Chapter Text
-------------------------------------------------------July 30th, 2012----------------------------------------------------
Numb.
Left hand clenching the wheel with white fingers. Right pressed hard to a wound that isn’t bleeding anymore. Left foot sliding on glass, right stomped down on the gas. It’s easier to think that way, to divide his body into sections and watch them move without a whole. Just his body moving and not thinking about
Dean.
A steady rock. A shoulder to not-cry on. One constant in a crazy world. Blink and he’s gone. Just another soul flickering out of existence.
Like so many things in his life. Like the house that smelled of musty books. The man that smelled like good whiskey, cheap beer, and leather. Blink, and the fire’s consuming him, he’s crumbling to ash with a pained expression on his wrinkled face. The house is burning, burning, burning and Dean’s inside, everyone and everything is taken away.
Sam Winchester flees south in an empty car with boiling tears in his eyes that never fall. He knows one thing—he’s the last holdout in a world soaked in evil. Black goo splattered across every surface of a white room. They killed the Leviathan, but they still lost.
Like armies clashing, in all their pride and glory, they left each other mortally wounded. Now the black carrion arrive to grow fat on their corpses, cawing in their victory. The only true victory, for what victory is there in death?
There’s no victory because Dean is
Because
Because how can he
Now that he’s
Numb.
Sam Winchester flees south, praying. He prays that Crowley will be satisfied with Meg and Kevin. He prays once more for an enemy to underestimate him and give him time to plan. He prays every spell and enchantment he knows, hoping it will be enough to hide him. To save Kevin. To stop Crowley, because if he doesn’t, who will? He screams at God that this is their lot in life; he rails because even now he knows he’s still supposed to be the one to pick up the pieces, stop the next apocalypse, kill Crowley. And in the middle of it all, over and over, a different prayer slips out. Please give him back to me. Please.
God…does not listen.
Crowley overtakes him within four hours. He rips the doors off their black metal home. Blood splatters on torn leather seats as the demons drag Sam out into the middle of the road. He swings Ruby’s knife, connects once, twice, not enough.
Then there is no one left.