A/N: If you haven't watched the latest episode of the show, you probably shouldn't read this!

I'm a huge fan of Dean and I'd yell it from the rooftops (although it wouldn't be necessary; that's really no secret), so be aware that this story is here because I've been hurt by the pain in Dean's eyes in the last few episodes. Just so you know that this is all about Dean.

It's a one-shot for now (and it probably would stay that way).

Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think.

It was a normal day when everything started to change. There was absolutely nothing special about that day.

The sky hadn't turned red. The hunters hadn't stopped hunting. The angels hadn't gone back to heaven. Metatron hadn't given up the power and the fight between Abaddon and Crowley wasn't suddenly over.

Not as far as Sam knew, at least.

He woke up like any other day; walked to the kitchen; prepared some coffee and grabbed his laptop and started to go through newspapers to see if there was anything new.

But no. There was nothing new or different.

Just...

Just one thing.

Dean wasn't sitting on his usual spot and... Wait a second; did he actually have to prepare the coffee? That meant Dean hadn't been up to prepare it first, which was kinda strange since Dean apparently wouldn't sleep much, lately.

Well, maybe he'd finally stopped torturing his body and was making up for all those sleepless nights.

Shrugging nonchalantly Sam decided to go for a run before starting his day and his research to find Gadreel.

Once outside, everything was as it was the previous day and the day before that and the one before that... The only thing different...

The only thing different was that the Impala wasn't in its usual spot, which meant Dean had gone out and considering the fact that there hadn't been any coffee, he must've left pretty early. So much for him getting some needed shut-eye.

Sam, again, didn't give it much thought and continued his routine. After all, they weren't brothers anymore, he was still mad at Dean and of course, disappointed. There was no way he'd keep his mind busy with those kinds of thoughts.

He'd just wait for Dean to come back and then he'd demand some answers to know where the older man had gone.

And wait he did.

He waited and waited and waited and when after 24 hours there were still no signs of Dean, he finally grabbed his cell phone and called his bro-... No, called Dean. Only to reach his voice mail, telling him that he should leave a message and wait for Dean to call him back.

So he did.

He left a message, growling and telling Dean to call him back, because he'd found them a case and didn't have time for Dean to come to his senses and stop sulking.

Yes, that's what he thought Dean was doing. He knew his words the night before Dean's leaving, had been harsh, but they were the truth and he was only being honest and he knew that it must've been the reason why Dean had left. He probably was in a bar or somewhere else, feeling sorry for himself and drowning his sorrows.

'So responsible of him.' he thought angrily.

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It was the next day when he finally realized that things were a bit different; that something had changed.

Dean hadn't called back; he hadn't answered his ten calls and clearly hadn't showed up, either.

The only thing he'd received was a short, impersonal message in his inbox, informing Sam that the hunt was taken care of; and telling him that he had important things to do so Sam wasn't to call him again unless it was a matter of life and death.

OK, so Sam hadn't expected that. But hey, it was Dean; he could never stay away for long. During the years, it'd always been Dean who'd reach out towards him, asking him back.

Smirking with himself, he shook his head and closed the laptop's lid. He was pretty sure he'd hear from Dean before the month was over.

And maybe that was his second mistake.

The first one was promising himself not to call Dean under any circumstances.

Now two months later, he still hadn't heard from Dean; hadn't accidentally run into him during a hunt and hadn't seen him back in the bunker.

And if he was absolutely honest with himself, because Sam was always honest, you know?, he kinda felt bad.

Going to Dean's room for the first time in two months, he was shocked to find the room completely clean of anything personal.

Dean had cleaned his room from every piece that held some sort of memory for him... Or at least, from the pieces that still meant something to him. Because God, he'd left anything that was remotely related to Sam. Anything that Sam had ever given him was still in that room and the rest was gone.

Feeling a sudden hollow in his chest, Sam sank into Dean's bed and breathed heavily.

He'd never wanted this. Yes, he'd told Dean that they weren't brothers anymore and he'd called Dean selfish and weak, he'd told him that he wouldn't have gone out of his way to save Dean from certain death, but he hadn't mean it like he didn't care or like he didn't want to be related to Dean.

OK, maybe he did at that moment... But he wanted his brother back.

His eyes landed on the grey plastic toy plane that was on Dean's desk. He had no idea Dean still had that toy and apparently it'd been the last thing Dean had considered taking with him and had decided against the idea, since it was abandoned on his desk.

Picking up the toy, he suddenly saw himself as a kid when he loved to play with that thing and those images send a shiver down his spine. He remembered he was so happy to get that plane that he'd gone to bed with it and since it wasn't the most comfortable toy to sleep with, he'd woken up a couple of hours later and had heard an argument between his father and his brother.

His father was asking Dean where he'd got the money to buy Sam that plane. He suddenly could very clearly remember Dean's answer; his brother had said that it was Sam's birthday, he wouldn't let it go unnoticed and that he'd bought that toy out of his own saving. And he'd thought the toy was a gift from his father.

Blinking his eyes open, Sam was surprised at himself, not knowing how he'd forgotten that day.

While looking down at the toy another memory rushed to his mind and it was both recent and old. It was the memory of a night when after so many nights of Dean being gone, his father had finally found him and had taken Sam to go after him and -... Wait... It was the same farm they'd visited recently. The same boys' home... The same place Dean seemed to love so much... The... Damn, the same place Dean had left to be with Sam.

That memory brought back so many other memories of Dean giving up opportunities, happiness and, hell, life, to make sure Sam had all those things and it was that moment that everything suddenly found a new meaning in his mind.

And it was like he'd been kicked hard in the stomach.

He'd called Dean selfish and here he was remembering the countless times that Dean had sacrificed his own needs for his little brother.

He felt sick and had to swallow around the bile in his throat.

Grabbing his cell phone, he once again called Dean's number.

Yes, he was still against the idea of what Dean had done to bring him back, but now; now he was ashamed of the words he'd used and was damn sorry for turning his back on his brother like that. He didn't know when he'd started to take Dean for granted or when he'd started to get annoyed by Dean's mere presence, and damn if Karma wasn't a mean bitch.

The call went straight to the voice mail again and taking a deep breath, he started to talk. This time in a much gentler tone, asking Dean to please call him back.

But to his disappointment, and not so surprisingly, he got nothing after three days. He didn't know what to do, he could track Dean's phone or car, but he couldn't make Dean talk to him again if the older brother didn't want to and the idea of never seeing Dean smile at him again, scared Sam more than he liked to admit.

He'd been thinking about Dean so much that he hadn't looked for Gadreel for a long time now and truth to be told, he wasn't sure he could do that when he knew nothing about Dean, his whereabouts and his well-being.

He kept checking his inbox, hoping to see, at least, another impersonal email from Dean.

But nothing.

The fourth day after his last call to Dean, he woke up to a heart-stopping and yet creepy scene.

Castiel was sitting there on a couch, watching him like a hawk.

"Dammit, Cas." he exhaled slowly. "The hell?"

"You looked tired. I didn't want to wake you up."

Rolling his eyes, Sam untangled himself from his sheets and walked to the bathroom. Once he washed his face and mouth, his mind was awake enough to realize that he hadn't asked Castiel what he was doing there.

"You got anything on Gadreel?"

"Nothing that would help us much. No." Castiel shook his head.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You called Dean."

Sam felt his stomach drop. "Yes?"

"He can't call you back; didn't want me to, either. But I thought your voice sounded worried, so I decided to check for myself."

Sam blinked with confusion.

"I won't tell Dean, if you don't. He probably wouldn't notice I'm gone."

"You've been here long enough for him to notice." Sam said bitterly, feeling dejected to know that Dean didn't want for him to even know what he was doing or where he was.

"No. He had a bad night, last night. I put him to sleep."

OK, that sounded both promising and ominous. At least Dean was taking some sleep, even if it was forced. But what did Cas mean by a bad night? "What's wrong with him?"

"He's experiencing some side effects and they're weakening his body even further. If Crowley doesn't find that blade soon, it won't be of any use. His heart and kidneys are failing."

Sam was sure all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room; why else would he feel so lightheaded and breathless?

Castiel's eyes widened as he apparently just realized that Sam had no idea what Dean was dealing with. "Oh." he stood up. "You really didn't know."

Sam could only shake his head feebly. "His... What?" he couldn't muster up enough energy to talk; to ask about his brother's heart and kidneys and… And what was it about the side effects? Side effects of what?

Cas, though, could see the train of questions in Sam's eyes and had a hard time of his own; he wasn't sure how much he could tell Sam since he didn't want to betray Dean's trust. The man was having a hard time as it was. He sure didn't need another betrayal. He'd been betrayed his whole life by almost everyone and now his body was failing him, too.

"Cas. Please. I'm his brother; I have the right to know."

"You told him you wanted to keep things strictly business."

Sam's eyes narrowed. So Dean had been talking to Cas.

"He needs someone to talk to, but I got most of it when I was trying to reach inside his head and body to see if I could heal him."

"But you couldn't?" Sam asked worriedly, momentary forgetting the fact that now Cas, too, knew about his harsh words to his brother.

Shaking his head, Cas walked a few steps away. "Cain's mark is blocking my access. He's fading. I've heard that if he manages to kill Abaddon, the side effects would go away and that his body might find the time to heal itself, but the longer it takes, the weaker his heart and kidneys would get, which means his chances will drop."

"What exactly is wrong with him? Has he seen a doctor?"

"He has." The angel nodded. "Acute kidney failure and Heart issue. They think it's a viral infection causing those problems, but whatever they give him only adds to his distress. It's the mark on his arm, I can tell you that much. But if he doesn't take his meds, then he won't last long enough to fulfill his mission."

"Dammit. What the hell is that mark? How can we get rid of it?" Sam growled angrily.

"We can't." Cas said too calmly. "He'd accepted it willingly. With the mark came a great burden, a great cost, as apparently Cain had called it. If Dean comes out of it alive and kills Abaddon, he'll heal and then he can get rid of the mark. But not before that. He'll die if he tries."

Sam swallowed hard. "And he accepted it knowingly?"

"He didn't know about the pain and suffering, of course. But I'm sure that wouldn't have made any difference."

And Sam knew that Cas had a point.

"And you called him selfish." there was no accusation in Cas' voice, just a trace of disappointment. "I believe the weakened mental state is adding to his suffering." he shook his head. "Sam, you and I have made the biggest mistakes ever and Dean has calways forgiven us. What he did wasn't as bad and look what you did."

Sam looked away, willing the tears to stay at bay. Guilt and shame pulled at his heart; Castiel was right and he'd come to same conclusion himself; he'd been too late, though.

No, not too late. Dean was still alive. He could still help.

"Take me to him." he begged. "Please."

"I can't. It might do him more harm."

"I won't let it happen. Please, Cas. I know I can help. I have to apologize. I have to make him know that I'd be there for him like he's always been there for me. Cas-" his voice shook. "I can't lose him. I told him I wouldn't-"

"I know." Cas' voice was quiet. "And I think this time he's finally believed you. He's given up on you and any type of family. It's always been the only thing pushing him forward."

"All the more reason for me to be there. I can get him through this."

"He's going to need dialysis this week. His kidneys are too weak. So is his heart. Sam, if you-" Cas actually looked sad. Having been human for a while, he finally knew how it felt to lose a friend and to feel sad. And so far, Dean had been the most loyal, most forgiving friend he'd ever had. He couldn't lose Dean. "He won't make it if the pressure is too much."

"I will find him one way or another, Cas." Sam was desperate now. "I need to be there for him. Take me-"

"No. Stay away, Sam." Cas said firmly. "I'll come get you when he's ready."

And with that the angel was gone.

...

"Cas?" Dean's weak voice never ceased to break his heart, even though Cas had been hearing it a lot lately. "Where have you been?"

"You're awake. Good." The angel alluded. "We need to get to the hospital for your dialysis session."

"Any word on Crowley?" Dean asked as he pushed himself up to go to the bathroom and wash his face. He had to push himself forward just a little while longer; just until Crowley was back and he could kill Abaddon, and then he had to go back to Cain's place to do what he'd promised; kill Cain, as well. And that would be it. He'd be free after that. He didn't have to fight anymore. Just a little while longer.

"I'll go look for him when you're in the hospital." Cas said behind the closed door of the bathroom, sensing the gloomy atmosphere that had surrounded his best friend. "You're going to be alright, Dean." he said quietly, more for his own sake than Dean's.

Maybe he could tell Dean about Sam being worried for him; maybe that would give him extra power to fight. But something told him that it wouldn't work this time. That, this time, Dean wouldn't believe it even if Sam were there and swore that he cared and that he'd never turn his back on Dean again. Yes, Dean had truly given up on Sam. And in all honesty, Castiel wasn't sure Sam wouldn't say some more hurtful things, either. It seemed like the strong brotherly bond between those two brothers was broken for good and for the first time, Cas didn't think there was any way to amend the situation.

Not everything was fixable. Sometimes you just can't take back what you've said. Sometimes, you are just too late.

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... The END ...

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A/N: Wishful thinking, I know! Let me know what you think.

I'm not sure if I wanna continue this. I think it's better if I left it open ended. But I'd love to hear what you think.

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All mistakes are mine.