Dean Almighty

Author: Halfblood Alchemist

Rating: NC-17

Genre/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, humor

Spoilers: none for SPN, basic for Bruce Almighty

Warnings: Crude humor, language, sexuality and violence

Word Count:

Summary: Dean, a struggling news reporter, takes on the role of God, and has a hell of a time with his new powers!

A/N: I didn't keep to the original story of Bruce Almighty, completely. I changed it up to make it my own style, but kept to the original CONCEPT. I changed the script, and different parts to make it more original. I DO NOT OWN BRUCE ALMIGHTY, OR SPN! The respective creators own them.

The sun shone brightly through the bedroom curtains, promising what could be a beautiful day in Buffalo New York. The birds chirped merrily outside the window, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the rich inviting smell of fresh ground coffee permeated the air of their bedroom. Of course these things wouldn't stand in the way of his having a totally shitty day anyway. The sleeping form, curled up under the blankets, sniffed unconsciously at the air, and stirred, groaning in protest of having to wake up and go to work. He detested his job, he detested his co-workers, and he detested that stupid dog, who thought it was just peachy freaking keen when he pissed on his favorite chair in the apartment. But that coffee did smell pretty good, he reasoned, finally pushing himself up onto his elbows, and blinking rather stupidly in the sunlight.

"Dean!" a happy voice came from the kitchen, giving reason to the delightful coffee aroma. "Dean wake up! You're going to be late for work!" Suddenly the voice's owner burst into the room, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate of cinnamon rolls for him. "Come on, babe, you have to drop me off at the day-care center before you report to the studio."

Dean stared up at his lover for a moment, actually content for once and smiled. "Cas, how can someone be this happy all the time?"

Cas shrugged his shoulders, and placed the plate and cup on the bedside table top before crawling into the bed with Dean for a moment. "Oh please, you really can't always be this grumpy can you? Besides, you have that big story today downtown. You're excited right?"

Dean stared at Cas curled up in his elbow for a moment, with a you-must-be-out-of-you're-mind expression. "Babe, I'm doing a story today on a giant fucking cookie. I'm about as excited as an atheist going to Sunday services."

Cas looked at Dean for a moment, sighed and crawled back out of bed. "Well if you really must be so prude, you're coffee and rolls are getting cold. Don't take so long getting ready, though, I have to get to work on time myself. The kids are bringing things for show and tell today and if I don't show up when they do, there'll be trouble.", and with a twinkle in his impossibly blue eyes, he was out the bedroom door.

Dean shook his head and reached for the plate. 'Well today can't possibly go bad can it?' he though hopefully.

Dean stood in the bakery with his camera crew, ruing the day he was born. "Why? Why God? I just got my hair to look nice… and they tell me to wear the stupid hairnet. That's perfect…" He griped to his supervisor on duty as she chuckled to herself. Vol Kowolski was at it again, his finger up his left nostril to the first knuckle once again. "Are we cutting or are we just going to keep going, Jo?"

"Keep rolling, well pick it up at B-roll." She laughed. Dean sighed and continued with his monotonous job at interviewing the Kowolski family about their bakery, 'oh what an interesting topic,' he fumed, 'I bet Michael wouldn't get such crappy stories, he got his damn nose shoved so far up corporate's ass …' But the moment the camera started recording, Dean put his temper aside and smiled, slipping easily into the "funny man" he'd become familiar as in Buffalo. Many people found his news reports to be quite hilarious, but he didn't see it that way. He always felt like he was chosen for the demeaning stories, just so Michael could look better with his coif and suit. In actuality however, he kinda liked his job, but he wouldn't tell that to anyone. He liked making people laugh; it was like second nature to him. Dean finally finished up his story on the Kowolski's giant cookie, and smiled to the camera. "… And that's the way it goes, folks! I'm Dean Winchester, here for Eyewitness News."

Back at their apartment, Dean and Cas watched the DVD from his news cast, while Cas fussed with a photo album. "Babe, that was really great, you looked fantastic today!" he cried, leaning over to Dean and planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

Dean groaned, "It sucked. A giant cookie, who finds something like that interesting to watch? The Pillsbury Doughboy would be so proud right now…" he pouted before getting up off the couch.

"Oh come on, I laughed! There is nothing wrong with making people laugh, Dean." Cas countered.

Dean turned and gave his famous what-the-fuck look again. "Cas, I'm never going to get anchor if I keep getting these sorts of projects! Because every time I do, I have to make myself look like an ass to do it. There's no credibility in it! Let's watch it again…" he finished as he reached for the DVD player.

"Oh no, you don't! You promised you would help me with this photo album." Cas said, pointing at the couch. "Plant it!"

Dean pouted again, and sat down reluctantly, fingering through a stack of photos. Cas chuckled to himself. "Aw see isn't this fun? Pick your favorites out, so I can put them in the album." Dean sighed -he seemed to do a lot of that lately- and pulled out two pictures before giving up. "You know Michael's going to get the job… he's the favorite."

Cas moaned disgustedly, "Oh never mind! We'll just get some kid to do it!" He reached for a stack of pictures, but Dean stopped his hand.

"Hang on! What's this picture?" he asked, pulling the top photo off. He contemplated the image for a moment. "Hey isn't this from when we stayed at that cabin by the lake?" Cas perked up.

"Hey where did that come from? That's supposed to be in our private stash!" Cas exclaimed.

Dean scrutinized over it for another moment. "You're looking a little perky there… a little cold babe?" he chortled, wagging his eyebrow at him.

Cas swiped for it. "Give it back, Dean!" But Dean just held the picture out of his reach, and threatened to put it on his laptop for the world at large to see. "Oh fine!" huffed Cas, "Do what you will with it, I don't care!" With that, he stormed out of the room, which left Dean plenty of opportunity to egg him on.

"No I got something better… I'll send this in to "Eye Kandi" magazine! They are always loo-" he managed to say before he was tackled to the floor by his irate boyfriend. They scrapped over the picture for awhile before they both got tired of struggling, and got down to business, kissing heatedly on the floor of their apartment. Sam, the golden retriever, shook his head with repulsion before turning over on his doggy bed to go back to sleep, trying to ignore the two men having a splendid time necking on the floor.

The next morning the two woke up and groggily crawled out of bed to go about their morning rituals. Cas hopped in the shower, leaving Dean to the breakfast cooking. "You know babe, I think the whole catch phrase thing might come in handy!" he shouted over the sizzle of the bacon, and the shower. He contemplated some in his head, 'And that's the way it goes!... nah, too Walter Cronkite … And that's the way the cookie crumbles!... hey I kinda like that…' he chuckled to himself, only seconds before the old frown came back. He heard all too clearly the sound of his beloved chair being defiled once more. "Aw damn it! Cas, your dog is at it again!" he shouted. Sam stared back at him innocently, leg still poised against the chair as he relieved himself.

Cas stepped into the kitchen, wearing only a towel. "Dean, calm down. He's still young he'll learn." He laughed and planted a kiss on Dean's lips before heading to the bedroom to get dressed. "Oh we're hosting a blood drive today at the day-care. It's open to the public. Would you like to donate some?"

Dean shuddered. "No thanks! Needles and I don't mix. Why would you want to donate blood anyway? They don't do anything with it; it just sits in a warehouse somewhere."

Cas laughed at the absurdity of it. "No they don't. And I'm donating because I have a really rare blood type: AB+. So they need mine." Dean smiled to himself. Cas was special… and Dean knew it. Cas walked back into the kitchen, dressed and wearing his favorite trench coat, and grinned at Dean.

"Besides," Dean continued, "we're having a very important meeting today at the office. It's sweeps week and if my story gets chosen then it will be on the evening news tonight!"

Cas cheered for Dean, and hugged him. "Well then you need to take these." He said, taking a red beaded bracelet off his wrist and giving them to his partner. "These are prayer beads. You could use a little luck today!" Dean accepted them skeptically, and placed them in his pocket. "Sure hope these things work. I'll need a miracle to get to work on time!"

Dean found himself running frantically up the flight of stairs of the network building, almost an hour late to the meeting. He cursed the traffic, he cursed his car, and he cursed his damn prayer beads. He rushed past the sandwich vendor without so much as a passing glance, which turned the usually pleasant man's mood sour. He passed the secretary who secretly had a crush on him, with nothing more than a quick flip of the wrist. She too felt ignored, and joined the sandwich vendor in a bought of brooding. Dean burst into the conference room, panting just as his boss, Bobby Singer finished opening the meeting. "Well nice of you to join us, Dean, we just finished discussing the part you were supposed to be here for."

"I am so sorry, Bobby. Traffic was horrible, and I had to drop off-" the gruff man cut him off, and bade him to sit down for the rest of the meeting. Michael, sitting across the table from him, muttered under his breath, "and that's the way the cookie crumbles…" sending his friends into fits of giggling. Dean shot daggers at him, and settled down in the chair, listening to Bobby speak.

"Oh I almost forgot, Dean. We decided to go with Michael's piece for the sweeps this time. It really was a good story, but it just wasn't what we were looking for." Bobby added, eliciting more giggles from the Michael gang, leaving Dean to gawp in disbelief.

"Oh… ok. Well then if that's what you feel." He muttered finally. Michael once again looked at his rival and gave him a cheesy smile. "Hey you know what they say, Dean. To the best man, may he prosper." Dean just about burst at that remark, and was about to retort when Bobby cut off the argument right there. The rest of the meeting went fairly smoothly, despite Dean's incessant glowering at his opponent. It was going to be a long day…

Dean approached Bobby later after the meeting was over, and asked him a question that was on the tip of his tongue the whole day. "Why?" he implored simply and rather childishly. Bobby sighed, and fidgeted with his bologna sandwich. "Dean, you really are a wonderful reporter. I'm not just saying that. I really mean it."

Dean whined at his boss. "But… why does it seem like I never get any of the breaks? How come he does?"

Bobby sighed again. "It's because you're not an asshole… entirely. You just don't have it in you. Michael… he can be a bit much… as I'm quite sure you're aware of."

As he spoke, Dean contemplated this thought, and promptly knocked the sandwich out of his boss's hand, with a defiant look on his face. Silence filled the hallway as the sandwich vendor stared in horror at his fallen masterpiece.

Dean immediately regretted it. "I'll just pick that up now…" he muttered, bending down to pick up the fallen sandwich.

He stood up just in time to see the networks most eligible bachelorette walk past them. Anna Milton wasn't what you would call beautiful… if there was a word that was even more powerful to describe beauty, then that was probably the word you would come up with. Everyone wanted her… well almost everyone. "Hi, Anna." Dean said politely, waving at her. But instead of waving back or even acknowledging him, she nodded her head to Bobby, and continued on her way. "Do you see what I mean?" whined Dean again.

Bobby saw Dean's disappointed face and thought of something. "Wait a minute. I think I know a way I could make this up to you." He said to Dean, who immediately perked up. "There is a story going on about oldest boat to sail through Niagara Falls, The Maid of the Mist. This boat is coming up on its 156th anniversary. And there is also a woman named Irene Dansfield, who is being interviewed; her mother was on the maiden voyage. They were already planning on having a segment on her. Why don't I send you to do it? What do you think?"

Dean beamed. This was his opportunity to prove himself. "You got it, Bobby! I got this covered! Thank you, thank you! You won't be disappointed!" Dean took off down the hall way to call Cas, leaving Bobby with his destroyed lunch.

Cas stood amongst the little kids he took care of over the course of the day, and smiled down at them. He loved kids; his own imaginative curiosity and playfulness making his job that much easier. However, Cas hadn't always been this way. Before he met Dean, Castiel had been a very quiet, reserved man, following his parents' orders blindly, going to school for accounting despite his indifference towards the subject.

Although he despised accounting, one good thing had come from his attendance: he met Dean. It was like fire from the moment they met. They completed each other, and it was Dean that got Castiel to break ties from his family's dictatorial rule over him and pursue his childcare license and business education. Now armed with his degree, Cas finally began his childcare services, and the two quickly evolved into a strong couple. Cas moved into Dean's apartment when they both graduated and they had been happily spoken for ever since.

While he was thinking about Dean, however, he noticed that one of the kids… yep the same kid… was eating paste again. "Oh, no, no, no! That's not to eat, Timmy!" he cried out, grabbing the container of glue from him. "Ew… ok, go wash your mouth out. And don't eat anything else on the way there… or it'll get stuck for good!" After he sent him on his way, he noticed a man standing in the doorway, smiling at him.

"Gabe! Come in!" he shouted, waving him over. When he approached him, the brothers gave each other a totally manly hug, back thumps and all. He laughed too, asking him why he was so happy to see him.

"Dude, it's been like two years since I've seen you." Cas said, hugging him again. Castiel had not been the only member of his family to break ties with the overly strict rules of their household. Gabriel had also left their clutches, keeping in close contact with Cas despite their long distance relationship. Now, his brother had moved into town, "to keep an eye on his little bro", as he said.

Gabriel grinned and thumped his shoulder again. "Glad to see someone's actually missed me. How's Dean? You're still with him right?"

Cas smiled, and nodded when he heard the phone ring. Pardoning himself, he turned and answered his cell, covering his free ear. "Castiel Novak speaking."

"Babe! Guess what? I GO LIVE!" Dean practically shouted into the phone, glee evident in his voice.

"That's fantastic!" Cas cried, "Where at?"

"I'm going live from Niagara Falls. This is it! I just know it!" Dean sounded happier than he had ever been for the longest time. Cas smiled to himself. Maybe the old Dean was coming back after all.

"You'll do great, hun. I'll make sure the TV is on when you go. Just let me know when, ok?" Cas asked. They said their goodbyes so that Dean could prepare for the biggest impact he would make on Eyewitness News. Too bad no one knew it would end so bad…

After his flight, Dean arrived at Niagara Falls and prepped the crew. He spoke to his supervisor Jo about the story, taking his microphone with a slightly trembling hand.

"Here," Jo said, handing him a raincoat. "We're going to actually sail by the falls so it's going to get wet."

Dean took the poncho without any sort of quip. He didn't care. He just wanted to make this the best broadcast ever. Shove that in Michael's pretty little nose!

Back at the day-care center in Buffalo, Cas flipped on the TV and waited for the broadcast to start. He crossed his fingers, and whispered a little prayer, wishing his love good luck.

Dean stood excitedly on the boat, fiddling with the corner of his raincoat and waiting for the time to come when he would begin his story. He felt so nervous! After what seemed like an eternity, Jo signaled him to prepare for the live feed back to the station. Dean watched on the prompter as the familiar opening segment to their news reel, and watched as Anna Milton and Zachariah Adler introduced themselves.

"Tonight we have a special segment feeding live from Niagara Falls done by our very own Dean Winchester, but before we get into that, I'm sure that all of you know, ladies and gentleman, that Zachariah Adler here is finally heading into retirement." Anna said, indicating the older gentleman next to her. "He's been with us for thirty years, so before we get into the segment I would just like to say thank you and good luck to our friend, Mr. Adler who will be finishing out the week with us."

Dean steeled himself for the live feed to begin, but stopped at this point. "AND, also I would like to take the opportunity to introduce to you all, the NEW Anchor that will be taking his place…. Michael Messenger!"

"Oh… oh God…" Cas gasped, bringing his hands up to his forehead in shock. Needless to say his reaction was quite mild compared to Dean's.

Dean's whole body went numb, as several feelings ran across his face: Shock, disgust, nausea, anger, sadness, more anger, and a little insanity to add to the brew. He didn't hear the crew give him his cue to start; he didn't hear Anna introduce him on the LIVE feed; he didn't hear Jo trying to get his attention; he didn't hear Michael schmooze up his opening statement as the new anchor, and steal HIS CLOSING remark he made on the giant cookie story; he didn't even hear his own squeak of shock. He just stood there, the camera rolling for the world at large to witness his shock.

"I'm sorry folks; it seems that we may be having a bit of technical difficulties." Michael stated, ruffling some papers on his desk.

Cas willed Dean to move, to say something, anything. He practically shouted at the TV screen, "Come on baby! Dean… SAY SOMETHING!"

Finally something snapped in Dean's brain and he yelped into his microphone, "Hi Anna!" getting a few relieved sighs from those watching. "It's a lovely day here at Niagara Falls, and let me just give my warmest congratulations to Michael Backstabber… erm, I mean Messenger down at the studio! And to everyone else down there, who has made this day possible for all of us, including myself… What a great way to end MY goddamn day don't you think folks?" Dean's squeaking was no longer squeaking. He was screaming full-fledged into the microphone.

Cas shook the TV screen, in utter shock. "Come on, what the hell are you doing?" He wasn't the only one shocked.

Everyone down at Eyewitness News stood riveted as they listened to the man rant and rave on live television. Dean reamed out almost everyone on the boat, and in the studio in front of millions of viewers before finally turning his attention to the camera. "So what does this mean for us, namely for me ladies and gentleman? I think it means that somewhere along the time span of my life, something important has eroded away to tatters, something important, just like these Goddamn rocks! Just like these Goddamn falls! So I say to you… thanks for the shitty time! I'm Dean Winchester, here for Eyewitness News! Back to you, FUCKERS!" and promptly flicked off the camera, before smashing his microphone on the deck of the boat, the camera crew cutting off the live feed.

Back at the studio, Dean was fired, and it wasn't pretty. He wasn't escorted out, or asked kindly to leave. He was picked up bodily, and heaved out the door onto the pavement, where the back of his head made contact with the cement with a loud crack. Soon to follow were his personal belongings, in a none-too-friendly brown box. He sat up, rubbing the back of his aching skull. He stared up at the building where he spent the last few years of his life at, rotting away doing stupid stories that never even made it to television, and muttering something about Wimpy Kiddy Baby Whiners. Trying to calm himself down, he picked up his box, and made his way back to his car.

He placed the box down on the ground, and fumbled with his keys, until he heard a small cry coming from the alley next door. He stopped and listened for a moment, before slowly making his way to the alley to investigate. There he found a homeless man being tormented by a common street gang. Dean rallied up enough courage to walk into the alley, shouting, "What are you doing? Leave him alone!"

The gang looked up at him, and snickered, before picking up the homeless man's stuff and tossing it into a dumpster. They took off down the alley, as Dean helped the man to his feet. "Yeah that's right, you better run!" he shouted at them, gaining a little too much courage for his own well being.

The leader turned on Dean like a rabid dog, and snarled at him. "What did you say to me, punk?"

Dean gulped, and stared at them for a moment before he decided that it would be a good time to panic. He turned tail, and took off back down the alley, but the burley group was slightly faster. They tackled him to the ground and started kicking and punching him senseless. He yelped and cried out in pain as they smashed his face into the pavement. Blood spouted from his nose, and he could have sworn he felt a tooth get knocked loose. Someone picked him up, and threw him into the dumpster, slamming the lid down on his outstretched hands.

He felt a massive migraine building, considering the circumstances. But they weren't finished just yet. He heard one of the gang members say something about his car, and he struggled out of the dumpster, looking like something put through a dull meat grinder. He stood there panting, as they turned back to him, away from his freshly keyed car.

"Man you don't quit do you?" they laughed before the leader threw a punch at him. With something akin to reflexes, Dean caught his fist, much to everyone's astonishment, including his own. The leader spat something in Spanish about his mother and using his other hand, gave an all out blow to his stomach.

Dean crumpled to the ground, tears mixing with the blood dripping from his nose, eyebrow and mouth. Yep, a tooth got knocked loose, he thought, feeling his left canine hanging on for dear life in his mouth. Lying on the ground, Dean saw the gangster pick up his box and upend its contents onto his face. Bits of broken glass and other debris fell about him, as they took off down the alley again, laughing.

He lay there for a few minutes, trying to slow his frantically beating heart. Every part of his body hurt, and every tiny movement set him off, groaning pitifully. Finally summoning some strength, he crawled into his car, and leaned his head against the steering wheel.

"Great… just great. This is what I get for helping someone." Looking up, he took notice of the homeless man, who held a cardboard sign up for Dean to read. It said some Scriptural crap about life being just.

Dean laughed bitterly, despite the pain in his sides. " Just? JUST GET A CLUE!" he shouted, pounding his fists on the steering wheel.

Finally gathering his stuff up, he started up his car, and went home. "Man", he wondered staring at his battered face in the rear view mirror, 'how am I going to hide this from Cas? He's going to freak out when he sees me.'

Dean was more than right. Cas had actually stayed up late, awaiting his partner's return. He held a glass bowl of water for Sam, filling it at the sink. When he turned around to look at him, several things happened at once. He stared dumbfound at him, dropped the bowl-full of water with a crash, and rushed over to him, laying him down on the couch with a box full of tissues to sop up the free flowing blood. All this happened within seconds, and Dean wasn't even sure how he ended up on the couch.

"Oh my God, Dean what happened to you!" Cas cried out, reaching for the telephone.

Dean knew what that meant. Cas had a tendency to get a little overprotective of him, and Dean wanted to prevent any unnecessary visits to a doctor for minor injuries.

"Cas, I'm fine. I got in a scrap outside of my job… ex-job…" Dean muttered, feeling some emotion boiling up inside him again.

Cas saw the tears welling in his eyes, and didn't bother asking about the job issue. He felt his own emotions screwing themselves up for release, and he asked quietly again, "Dean what happened?"

Dean explained the whole scenario about him getting thrown out of the building, and then helping the homeless man which only led to his ultimate beating.

Cas listened carefully, letting Dean express his frustration for a moment before checking him over for any serious injury. He found nothing worse than some bruises and only a few minor cuts. He looked a lot worse than he really was. "Thank God they didn't kill you!"

Dean tensed up, his sadness replaced by anger. "God? GOD? This isn't by God's protecting hand if that's what you think Cas! This whole damn situation is God's FAULT!" he growled, sitting up painfully, and pushing Cas away.

Cas felt his heart wrench painfully, and he reached out to touch Dean's shoulder. "Don't say that! God is the one who gave us everything we have!"

Dean stood up and turned on Cas faster than he intended. "HA! Is that really so? Then why does my life suck? Why does everything I work for get taken away? God isn't a protector, he's just a big… big… DICK!" he cried out, scrubbing at his eyes with his fist, trying to keep the tears from falling. In his rough ministrations, he accidentally opened up the cut on his eyebrow again. Cursing, he kicked at the table and knocked Cas' picture box off and across the room. "He's like some big kid with a magnifying glass, and I'm the little ant! He could help me whenever he wants to, but he's much rather have fun burning off my little feelers and watching me squirm!"

Cas stared at Dean, feeling hurt and mildly frightened. He had never seen Dean this outright pissed before. "But… you're alright now! Everything is going to be fine. I'm just glad you're ok…" he reached out and tried to pull Dean towards him.

Dean just wrenched his hand away, and hissed at him, "Do I look ok to you, Cas? NO I'M NOT OK! I'm tired of the whole 'God' issue! I look like raw hamburger, and I hurt all over! I'm not ok with any of this! I'm not ok with a mediocre job! I'm not ok with a mediocre apartment! I'M NOT OK WITH A MEDIOCRE LIFE!"

Cas reacted to this one with a small whimper. "So that's all I am to you? Mediocrity? That's all any of this is to you?" he added indicating the apartment.

Dean waved him off, uncaringly. "Don't make this about you!" he hissed, glowering at him.

Cas' eyes narrowed, "NO! This isn't about me! How could I make this about me? It's about you! IT'S AWAYS ABOUT YOU!"

Dean stormed to the door, reaching for his keys. "THANKS CAS! LET'S JUST MAKE THINGS THAT MUCH BETTER BY ADDING SOME GUILT TO THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!" he screamed, slamming the door behind him.

Cas rushed into the bedroom, and buried his face in the pillows, crying. They had never yelled at each other before, and he feared that this fight would only hurt their relationship. He lay there crying over the row, until, exhausted, he finally fell asleep.

A few minutes after he stormed out of the house, Dean found himself in his car again, driving anywhere to keep his mind off the anger he was feeling. He pushed the rearview mirror up so he wouldn't have to look at his reflection, and the hate that boiled in his eyes. He shifted in his seat, and felt something underneath his right thigh. Grabbing the object he lifted the red prayer beads into his line of sight in the dark, staring at them. 'They must have fallen out of my pocket from earlier,' he thought.

Grasping the beads in his hand, he held them up to his forehead, and turned his eyes up. "Ok God… I'm ready to listen. Please…. Help me with my life. It's falling apart. Please give me a sign." He stopped at a red light and saw a service truck pull out into the lane in front of him filled with warning signs for construction sites… many, many warnings signs. He followed the truck for awhile, too buried in his thoughts to care. "Come on God… just give me something. Anything to prove that you are still listening up there."

Dean sped up and passed the truck on the highway, and continued on his way. He passed a few construction billboards, warning drivers with its bright yellow CAUTION lights. Dean didn't even notice; his eyes had closed, until he heard frantic beeping, wrenching him from his thoughts. His eyes flew open, and he swerved to avoid hitting on-coming traffic. His wild turn spun him out on the slick pavement and he ended up connecting with a light post with a loud crunch.

"AH GREAT!" he shouted, pounding his fists on the steering wheel. He got out of the car in no worse condition than he was when he got in. The same couldn't be said for his car. "THIS IS GREAT!" Dean shouted, smacking his hands to the sides of his head. He felt something beaded against his right temple, before staring at his clasped fist. It was the prayer beads.

Roaring with hate, he threw the bracelet into the canal, and screamed into the night sky. "OK GOD! THE GLOVES ARE OFF, YOU BASTARD! YOU AREN'T GOING TO HELP ME, SO I'M HELPING MYSELF! I'M THROUGH WITH YOU! YOU HATE THAT? THEN SMITE ME WITH YOUR WRATH, OH MIGHTY SMITER!"

Dean fell to his knees, and knelt next to his car for a few minutes, panting heavily. Sudden he heard something ringing, pulling him from his revere. Tugging out his pager, he stared at the number on the front. 555-0123.

"I'm really not in the mood to talk right now, whoever you are." he muttered, exhausted. He managed to drive his battered car home, and snuck back into the apartment, where he found Cas sprawled on the bed. His lover slept soundly with his mouth hanging open, almost silent snores leaving him as he slumbered. Dean chuckled, but stopped when he noticed that his cheeks were tear-stained and splotchy. Dean sighed, feeling regret for yelling at Cas like he did. He didn't deserve that.

But too tired himself to wake him, he just crawled into the bed and wrapped his arms around his sleeping partner, glad for the first time that day that he was finally comfortable.