A/N: Had this idea for a while now, but never got around to writing it until yesterday. Am not fully happy with the result, but I just needed to get this out of my head before I moved on to bigger and (hopefully) better things. So here you go; another ball of angst and sad feels.

Stull Cemetery was just another cemetery near Lawrence, Kansas. It was just a barren piece of land with rows upon rows of graves and grey headstones – broken and battered through time and neglect.

Yet, it was not always like that. Once upon a time, it was the sole witness to the apocalypse that never came to pass.

Sure, there were legends –myths- surrounding it. But then, so did every other cemetery.

But this story was different; this was not just another tale of violent deaths and vengeful spirits.

No, this was a story of love, of friendship, and of family that runs deeper than blood.

It was a prophecy older than time itself, changed by the exercise of free will. It was history averted.

It was the tale of two brothers, at war against the world. It was the tale of a Righteous Man and his angel lover. It was the story of their love – one that started in the darkest bowel of Hell, stood strong against the forces of Heaven and Hell combined, one that broke all boundaries and celebrated the power of choice.

It was a tale of hurt, of comfort, of attraction, of denial, of acceptance. A tale of broken promises, and of broken people. It was a tale of their secret nights of passion, of their stolen kisses and of their teary promises.

It was a tale of two brothers and a fallen angel and how they saved the world.

And like every other story, the details of the story have blurred with time and misspoken words. And only a few remember it anymore. And even those few will forget it over time.

And no one will remember the identity of the concrete angel who stood guard over a non-descript grave in Stull Cemetery.

The angel perched on the headstone, shadowing it with his massive motionless wings, protecting the memory of the man who lay six foot under. The angel stricken with grief and sorrow, the angel grieving the death of a loved one.

The angel whose lifeless eyes still cried tears to wet the headstone below.

The headstone which simply read –

Dean Winchester.

Loving Brother and Lover.

Also feedback and ConCrit would be nice. Hate is okay too. :P

Thanks for reading!

~~Meg~~