Opportunities are funny things. A lot of the time, you spend so much time waiting for a certain situation to present itself, planning out everything you'll do and accomplish when it finally does. All that planning and waiting makes you so ready, so organized, but then when you finally get your chance, it's so easy to get caught up and let the chance pass by after everything.

You hope to see your favorite celebrity one day, but when you finally do, you're too scared to go up and interrupt their day, despite the script you've had written out in your head for this particular moment for months now.

You've got the opportunity to buy your dream car, but when the chance arrives, you'd rather spend the money on the new house for the family you've just started building.

Taking the chance you've waited so long for isn't always as simple as you've expected it to be. And this is what Dean's thinking as he eyes the blonde sitting two tables over, his opportunity staring him in the face, his options obvious.

It'd been almost two months since his first episode when he decided it was time. Rather, he was tired of gritting his teeth, jumping at every loud noise, and feeling like his muscles were straining to stay attached to his bones.

He'd foregone planning it out because there were too many possible variables. The only thing he was banking on was getting someone to put on a table with some tools nearby and if Cas were to stop him before things got too far, nothing much would change, except maybe an innocent person might be saved. Either way, afterwards, it should be easy to convince the angel where he belongs.

Ever since the day in Texas when he'd found the note, Cas had loosened the reigns substantially, and he'd been trying not to think too hard about how scared he was that Cas might not stop him.

So when it'd been months since Dean had even mentioned a bar - all draw of dives gone when you've got the uncleanliness of your soul on your mind, he tried to sound enthusiastic when he asked Sam and Cas to hit up a karaoke bar they'd passed on their way into town. Heck, he thought it might even be fun to try and get Cas onstage. He figured he deserved to try, it being his last day on Earth and everything.

It was actually a lot easier than he expected to get them to agree. He suspected they saw it at as a sign of him finally getting back to his normal self – and, by God, he knew they were all for that. He couldn't help feeling guilty when unadulterated joy lit Sam's eyes at the suggestion.

His chest hurt at how quickly Sam shrugged into his jacket.

"Five bucks says Dean sings ACDC at some point!" He'd thrown Cas' way, Cas showing no acceptance or refusal to the bet.

Dean had ignored the twitching at the edge of his mouth when he smiled and fired back, "Come on, Sammy. We all know you'll be singing Britney Spears long before I'm drunk enough."

Sam had snorted and tossed Dean the keys from the worn dresser next to him before his face had fallen almost infinitesimally and he'd backtracked, "Or I could drive…"

It hadn't occurred to Dean that it might be his last chance to drive his baby, so he ignored the voice in the back of his head reminding him how vulnerable it'd make him and put a smile back on Sam's face: "Oh, I'm driving." He didn't even have to fake his own smile in return.

When Sam went out to the parking lot, Dean finally realized that Cas had barely moved from his spot at the table. A drop of sweat formed at his hairline, threatening to drip down his forehead.

He was hesitant with his next words: "You… You coming, Cas?" He held his breath as he waited for an answer, for the answer.

"Would you like me to?"

The question was serious, even less nonchalant than was normal for the angel, so Dean had stopped to make sure of the right answer.

"Please." It came out more like a question, and if Dean hadn't been so desperate than he'd have been ashamed of his meekness.

"Alright," had been the answer, and Dean followed Cas out the door to the waiting car, after he's slipped a certain piece of paper into the outer pocket of Sam's duffel bag.

So that's how he ended up in this bar and his opportunity had arose. He knows Sam will think nothing of him picking up a hot girl here, and if anything, it will just make Sam think him healed. And Cas next to Sam doesn't seem to suspect a single thing when Dean's eyes keep dragging back to glance at the girl.

All of his ducks are in a row, and yet, he finds it really hard to leave the two men sitting across from him, their very presence symbolizing his success and everything he loves in this world. It hurts knowing that the smile Sam's wearing now might not be there much longer.

He's completely peeled the labels off of the two beers he's had, relishing the time he has left and stalling a little, admittedly.

When he can't justify waiting any longer, and he's eager to let his fingers do something more destructive like they are longing to, he downs the last swig of his beer and slams it down on the table, plastering a smirk on his face.

"If you boys'll excuse me, I've got a girl to hit on." His eyes take their time lingering on Sam, taking in the last glimpse of his brother he thinks he'll ever get, if things go to plan.

He sticks his feet under him and forces them to move, taking him away from the table and his life and towards the girl and his death. Morbid, much? he thinks. But then again, the situation is pretty much as morbid as it gets.

When he gets to the blonde, he doesn't even really try, he just asks her what she's drinking and she's already batting her eyelashes at him. Errantly, he wonders if she's got a mom who'll cry and scream when she hears of her daughter's death or a sister who will have the same brown eyes of her sibling staring back at and reminding her in the mirror for the rest of her life.

To combat the guilt that's starting to mount, he thinks instead of how pretty those eyes are going to be rimmed with tears and bloodshot from stress.

When he leans in and whispers a short request into her ear, she nods when he lifts her head, and he follows her towards the exit. Before following her through the door, he turns to look back at their table, finding both Sam and Cas watching him, Cas without emotion and Sam with disbelief. As a last second decision, Dean salutes cockily, letting an amused smile shine towards them both before he spins on his feet and trudges out the doorway.

Once he gets her in the car, everything gets pretty simple. He stops making idle chitchat and the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up as he can feel her getting more and more nervous in the passenger seat next to him with his silence. He keeps his speed high so she doesn't decide to tuck-and-roll, and by the time they get to an abandoned warehouse ten minutes away, she's looking at him like the monster he is. He hasn't said a thing since turning the ignition.

When he turns the car off and turns in his seat to face her, the sight is fucking thrilling. Her eyes are wide with fear, some dark makeup smudged on the bottom from tears she' just started crying. Her seatbelt's off and her hand's on the door handle, ready to spook at the slightest quick movement.

He finally pays attention to what she's been babbling about, ready to turn himself over to the predator he's been suppressing. "What are you doing?" she pleads, her voice shrill and shaky. When he doesn't reply, simply stares at her, she speaks again: "Don't hurt me, I'll… I'll do anything."

Dean just snorts at that, as if he had a choice, now that the monster's been set loose and it's simply dragging out the fun it's just beginning to have.

She flinches and yelps when he lunges across the bench seat, his hands easily becoming restraints around her pale, fragile wrists. He pulls her across the seat, opens the door, and gathers both of her hands in one of his, using the other to pull out the knife he stashed in the back of his pants earlier. Warning her of screaming, he puts it to her neck as he guides her towards the back of the Impala, where he quickly opens the trunk and seeks out a sturdy length of rope, as the tears as the tears run more freely down her face and she whimpers.

He turns her around, away from the trunk, and removed the knife, "Don't think about running or screaming. I've got plenty of guns here and I doubt anyone would hear you out here anyway." It's funny how easy it is to get back into the mindset he's been holding off for so long. His voice is gravelly and deep with the threat, the feeling of it in his throat has him shivering, eager.

He's got her hands tied behind her back swiftly with practiced movements, tightening the ropes whenever she makes a noise louder than a whisper. He quickly loads up a duffel with everything he needs, keeping one hand on her bound wrists, and when he slams the trunk shut, she jumps about six inches off the ground with the sound.

He pushes her towards the entrance of the building, now with a gun in her back and menace on his lips. When they're inside, she sobs loudly, the dark room daunting and with only visible escape the one they just entered through.

There's numerous posts and pillars throughout the structure, so Dean picks one nearby and heaves her that way, securing her to the pole as she whimpers and begs incoherently. His hands feel almost like they're pulsing as he gets closer to the main event, relishing the power they harbor that is so easily released in this format.

He finds a rag in his bag, shoving it into her mouth so he has a chance to think and plan this so he can get the most out of it. He's tempted to leave her vocal so he can hear the begging and screaming he's become so accustomed to with this job, but he's willing to sacrifice it, just this once. He's spoken less than thirty words to her since they've left the bar, and he has to admit, the simplicity that the silence evokes kind of gives him a high that's different than he's used to, even with her heavy breathing, and gagging against the rag.

He lays the contents of his bag out for display, watching her eyes react and widen with each new addition of blade or weapon. She's groaning behind the fabric, trying to speak, and Dean imagines it a melodic humming as he preps his instruments.

His first line of business is an unassuming pair of pliers, small and conservative. The girl writhes against the pole as he approaches her, and when he moves around behind her to get to her hands, her groaning gets louder and he can tell that she's trying to scream. He's got his plier's poised next to one of her thumbs, ready to tear the first fingernail off. He closes his eyes, reveling in the moment, letting go of all the inhibitions that humanity reminded him of, focusing solely on the pleasures he learned after being a victim for far too long. His breathing is deep and calming, and the moment is so serene, so tranquil, he lets it drag on until the novelty passes.

Before the newness fades away, though, it's interrupted. Interrupted by a throat-clearing. The sound takes Dean by surprise, and his eyes fly open and he's across the floor before he's taken a breath, his hands ready for combat and the pliers still clattering on the cement. Cas simply stares back at him from his spot against the wall, where he leans, looking completely relaxed.

"What are you doing here?!" Dean shouts, stuck between wanting to turn his masochism towards the angel and being too surprised to get his bearings. "Cas…" he huffs out a breath, "you shouldn't be here!"

He knows, when he was planning it, he'd hoped for this outcome, for Cas to stop him. But now, with the thought of blood on his hands so close and in his reach, he can't quite remember why.

"What exactly are you doing, here, Dean?" Cas is so calm, and almost looks bored as he asks the question. Dean quickly wonders if Cas has gone blind recently or if what he'd been about to do is all in his head. He has to look around the room, make sure it's all still there. When his eyes fall on the girl, those big brown eyes, pleading through her tears, he knows it's real. And he remembers the sister she might have, crying tears out of grief instead of fear. He drags his gaze back to Cas' and the angel doesn't look judgmental or disgusted, just curious. He waits for Castiel to speak, but when he doesn't, Dean is forced to instead.

"I… thought it was pretty obvious." His face fucking reddens at that, embarrassed at getting caught up in the act. It's so ridiculous he can't even stand it.

"Why don't you explain?" Castiel goads. Then he smiles and adds "humor me," leaving Dean to wonder where he picked that human phrase up.

It all sounds fine in his head, but how exactly does he explain it? He knows if he can convince the angel how evil he is, he'll get what he wants, but now that Cas is staring him in the face and waiting for his explanation, the words are hard to find.

He's sure a whole minute's gone by before he clears his throat and gives it a try. "I, well, I was gonna…" it's harder than he thought. Might as well cut to the chase. "You know I don't belong here, Cas."

"Belong where?"

"On Earth."

The angel's face is finally showing some emotion, his mouth has fallen open and he blinks a few times before he's composed. "Then where do you belong?"

Dean tries to make his voice deep and forceful when he answers, but it still comes out kind of like a question, "Hell."

Cas' questions start firing back, now, getting to the root of it, and Dean lets him, wanting to get it all over and on with.

"Why do you belong in Hell?"

"Because of what I've done."

"What have you done?"

"Hurt people."

"On Earth or in Hell?"

"Hell. But I'll do it up here, too. I know it."

"What do you suggest?"

"Put me down there so I can't."

"You want to be there?"

"I just don't wanna hurt anybody. Especially Sammy."

"So you would've hurt this woman? Even though you just told me you didn't want to hurt anyone?" Cas asks this slowly, pronouncing each word clearly and loudly.

"Well I want to-but… but it's hard to explain Cas! If I don't do it now, it'll happen eventually." His voice has gone shrill and it actually breaks on the last word. Everything he's said is so obvious and he can't believe that Cas doesn't see it.

Castiel doesn't answer. He pushes off of the brick wall and walks slowly across the room, stopping next to the woman, who looks at him with hope. When Cas starts to untie her hands, Dean speaks up, "What are you doing?!" He takes a few steps towards them before a sharp look from Cas stills him.

"I'm setting her free," Cas says without inflection, and once she's unrestrained he discreetly touches a finger to her temple before she runs from the building, almost running into Dean on her way out. The only thing that keeps him from interfering are Cas' eyes, daring him to do anything against his will. "She won't remember."

He's angry, his blood boiling in his head, but Cas looks like a force to be reckoned with and he's still hoping the angel will do what he's asked. He curbs his shaking arms by holding them closely to his sides. He's not going to speak first this time, and the silence drags on, long after the girl's footsteps have stopped echoing off the walls.

"You wouldn't have hurt her."

He's not going to answer that, he knows he would have.

"You wouldn't have hurt her. Even if you tried, I would have stopped you." Cas is staring at him, making his words irrefutable. "I'm not letting you give up because you've decided it's too hard." And with that, without waiting for Dean to find his voice and contest his claims, Cas disappears with the sound of feathers rustling.

AUTHOR's NOTE

Just so you guys know, I'm about to start work and school again so I probably won't be able to update for awhile (not that I'm super quick at it in the first place). Anyway, tell me what you guys think! Nothing gets me writing like reviews making me feel undeniably guilty. Hope you guys are enjoying it!