Author's Note: Before you read this, I just want you to know that I did not write this in order to hurt devoted readers like you. I wrote this to pursue this work of fiction to its fullest literary potential. Now, with that being said, I give you the newest chapter.

—Three months later—

Nowadays, Dean's home was more like a warzone. Gone were the days when Mary and John would yell and scream themselves hoarse before immediately making up later that evening in bed; hell, even the days when they would stay furious at each other for days on end before reluctantly patching things up for their children's sakes were nothing but a distant memory. Now, their interaction was nothing but hostile glares and pointed avoidance, as if they thought they'd be able to pull off pretending each other didn't exist while still living in the same house. Honestly, Dean would have never guessed how quickly his home could morph into his own personal Hell. The only reason he hadn't gone completely insane was Castiel, the only solace he had in his hellish nightmare of a life. Between playing peacekeeper between his parents and assuring his distraught brother that everything was going to be fine, the only peace he had was in those nice, relaxing moments with Cas, where he could just be Dean—be the funny, carefree teenager that didn't have the stress of his home-life weighing down on his broad shoulders.

"I dunno, Cas," Dean said in a sigh, stretched out on his bed with his cellphone pressed to his ear, "It's been a month since they even looked at each other. I just don't get it, you know? I mean, they've been together for almost two decades. Why are they acting this way now?"

He heard Castiel sigh into the phone, "Dean, it's not that simple. Love is a complex emotion."

"I don't think it is," Dean argued, "I mean, you either love someone or you don't. There's no in between."

Cas was silent for a moment before he responded quietly, "I don't believe that."

Dean shrugged, "Your opinion, I guess."

"Dean! Sam!" His mother's voice sounded from downstairs, filtering through his closed bedroom door, "Come downstairs, Boys. We need to talk to you." A smile formed on Dean's lips at "we."

He grinned, "Cas, I think my little problem just solved itself. You know, I hate to sound like a stupid Disney movie, but I think they were onto something when they said 'love always prevails.'"

"Good," Cas said, his deep voice more light and breathy than usual—almost like he was...nervous, "Listen, Dean…since we're on this subject, I—"

"Dean, get down here right now!" John's thundering voice commanded, making Dean immediately shoot up from his bed and make his way out of his room.

"I gotta go, Cas. I'll talk to you later." Dean said, walking down the stairs to join Mary, John, and Sam in the living room.

He heard Castiel swallow audibly through the phone, "Y-Yea, alright. Goodbye."

He grinned and hung up, sauntering through the living room and collapsing onto the couch beside Sam. He should have known something was wrong by how his parents were acting—Mary stood in the center of the room skittishly with her hands clasped tightly together while John was just slumped on the recliner, lifeless green eyes locked on the beer can clutched loosely in his fist—but Dean wasn't as sharp as he'd like to believe.

"What's up?" Dean asked with an arch of his brow, relaxing on the couch with a happy grin on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked, worry plaguing his voice. For a moment, Dean wondered how he could think that (after all, his parents were the same room together for the first time in weeks), but that was when he noticed it. The guilt and sorrow pinching Mary's brow, John's pursed lips and defeated expression, how they were practically a whole room apart from each other...

NO, he assured himself just as panic gripped his heart, everything is fine. Love always prevails, remember? After all, Dean knew his parents' marriage wasn't all puppies and rainbows, but whose marriage ever was? Every couple had their ups and downs, but only weak relationships actually fell apart...right?

"Boys, we both love you with every fiber of our beings," Mary said tightly, a smile forced upon her delicate lips, "And we know times have been tough lately..."

"What are you saying?" Sam demanded, but Dean couldn't even speak, his voice stolen as the foundations of his reality began to crumble.

"Your father and I..." Her eyes cut to John, who was studiously looking down and avoiding everyone's gaze, "We're getting a divorce."

For a long moment, the room was swallowed in silence, both boys too drenched in shock and horror to speak.

"No," Dean denied stubbornly, shaking his head, "You guys love each other."

"Oh Baby, we do," Mary agreed sadly with a sigh, "But sometimes people grow apart—"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Dean snapped, abruptly rising from his seat.

"Dean, don't talk to your mother that way." John growled, breaking his own silence.

"You're just giving up on us!" Dean shouted, ignoring his father's order, "That's so selfish, and you know it!"

"Dean, where are you going?" Mary demanded as the eldest Winchester son grabbed the Impala keys and stormed towards the door.

"Who gives a shit anymore?" Dean growled, flinging the front door open.

"Dean Winchester, you get your sorry ass ba—" Dean slammed the door shut right in the middle of John's threat. He didn't give them a chance to chase after him as he bolted to the Impala and whipped out of the driveway.

As he rocketed down the road, Dean cursed himself for his naivety, cursed his parents for deluding him into believing such petty lies. Love wasn't real. He was a fool for thinking otherwise.

Dean spent hours in the middle of the woods sprawled on top of the hood of the Impala, watching numbly as the sun bled into the horizon. The world is so beautiful in its cruel injustices, Dean thought to himself as he glared up at the vivid colors of dawn highlighting the sky. Betrayal and rage coiled in his stomach like a striking viper, and Dean wished that love really did exist, that it wasn't just a pretty lie filled with utter disappointment and treachery.

He flinched when his phone disrupted the painful silence by playing "Stairway to Heaven." Cas, he thought to himself, for once the boy's name not causing a smile to tug at his lips.

"Yea?" Dean answered it hoarsely.

"Dean," Castiel said, his voice hurried and almost quivering, "I-I need to see you."

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked in worry, rising up to a sitting position.

"Dean, it's Naomi. S-She almost found out...Please, meet me at the cemetery."

Dean hesitated, "Yea, sure. I'm on my way."

As he journeyed up the hill of the cemetery, Dean saw Cas slumped down on the bench. He immediately rushed to his side.

"Cas, what happened? Did she hurt you?" He demanded tersely, his clenched fists trembling in fury at the notion.

"She—She took my phone and looked at our text messages and phone calls." Cas said, raising his bloodshot gaze to meet Dean's, "Dean, I'm—I'm scared. What if she finds out? What if—"

"Cas, calm down," Dean said, sitting down on the bench and pulling Cas' head into his lap, "It's okay. She doesn't know for sure yet, right? I mean, we've been careful. Those texts don't say or even imply we're in a relationship. It just says that we're friends, and she already knew that."

"She's going to find out, Dean," Cas said with a sob, clutching Dean's leather jacket, "She always finds out. I'm surprised it's taken her this long..."

"Cas, I won't let anything happen to you," Dean assured him firmly, "I promise—"

"I love you." Cas blurted out as he suddenly rose back into a sitting position, sending ice shooting through Dean's veins, "Dean, I love you."

"Cas, don't..." Dean whispered, throat dry and heart pounding.

"Please, just...tell me you love me." Castiel begged hoarsely, staring at him with vulnerable, pleading eyes, "Tell me everything's going to be alright." But Dean couldn't form the words...

Because the things he just couldn't say were the things Castiel needed to hear.

He just didn't know how to say, "You don't love me, Cas. Love isn't real. It's just an illusion—a cruel, fucked up illusion for young suckers like us," so he kept his silence; even though his lack of response was even more hurtful than any reply that could have passed through his lips.

Besides, Dean couldn't handle information like this—especially not right now, with his reality shifting underneath him and faith shaken. So he did what every coward would do; he ran—ran as fast as he could, as if he could outrun the words that were still echoing in his mind. "I love you. Dean, I love you."

"Dean!" Cas' voice thundered in his ears like a merciless torture device constructed by the Devil himself, "Dean, please...I—I'm sorry!"

Castiel's pleading words haunted him as he ducked into the Impala and sped down the highway.

He didn't remember the ride home all that well; he was too overwhelmed with his thoughts to pay attention. Cas thought he loved him, and if it had been proclaimed any night up until this one, Dean would have foolishly believed he loved him too. But now he knew love was a trap, and he'd already been a victim of it once. He would not let himself be hurt by it again.

But Castiel didn't deserve this; he deserved someone better than Dean, someone that believed in love instead of being afraid of it. Everyone else had been right; He didn't deserve Castiel, and he needed to let him go so he could truly be happy. He had to believe that Cas would find someone else eventually, even though the thought of it made his stomach churn.

But Dean could never find someone after Cas; he was sure of it.

As he pulled into the road leading to his home, Dean wondered how his parents were going to react when he came home. He knew they'd be angry and would probably spend hours scolding him for his immaturely and failure to be more understanding, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He couldn't bring himself to care about anything anymore.

The bright, flashing lights in front of his house blinded him for a moment, causing him to immediately step on the brakes. Once his disorientation cleared, Dean rubbed his eyes and glanced over at his house, finding half a dozen police cars and firetrucks parked in his driveway.

Dean felt his heart stop as he ripped the car door open and bolted out of the Impala, running as fast as he could towards his home. The policemen held him back as he tried to fight his way through the crowd to get to his house, pity and sympathy evident in their sad expressions. Though Dean didn't pay any attention to them; he could only stare numbly at the blaze of fire that swallowed his home.

Like Dean's relationship, his house was up in flames.

Author's Note: I just...I'm sorry. Please have mercy on me.