((The following scene happens a few days after the events in Back to Basics.))

Sioux Falls, South Dakota March 2010...

Dean had taken to watching the sunrise. Every morning just before dawn, he could be found on the porch, a cup of black coffee in his hand, watching the sun come up, the promise of another new day. He figured so long as the sun rose every morning, the world was being given a reprieve for at least another twelve hours or so. He was being given a reprieve. He felt like a man on death row, counting down the days he had left. He'd seen the future and knew it would all end sooner or later if they didn't do something to stop it. He'd often wondered if he'd get a last meal before Michael took up residence inside his body. He thought he deserved at least that. A bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions, a couple of beers, and a slice of cherry pie. Hell, a whole pie. Cherry pie was one of his conditions. There was no way in Hell - or Heaven either, for that matter - he was becoming Michael's meat suit without a last meal. Hell, even death row convicts got that much.

It was early and the house was still quiet, everyone asleep. Sam and Bobby had arrived back sometime in the middle of the night. Dean only knew because his baby was parked in the driveway when it hadn't been the night before. He figured they'd probably driven straight through and collapsed in bed without so much as a hello, saving the explanations for the morning. As it so happened, Dean didn't have to wait long.

The screen door creaked, breaking the silence and drawing Dean out of his thoughts. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know it was Sam who'd joined him. He recognized the thump of his brother's footsteps on the wooden porch planks and caught a whiff of a familiar scent that could only be Sam. Dean had often thought if angst were ever bottled, it would smell like Sam. Dean didn't really feel like chatting. He was enjoying the quiet solitude that came with the first light of day, but apparently, Sam had other plans.

"Hey," Sam said as he flopped down beside his brother on the porch stairs, long legs stretched out in front of him, a cup of coffee in his hand. He said nothing else, letting Dean know he was there if he wanted to talk, but patiently waiting until his older brother was ready. He'd wait forever, if that was how long it would take.

"When'd you get back?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer, but just making idle conversation, his gaze turned east to watch the sky as the gray of night was slowly lifting, turning the sky a brilliant mix of orange, red, and yellow. He wondered how it could be so beautiful when it looked so much like fire.

"Couple hours ago," Sam replied. "I didn't wanna wake you."

Dean didn't need his little brother to tell him he hadn't slept yet. Well, that made two of them then. "Doesn't matter. I don't sleep much anyway."

"Exactly why I didn't wanna wake you," Sam said, watching his brother's profile, wondering what was going on in his head. He was too quiet, too calm - the calm before the storm. He remembered how he'd felt when Jessica had died and knew Dean had to be feeling some of that same pain. Grief, guilt, loneliness. It was a heavy load to bear, and he knew Dean carried too much of that load upon his own shoulders.

Dean took a sip of the coffee, his gaze never straying from the sunrise. He was quiet a moment, knowing the subject of Andrea and Lucas hung heavily between them. The elephant on the porch, Dean thought. The subject had to be broached sooner or later, and he thought he might as well get it over with. "I asked Cas to bring them back, but he said he couldn't," Dean said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Couldn't or wouldn't. It was all the same to him. Andrea and Lucas were just two more casualties in a long list of innocent lives lost, a list that was getting a little too long for Dean's tastes.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam told his brother, sounding as sorry as he felt. Nothing could be done for Andrea or Lucas now, except pray for their souls, but he knew Dean had never been very big on prayer.

"Did you bury them?" Dean asked, needing to know what had become of them, a little angry that it hadn't been him who'd put them to rest. He'd been the one who'd love them, after all; it should have been him who'd laid them to rest.

"Hunter's funeral," Sam answered, which in layman's terms meant that they'd burned the bodies preventing possession, along with any other means of reanimation or desecration.

Dean winced involuntarily, feeling as empty inside as he had when his father had died. So, they were gone for good; there would be no bringing them back. He'd promised Andrea he'd wait for her on the other side, but it looked like it was going to be the other way around. "Good, that's....that's good," Dean told his brother in a voice so quiet it made Sam's heart ache.

"Dean, it's not your fault, you know," said Sam, as if it needed saying. He knew his brother took too much on his shoulders and always had, from the very first moment their Mom had been killed. He'd always felt it was his job to take care of everyone, to protect everyone, and when bad things happened, he blamed himself for not trying hard enough, for not doing his job.

"Yeah, it is, Sam," Dean countered, knowing the truth of it. "I should have let them go all those years ago. I should have known this would happen."

"You couldn't have known. You couldn't have prevented it."

"Yeah, I could have," Dean disagreed, turning finally to face his brother, the grief a little too fresh in his eyes. "I could have prevented it by walking away, but instead, I had to have my little piece of normal. I dragged them into this. I got them killed. It was selfish and stupid. You know as well as I do that we can never have normal, and now Ayden's been dragged into this, too. That girl's life is never gonna be the same, and it's because of us."