Lady, I'm Tolstoy

Dean crumples the letter, shoves it in his back pocket, and keeps walking. His most immediate problem is that the Roman Empires parking lot is stupidly huge, and since he doesn't want anyone near his Baby, opening their doors into her and ruining her beautiful paintjob, he parks her at the very edge. Which means a lot of walking.

Dean hums a tune under his breath as he walks, seeing fewer and fewer cars as he gets further from the building. He can finally see Baby and he can't wait to relax into her comforting leather for his journey home - there's some leftover pizza and a beer waiting for him.

When Dean finally reaches Baby he's made it to the very edge of the parking lot, where a small row of fast food places start. There's an alley that runs behind them all that Dean can just about see from where he is - a couple of employees are hanging around smoking cigarettes by the backdoors, and a young couple look like they're having a heated argument in the deep shadows of the dumpsters. He can't quite hear what they're saying, but they're both gesturing violently, and their whispers are strained with stress.

None of his business, Dean thinks, fishing out his car keys.

But suddenly they start yelling and the woman starts to sob, and Dean pauses. He looks over at them again.

The guy has a gun in his hands, held up to point at the woman's chest.

Shit.

Without any conscious thought Dean is in the alley trying to get the guy's attention. The smoking break employees have disappeared, and now there's just Dean, the woman, and the gunman.

"Hey. Hey buddy, c'mon. You don't have to do this. Just put the gun down, okay?" Dean says in a gentle voice, even if his heart is slamming against his ribcage. Every muscle is screaming at him to turn and run, but he keeps moving forwards, hands raised like he's trying not to spook a wild horse.

What the fuck is he doing. He shouldn't be here. He works in sales!

Steadily Dean keeps walking, trying to offer calm words.

"Stop there or I'll shoot!" the gunman yells, turning the gun on Dean.

Good.

Dean makes a motion to the woman, and she immediately turns to sprint away down the alley. A back door opens that she ducks into, and one of the smoking employees emerges, pointing towards Dean and the gunman to someone else who steps out of the same door. Dean barely has time to register dark hair and blue eyes when he realizes the opportunity he's been given - the gunman has been distracted by the woman running, and now he's clear for Dean to tackle.

So he does.

He lunges for the gun.

They struggle.

A gunshot thunders.

Pain lances through Dean's chest.

Dean looks down in a kind of detached interest as red blooms across the front of his shirt. He doesn't register falling to his knees, but suddenly that's where he is. There's ringing in his ears, blood pouring out of his chest, and the floor rises up to meet him - or maybe he falls down onto it. The thud jolts his body and it feels like his skin is on fire. He can't breathe.

Dean thinks of how ironic it is to die the day before he gets a Guardian Angel. A cosmic joke.

But slowly the pain fades. The world lurches again and Dean realizes he's being propped up into someone's lap. There's a strong hand on his shoulder and one on his chest and the pain is going away. Dean blinks up at the person whose lap his head is in and sees the same dark hair and blue eyes from earlier. Except this time they're glowing.

Gentle warmth threads through his veins, pleasantly replacing the scalding fire that he felt before. It feels nice. He finds that he can breathe again, and Dean draws in a particularly loud gasp as his lungs remember how to work.

This isn't possible...

Suddenly something deep within Dean almost clicks into place, with a force strong enough to take his breath away again. It feels right. The faltering grip on his shoulder and a shuddering gasp means that the mystery guy must have felt the same thing.

Dean looks up at him to see that his eyes are still glowing, but now there's also the outline of a bright golden ring above the man's head, and dark shadowy shapes behind his back.

Oh no.

Is he...?

Did they just...?