It had always been Sam and Dean together, ever since the beginning. John (their father) was never around, so Dean had pretty much raised Sam on his own. This inevitably made them close, very close.
It had been a while since the last catastrophe in the boys' lives (granted going to hell was a biggy, but even so...) and they were settled back into the routine of generic salt 'n' burn cases, up until the night fate intervened.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled as his gangly younger brother made his way out of the motel door, "Don't forget the pie!" Dean had a naturally affinity for pie ever since he could remember, it brought him some comfort and God help him, he thought it was almost as good as sex. Almost..
"Of course, Dean" Sam huffed as he turned to leave once again. As if Dean would ever let Sam forget the pie.
Once the door was firmly shut and Dean could hear the faint purr of his baby starting up in the parking lot, he leaned over the side of the bed and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound book. The leather was cut from one of John's old jackets, and the pages were glued in haphazardly, hardly a work of art but it was Dean's.
He flipped open the cover and through the pages covered in some sort of writing, illegible to anyone but Dean. He skimmed through a few pages until he found the page he was looking for. The first blank one in the book, before proceeding to take out a pen from his jacket and jot down his thoughts.
Dean had never been the sensitive type, never one to admit his feelings to the world, not even to Sammy. The only way he could get through life was to drink obsessively, and when able, jot down his thoughts in a home made journal.
His last entry describes the last night of his mother's life. It had always brought some comfort to him that the last thing she ever said to him was that angels were watching over him, even though he never quite believed it. Until now.
He had woken up that morning in cold sweats, confused as to what he just dreamt about. He had seen a vision, the typical bright white light, but emerging from the light was not a departed friend but an angel.
The angel had declared his name was 'Castiel', an unusual but somewhat beautiful name, Dean thought. Unable to look directly at this figure because of the stunning white light, Dean merely listened to his deep gravelly voice as the angel told Dean what he must do.
He was told to go to a barn marked with enochian signs in Oregon by 8 O'Clock that night, and he must go alone. Dean then took it upon himself to drink himself into a drunken stupor, either to pluck up the Dutch courage to go, or forget all about it and merely brush it off as a bad dream. As if he could forget about it.
His plan was to tell Sam that he was going to a bar to get laid whilst Sam stayed in and did research on the monster they were hunting, but instead he would drive the 3 hours it took to get to Oregon from where they were currently staying.
So when Sammy got back, he did just that. He ate his pie (very merrily indeed), made his excuses, and hit the road. He didn't know what to expect when he showed up, that he would even find this barn, or that the entire thing existed. One thing he was sure on though, Sammy would never find out.
After driving for three hours straight, Dean was tired, grumpy and in dire need of a piss. With a gas station nowhere in sight, he decided to pull over and take a whizz by the side of the road. So he got out of the Impala, walked into the bushes and relieved himself. It was whilst he was zipping up that he saw it. A barn in the distance, completely covered in weird symbols.
"What the hell?!" Dean exclaimed to no-one in particular. He would not *correction* he could not believe that he would have just happened upon this barn by accident, and that there had to be something fishy going on.
