Cowboys and Angels

01. I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

In the Impala, Dean was driving and Sam was passenger.

Sam frowned. "This makes no sense. I mean, how many angels fell -- hundreds, thousands? And nobody says anything. This is... Look at this. They're calling it a meteor shower. Seriously? What's going on with you, man? You okay?"

"Me?" Dean asked. "Yes. I'm fine. It's just-"

"It's just we got a major freakin' crap fest on our hands. Yeah, tell me about it. Thousands of superpowered dicks touching down, and we got no idea where to start."

"Angels ain't our problem right now, okay? Or demons, or Metatron, or whatever the hell happened to Cas."

Sam glanced at his brother. "Why? Because we hugged it out in that church and -- and now we're gonna go to Disneyland? Dean, you said it yourself -- we're not gonna sleep til this is done."

"I know."

"So, what's the problem?"

"You are. Look, there's no easy way to say this. But, um, something happened back in that church. And I don't know what. I don't know why. You're dying, Sammy."

A heartbeat sounded loudly and Sam retorted, "Shut up."

HOSPITAL ROOM

Sam laid with his eyes closed in a hospital bed. There was a tube in his nose and his arm was strapped to a beeping monitor. Dean was seated on the side of his bedside. Dean turned to look at the TV, which showed pictures of the angels falling. The headline read 'Global Meteor Shower'.

Dean was looking at medical scans.

The doctor said, "The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived. The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Dean muttered.

"If your brother continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but-"

"He'll be dead."

"Technically, yes. I'm afraid so."

He looked at doctor. "So, there's no chance of recovery? No bounce-back, no nothing?"

"I'm afraid that's in God's hands now."

"You're a doctor. You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a-a comfort?"

"Mr. Dougherty-"

"No. God's got nothing to do with this equation."

"I didn't mean-"

"That's not good enough." Dean left the room

Dean noticed a sign pointing to the hospital's chapel.

He entered and sat down. "Cas, are you there? Sammy's hurt. He's hurt, uh -- he's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here. I need you here." He looked around and saw six other people, sitting quietly. "Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester... And I need your help."

A man in a suit was having breakfast with his family.

"This is Dean Winchester..." the man in the suit looked up, "And I need your help."

"The deal is this -- Linwood Memorial Hospital..." a tall man paused and looked off into the distance, "...Randolph, New York."

"The first one who can help me gets my help, in return..." the man in the suit got up and left the table, "...and you know that ain't nothin'."