Author's Notes

So, it's been quite a while since I wrote anything, huh?

Yeah. I've been rather... preoccupied.

In fact I wrote this a while back while I was really getting back into Supernatural. I've always loved that show, so I figured I'd write a little something for the fandom.

And I am indeed continuing my untitled Numb3rs story, if you're still interested.

Anywho, it's really not my best, but whatever. Enjoy anyway! :)

WARNING: Season 5 spoilers!

I do not own Supernatural.

Dean sat straddling a chair, solemnly watching his friend resting on the hotel bed in front of him. He'd been out for a few hours now. A bitter unease had been tormenting him relentlessly ever since he'd shown up, spitting up blood and passing out in his arms.

This wasn't right. Nothing was right anymore.

A hard sigh passed his lips as he watched the slow, barely visible rise and fall of his chest. His gaze slowly moved up the small chest to a soft, pale face. Full of pain and glistening with a slight sheen of sweat.

Angels aren't supposed to look so close to human. So small and hurt. So vulnerable.

Cas should never look like that.

The sight troubled Dean deeply. Especially since it was him who had insisted on all of them going back in time to save his parents, when Cas could have easily done it on his own. It wasn't that he didn't trust him. He trusted Cas with his life, after all he had been the one who'd given him back his life. He still had never properly thanked him for that.

He was too stubborn to stay behind though. He had even warned him it would make him weak, but he insisted anyway.

And so without another word in protest for his own safety, because Dean had told him to, he did.

Obedient little bastard.

He didn't think something like this would happen. He was just being stubborn and bossy, like he always was. Always wanting to be in charge. Always wanting to save more lives. This time he just really wanted to see his mom and dad again.

And to be the hero one more time...

And look where it had gotten him. Where it had gotten Cas. And still he probably wouldn't learn his lesson.

"Dean?" He heard the familiar deep, soft voice from the opposite side of the bed.

Dean looked up to meet Sam's worried eyes. Those worried, haunted, defeated eyes.

"Yeah Sammy?" He finally answered in his normal, 'indestructible big brother' tone.

After a moment of staring at his older brother, searching his face for some sort of silent answer and getting none, he finally asked, "Are you okay?"

He stared at him for a moment, not sure how to answer. In all honesty, he couldn't say he was. At all.

With everything they'd been through, all the pain and tears, and everything and everyone they'd lost, this was what it all boiled down to. A condemned angel, a cursed little brother, and a broken down Dean.

Everything that they had ever done that was ever good was for nothing. No matter what they did, or said, or believed, they would never win. There was always something more. A greater evil lurking behind their small, insignificant victories. And now, when the world needed them most, there was nothing they could do. No matter what, it would always end the same. It was always the same.

Dean was to be Michael's vessel. Sam to be Lucifer's. And everyone, everyone, was saying they'd have no choice. And ultimately, they were to be the cause of the end of the world. And Dean couldn't handle it anymore. He had nothing left in him to keep him fighting.

The only faith he had was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed in front of him with no strength left because he had made him do this to himself.

No matter what actions he took, bold and strong and courageous as he always was, someone always got hurt. And Dean was tired of hurting people he cared about.

So he looked at his brother, and faked a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

So yeah.

Sorry if anything was out of place or out of character. It's only my first time writing Supernatural fanfiction.

So I hope it wasn't too terrible. :)

Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!