Would You Say I'm Worth It

Watchin' Over Me

Dean walks down the sidewalk outside of their motel, the chilly night breeze makes him pop his collar up, shielding his neck from its gentle nips. It was raining, not enough to get him soaked but more of a mist, it felt good on his face although it too, was cold. They arrived back in Arkansas yesterday, and were laying low for a bit after their hectic encounter with Rowena. As soon as the name 'Crowley' had come into play, she freaked, and things got hairy. She wasn't buying that Marguerite had been the one to recommend her, she knew it had to be someone else. Once she found out they were lying, she vanished. Marguerite had already attempted another seance, but now, Rowena didn't want to be found. Sam was trying to find out if there was anyone else who could possibly help them, but so far had nothing.

He needed to clear his head, with no venom to depend on he was left to his own devices. Having three dudes hover over you constantly, asking if you're doing okay and what not wasn't exactly peaceful. Dean appreciated that they cared enough to ask, but he felt like he was drowning - overstimulated. He felt better, truly he did. But man, if that empty feeling didn't keep eating at him. After walking for some time, he realizes he doesn't know where he is, and sits on a park bench alone. He watches people stroll by, some drunk and laughing after leaving the bar, some with headphones tapping away on their phone screens, and others just walking hand in hand, holding tender conversations. He wondered often what it would be like if he and Sam had been raised differently, where he would be. He knows Sam would've been some big hot shot. He was smart, strived for the stars. Sam would've graduated college and started a family, probably would've moved to some historical town with a long history just so he had more things to read into. John and Mary wouldn't have ever left Kansas, his dad would've stayed at the mechanic shop and they would've retired happily, probably would've adopted a dog or cat, some shit like that.

But what would Dean have done? He never really knew the answer to that. Sure, he could fix cars, buck hay, flip burgers, clean bathrooms - he could do a lot of things. But he never had a dream, not like the rest of his family. He remembers when he was four, before his mom died, he had wanted to be a cowboy, but that was as far as his career goals had ever gone. He thought at some point that he may have wanted a family, but that never felt possible, didn't quite fit him. Another funny thought was to own a cute little farm out in the country somewhere, nice and rural. Any dreams he had of peace and stability felt pathetic are far fetched - he had never shared those thoughts with anybody.

Dean finds himself crying on that park bench, and he rests his face in his hands in defeat. He had gone dark before, sinking into depression - but this was a whole new level even for him. The feeling of impending doom just consumed him, felt like he was being eaten alive at a painfully slow pace. A gentle hand on his shoulder startles him, and he turns quickly to meet soft blue eyes.

"Cas? How did you..?"

"You don't need to physically speak for me to hear your prayers, Dean. I could sense your need." He rubs his thumb against the damp fabric of Dean's coat, studying the hunter in concern. "Are you alright?"

Dean laughs coldly. "That's all anyone keeps asking me, man. I don't even know what to say anymore."

Cas frowns, tilting his head not fully understanding.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you, or whatever. You should get back to the motel." Dean runs a hand over his face, stopping to rub his stinging eyes in the process.

"Dean, we will figure this out. We will fix it. I put your soul back together before, I'll do it again myself if I have to."

Dean glances up to him, his face almost looks as if he was kicked in the gut. "Cas, no. You aren't going to keep sticking your neck out for me like that. I can't risk losing you again."