* I guess this is my last chapter just to end this. I'm sorry to disappoint. Expect more fics when season 10 starts but probably some between now and then. Thanks for following and sorry if we end on an anticlimactic and inconclusive note. read and review.

I wish that I could tell you that in the weeks that followed everything carried on as normal and that nothing distressing or tragic befell the Winchester brothers, the fading angel, or the half-cured demon. But they did.

I wish I could tell you that Dean Winchester embraced his new life and followed the path of the empathetic demon that Meg had shown him was possible. And that he looked in the mirror and accepted himself and didn't want to try stabbing the First Blade through his heart again. And that he didn't focus every speck of human hatred he had left on himself.

I wish I could tell you that Sam looked at Dean and saw his big brother. And that he didn't spend every second away from Dean scouring the internet and books and old notes from the Men of Letters looking for a way to cure a knight of Hell. And that he didn't feel like he was living with his brother's meat suit but not his brother.

I wish I could tell you that Castiel found a way to get his Grace back and didn't spend his days slowly weakening. That he didn't fall into a hopeless nothingness, so far past the guilt of not saving the once righteous man. That he didn't avoid looking Sam in the eye because he had no consolation or advice to offer.

I wish I could tell you that Crowley had been accepted as a helpful ally and friend to the Winchesters as he'd hoped to be. And that his human blood fueled emotions didn't leave him feeling wrongfully rejected by Team Free Will. And that he aided Dean in his transition into a respectable demon instead of backing off in fear of the bearer of the Mark of Cain who wielded the Blade out of will, not need.

But this is not the end. All hope is never really lost. There will be a way. There's always a way.

Miles off, Cain felt Dean spiraling in his own mark. And as he took a bag of celery out of his grocery bag he thought to himself that it might be time to get back into the fight. Just this one last time to maybe help the kid that wanted to carve out his own newly blackened eyes.

And in another direction, the very much alive archangel, Gabriel, became aware of his little brother's draining Grace. With an apology for his sudden need for departure to a pair of lovely exotic dancers from the Caribbean, he tore off through Heaven and Earth searching for something to save his brother.

Back in the bunker, Sam closed his laptop on some useless research about demon cures and greeted Dean as he returned from God knows- eh, maybe not even him- where and joined Sam at the table with a new bottle of whiskey.

Dean made a conscience effort to pour himself a human sized portion to match that he poured for Sam.

And all other thoughts and concerns aside, Sam clinked his glass with Dean's and drank thinking maybe this was the best of a Hellish situation.

They were both here, weren't they?

The rest they'd figure out.

"We're gonna fix this, Sammy. You hear me?"

Dean had been using the name a lot more now. He seemed to find sons humanity in it and he clung to that when all else failed him.

"I hear you, brother." Sam said.

He forced the term of endearment out. Forced himself to look at Dean and see he was still in there.

"We'll figure this out, Sammy."

Just like they always did.