Xxxxxxxxxxx

Far out in the distance, Dean watched as the whole sky turned into a quivering mass of purple. An impenetrable wall that raced to engulf everything in its path, and they were heading straight for it. The storm seemed to have a mind of its own like it was a god in its own right. The ground trembled and a burst of bright crimson collided with the ground, turning to blood mist as it faded.

"What's the hold up, Dean-o? Is the big, bad Hunter scared of a cloud?" Gordon mocked, pulling at his rope savagely, almost causing Dean to trip. He grunted, his throat too dry to answer and his mind too tired to bother to argue. That storm wasn't normal, that clotted tangle of darkness was not a cloud. There were no clouds in Purgatory. Dean looked up and his face felt long, the sky wasn't blue like home, it was white. Like an unfinished canvas, with a black smudge that only got bigger no matter how much you scrubbed.

They were walking along desert. Dean felt sticky and hot despite the lack of actual weather. There was only temperature and light, like a dimmer switch, which flickered once in a while as if the bulb was going out. Dean found himself longing for the simple, cool touch of a breeze.

It felt like they had been walking for years, everything looked the same. Sometimes he thought he saw random areas of woodland but they must have been mirages because everyone else ignored them. He was mostly left alone, dragged behind Gordon, the Behemoth close by, the rest of the monsters spread out. Gordon had laughed that the werewolf had done them a favour, covering him in dead blood meant other predators couldn't smell him, making their journey that much easier.

"You missing your boyfriend or something? Don't worry; we got people on the lookout. How long before he comes do you think?" Gordon seemed impervious to the arid atmosphere, he kept talking and he didn't need an answer back either, Dean had learned this pretty early on. He wondered why the other monsters didn't kill him. "Personally I hope he waits till we get to that."

Dean looked up, watching as Gordy's gaze focussed on the growing tumour in the sky. "Cause that is going to be fun, kid."

Dean just looked back to the brown, dull sand that slipped beneath his feet, making walking that much harder. Would Cas come looking? That werewolf had seemed keen on keeping him for herself. Maybe he'd become preoccupied with saving some pack and forgotten about Dean. Dean wondered how long it would be before he died, he gave himself a few more days, maybe a week. He shook his head, laughing bitterly. A week. He'd survived numerous apocalypses, all sorts of demons, angels and monsters and all it took was Gordy and a guy with an excess of mouths to finally get him.

"What's so funny, Dean-o? Share with the class, wouldn't you?" Gordon shouted from upfront.

"Just imagining Cas ripping your head off." Dean cast a smirk at Gordon. Dean thought he heard a snort from behind him but he didn't look.

Gordon didn't reply but he looked smug, and Dean felt cold at that thought. Gordon knew what was going to happen next and Dean didn't. Dean had no advantages in this situation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a last instant of sunlight; then the wall of the storm towered over them. The world went grey, the heat left as though it was had just been part of a bizarre dream, Deans boots were now damp with snow. The air was cold and still, before them the ground became unstable ice, if he looked to his right and squinted Dean could make out icebergs. Yet if he looked behind him, the desert was only a few yards away.

"What the hell…?" Dean murmured under his breath, crossing his arms, trying to conserve his rapidly fading heat.

For once, Gordon was too busy to explain, talking to the Behemoth and giving orders but someone else was listening.

"It's different from home, isn't it?" Dean pointed his attention to his 'bodyguard', she was a small girl, her hair a stark red that made it hard to distinguish her skin from the snow. The way she looked at Gordon Dean figured she liked Gordy just as much as he did. Her only orders were not to leave him.

"You could say that." He replied, she seemed normal enough, the only sign she wasn't completely human were her hands. She had huge, bone-like nails projecting from her knuckles. It was kinda freaky but also reminded him of Wolverine, only the most bad-ass mother fucker of all the X-men.

"I don't feel the difference anymore." She considered him, as if examining every goosebump that had risen, the slight shiver in his stature. She, on the other hand, was wearing a single sheet of brown cloth and she might as well have been back in the desert.

"Lucky you." Dean rolled his eyes, biting his lip as his whole body quivered.

She was quiet for a moment, absorbed in her own thoughts and Dean was about to turn around when she spoke again. "I used to collect souls like you. Men who had killed so many in the name of something or other, before the Reaper came, I would have you. You all tasted so good too, bitter and deep and soft all at the same time. There used to be so many of you." The girl looked at him but her eyes were devoid of any actual emotion. She was just saying words. Her gaze flickered back to Gordon and Dean followed it. Gordon was walking over.

"Having a nice chat?" Gordon lifted his eyebrows.

"Yeah, talking about our favourite kinds of pie."

"With a monster? Thought that was below you." Gordon sniffed, closing his eyes briefly. "My favourite pie is Dean Winchester."

"Do you have more commands?" The girl cut in, Dean was grateful, his hands may be tied up but he could still kick ass if he were pushed. Or at least try.

Gordon looked up at her, as if he'd forgotten she existed.

"Oh, yeah. I'm tying Dean-o up with you and Rex. You'll need to probe the ground ahead as usual to check for crevasses. Don't let him go, and don't let him freeze to death. Wouldn't want our customers to complain." Gordon smirked at him, but he looked disgruntled.

"You and Behemoth seem close." Dean implied smoothly but the fiery hate Gordon aimed at him told Dean he wasn't hitting completely off the pitch.

Dean couldn't help but guffaw, consequently earning him a punch to the stomach. He fell to the floor, winded, but he felt nothing but victory as Gordon stood over him. Gordon grinded his teeth then walked away.

"That was a stupid thing to say." Red said, staring down at him.

Dean chuckled painfully, picking himself up. "Totally worth it."

"Come here." Dean didn't exactly feel inclined to do as she said but she didn't give him a chance, untying his hands, and fastening the rope around his waist instead, and then around hers, tightly.

"Where do you get rope from anyway?" Dean watched her struggle, as her nails got in the way.

"The Swamp has everything we need." She said.

"I take it that's where we're going?" Dean asked.

"Yes." Red finished knotting the ropes together.

"You don't say much, do you?" Maybe he just missed human contact but it was good to talk with her. Apparently Red didn't feel the same way.

"Please stop." Red said steadily, not looking at him.

Dean nodded; he shouldn't want to talk to a monster anyway. He should be using every attempt to get away, he shouldn't wait for her to tie him up, he should run even if he only got a few feet before they had him again. Sam must be rubbing off on him.

He grimaced, thinking of Sam wasn't good. He felt his chest constrict at the idea of his brother being alone, having no idea what had happened to him and Cas; having to go on without them. He would die here and Sam wouldn't know.

He took a deep breath, squeezing his thumb into his palm until it hurt. No matter how it felt, he couldn't give up. He had a brother relying on him, and another to rescue.

"Who's Rex?" Red lifted her head and pointed to where a pack of something were lying over each other. At her signal, a head lifted and the creature that had tied Dean up back at the cave stood up and made its way over to them. Beaky.

"You've got to be kidding; he's more likely to fall over than we are."

"He is strong." Rex loped over to her, pausing by Red as she tenderly patted the creatures head. She wrapped the last bit of rope around his thin waist and they were ready.

Red regarded him for a moment then seemed to come to a decision. "It's going to get a lot worse. Whatever happens, don't lose hope."

Dean frowned, "why do you even care?"

Red shook her head, and they stood in silence, waiting for when they'd have to face the storm.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Red was right. It did get worse.

The storm was loud, a constant grinding above their heads, the lightning surrounded them now, striking the ground around them, making Dean stumble on the already shaky ground. The air was filled with flying ice, ripping at Dean's eyes and clogging his nose. If it wasn't for Rex's wings blocking a good deal of the wind, he would have frozen to death hours ago.

Purgatory sucked.

He took a clumsy step forward and tripped, landing face flat in the snow. He convulsed from the shock of the cold but grew numb quickly, he pushed himself up. His arm gave way, and he almost fell back down but he was working on autopilot. He shakily stood, he shouldn't be alive still. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten; he was in Arctic conditions wearing jeans and a leather jacket, his shoulder was beyond the help of natural healing from all the times Gordon had drank from him.

He looked at Red, but she was looking up, her face illuminated so it matched her hair. He followed her gaze, and flinched as he was blinded.

He closed his eyes as the world turned crimson.

A bulldozer smashed into him.

Pain rippled down his side as he collided with the ice.

The ground lurched and his skin tingled where fingers dug into him.

Dean suddenly remembered that he needed to breathe.

"Fuck my life!" He wheezed, this time he was gonna need a moment before he could stand up. He felt like jelly. He should have died. That lightning was aimed straight at him. There was something heavy on him. It was kinda nice; warm, solid.

"Dean." A deep, raspy voice. It sounded concerned, that was nice.

"Dean, can you stand up?" The weight lifted from him, bringing back the cold and Dean grimaced, blinking.

A blurry, brown trenchcoat. White overalls. Powerful blue eyes.

Dean laughed slightly hysterically, his eyes tearing up. "Cas?"

"Why are you laughing, Dean?" His angel's head tilted to the side and Dean could barely breathe, didn't want to in case he disappeared, in case this was some weird hallucination before he died or was woken up.

"You're cold." And Dean could only watch as Cas took off his trenchcoat, easily holding Dean up as he wrapped the toasty coat around his shoulders. And Dean could have melted, could quite happily never have moved again.

"Dean. We need to get moving. Can you do that?" Cas was kneeling now, holding onto Dean's arm, and Dean nodded. They needed to get out of here.

"Cas, how did you find me?" He croaked, his voice was raw. He found himself relying mostly on Cas to pull him up, he hadn't realized how tired he was.

"I felt you." Cas said as if it were obvious, his hair was churned up and his hands still held tightly onto Dean as if he thought he would fall without him. Dean grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, his shoulders sagging as he found purchase. He was here.

"Okay. Let's just go." Cas nodded, falling into step beside Dean, his arm around his waist. Dean felt he should protest, walk for himself, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

Neither Red nor Rex said anything. Dean couldn't see the rest of the group anymore.

"I thought you had gone." Dean murmured, inhaling the scent of the trenchcoat. It smelled clean but also musky, warm.

"I wouldn't leave you, I can't." Cas sighed, and Dean felt overwhelmed. He stumbled again but Cas held him up, slowing the pace slightly.

"Why do you stay?" Dean didn't understand, why had Cas bothered coming back?

"I have no choice in the matter."

"I'm not stopping you. You can leave if you want." Dean didn't have the strength to push him away but Cas should know he was always free to leave, to live his own life.

"I don't want to leave, Dean. There is nowhere else I'd rather be." Cas' warm breath tickled his neck and Dean leaned into it. Cas held him more firmly and Dean had never felt more safe, trapped beneath a storm, captive by monsters, in Purgatory.

They walked like that for an indefinable amount of time, the ice crunched beneath their feet, the wind whipped at their bodies. The storm felt quieter, churning less relentlessly, as if appreciating the two man army that chiselled through.

It still sucked, but he was okay.

Rex cried out.

Dean banged his head as he hit the ice, sliding down, being pulled. He looked up, his vision dizzy as he screamed, called out the only word he knew.

"Cas!"

A hand grabbed his shirt. The rope pulled taut on his stomach and he winced.

"Hold on!" Cas shouted desperately, pulling at Dean's shirt but he was weaker. His face creased as he struggled to pull Dean up and he took another step back. Dean could only watch.

He saw it happen.

The ice splintered.

Cas' face turned from desperate to shock to Dean in one second.

He stumbled another step back, dragging Dean with him.

The cracks followed him. Cas' eyes widened, not leaving Deans.

"De-" His scream was stolen away as his hand left Dean's shirt, the ice crumbled to reveal nothing, white fell away to black. And Cas was all white.

Dean didn't think, just reacted. He grabbed his hand, his arm muscles tearing as Cas' weight wrenched at him but his body wouldn't let go. Couldn't.

"Cas." Dean's voice was strangled, couldn't let go.

"D-Dean." Cas' voice was trembling, he was terrified.

"I'm gonna pull you out. Hold on, okay?" Except Dean knew. The ice was cracking beneath him. Much longer and they'd both fall.

Cas knew it too.

"Dean-"

"Don't you dare."

"But-"
"If you let go, goddamnit. I will-"

Cas smiled, "don't blaspheme, Dean."

"Cas."

His fingers were slipping.

"Cas! Hold on!" Dean tried to get his other arm out but it was trapped beneath him.

"Don't lose hope." Cas said, his blue eyes staring right into Dean, like they always had, like they could see his soul and god damn this.

"Wait!" But it was too late, Cas' palm slid past Deans.

White flared against black. There was no thud, no last cry. Silence consumed them. Black spread, till there was no white.

Deans arm hurt, he could still feel Cas' weight on him. Still feel the warmth of his trenchcoat. The roughness of his hands. How easily they had slipped through his.

Dean didn't move. The ice held him. Dean didn't care if it did or not.

He stayed there, waiting for the moment he would see white.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What's wrong with him?" Gordon growled, carefully stepping over to Dean. The ice was unstable, breaking away around this region.

"Rex, come here, move him up!" Gordon shouted, he didn't want to risk getting too close. It was a miracle Dean had lasted so long. He scowled; Dean would be staying closer to Gordon after this. He was slowing them down, most likely on purpose.

Rex looked between Dean and Gordon, he chose correctly. Slowly he moved from where he stood beside Dean and pulled the rope taut, very slowly he strained against it. Dean moved an inch.

"Dean, if you don't start cooperating, you may not make it in one piece." Gordon gnashed his teeth together; the other monsters were watching him. Always waiting for weakness, but he'd already shown them he was not to be messed with.

Dean didn't look up. He was lost.

Gordon sighed, looking up at the sky. The black clouds swirled above them, flickering with red shadows. The first time he'd crossed this path, he had seen himself, the Hunter he had been.

He had fought with him until he'd ripped his throat out and only then had the path cleared, the snow melted into green. Whatever Dean was going through, they wouldn't make it out of here until he had won.

Unless he had already lost.

"Rex, pick him up. We don't have time for this." Gordon ordered.

Dean dragged limply as Rex wrapped his gangly arms around his waist and pulled him up. Gordon bit his lip, if Dean couldn't overcome this, they could be trapped here forever. They had moved a few steps forward when Dean stirred, realized he was moving.

"No! No!" Dean grabbed at Rex, his feet trying to lift him but he wasn't strong enough. "We can't go!"

Rex ignored him and suddenly Gordon noticed the torn rope hanging at Dean's waist. He looked around, back to Rex.

"Where's Sophie?" But Rex wouldn't answer, he only looked down.

"He'll come back. We can't go." Dean was still shouting though his voice was scratchy, he kept trying to turn in Rex's grasp but Rex was strong, and Dean was weak. Gordon shook his head, Sophie was dead – or as good as, the Storm didn't let go of its captives - and Dean thought it was some friend of his. Probably his brother. Gordon had seen Dean when his brother was supposedly dead or about to be. But he had to overcome it or be made to.

"Dean, he's not coming back. You should be glad. He got away, doesn't have to stay in this rat-hole."

"No." Dean just closed his eyes; he could still feel the warmth of the trenchcoat, the smell of Cas choked him. I killed my best friend.

"You're an idiot, boy." Dean fell at Gordon's feet as he slid from Rex's grip.

"Just end it now. Kill me now." And why not? Why the fuck not? There was nothing else. He was tired, done, he'd gone through the motions and it had gotten him this far. He couldn't take anymore. It was one thing to lose all of his family and friends, but he had managed to do it numerous times. There was no-one left. Sam would find the life he deserved back home. And Dean would finally escape.

"And why the hell would I do that?" Dean felt nothing as Gordon squatted to his level.

"You know what, Dean? You're a selfish motherfucker."

He started, not expecting that reaction from Gordon.

"He saved your unworthy ass. He fell so that you could live, and how do you repay him? You ask me to kill you? That, that is worse than anything I could do. You will live, Dean. You will live and more, to repay your debt. Don't let him die for nothing." Gordon grabbed his chin, jutting his head so he could look at him straight in the eyes.

"Do you hear me, Winchester?"

Dean grimaced, hating the truth he heard in Gordon's voice. Hating himself. Cas had died for his unworthy ass. What a laugh. He always was a stupid idiot.

"I'll live long enough to kick your ass, Gordy." Dean finally answered.

"That's the spirit, my boy! Now, stand up." Gordon stood himself, watching with pride as Dean gathered the last reserves of whatever he had left and pulled himself up. He would remake this man, tear up the shrivelled shell of a man he had become and build him back into the proud Hunter. And then watch him tumble from the tallest height.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The cold bit into his skin, sinking into him and digging right down into his bones. Each step was another second forgotten. The world was white, worthless, pointless.

The only thing that kept him moving was Rex. The stupid creature wouldn't stop pulling at him, wouldn't let him stop. When he did, Rex kept going, dragging him behind him. The chafing on his skin had eventually forced Dean to walk but the pain had given him something to concentrate on. Now he could feel too much. Emptiness was spreading out from the hole in his chest, consuming him. Reminding him too much of the man he had been trying to escape from.

"You're already dead on the inside." Famine had told him that two years ago, never had he been so wrong. He was everything but dead, death would be a release, peace after all of the loss, anguish and suffering that he had to deal with. He'd seen his family die too often, tried to save them again and again just for them to be stolen from his grip.

"Don't lose hope."

"Cas." A single tear slipped, he hadn't been able to wait for him. Gordon had ordered Rex to pick him up, he had been dragged away. His only motive to move was that damn voice in his head. The one that told him Cas would never forgive him, Sam neither for that matter, if he gave up. He wanted to tell them to screw themselves, what did he matter, why should he care? His body ached, his mind could barely function, and he had nowhere to go.

But Gordon had been right, the bastard. He hadn't earned his end yet, might as well draw out the pain.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved?" Cas asked him, his head tilted, his expression genuinely confused. Dean's hands twisted into fists.

"No. What is there to save? I am done. I have tried so hard, I even tried to be normal but I threw that away. I can't do anything but this, Cas, and I don't want to do this. What kind of life is that?" Dean murmured to the air, the grey mist suffocating him.

"I know you, Dean. Hunting is what you've always done, not because you kill monsters, but because you save people and you do. Everyday. Families get to be safe and live apple pie lives because of you and your brother. You are a hero, the righteous man. If you give up, what do you expect of me?" Cas forced him to stop, and Dean noticed how frayed his coat was, he was caked with mud and blood. His eyes had large shadows under them and he looked just as tired as Dean felt. He looked so real, Dean struggled to keep his composure, but it wasn't Cas. Cas was gone.

"You'll be alright, Cas." Dean tried to crack a smile but he couldn't force it.

Cas stared at him. "You need to start thinking about yourself now, Dean. Take care of yourself."

Dean shook his head, staring down into those clear, blue depths. "I don't know how."

"Try." Cas whispered, his voice turning into the harsh undertone of the wind and his white hospital clothes moulding into the snow.

Dean stumbled forward again, the rope cutting into his sore skin. He couldn't see ahead anymore, couldn't see Rex or Gordon. He just had to keep walking. Find something.

The ice is thinner; his movements are slower as he checks the ground for weaknesses. He can hear the soft swish of water nearby. The crack and rumble of ice breaking away.

"So much weighs on you." Sam sighed, his warmth radiating against Deans arm. He's wearing a red plaid shirt with worn jeans and he looks ridiculous walking in this place, probably how Dean looks.

"Tell me about it, I'm going mad, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes; his company was so poor that he was resorting to imaginary friends?

"You're not the only one though, I've been there too. I lost mum, Jess, dad, Ellen, Jo, Cas, Bobby. I went to Hell for more than a year with Lucifer as my personal knife handler. I may have been messed up in the head for a while but I'm getting better. Thanks to you." Sam looked at him, with those stupid doleful eyes, and it wasn't fair. Dean was the big brother, he was supposed to look out for Sam, it was his job.

"Cas helped too."

"Who found Cas, Dean? Who brought him back and told him that it was okay? That he was wanted?" Sam near shouted, staring at Dean like he had the mental age of an 11 year old. He wasn't that bad.

"Okay, I get it. I… just-"

"When you get back, I'm gonna get you your favourite burger and beer and we'll sit down and watch some crappy TV and we'll argue about why Doctor Sexy is sexy." Sam smiled, his large paw of a hand landing on Deans shoulder. "I'm tired too, Dean. That doesn't mean there's nothing to look forward to."

Dean nodded, this time it didn't feel so bad when he faded away. The rope hurt less, tugging less violently, or maybe he was just keeping up better. His legs felt firmer, the ice felt less slippy. He even thought he glimpsed a flicker of green amidst the white. He imagined getting back home, collapsing on a proper sofa that sank and enveloped him when he sat on it, putting the TV on and just letting the silly drama play out. He saw Sam hand him a piece of homemade pie, and start moaning about how awful the plot is. He knew in the back of his mind that he would still have to hunt the monsters and kill the leviathans and clear up the rest of the mess but he would enjoy some moments. He would live for those moments.

"I'm proud of you, son." Dean spun, still half caught in his reverie. He blinked as John Winchester smiled at him.

"Dad…" Deans eyes widened, he didn't know what to say.

"Keep moving, Dean, don't make my mistakes. Live for yourself too. Enjoy everything, no matter how brief."

"What about you?"
"Get moving now, son! You hear me?" John saluted him and Dean did what he did best. He saluted him back, and his legs started pulling him forward again.

Dean turned his back on his dad, and when he looked back again, John was gone.

"Goodbye, dad."

Dean closed his eyes, and he felt the rope slacken and he kept walking.

"Gonna have me some pie."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The snow was melting, his shoes were soggy and cold with it, squelching as he trudged through what was left of the muddy ice. The storm was passing, the sky was returning to its cream hue; only tendrils of ugly, purple smoke followed him now and ahead there was green. The colour felt overwhelmingly calm, it wasn't a stark white or a hungry purple or a blood red. It was warm, simple, it wasn't threatening but it wasn't nothing either. He breathed it in, his body ached but it wasn't scarred and frostbitten like it should be, he felt… he smiled at himself, reborn. Like he'd been given a 122nd chance.

Beside him, Rex had slowed down, matching his pace.

"We got through it, boy." Dean clapped him on the back and Rex growled lowly but didn't attack, just watched him. Dean was starting to regret it when Rex bumped against him with his shoulder and Dean huffed a laugh.

They weren't so far now. There was a clearing of trees not far off, maybe he'd get to sit down, he couldn't remember the last time he had sat when it hadn't been after a fall or a slip on ice. He must have been walking for days non-stop.

"Hurry up! Stop straggling, we've lost too much time already!" Gordon shouted from the front of the group and Rex gently loped forward, urging Dean to step up the pace with a look back. He was just able to start jogging when he felt a stabbing pain in his back.

He gasped, falling forward.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel his legs as he fell to his knees. His vision swam before his eyes, he tried to reach out and grab something.

"Dean!" His name. Screamed out like it was powerful enough to stop this.

He took another breath, something that didn't feel possible. He looked up. And saw himself.

On his next breath, blood sprayed from his mouth.

The other Dean smirked, looking down on him like he was another kill. A monster.

"Look what I caught, Sammy! It almost makes me want to go veggie."

Dean spluttered, losing his will, feeling the edges blur.

"Ew, just kill it already." A younger Sam frowned at him, holding a hand in front of his mouth as though he's going to throw up. Other Dean laughed, nudging Sam with an elbow.

"Pussy! Nah, I'm gonna have some fun." And Dean almost stops breathing as he watches his eyes turn black, his mouth turn into a vicious smile.

"No…" He pathetically tries to get away but the other Dean is stronger, pulling him up and propping him on a rack. That Dean clasps his wrists and ankles to the metal, admiring his new specimen.

"I wonder what hurts the most. Will it be salt, silver, or should we try something different today?" Other Dean mused, turning to a table of instruments that Dean tries not to look at. But he doesn't have to, he knows every tool like he knows the toolbox for his car. He's cherished each, kept them clean, kept some purposefully dirty.

"I saw where you were going. Looked nice, green and peaceful, maybe you'd have met a nice monster friend." Other Dean turned back to him, holding the demon knife. Dean just concentrated on breathing, it's not real, he never had that knife on his table.

"Do you really think you deserve 'nice' after everything you've done?" Other Dean eyes the knife, sliding it over Dean's shirt, tearing through it.

"Yes." Dean snarled, he knows what he has to do. He doesn't have to convince Cas, Sam or his dad he deserves to be saved. He has to convince himself.

"Really?" Other Dean's voice is light, mocking, as if addressing a naïve child. Dean shivers as the cold knife traces around his nipple. Other Dean chuckles and then the knife is plunging, deep into his heart. Dean arches back, letting the pain consume him, he can't breathe, he can't move. A tear slides down his cheek. But that isn't the worst. He can hear the wound sparking.

"Pretty colours… hey, that only happens when I put it in demons." Other Dean remarked, then slowly pulled the knife out. Dean sagged as it left him; his blood pooled onto the floor, the hole in his chest is blackened and charred.

"It wasn't my fault." He breathed, his eyes closed.

"Wasn't your fault? Our father lasted 100 years, we lasted 30. We broke. And then you know what we did? We did what we do best. We destroyed it all." Dean felt another tear fall, watched it mingle in his blood. In the red, he saw himself again.

"We were greedy; Alistair had never found such a good pupil, we were so willing. Do you remember, Dean?" Other Dean whispered, leaning in closer "Sometimes the knives weren't enough," he tried to shut his eyes but the images kept playing, "sometimes we would just use our bare hands."

"That's over now." Dean struggled to fight back; his own words seemed so insignificant as he watched himself rip a man apart.

"Yes, yes! You were saved by an angel of the Lord!" Dean laughed deeply, in a way he hadn't laughed in years. Dean shuddered, it felt so wrong.

"And he made you human again, remade your body and became your guardian. God had a mission for you, and you had a new name, the Righteous Man." Dean was still shaking with laughter, he watched as he wiped away tears.

"Ah, man. It really doesn't get better than that. The Righteous Man, my ass. And then it turns out you're just needed to be a meatsuit for some dickhead who's going to use your body to save the world, all the while killing billions of innocent people. But that's just our life." Dean shook his head, fingering the pit in his chest.

"And then, being the big brother you are, you let your brother take the burden. Let him throw himself down the hole." His fingers slid, squeezing down right into the core of him. Dean screamed, his muscles burning as he strains to free them.

"There was nothing else." He shrieks, desperately holding onto the last strings of sanity he has left. Holding onto the frays of hope he has left.

The other Dean paused, looking up at him.

"...That's true." His eyes narrowed, and Dean sighed, feeling relief wash through him. It had to stop now.

"You could have stopped Cas though." Dean shook his head.

"No. No, I couldn't."

"Yes, he needed you! You let him down and then you couldn't stop him when you needed to."

"He made his choices." Dean lifted his head, leaning it back against the rack. "You try stopping a bloody God."

"And you just think that you should be forgiven now?" The other Dean looked up at him, but his voice was less scathing. Dean shut his eyes and then did the impossible. He stepped off the rack.

He didn't move far, just rested against the cool metal, the blood soaking his jeans.

"Yes." Dean pressed his blood stained hand against the hole in his chest. "Forgive me."

…

"Dean!" Dean shuddered, his lungs filling with refreshing, cool air, he felt warm. His jeans were wet with water.

He blinked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Gordon holding him up by his shirt.

"Aw, I didn't know you cared." He grinned.

"Should have known you were faking. Seems you're just an attention whore, Dean-o." Gordon roughly pushed back on his feet, dragging Dean up with him.

Dean started as he felt the spiky brush of grass against his knee through the hole in his jeans. He glanced round and the snow was gone, like it had just been a dream. The sky was white, no sign of a storm.

"Where did it go?"

"Wherever you put it. I have to say, Dean-o, I was worried you weren't going to get over this one but you proved me wrong." Gordon hit him on the shoulder, and Dean winced but Gordon either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Just in time too, the swamp should be low right now. Best time to cross."

Dean glowered, "the good news just doesn't stop coming."

"You're telling me." Gordon sucked in a breath, his face light with relief but Dean just ignored him. It was time he started thinking properly about escape.