This One's Different

Dean inwardly groaned and grabbed another beer, trying to drown out his younger brother's desperate pleas for him to sober up. To get out and hunt.

Hunt.

Dean hadn't been on a successful hunt in three months. After the last failed attempt at a save, Dean finally gave up. He thoroughly convinced himself he was a fraud. A disgrace to his parent's legacy.

"Hunt, Sam?! Last time I tried to hunt, an innocent teenager was killed by a vetala! And the time before that, an entire family was wiped out by a demon! I am not hunting!"

Sam looked at his older brother sadly. Sam had seen Dean change before his eyes. He was so happy with Ben and Lisa, when he got Sam's soul back, even though he knew Sam didn't want it. He had just wanted his baby brother back. When he had Cas wipe his more-than-temporary family's memory, Sam saw Dean's green eyes loose their life, as they had when their father died. But Dean had healed then. Yes, it had taken a few weeks, but Dean had come back. He had come back for Sam. For Sam, and Jo, and Ellen, Bobby, and even Ash. But Dean wasn't coming back this time. This time, he wouldn't heal himself, though. It wasn't that he couldn't heal himself, he just... Wouldn't.

Interrupting both of their thought processes, Castiel walked through the door, having decided it was best to not agitate Dean with his power from above. Sensing the apparent tension in the room, he tentatively laid the freshly bought pie on the table in front of the older Winchester, hoping that it might help some, but no avail.

Dean turned his head in drunken disgust, fighting the urge to throw the baked good. Castiel sighed,

"Dean, it is unhealthy enough for you to drink as much as you do, but if you insist on doing it, I advise that you at least don't do it on an empty stomach." Cas' voice held true concern for his friend, but in his drunken state, Dean refused to listen to reason. He just turned his head towards his two companions.

"Don't tell me what's good and bad for me, Castiel! I don't care about that median! I just do what's good for my mind!" Dean said, just over a normal volume. Cas flinched at the use of his full name, for Dean rarely used it. Though Cas took it as just another one of Dean's "life choices", Sam was through.

"Well damnit, you know what Dean? Drinkin' ain't good for your mind either! You're being ridiculous! You need to get over yourself! You're killing yourself, all because you don't want to feel, you want to be numb, and forget about everything! Cas and I have tried to help, and we've done everything we can to help you! We just don't know how to help! You won't cope!" During his speech, Dean had pulled out the strongest drink he had and downed it, and he was close to incoherent. It was what gave him the power to say the words that would forever change his life.

"Then just leave!"

And leave they did.

--------------------

Anya twisted the expensive ring that had made it's home on her left ring finger, debating whether or not to take it off. Of course, that would raise more suspicion, due to the fact that people seem to think that she had some role in her late husband's tragic plane crash.

Idiots.

She didn't have any part in his death! But she knew exactly who did. The day before he died, he told her the whole story. How he had made the deal. How the next day would be the last of ten (fairly) happy years. He even told her the name of the demon he made the deal with.

Crowley.

Yes, Anya wasn't a normal heiress by normal standards, but she differed even farther through her bloodline. Anya was a decendant of an archangel. But, Anya wasn't honored like the rest of her family. She was disgusted. No, she wasn't the most religious person in world, she was far from it, but she still believed in God and his angels. She knew she wanted to end up in Heaven instead of Hell, but her family.... Her family was a direct decendant of Lucifer, and they were proud.

At times of high family tension, she reminded herself that she was technically like Sirius Black. The first Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins. So of course, when they arranged an immediate marriage for her, she was universally pissed.

She had bitched and moaned all the way up to the pastor and even then she attempted to run. Her parents wouldn't have that, now would they?

The month following the wedding, Anya locked herself in one of their mansion's many guest rooms, only leaving to play gigs in the nearby city and volunteer every other day at the hospital's Nursery and Comatose wards. When she was 'home', she was in the room, watching NCIS or Sherlock.

The next month she started to give her husband a chance. She would sit at the table with him at breakfast and dinner, and sometimes, maybe try small talk.

On April 26th, he told her his story, and she hugged him, out of friendship, not love. On April 27th, a hellhound was placed on the plane, killing everyone inside, and the plane went down.

------------Two Weeks Later---------

Anya sat silently at the graveside service, no tears falling from the black veiled bride's eyes. She just... Watched. Anya didn't feel sorrow or remorse, or whatever you're supposed to feel at a funeral, but she did feel something different. Curiosity.

If demons that made deals were out there, what else was there? Vampires? Sirens? She wasn't sure, but she wanted to know more. She broke away from her thoughts as the casket began to lower into the ground.

Anya wanted to know more. She wanted to find out what went bump in the night. And she was going to know soon.