A/N: So this chapter is fairly short and not very action packed, but I promise the good stuff is coming. Just had to explain some stuff in order to build up to all the unavoidable DRAMA. Dun dun dun. =)

We start with what we know. It's a short but overwhelming list.

"Alright. So...fallen angels. What the hell does that mean?" Dean asks, as if I'll know the answer.

"Uh...heaven on Earth?" I mutter sarcastically. Dean rolls his eyes, huffs out a short laugh, and goes back to pacing the small space of my hospital room. As far as the doctors can tell, I'm a miracle patient. Actually, as far as Dean and I can tell, they're right.

My body is slowly but surely healing itself, rebuilding from the ground up after the destruction left by the hurricane that was the trials. It's way past too good to be true, and I know it. I'm surprised and unsettled and frankly, a little terrified at how easily Dean has come to accept this latest phenomenon. It's not like we've ever had a stroke of luck, and Dean is usually the first to question anything that tips the balance even slightly in our favor. I'd almost expected him to be scouring the ends of the earth for answers by now, despite the shitload of other problems on our plate, but instead he seems content to just leave the issue alone.

My curiosity is not so easily derailed. I've questioned Dean several more times since our initial conversation, but he still insists that he hasn't made a deal, hasn't once again sold his soul for me. I think I believe him. I think I know my big brother well enough to rule out a deal with the devil. But if not that, then what? God, how I want to believe that this truly is a miracle, supernatural or otherwise, but I can't shake this feeling, can't seem to undo the ever present knot in my stomach that grows more tangled and convoluted each day...

"Sam, have you never heard of multi-tasking? Seriously man, you can brainstorm and eat your soup at the same time. It's getting cold." I push away the dark thoughts to find Dean shoving a spoon in my face, looking aggravated. I shake my head at him, not liking the look of what I assume are supposed to be carrots floating on the surface of the bowl in front of me.

"Not hungry," I say, attempting to push the spoon away. I'm about to push the tray of food away too, but Dean's expression shifts from only slightly irritated to just plain dangerous, so instead I find myself snagging the spoon from his hand with an audible sigh. And he calls me overbearing? Hypocrite.

"Dean seriously, this looks disgusting. Don't they have anything else?" I say, scratching the spoon along the bottom of the bowl and twirling it through the lukewarm liquid.

"Don't be such a pussy. Eat up. You've gotta get your strength back," Dean shoots back. There's a strange edge to his voice that I can't place. It doesn't quite fit with what is meant to be light banter, but I can't put my finger on what it means. I shrug off the thought just as quickly as it came and start shoveling the disgusting soup into my mouth. We've both got a lot on our minds right now. We're in deep, and there's still been no sign of our usual savior in this type of situation.

Cas is completely MIA. Dean's been making calls, driving back and forth to all the places nearby that Cas could possibly be. And still nothing. Well, nothing except Crowley that is.

The church where I had almost completed the third trial was one of the first places that Dean went to search out Cas, but he had been completely unprepared to instead find the King of Hell still chained to the chair where we had left him. After I had filled Dean in on the whole Abaddon situation, we had both just assumed that she had come back for him after finding the next available meatsuit. Instead, Dean had slipped silently through the large doors of the chapel only to find the enormous chair now tipped on its side with Crowley still tied down, looking battered and bloody, but otherwise alive and breathing. He was currently being held in our bunker's "dungeon", carefully watched by an extremely resistant Kevin. Kevin had been far from pleased to see the demon again, to say the least. Dean hadn't given me the details of that first encounter, and I assumed that's because the majority of the young prophet's anger would've been directed at me. Kevin had run himself into the ground translating the trials, only to find that all his work, all his sacrifice, had been for nothing. Because I had failed.

I inhale deeply, pushing the now empty bowl of soup away. Dean raises his eyebrows at me, but makes no further comment, for which I'm grateful. I'm not about to unload all my guilt onto him. He already burdens himself enough without me adding to it. Watching him now, I can almost see the literal weight on his shoulders as he moves to the window and peers out into the darkening sky. I'm sure by this point he's managed to twist everything that's happened into somehow being his responsibility. Just like he always does. I'm almost tempted to laugh. Everything's changed so much over the years, but in so many ways, things are still exactly the same.

My brother is still a self depreciating martyr. I'm still a fuck up who can't stop finding new ways to bring about the end of the world. And we are both still completely and utterly screwed.

Thanks for reading! I'll update as soon as I can!