"It doesn't have to be something big Dean. Just tell me what you want to do? What do you want?" Sam said.

"I want to be able to go to sleep sober. I want to wake up to the rising sun, not a nightmare. I want to cook food in an actual kitchen. I want to settle down with someone. I want to forget about all the monsters in the world, and just live a normal life." Dean's eyes water, tears threatening to fall down his face.

Sam sighed. "Okay. Well, maybe we can do something about the cooking food thing."

Dean was silent.

"Dean? We could go to Bobby's and cook some burgers or something. Whatever you want. It wouldn't be that hard."

"No," Dean's voice was barely a whisper, but there was venom behind it.

"What do you mean? I thought that's what you wanted."

"I do, but not that, not like this. Not out of pity."

Sam rubbed his face, partly from exhaustion, partly out of annoyance.

"I'm going to bed," Dean said as he got up and put his beer on the table. He turned off the lights and laid down. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes. Sam did the same, but he actually changed.

Dean woke up just before dawn was breaking. The sky was a purplish-black. He was breathing heavily, still reeling from the nightmare. Sam was fast asleep, snoring, on the other bed. Dean got up, and grabbed his keys. He left the room, making sure not to wake up Sam.

He sat in the Impala, outside the motel for a good ten minutes before even moving. And when he did move it was to grab a box he had under his seat. If he cared at all about what Sam and Cas had been telling him, he would chuck the entire box. And while he did care about what they were saying, he couldn't bring himself to stop it.

He opened the box. He took out a knife - the knife. The knife he always used. He pressed the blade against his wrist. He didn't normally use his wrists - too obvious, too hard to explain. But he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care about all this shit anymore. He pressed down, hard, deeper than he had ever gone. He felt his entire body relax with the pain - the good kind, not the kind that he felt in his head all the damn time.

He was sitting there, letting the blood trickle down his arm, the pain screaming in his arm, eyes closed, when there was a burst of wind, a touch to his wrist, a flash of light, and then nothing. He looked to his right, and in the passenger seat was a confused and pissed off Cas.

"What the hell Cas?"

"No."

Dean shook his head in confusion, "What?"

"No. No you are not doing that. Not anymore."

"You may have raised me from perdition but you don't control me so you can get your feathery ass back to heaven and leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving. We need to talk Dean. Actually talk. You and Sam may have had a nice little conversation, but it was surface. You are avoiding your problems."

"I'm pretty sure I run straight at danger. I don't avoid my problems."

"You do when it's personal."

"What do you want to know Cas?" Dean asked, defeated.

"When did you start?"

"Ugh. I think I was about 16 or so. Sam had ran off. We didn't know where he was. Dad was pissed. He blamed it all on me. And I believed that. I blamed myself too. I just felt like crap."

"Did your dad?"

"Yeah. He didn't get physical often, but he did when he had to."

"No one has to beat their kids Dean."

"He didn't beat us per se. Just a couple of punches and slaps. Nothing too hard. Not too often."

"You didn't deserve any of that."

"Yeah I did. Anyways, I started just to regain some control. I couldn't control the situation with Sam gone. I wanted a way to control it and a way to punish myself so. I don't know what I was thinking exactly, but I did it and it felt so good. It made me feel at peace and calm and in control. Only for a couple of seconds but it was bliss. It also gave me something to worry about, something to take my mind off everything else."

Cas looked down. And then he looked back at Dean. Dean looked tired. Not just physically tired, which he obviously was, but everything tired. Tired of existing tired. Cas could see the weight on his shoulders. The weight of the world. And it wasn't a recent weight either, it had been there a long time. And this pissed Cas off.

"I hate this," growled Cas.

"What?" Dean looked over in surprise.

"I hate the world for making you feel like you would be better off not existing. I hate your father for making you feel worthless. And I kind of hate you for lying about all of this for so long."

"Hey. I don't think that's fair."

"You told Sam you stopped all of the self harm after high school, but you didn't. Don't look so surprised. I'm not an idiot. Why would you tell him that even though you were so obviously still in pain?"

"Because it was hurting him too. I couldn't fix myself. Sam had tried. And he was too young. I wanted to make it easier on him. Give him as much of a normal childhood as I could."

"It worked."

"Yeah. He is much more well adjusted than I am."

"But you should have asked for help."

"Who would I have asked Cas? I'm the one everyone comes to when they need help. Not the other way around. I give everything I have to the world, to everyone I even remotely care about, and none of them try to return the favor. And I'm an idiot with too much pride to ask for help. And also if it was just drugs or something it would be easier to ask for help. That's an addiction, not," he gestured to his arm, "whatever this is."

"I've been watching humans long enough to know that a person can get addicted to anything. And that this particular addiction, never ends well, and rarely ends on its own."

"You've watched people cut themselves."

"Since the beginning. We were stationed on Earth since the beginning. The things I've seen Dean," the angel paused, remembering the history of an entire species and everything it went through to get to this point.

"And you never intervened to help any of those people?"

"No. We couldn't. It wasn't allowed."

"Then why help me? Is that allowed?"

"I have orders not to take a personal interest in you."

"Then why?"

"You are a good man Dean Winchester. More righteous than any I have ever met, and you are my friend."

"I'm not a good person. I kill things."

"You do what you think is right. All the time. You protect those you love, even if it means sacrificing yourself. And all you really want is for those people to be healthy and happy. If that isn't good, I don't know what is."

"Cas. I appreciate everything you've been saying, but this isn't going to change anything. I've been trying to quit most of my life, and once tiny conversation won't solve that."

"I know. But remember I'm here. You should get back. Sam will be wondering where you got off to."