— Dean’s knee’s ached. Dean’s knees ached and he smelled like dirt, blood, and fire. A Thursday night was usually spent getting ready for bed, tucking on some PJs, maybe reading the kids to bed, but no, not for Dean. Instead he was here, bloodied palms stuck together and a burning fire ahead of him as he prayed and prayed again for what seemed like hours now in hopes of some angel answering.

Yet nothing came. Once again Dean has been failed by heaven and left to deal with the ruins made by God. He could say he was disappointed, but who was he kidding? Sam was bleeding out in the room over, Cas was out of remission, he sure as hell wasn’t making a deal with Crowley, and suddenly not an angel was willing to shine mercy on him.

Righteous man, his ass. He was ready to give him, throw in the towel and stomp out the fire and just find some bullshit way to bring Sammy back to life, again, when the soft sound of heavy wings fluttering bring in his ears.

“You angels, you’re not very good at your jobs, let me tell you that-” He gruffed, his words being cut off as his eyes blinked open and finally settled on you. He’d expected Gabriel, seeing as him and Sam seemed close, but he’s heard of you before. Castiel seemed prideful to have you as his older sibling, but coming from another angel isn’t much praise.

He stood from his kneeled position, brushing himself off lazily, though his glare never fell from the winged celestial being in front of him. “Alright, birdy, this could go one way or another.” He grumbled, his calloused fingers gripping the blade tight in his palm. “Sammy Sweetheart back there got a little too roughed up on a hunt, just give us a little sprinkle of that healing magic of yours and you’ll be on your way. Untouched.”