The Angel of Anxiety [A Supernatural FanFiction]

Prologue

THE ROAD SO FAR...

The last time the Winchesters saw Leila Connors, she was falling off a bridge. Dean has believed more and more as the months went by that it was his fault entirely. Sam and Dean met up with Connie Fairborough, who had some information on Leila that shocked them.

Gabriel and Castiel got Leila to say yes to hosting Saint Dymphna, a decision all of them regret. In order to get Saint Dymphna out of Leila, Gabriel wounded his vessel and is now slowly turning human unless Castiel can find a way to stop his leaking grace.

Saint Dymphna has found a new host, a young Irish girl who was close to suicide. The host is still alive, which doesn't bode well for the hunters who need Saint Dymphna dead if they want to save the world.

Having received a German Shepherd for Hanukkah from Gabriel, Leila has finally celebrated the holiday in a place that felt like home, a place that felt right.

NOW...

At the dining table in their Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Dean Winchester snored loudly. A bottle of beer was still in his hand, only a quarter full. Sam leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows knitting with worry. Their friend, Charlie, stood with Sam, worry dressing her face as well.

"I haven't seen him this depressed, and for this long since he came back from Hell and was having nightmares through the night," Sam's voice was quiet, worried he'd wake the sleeping bear in front of him.

"I'd hate to say it, Sam," Charlie spoke softly, more worried about Sam's reaction than waking Dean up. "But you can't force him to heal. He has to find that on his own."

Sam sighed, "I can't just sit here and let my brother suffer. He still thinks it's his fault, after everyone telling him it wasn't."

Charlie shrugged, "That's how Dean is." Charlie looked at Sam, looked at the worry that creased his face. Stubble lined his jaw, bags grew under his eyes—she'd never seen him look so tired. Charlie pursed her lips, "That's how you both are, in case you didn't know."

Sam side-glanced at Charlie, but his attention immediately went back to Dean. "I don't know how to make things better, Charlie. Dean always knows what to do if it's me, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing when it's him."

"There's not a lot you can do," Charlie replied. "It's up to him to find his way out. Only Dean can decide when Dean is healed. You can't decide for him."

"He's been like this for months. Drinking more, not even making it to his bed when he's ready to pass out. This is one of the only times he's actually been sleeping when I found him," Sam said. "Don't get me wrong, Dean's been bad before, I 've just never seen him this bad. Ever since we went and saw Connie Fairborough, it's like..."

"He has faith she's alive?" Charlie questioned. "Faith isn't a bad thing to have, Sam. What if Connie was right?"

"I'm not worried about if she was right," Sam said, looking down at the ground. "I'm worried about if she was wrong. That Dean's got faith when all we did was talk to some town crazy and she just made things worse."

"You said she knew you two, like, right away. Doesn't that mean something?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "She could've been a demon, or an angel, or a shapeshifter. There's no number to the people that would know us just from seeing our faces, Charlie. I don't know if I believe that she was a psychic like she claimed she was."