I sat there and stared at the cinderblock wall for a few minutes pulling up all the memories I could of the times we'd had when I saw this weird shifting in the air to my left and I heard a high pitched, almost kid like voice inside my head.

"Why do you carry so many deaths?"

And out of the swirling, opaque spot of empty air next to me a rather large coyote appeared. It was darker than most coyotes and was probably close to what a hundred pound coyote would look like, although I doubted it actually weighed anything at all. Other than showing up out of thin air and being larger than life it looked pretty normal, until I saw it's eyes. They were all white, no pupils, nothing. I jumped back.

"What the! Coyote? Is that you?"

I swear it smiled, "Indeed, I am Coyote and Coyote is me."

"How are you out here?"

The voice in my head giggled, "Where else would I be?" .

Something wasn't right, "That spirit sickness make you spirit drunk?"

"Sickness? No, I am not sick. You are." It stretched out on the ground and rolled around in the grass for a second. When it stopped it was on it's back, all four feet chilling out in the air as it looked up at me with it's head cocked to one side.

"You're not Coyote, are you?"

It looked at it's paws, licked the right one then shot me a pretty goofy look, "I taste like Coyote. I look like Coyote. I think I am Coyote. But you are not who you think you are, unlike me. I look like me, you look like death."

This was starting to get annoying, "Look, who or whatever you are, I'm not really in the mood for this."

"Of course not." It rolled back up to it's stomach, crossed it's front paws over each other and looked way too much like a therapist. It had this expectant, understanding feel to it which reminded me of how Sam always looks at the beginning of all those conversations I try to avoid. "Why would you be? You are worried about she who you can't help because of all the deaths you carry. So, why do you carry them?"

"What are you talking about? Who or what are you?"

It sighed, in my head of course, "Why is that important? Who I am has nothing to do with you, like all those deaths you carry. They really have nothing to do with you either."

"What deaths? Why am I even talking to you?" I got up started to walk away but before I took a step it was sitting in front of me.

"Why indeed?"

"Seriously!" I turned around, it was right there again except this time it was bouncing up and down on it's front paws.

"This is fun!" It hopped up on it's back legs, put it's front paws on my shoulders and they felt solid. Then it licked my face and bounced back a few feet doing this excited puppy dance thing. "Play?"

"Uggh! Gross!" I was pretty sure I couldn't banish or exorcise it and Cougar was busy. "Okay, last time. Who are you? What do you want?"

It's ears drooped down and it stopped bouncing, "Aww, not playing?"

"No!"

"Fine."

Great, I'd made some sort of Native spirit sound mopey. Just what I needed.

"I am Coyote, just not her coyote. I am The Coyote." This time the voice sounded a lot older and much more serious. It sat down and curled it's tail around it's paws which made it look a lot more intelligent and serious than before.

"Like her guide?"

"Yes."

"Then why they hell are you out here? Shouldn't you be helping her? Or are you like all the other "gods" I've come across who like to watch people suffer." It wasn't so much how the coyote looked that told me I'd gone too far, it was the incredibly intense feeling of loss I coming from it.

"First of all, I am capable of doing more than one thing at a time and I am helping her. Secondly I am not a god, I am a guide. If I had the power that your god has my people would not have been nearly destroyed. Third, I am here because she asked it of me."

I hadn't expected that. "What?"

"Yes. Now Dean, answer my question. Why do you carry so many deaths?"

"I don't understand." For some reason I felt like I needed to sit down, my legs were weak and I had no idea why. The coyote's eyes stayed locked onto mine as I sank down. They may have been pure white but I couldn't look away, no matter how hard I tried.

"All of the ones you've lost, why do you carry them with you? Why do you not let them go?"

"Forget them? Why the hell would I?"

"I did not say forget them, I said let them go."

The longer it looked at me the more my control started to slip. It reminded me of how I felt when Cas first showed up, that piercing way he read my thoughts and burrowed into the dark corners of my brain but this was worse, way worse. It was looking for something inside my head. "What are you doing?"

"Answer my question."

Words started coming out of my mouth but I didn't seem to be consciously thinking them, "Because they're my fault." It wasn't controlling me though, it was more like things I never said were trying to force themselves out.

"Why?"

"I messed up somehow. I always do, I failed them." It was getting harder to breathe, my eyes started filling up with tears, I was losing it and I couldn't stop it.

"How did you fail them?"

I tried to get away somehow but I felt stuck and weak, my legs wouldn't move, "I should have been better, they were there because of me. I made them."

"Did you hold a gun to their heads? Threaten them if they did not do what you said?"

"No but if I hadn't asked, if they hadn't known me, if..."

''If, if, if. Did these people not have wills of their own?"

It's eyes started to go from white to grey, "No, they did."

"So they chose to do these things that ended in their deaths, yes?"

"Yes but.." I knew it made sense but it didn't matter, it was still my fault.

It's eyes narrowed slightly, "How long have you thought these things?"

"I don't know, forever I guess."

It hissed and pulled back, "I see." It's eyes went from grey to black but not demon black. There were small flecks of light inside the blackness, like looking at the night sky out in the middle of nowhere and my mind started spinning, I saw each death as it happened, each one, Ellen, Jo, Bobby all of them going by faster and faster. All the sorrow and pain I felt at each one smashed into me, fresh as if I was standing in front of their pyres and lighting the fires all over again. "Stop! Please!" I couldn't handle it then everything froze as something I'd forgotten filled my mind and then the fear hit.

I'm not talking the fear you get before a fight, or the fear you feel when worried about someone you love, I'm talking the fear a kid feels when they see something they can't explain. That ice bath, freeze your veins, piss your pants fear that immobilizes you, makes you bury your head in your hands and scream. It was that night. The night Mom died.

I was lying in my bed facing the door and I saw a black figure walk past, Azazel. He turned his head and I saw those eyes. Those eyes that destroyed our lives. It was just for a second but the evil I felt pouring from him froze me in place. Part of my brain screamed that I should tell Mom or Dad, but I couldn't move. Then I heard Mom's scream, I ran into the room and saw the flames. Dad shoved Sam into my arms, I ran outside with Sam and told myself over and over it was a dream or something until months later when Dad talked about the yellow eyed demon. I couldn't tell him, couldn't tell him that I'd seen Azazel and I buried it. I could have saved Mom if I had just gotten out of bed.

I heard my breath coming in gasps, my arms were wrapped around chest which was burning. "My fault, my fault..."

"No, it wasn't."

"I saw him! I could have..."

"That is not the whole story," The lights in the coyote's eyes moved faster, my head started pounding and a memory I never remembered having burst out of all that pain and guilt.

Azazel was standing over my bed, yellow eyes burning in the blackness. He was keeping me from moving, yelling or doing anything. I wanted to run and hide but I couldn't. "Well, well. Michael's perfect little vessel. It's all already there, programmed into you like a mindless pawn. The love, the loyalty, the desire to obey. All there, just waiting for you to grow up." That smarmy, arrogant smile crossed his face. "Too bad I can't lay a finger on you, can't have the wing patrol ruin all the fun we're going to have with Sam can I." He stared at me and got that sick, desperate look all demons get right before they start spilling blood or destroying lives. "But then I don't have to touch you do I. The big guy upstairs used to be so big on Original Sin, but that fell by the wayside with the shinier, nicer version he put out with Jesus and all that forgiveness crap. Hmmm, so much love. I can feel it, it's disgusting. Love conquers all right? Funny, people forget that love can so easily be corrupted. Be used to destroy instead of save. You know one of my favorite emotions Dean? Guilt." He rubbed his hands together like an excited kid with a new toy, "Guilt's so delicious, so easy to warp. Yes, I think that will work nicely." Then he leaned down and got right next to my ear. "It's all your fault Dean, what happens tonight, your fault. Your neighbor's dog dies? Your fault. Everything that ever happens will always be your fault."

I struggled against him, or tried. I couldn't talk but in my head I was yelling no over and over then he whispered something and I felt it change. Felt the guilt set in, burrowing into my mind.

"Can't have you remember all that now can I?" He said as he stood back up. Then he winked at me and walked out of the room. A few seconds later he walked past and raised his hand, blocking my memory of the whole conversation.

I lunged sideways and started dry heaving into the grass.