Author's Note: Terribly sorry for the long wait guys. It's the holiday season and I wanted to update but I had family and you know how they can be. But I'm sure you don't care. Don't worry, I wouldn't either.

Anywho, I am reformatting this. I have decided it will be five or less chapters, each a different character's P.O.V. This one is, obviously, Dean. It does contain the old chapter one and two, along with would-be chapter three, just combined together in one big Dean chapter. So skip ahead or whatever, doesn't matter to me, just please don't stop reading! Please!

Thanks, lots of love. Oh, and happy holidays.

-LetMeBeYourHero

Chapter One

It's hard to say for sure why Dean Winchester was sad.

Dean was used to being sad. It was a natural feeling he had grown up with from that fateful day of when his mother burned to death. He experienced it when his brother, Sam, was depressed or bummed at the lack of their father being around a lot of the time throughout their childhood, or when Sam and his father got into one of their many fights and Dean couldn't do anything to stop it. Dean was especially sad when his brother left for Stanford. He felt abandoned when Sam did that, betrayed by his own blood. And though the sadness was suppressed when Dean and Sam were reunited in the family business, it was still evident, resurfacing after John Winchester had sacrificed himself to save his oldest son. But Dean had gotten through that, and the sadness went away for a while; of course, though, it had to return. The dreadful year of Dean's anticipation to go to hell was heart-wrenching, as well as the actual experience; and being in purgatory was no picnic either. But at least Dean had had Cas with him in purgatory.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating with a fresh cold beer in his hard.

Dean was never a nice person. Ask anyone that he ever knew, and they'd tell you the same thing. He can crack a good joke or can be great company at a bar, but he was very harsh. And rude. And so stubborn. Sure, he didn't have the biting tongue of Sam or the emotionless stare of Cas, but did have his temper. Oh did Dean have his temper. He didn't have to be drunk to go crazy, only slightly pissed. And so often had he been pushed into that state of being pissed even though he tried so hard to hold back. To think it through like his little brother would.

But often times, it was Sam who was doing the pushing.

Sam could find every way in every book to grind Dean's gears and made it an art to do so. Dean loved his little brother, but he couldn't stand when Sam did something completely unorthodox for absolutely no reason. Sometimes it was to intentionally tick Dean off, and that's when Dean had to get in the Impala and take a long drive. Dean didn't understand why Sam acted like this, and he tried to come up with reasonable explanations during his drive, but he ended up always coming down to one that caused his chest to hurt and forced him to park the car on the side of the road or risk getting into an accident.

It was because Dean acted like he didn't care about his brother as much as he truly did.

And then there was the deal with Cas.

Cas. Castiel the angel. Dean's best friend and guardian.

Cas had been with the Winchesters when no one else was. He stuck by Dean and helped him through shit that even Sam didn't stick around to deal with. Cas had never betrayed Dean or Sam, though he came very close during the whole business with teaming up with Crowley. But he had his reasons, and no one is perfect. Not even an angel. And it made Dean wonder why Cas would stick around after being mistreated and under appreciated for as long as he had been with the Winchester boys. Dean thought about how he hadn't shown how grateful he was that the angel had saved his and Sam's ass numerous times, and he grew more sad. Certainly Cas himself could show a little more emotion to Dean and Sam than a blank face and judgmental eyes, popping in and out whenever he pleased.

Dean swallowed hard. Popping in and out whenever I called.

Both Sam and Cas were out right now. Sam was with a girl he had picked up at the bar the brothers were at just an hour ago, and the angel had to zip back to heaven to do some shit for God that he always seemed to have to do.

Dean sighed. He didn't like being alone. He always played it off like he preferred to have his alone time, and he used to value it immensely. But after having been a year without Sam and going through purgatory to find Cas with a vampire he wasn't sure he could trust at his side, Dean realized he didn't want to be without them. He couldn't be without them. When they were gone, there was a gaping hole that was filled with dark thoughts and past emotions that he didn't have the strength to shut out. He would think of the last time he ever said a nice word to Sam or thanked Cas for taking time out of his busy schedule to deal with one of the Winchester's problems, and each time Dean would regret not having said something before they left.

But when they would return, Dean wouldn't say anything.

It's not that Dean was afraid of what the two would think; he knew Sam would want to engage in a cheesy heart-to-heart moment and then vow to never leave Dean and Dean would feel guilty and they would get in a big fight and everything would return to how it was before. And Cas just wouldn't understand. He didn't grasp human emotion on the basic level, and loneliness, especially the loneliness that Dean felt, would probably send him running. Or flying. Or whatever the hell the angel did.

So Dean pressed the lip of his beer bottle to his own and tipped his head back, swallowing all the liquid it one go. He figured he could drink enough and pass out on his bed and wake up the next morning with Sam yapping away about a job two states over and Cas staring dramatically out the motel window.

Dean always liked to watch Cas when he stared out the window.

But Dean's dreams were quickly shattered when he opened the mini fridge and found it empty. That meant he had to go out shopping in the cold Kansas City weather or sit alone at the warm motel and stare at the ceiling until he forced himself into nightmare-filled sleep. Neither was pleasurable, but Dean decided that the latter was worse. And at least the beer run would occupy his thoughts for the time being.

Dean grabbed his keys and left his phone and his father's leather jacket in the room. He didn't want his jacket to be ruined by the snow, but he didn't know why exactly he left his phone. He figured that it was because he wasn't going to be gone that long, and by the time he realized he had left it, he was already in the Impala with no intention of running back into the brisk night air.

So he turned on the heat and drove to the nearest gas station. He jogged inside and bought a six pack, hoping that would get him through the night, and paid with the crumpled dollars he found buried in his jean pockets. As he set the beers down in the passenger seat, he looked up and noticed a very nice Marie Callendar's across the street. A small smile tugged at his lips; he could go for some pie. Dean quickly got in the car and drove to the restaurant, walking inside and freezing in his tracks.

Because he saw two faces he was relieved to see, but also didn't want to see right then.

Why are Sam and Cas eating here?

They had menus before them, sitting in a booth across from each other in the back, making Dean wonder how he ever saw them in the first place, but now that he had seen them, he couldn't look away. He felt the knot of sadness in his stomach twist and punch through him, almost knocking him to his knees. He gripped the check out counter tightly, tearing his eyes away and staring at the carpet, attempting to process the scene before him.

Sam and Cas were alone...together?

Dean's eyes widened.

They were together without Dean. Probably because they were annoyed with Dean, because he never treated them with any respect and they hated his guts for it. So any chance away from Dean was a gift from heaven. They probably thought about Dean alone with his beer and his piece of shit motel room with nothing to entertain himself but his thoughts and laughed. They were laughing at Dean while all he did was worry about them.

Anger boiled up inside him, drowning out his overpowering sadness.

"Hello sir. What can I get for you today?" The petite redhead behind the counter asked, offering a smile that came as one of the job requirements. She stared at Dean, waiting patiently for his response, when all he did was stare back at her, his eyes burning with a loathing that she seemed to not notice.

"Nothing," He spat, in a tone that could burn all of Hell.

Dean turned away and walked back out the door, into his car, and drove.

He didn't know where he was driving; all he knew was that he had to get away. Away from his brother that never seemed to stop betraying him and away from the angel he knew was too good to be true.

And Dean Winchester felt sad.

Dean Winchester drove down some highway in the middle of Kansas in a snowstorm. He thought that maybe he was being childish and over-thinking things, but then the picture of his brother and his best friend enjoying a meal together without him caused the ache to return within him and all new rage to light up in his eyes, causing his foot to slam on the gas pedal and force the Impala to drive way faster then what was recommended.

He tried to think of a specific time of when he could've upset the two and drove them to act out in such a manner as they had.

"Sammy, bring me a burger when you're on your way back," Dean ordered, tucking the cell phone between his ear and shoulder so he could continue trying to pry some information out of the demon seated in front of him.

Sam sighed heavily, and Dean could feel him rolling his eyes. "How about I bring you a salad instead? You're going to end up having a heart attack Dean. You really should start worrying about your health. Especially with all this..."

Dean set the phone down, letting Sam continue talking to no one while Dean finished carving the bastard up. He didn't show any signs of talking, so Dean put him out of his misery. He picked the phone back up and Sam was still talking.

"Listen, Sammy, I want a burger, and I don't give a rat's ass about the consequences. I'm healthy as a horse! Don't forget the extra bacon, m'kay?" He hung up after that. A little rude on Dean's part, but he was getting tired of hearing Sam's long, boring speeches about Dean's lifestyle. The kid had just gotten his soul returned and he was already back to being his plain old annoying self.

Dean still preferred every annoying aspect of his little brother over that shell of a man he was working with previously.

Dean burned the body, and turned around to come face-to-face with Castiel. He jumped slightly, though he really should've gotten used to the angel just appearing out of nowhere.

"Hello, Dean," He said in his rough voice, staring up at the human, standing a bit too close for comfort.

Dean took the liberty of stepping back. "What's up, Cas?"

"I as well as others have noticed that there is tension rising between you and Sam."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Others? Who the hell is watching over us? And what do you mean tension? Me and Sammy are fine. What do you know of how we work?" He turned his back on Cas.

"I've been with you two long enough to know that something is wrong, Dean." He waited for a response, and receiving none, continued saying, "You and your brother are picking more fights with each other than usual, and you're slowing down jobs and not doing them as efficiently as you could...I don't exactly understand what's going on, but I have talked with Bobby-"

"Bobby? That's who thinks there's tension between us?" Dean let out a humorless laugh. "Cas, come on. Bobby's been dead for a while now. Just because you can do some funky angel mojo and chat with him in heaven doesn't mean he actually knows what's happening down here."

"I keep him informed, Dean," Cas stated, sounding slightly insulted.

"Well between you and me, you don't exactly get all the details right."

Cas furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't understand."

"You're an angel. You don't get what humans feel. Me and Sammy...we're just going through a rough patch. It's nothing we can't handle. And we don't need you and Bobby's heavenly wisdom butting in, alright?"

Dean hadn't noticed that he was taking slow steps towards the angel, and now he was staring down at him, closer than they had originally been. He stared intensely into Castiel's sharp blue eyes, trying to read what was cryptically hidden. He could feel the angel's breath on his face, and that's what made his mind snap back to reality and look away.

"Just go Cas. We don't need you here."

The flutter of wings signified his departure, and Dean was alone.

And he hurt.

Dean gripped the steering wheel hard, causing his knuckles to go from bright red to alabaster in a matter of moments. He wasn't listening to music. He wasn't listening to the wind racing by his window. He wasn't even thinking. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and his heavy breathing. Even if he tried, Dean knew he wouldn't be able to calm down. His temper was rising, and he wanted to hit something. He really, really wanted to hit something. Or, more preferably, someone.

No one in particular; he just wanted to feel bones crunch underneath his white knuckles.

At the first sign of an exit, Dean took it, and drove until he found himself away from any car, house, highway, any sign of civilization. Then he stepped out of the car and looked up at the sky. At the stars. The many, many stars.

"You know, my mom once told me that all the stars in the sky represented an angel," Dean said quietly, laying down on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the clear sky. The half-drunk beer bottle in his hand was turning warm, but he didn't care. He was peaceful.

"That's impossible; there's way too many stars. How could she even conceive an idea like that?" Cas asked increduously.

Dean smiled at Cas' innocent response. "She always believed that angels were watching over me. I guess that was her way of explaining how."

Cas was silent for a moment before he said quietly, "I don't think your mother and I would've gotten along very well."

"Why?" Dean asked, looking at the angel with a raised eyebrow. "Because she thought there were a lot more angels than there actually are?"

"Because she had more faith in us than we do in ourselves." Cas said flatly. "It's humans like her that make me question what we do as angels. Sure, we respond to prayers of humans and try to keep order, but look at the havoc we've caused. What I've-" His voice cut off, and Dean looked over at him, his heart twisting at the guilty look on his face. Dean knew what Cas was thinking of: those memories of playing God and causing such chaos and destruction on earth.

"Cas..." Dean began slowly.

But the angel shook his head. "There are no excuses for what I've done. I let people like your mother down, and there is nothing I can do to make up for that."

Dean sighed. He didn't want to get emotional, though he knew that's what Cas needed. However, Dean wasn't nice. He didn't know how to handle emotional matters. And since Sam wasn't there to give an Oscar-winning speech, he ended up saying, "Throw some dirt on it, Cas. You're alive and the earth is still spinning. Stop being such a damn drama queen."

Dean wasn't surprised that, after the pregnant pause, Cas flew off into the night.

Nor was he surprised at the regret he felt afterwards.

"I hate you!" Dean yelled to the stars. "I hate all of you!"

He received no response, and grabbed at the roots of his hair. He felt his brain starting to pinch and cram with memories he didn't want. Memories that showed him that he deserved what he got. He deserved to be alone and cold and punished for the rest of eternity.

"I hate you," he repeated in a softer tone, talking down to the snow. He swore he was talking about Cas, about Sam, about everyone in his life that had ever hurt him in any way possible. So really...everyone he ever knew. He muttered those three words over and over, but each time he said it, he realized he was saying it more about himself than any of the others.

When Dean finally snapped out of this state, he looked around him and suddenly felt very cold. Not cold because of the temperature, though it had to be below freezing considering it was mid December and well into the night. This was a cold he felt on the inside, a cold that made a chill crawl down his spine at the realization that Castiel and his brother didn't need Dean around. They could continue doing jobs and they would be perfectly fine without him.

And no matter how much Dean didn't want to be alone, he convinced himself it was for the best. For both them and him.

So he got in the Impala and continued driving.

And Dean Winchester was still sad.

The 1967 black Chevy Impala pulled into a small town somewhere in the middle of nowhere that could very well not be in America anymore. It was hard to say what roads it turned on and off of, just trying to drive away and get lost. The car didn't have a destination, nor did it's driver, but they were stuck together no matter where the wind blew them. It had been like that for so long, that Dean Winchester found the only comfort of his current situation in his car.

So when Dean drove into that small town, his eyelids drooping, he surprised himself by parking in the lot of a very fancy hotel. He had no real explanation as to why there would be such a fine hotel in such a desolate location, but he didn't dwell on the thought. Instead, he parked the car, and opened his wallet, only finding his numerous credit cards and fake ID's. Dean couldn't pay with these; Sam would easily find out and Sam would easily kill him. When they caught up with him, of course.

Dean turned in his seat, looking at the empty passenger's side. He could remember every person that had sat there while he was driving; he could remember turning just as he had and seeing them. Sam appeared most often, considering that he had been there with Dean for as long as Dean could remember. It seemed like another lifetime when it was just him and his dad hunting. And Dean could remember when Cas had sat there as well, and Dean knew that he never sat there and smiled. Not that the angel ever smiled, but Dean especially remembered that he never smiled in that seat. Sam and him had shared quite a few laughs in the front of that 1967 black Chevy Impala, but Dean couldn't distinctly remember one happy memory of him and Castiel together.

However, Dean could easily remember all the bad memories. All those thoughts of him yelling at Cas, criticizing him for something that was a mistake. Or when Dean had yelled at Sam countless times, and their many silent road trips. Dean remembered each of these in such detail that he felt on the verge of bawling his eyes out, but with a deep breath, he took out the knife Ruby had given them and cut into the passenger seat leather. He reached down into the stuffing and retrieved a little of the surplus of cash that was hidden there.

Only Dean knew about this hidden pocket of paper money.

His father had said that only the ones we always trust could know about it.

"Dean, I don't think this is a good plan."

"Well that's why I'm the leader of this expedition. Now put up or shut up."

Cas stared at Dean, his eyes narrowed as they always were, and approached the old man behind the counter. "We would like one room to presumably sleep in."

Dean held back the desire to roll his eyes and instead smiled dryly at the man, who gave the two of them a queer look before typing away into his computer.

"I am assuming the honeymoon suit will suit you two just fine?" He said in a condescending tone.

Cas cocked his head to the side. "I don't understand why we would need the suit that is often used for sexual intercourse."

The man raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you two not together?" The suspicion growing in his eyes was very recognizable; he had seen it plenty of times when he had bunked with Sam and claimed they weren't together. They were eyes that read, "Why else would two grown men want one room? Surely they can be up to no good."

Cas opened his mouth but Dean jumped in while taking the angel's hand, "Of course we are! He's just a bit of a ditz as you can tell. One honeymoon suit would be awesome."

Castiel looked down at their interlocked fingers, and Dean squeezed his hand tightly, almost nervously. The man held Dean's gaze for a moment more before turning away as he continued typing into his computer.

"Who should I put the name under?"

Dean frowned slightly; he had forgotten about this part. He couldn't use one of their aliases because this was a secret job they were doing behind Sam's back because he had strictly told them to not do it because it was "too risky". So using any of his credit cards would immediately send Sam off the deep end and Dean did not want to go home to any of that boy's shit. But he wasn't good at thinking on the spot either. He couldn't come up with a name that he was sure wouldn't sound suspicious is some way.

"Dean Winchester," Cas suddenly said, surprising Dean almost enough to give him a stroke. "And we would like to pay without the plastic card."
The man behind the counter nodded, oblivious to Dean's racing heartbeat. Why did he just use my real name?! He's going to get us both killed!

"That'll be fifty five dollars."

Dean's mind was suddenly kicked away from the name topic. "Fifty five bucks?!"

"Please." He added.

"For what, a big bed and a view of the Country Club Golf Course?"

He huffed, "It comes with a complimentary buffet breakfast."

Dean slowly felt a grin grow on his face. "One sec, I left my change purse in the car." He ran out to the Impala and cut open the seat, digging around for enough money.

"What are you doing Dean?"

Dean jumped. "Jesus Cas!" He pulled out some money. "Just taking a little loan from the bank."

Cas' eyes darted between the seat and the cash in Dean's hand. "You have more earthly currency than the plastic cards?"

"Yea...only I know about it. But I guess you do too now. You can't tell Sam though or he might spend it all on his tampons and chocolate." Dean chuckled to himself, though the angel failed to get the joke. "Look Cas, that's a lot of money. And we only use it for emergencies. I trust you can keep it between us?"

Castiel blinked. "You trust me, Dean?"

He shrugged. "You haven't stabbed me in the back yet. Hey, by the way, why'd you use my name for the room? That's completely obvious dude; Sam is totally gonna find out about it and kick my ass."

"It's too obvious Dean; no offense to your brother, he is highly intelligent for a human, but he seems to fail to recognize what is right before him."Cas stated, but the way he formed the words into that sentence, Dean thought for a brief second that maybe he wasn't talking about Sam. "Why did you make us get the honeymoon suit?"

"Because..." Dean began, but staring into Cas' eyes, he knew how crazy it would sound if he said that he liked it when the angel sat on the bed with Dean and warmed it up with his grace. Cas wouldn't sleep, but just his presence made Dean have better dreams and a better attitude in the morning.

He wasn't going to deny to himself that he hated sleeping alone and preferred sleeping with another man, but he wasn't sure if Cas was ready to understand that part of their relationship. At least, Dean's part of the relationship. "Because then I can keep my eye on you."

Cas blinked. "Where would I go Dean?"

He shrugged. "You disappear a lot without telling me."

"Does it upset you?"

"Yes."

There was a pause and Cas said quietly, "I'm sorry. I'll stop if you wish."

Dean smiled genuinely, something he hadn't done in a while. "Thanks Cas."

"Excuse me, sir?" The woman behind the counter snapped her fingers in front of Dean's glazed over eyes. "Sir, are you going to get a room or not?"

Dean shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry...just really tired."
She nodded, not really caring. "Is it just you tonight, sir?"

"Yes." Sadly.

"What shall I put the name of the room under?"

Dean stood there looking at the woman, again faced with the same dilemna, but this time, he was a lot quicker in deciding the answer consisdering he didn't have anyone else to decide it for him. "Dean Winchester, please."

She typed in her computer. "And how will you be paying tonight, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean tried not to cringe at the name; he never felt like a Mr. Winchester. He and Sam had never been Mr.'s. Even John Winchester was still John when he wasn't dad. The name was so...unfitting. And it upset Dean heavily.

"Actually, could you change the name?" He ignored the slight heat that rose to his face as he said that statement. She stared back at him, probably wondering in her mind if she was dealing with a serial killer or a rapist or someone who couldn't remember their own name aka a psycho.

Dean felt psycho. He was going mad on the inside, and he could feel it.

He cleared his throat and finished, "It's still Dean, but now...it's Dean Novak." Dean smiled just slightly, nothing but a tug at the corners of his mouth. At the continued stare, he added quickly, "I just got married." Just as a precaution.

The woman stared at him for a moment more before changing it in the computer. Dean almost sighed with relief.

"Alright, Mr. Novak, will that be cash or credit?"

"Cash." He forked over the money.

Dean stood there waiting to get his room, and he danced the name "Dean Novak" around on his tongue, tasting it as much as he could and liking it more each time. Novak was so much more...natural than Winchester was. He had grown up a Winchester, no real choice in the matter, but he had chosen to be a Novak. And no one was going to take that priviledge away from him.

The woman handed him his key, and he took it gratefully, dragging only himself up the stairs to his second-floor room. When he opened it, he saw that it was bigger than almost all the motels he and Sam had ever stayed in; probably easily twice the size of a lot too. He reached to take off his leather jacket, and a chill crawled down his spine when he realized that it wasn't there. He instantly felt naked, and cold, and scared. Scared because he didn't know what he was doing, out in the open, wasting money on expensive hotels, and because of what? Sam? And Cas?

Dean stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, staring hard at the man that returned the look to him.

"Who do you think you are?" The reflection asked, a dry smirk on its face. "Dad?"

But Dean was not smiling. He replied curtly, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think you can run off whenever you feel like it? Whenever little old Dean gets his big boy feelings hurt? You can't run from family, Dean. Dad tried that, and now you're trying that too, and look where it's lead you! A damn hotel room, all by yourself!" The reflection laughed, never tearing it's eyes away from Dean's.

"So," Dean muttered, wanting desperately to look away, but he couldn't.

The reflection raised an eyebrow at him. "So? Dean, you're living out your fear. Your worst fear. All because you can't face the truth."

"What truth?!" Dean barked. "There's no truth here! They...they...abandoned me!"

The reflection shook it's head. "It's not about them, Dean. You know you don't care about what they do. Hell, you could've walked in on them having sex on the table and you wouldn't of given two shits!" There was a pause where Dean's jaw set and the reflection let out a little laugh.

"Well, I guess you would mind a little. But that's irrelevant. Because you keep telling yourself that it's all about them, everything that has ever happened to you is because of them, when really...it's all you Dean."

Dean didn't offer a response; he simply curled his hands into tight fists.

The reflection sighed, as if explaining a topic that a kindergartner could've grasped. "You're angry. And it's not for anyone but yourself. You lash out because you don't want to take the blame. Close your eyes Dean. What do you see? You see pain and regret and sorrow, all because of you."

"I already know I'm a huge dick." Dean growled. "What's your point?"

The reflection leaned in real close, as if about to whisper a deep secret, and said quietly, "That you can change. Everything. You can be a better brother, a better friend, and...a better lover."

Dean didn't understand what happened after that until he woke up on the floor of the bathroom, his knuckles raw and caked in dried blood.

The mirror was completely shattered, and the backing had many indents where his fists had easily connected with the wall. He cleaned up his mess before laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He didn't want to fall asleep; the mirror had told him what he would see.

It was what he always saw.

And what he would always see.

That's just the way Dean accepted it. He deserved to be unhappy because he made others unhappy and never tried to brighten someone's day. He was a terrible, horrible, ugly person, and he saw it better than anyone. No one was ever going to really care about him.

Not even his brother, and especially not his best friend.

Perhaps this was part of why Dean Winchester was sad.

A/N: Again, sorry this took so long! And I'm sorry if it's really weird and boring; I promise there will be Destiel soon! And I'll post ASAP for reals this time guys.