Hello! This is my attempt to get back into writing-mode. I've been sick as a dog for a while now (if you want to know why just check out my profile!) and writing just has NOT wanted to happen! But today I feel good and thought a nice angsty one-shot would get me back into things! : )

Disclaimer: Dean and Supernatural aren't mine. If they were my life would be far more entertaining! They belong to Kripke & Company.

Spoiler Warning: Spoiler for My Bloody Valentine. Dean's thoughts when he goes outside at the end of the episode.


I look up into the night sky, my breath puffing out in steamy clouds. Even though I'm outside and alone I can still here Sam's screams of agony echoing in my head. I can see his face smeared with dried blood, the crazed look in his eyes that he always got when he was high on demon blood. I can see Castiel cramming the raw meat into his mouth, unable to focus on the critically important task he had been given.

Part of me wants to be pissed off at them. Part of me wants to be angry that they had been so weak and had allowed the things they wanted to overpower them. That they couldn't keep themselves together.

And yet I'm not. I'm actually envious of them. Of course Sam still wanted that damn demon blood. It was like some fucked up drug that amped him up so he was Super-Demon-Killing-Man. It gave him power, power over the demons who had made him what he is.

And Cas… Christ, it hadn't even been Castiel's fault! That was all Jimmy's doing! Well, maybe not Jimmy exactly, but a part of Jimmy that was still somehow in there after everything, including Cas being blown to pieces.

No, I can't hate them. I envy them. They at least are alive. Me? I'm nothing but a walking piece of meat. I don't even think I have a soul anymore, or at least nothing that resembles a soul. Like Famine said, there was nothing but a huge hole. A huge, empty hole. And it doesn't matter what I do. I can't drink it away or fuck it away or even save every last person on the planet. There's nothing that will ever fill it.

The hot tears roll down my face and I realize that all I ever felt now was helpless. Even my pitiful prayers that I manage to whisper feel hollow and empty. Seriously, who's going to hear them? Castiel can't even hear me anymore, and obvious God doesn't give a flying fuck about me.

I am empty. And nothing is going to change that.