PROLOGUE: THE COLD TOUCH.

Darkness had fallen rapidly this night, its blackness made thicker by the accompanying rain. The heavy shards of water fell from the sky with suicidal intensity, crashing to earth and splintering into streams and puddles. The orange of the street lamps caught the drops in a fiery haze as they fell, their light catching inside them for the briefest of moments. It held them, glorified them before their doom.

It was a natural beauty Dean Winchester had not appreciated before. Simple and yet calming in a way that subdued the raging demons inside of him. He just stared at them as he waited for the inevitable. Watched them fall through the light.

The rain pounded the frame of his impala, the sound deafening like metal crashing into metal. A constant blanket of sound, the drumming dulled to a mellifluous lullaby in his ears, threatened to coax him into unconsciousness. But he couldn't let it even if it did feel like bliss right about now.

He still hurt, he still hurt a lot. The warm sticky feeling of his own blood still clung to his midsection, still ebbed from the two inch bullet hole in his gut. He could feel himself leaking out over the upholstery of his beloved vehicle, the wetness thick beneath his thighs, soaking through his jeans. Sweat peppered his brow and a metallic taste stung at the back of his throat. His head felt like it was submerged in a sea of nails. But still he was content...

It was past midnight now, he had lost track of how long he had been waiting here in this deserted street. On both sides of him tall apartment buildings climbed up into the darkness above. No lights came from the windows, no evidence of anybody residing within. The normal people, Dean thought, with their normal lives tucked up safe in bed with their pleasant dreams for company. Not that he envied them of course, at least not anymore. Their ignorance was a comfort blanket he no longer needed nor desired. Let them have their four walls, Dean decided, and their nine until five job with the two and half kids, they deserved it...the dicks.

A smile crept upon his lips and then disappeared behind a wince of pain. He shifted, placed his hand over his wound. He was still bleeding steadily. The flow had slowed but it was still constant. There would not be long now, a cloud of fog began to descend upon the world, swallowing the end of the street from sight.

In his other hand, Dean still clutched his favoured colt, all its ammunition spent. It offered no defence for him now but he still found its presence comforting. He knew for him the fighting was done with but old habits died hard.

A sigh escaped Dean's lips. He tried not to think about all that had happened this past week but how could he not? Everything had finally come together in a tangled mess of violence and now it was over, well nearly. This was the first time he had actually been able to sit and take stock and he found himself not wanting to. The feelings conjured by contemplation where overpowering. A lonely sickness swelled in his bleeding gut and a rueful weight enveloped his mind.

This was not how things were supposed to be.

Dean looked over at the empty passenger side of his car. He thought of his brother Sam, choked back a pained groan and wiped his nose with his gun hand. His brother was supposed to be here now, but he wasn't. He hadn't been around for a long time, had been gone for longer than Dean had even known.

Sinking further into his seat, Dean clenched his eyes shut, focused on the sound of the rain as it pounded the earth, he prayed for it to drown out the turbulent thoughts in his head. But it didn't. Nothing could, nothing but the sweet embrace he was fast heading toward. That was the only escape and even then Dean knew it wouldn't be the end.

Where was he headed this time, up or down? Dean could not even bring himself to consider another eternity spent on the rack below in the wretched anarchy of hell. Surely he had done enough this past week to escape that place, he had failed yes but he had fought harder than any man could. Surely that scored him some angel points, a fake identity badge to get past the pearly gates. Perhaps it did but in the dark recesses of his head he couldn't help thinking he was still bound to the fiery below. The things he had done, there was no penance.

He took a deep breath, filled his chest to capacity and let it collapse. He smiled quietly suddenly sensing a presence next to him. Finally...

Dean turned and opened his eyes. A young woman sat in the passenger's seat next to him. She was beautiful, dark hair spilling around a face with rounded and soft features. She was petite with a curved figure wrapped in a simple pair of jeans with a vest top and leather jacket. She was Dean's idea of a good time. Dark eyes stared at him; they burned with a sultry mystery as they looked him up and down. She smiled. "Hello Dean," she spoke softly, her voice calming like audio chocolate.

"I was hoping it would be you Tessa," Dean said, his voice strained by the pain that curdled inside him. His throat stung with every word.

"Who else would it be?" She said with a wide smile that carried a delicate sadness behind it. It was something in her eyes, a glimmer of wistful sorrow. "I've had my eye on you for a while now Dean."

Dean chuckled, felt a trickle of blood gargle at the back of his throat. "Been waiting for me to punch my ticket huh?"

Tessa turned and stared out down the street. "In a way, you could say that. You've already had so many second chances Dean. I get all excited and you slip the noose time after time."

"We all have our skills I guess." Dean looked down at his bloodied lap. His grey t-shirt was stained black by all the blood, by his life as it fell away from him. He was dying; he said it aloud in his head. Tessa's appearance had brought it home. She was a reaper here to collect his soul, take it to that beautiful lie of a better place. And now he did not want to go, even after all the horror of the past seven days, even though he had lost everything his instincts still clung to that next breath.

"I don't think I'm ready," Dean said absently, staring blankly ahead. His face was twisted into a pained grimace and a tear balled in the corner of his eye. It fell down his cheek and washed with the blood that had seeped from the fresh cuts on his face. "I mean I'm dying right? That's why you're here?"

"Why else?"

"A date," Dean suggested looking to Tessa and flashing one of his trademark grins.

She smiled back. "I like you Dean but I'm not the dating type."

Dean nodded, struggled to hold back his desperation as it manifested in more tears. "But I can't go now. It isn't over yet..." he stared ahead, thought of the battles still to come. It was all still in the balance.

"It is for you Dean," Tessa said catching Dean's eyes and holding his stare in the beauty of her eyes."You've suffered enough, given all that you can. It's time to rest."

Dean stared at her, felt his last hopes fall like bricks from a crumbling wall. There was no resolve left, Tessa's disarming allure leaving him in the grip of her will. "I guess you're right," he said, "and I guess I have been waiting for you too. That hole only ever got bigger since last we met."

"You saved my life then."

"And you're not going to return the favour now?"

"Dean..."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Don't suppose you know where I'm headed do you? Should I pack for hot weather?"

"I can't say Dean but if it was up to me I know where you would be going. You would be first in line," she smiled and reached for his hand. Her skin was warm as her fingers entwined with his and pulled them away from his wound. She brought his hand up to her lips and brushed them against his skin in a tender kiss. The sensation was electric. "Are you ready now Dean?"

Dean stared at her, bewitched. "What about Sam?"

"It's not up to you to stop him anymore," Tessa said, still holding his hand, his blood running down her pale skin.

"He's my brother, I have to..." Dean stopped, a surge of white hot pain rushing through him, squeezing him and coiling into a barbed ball inside. He panted breathless. "Is it...happening..?"

Tess came toward him, pulled him into an embrace, his body trembling, his breaths panicked. She whispered into his ear, her breath cold as ice. "Hush Dean, it will be alright. Trust me, it's time to let go of this world"

Consumed with the pain, Dean struggled to speak. He was going numb, his body shutting down, giving up the fight finally. "Someone has to stop him...I...could still...save him."

Tess continued to hush him, and the world began to dim. Colours faded to blacks and whites. The pain vanished from his body and all he could feel was Tessa close to him. The sound of the rain was gone. It was silent but for his slowing rasped breaths and the beat of his heart as it echoed in his chest.

Tessa closed her eyes, began to run her fingers through his hair. "Finally we're together." She whispered.

For a brief moment Dean saw his father, saw his brother and his mother; all of them together having dinner at the table. They were smiling, happy all of them. The world went white and Dean left it, eyes wide and cold but a vintage smile of warmth on his lips.