"Please…. don't go, Dean. I… need you." Cas pushes the words across his lips desperately…

Dean turns himself around to see the angel gazing at him with pained eyes. Cas had attempted to prop himself up on one elbow, barely being able to hold up his own weight. Dean returned to Cas' side, sitting in the same spot he was before.

"I'm here Cas. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Dean said in almost a whisper. Dean motions Cas to lie back down, pushing lightly on his chest with his hand. Once Cas is lying down once again, Dean grabs Cas' hand softly. Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hand just slightly, not letting go. Dean moves himself towards Cas and readjusts himself so that he is sitting right next to the angel. He leans back, tilting his head down to relax.

He holds onto Castiel's hand for only a few minutes, and Dean slowly fades into a deep sleep. He falls into the same sleepy dream that he has been having on and off for months now. He can't really find the rhyme or reason to the dream, but he keeps taking the same journey, over and over again…

Dean is walking through a deserted forested area, trekking through broken and fallen trees, weaving through branches and wispy weeded plants; stepping on the murky overgrowth on the ground. He comes up to a clearing, seeing a small wooden cabin in close distance to him. He walks over to the Cabin window, looking in, but not able to see through the dusty, dirty windows that seem decades long untouched. He settles for going inside anyways.

Dean opens the already parted open door more; it creaks loudly, as it swings open. The cabin is dirty, with layers of dust and grime covering everything.

'No one has visited or lived here for a long time..' He says to himself.

He keeps walking through the cabin, taking in everything around him, but at the same time just floating through the rooms, as if time has no real management over where he goes. He's been here. He just can't remember where, or even who's it was. He continues to the back area of the cabin; a small room with just a small protrusion of a wall to separate it from the rest of the room. He walks through the doorway, and all of a sudden, the room is large; the walls, the ceiling, the floor; everything is white. There are odd shaped machines and other figures around the room, splayed against the walls, but that's not what Dean sees. Dean sees the long, white bed up against the wall in front of him. He inches himself towards the bed, wanting to see who was lying in the bed. As he comes closer, he realizes it is Sammy.

'Sammy, no.." Dean whimpers. Sam is lying in the hospital; he is gaunt, malnourished-looking, and as pale as a fresh snowflake. Dean slides his hand towards Sam's, gripping it tightly. Sam's hand is ice cold. Dean closes his eyes, resting his free hand over his forehead, every emotion running through his soul.

When Dean opens his eyes back up, he is no longer in the pure white hospital room. He is now in another wooded area, but something is different. Something about this place is familiar… Pure…

Dean remembers. He is in purgatory. Dean is perched up at the top of a ridge. Dean hears a strange buzz coming from behind him. He turns around to see the portal to escape purgatory just feet from where he stands. Dean looks back over the ridge. And there is Cas. He is climbing the ridge, writhing his way up the steep ground, trying to gain leverage and make his way to Dean. Dean hurries towards the edge of the ridge, reaching his arm over the ledge as far as he can push it. Cas only has a few more feet to go and he can reach his hand, and pull him up to him. Just as Dean pushes his last bit of arm's reach out over the ledge, he feels an insurmountable force pulling him away, losing coverage over the ledge every second. He sees Cas' face, and it is full of fear, of empty hope, and of hurt. Dean tries to fight, but the force behind him lashes out a powerful tug, and in just a moment's time, Dean is sucked through the portal, Cas' face wretched with hurt and tears streaming down his cheeks being the last thing he sees before everything goes black.

Dean now is inside a dark room. There is a crack of light some few feet in front of him. Dean walks towards the light, realizing that is a door. Dean pushes the door open slowly, peaking around to examine the room before him. It is a dark cellar-like room.. It resembled a larger version of Bobby's panic room, but much worse… more tormented, more evil feeling than he could bare. The stench of death doused the walls and air around him. Dean then notices that at the other side of the room, there are people. He can't make out who they are; there is more than one person though.

Dean continues to walk towards the pairing, trying to realize who it was. As Dean creeps closer to the figures, he realizes one is in a chair of sorts. And the other person is standing over them. The man standing is short, wearing all black… A suit.

'Crowley' Dean mutters to himself.

As Dean walks around the figures, Dean realizes that they cannot see him. As he walks closer, he recognizes who is sitting in the chair. It's Charlie.

Charlie is sitting in this worn, blood splattered chair, her arms and head restrained with leather straps, biting into her skin just slightly. As Dean looks at her, he sees that she is bloody. Everywhere. There are lacerations and slashes across her face. There is a gash across her collar bone that is down to the bone. It is bleeding all down the front of her clothes, seeping through the multi-colored knitted sweater and green over coat that she was wearing. It was the last thing Dean remembered her wearing; the last time he saw her… Dean continues to watch as he sees Crowley coming towards her, holding a metal spike shaped tool. He cringes and whimpers slightly, as he watches Crowley puncture Charlie's shoulder with the spike; Charlie lets out a blood curdling scream at the top of her lungs. Her scream sounds of fear, terror, and helplessness. Dean can't help but wish this was real so that he could save her; help her. She was the little sister that he never got to have….

'You see, Princess Peach, the problem you have is that your precious Mario and Luigi are never coming for you. They can't hear you. They don't even notice your missing. You're in my castle, and you are never leaving.' Crowley croaks out at Charlie, twisting the spike farther into her shoulder, tears streaming down her face, leaving clean streaks where the warm tears have washed the blood away.

'Don't you know by now, the Winchesters tend to use someone for all they have, and then leave them to rot. People that hang around the Winchesters…. They die.' Crowley spits at her loudly, ripping the spike out of her shoulder with a blood gushing yank.

Dean backs away from the scene; he backs up as far as he can, until he hits a wall. Dean slowly slides his body down the wall, falling into a weak and small crumpled shell of a man, realizing that everyone he loves is gone, hurt, abandoned, tortured… They are all dead. And it's all his fault. A single tear angrily slides down Dean's cheek, burning his face with its warmth….

Dean violently jerks awake, his whole body covered in a fine layer of sweat.

'It was just a bad dream' Dean tells himself. He realizes the sun had come up slightly, funneling a small golden ray of light into the room, lighting up the room enough for Dean to be able to see everything around him. Dean looks down at the clock. Its 7:43am. Dean then realizes where he is. He looks down at the other side of the bed. There he is, his hurt angel. Castiel had flipped onto his right side, slid closer to Dean's place on the bed, and not only kept his grip on the hand that Dean had offered him to hold last night, but now Cas had his other arm wrapped around that arm, too, essentially cuddling with Dean's arm the most he could in the position they were sitting and laying in.

Dean looks at Cas' face. Dean never really saw the angel sleep too many times before. It's always an odd sight for them to see Castiel doing something so… human. When Cas slept, or ate, or understood a reference the brothers made, they sometimes forgot that he was still an Angel of the Lord, and was still God's little soldier. The angel's face was serene and calm. There was no pain there… No hurt, no despair, no fear, nothing. The face that was seared into Dean's mind that he has come to remember from his nightmares, was just that, a nightmare. He hated seeing Cas look at him like that. Cas had given him everything. He rebelled for him, killed his own for him, he did all the things he has done, for him. To think that Cas hated him, or was fearful of him, or worst of all hurt by him, it really did break Dean's heart. He always lets down the ones he loves. It was inevitable.

Same with Sam. Sam should not be dealing with this. He should have been the one doing these trials. Sam deserves to have a normal life, with that damn picket white fence, a girl that he loves, and hell, maybe even a dog. But that isn't going to happen now. There was Sam, doing more than he should try to do, to try and help his big brother. And now it was his fault that Sam was weakening more every day, because of these God forsaken trials. At least they knew what they needed to do next. The last trial….

Dean looks down at the angel… He didn't want to wake Cas up, but he needed to get things done, he needed to figure out what they were going to do next. Dean slowly slides his arm out of the sleeping angel's grip, slowly rising from his place on the bed. Dean decides to go out, get everyone some breakfast, coffee, and hopefully a game plan by the time he came back.

Dean arrives back at the room to see Sam awake, sitting on the bed he was asleep on when he left. Sam was under the covers, curled into a ball, trying to stop himself from chattering his teeth. Sam was ice cold but sweaty. He was tired, and exhausted. He looked absolutely horrible.

"Heya, Sammy, finally time you woke up." Dean smirked at Sam, throwing the keys to the Impala on the rickety old table.

"Yea, hey… What'd you get me?" Sam questions.

"Little bit of everything… You need to rebuild your strength, man. I got you a burger, some fries, some soup, and big ass bottle of water. Am I good or am I good?" Dean exclaims, ending his words with a sense of pride, getting all these things for his brother, taking care of him whether he likes it or not.

"Thanks, Dean." Sam is able to coarsely respond.

Dean grabs a bag that he had set aside, stepping towards sleeping Cas. He sits back down where he was originally sitting the night before. Dean gently brushes his hand across the angel's shoulder and shakes, waking Castiel up. He grumbles quietly, and scrunches his nose up a little, feeling distraught that someone would honestly be trying to wake him up.

"Hey, Cas. Get up, got you some food." Dean smiles at Cas' face when he finally sees him open one of his eyes. Cas realizes that his shirt is still completely open once he turns himself onto his back again. Dean looks down to see the wound that he had cleaned that night before. To Dean's surprise, it was almost healed. It looked as if it had been stitched up and healed for almost a week already. Must be easy, getting hurt when you fight, and not having to really deal with the pain and torture of being out of the game till you heal back up.

Cas sits up, taking the bag that Dean had brought to him. He opens it to see 3 burgers, each burger being the size of his fist.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas says to Dean. "It is strange to partake in eating, when for so long I have never needed to… But burgers… they are very good. Did you know that Americans eat an average of 14 billion burgers a year?"

Dean just looks at Cas with a smile. He always has to be such an odd angel. Not that he would ever admit it, but Dean loved that about Cas. He was so amazed by all the little details in life. Even in a world of angels, demons, heaven, and hell, Castiel managed to make everything count.

"That's great Cas. Thanks for the highlight reel from A History of Burgers. Now to get to business. We have got to get back to the bunker; we need to figure out what we are doing, and what our next move is. Capiche?" Dean commanded with his voice through the room. Cas and Sam just nod their head in agreement, and they eat their food.

Once they get all their belongings stashed back into the trunk of the Impala, they set off on their trip back to their hobbit hole in the ground.