couple of tears patted down on Dean's shoulder, darkening the green cloth. Lory knew she was supposed to protect him, but still, he made her feel safe.

Maybe we were meant to protect each other…

.