Chapter Text
Dean was gone.
Dean was gone.
Dick was gone, not dead but he couldn’t hurt anyone. The world was safe from the Leviathans, at the low, low price of Dean Winchester’s life. And wasn’t that just a punch to the gut? They could do anything, they could give up everything to fix the world, they could damn it, they could drive themselves down to the bone; but they were never safe. There would never be a happy ending for Sam and Dean Winchester.
Sam stared straight ahead as he sped through the night. Dean was gone, and so was Cas. Bobby was dead. Who knew where Kevin was. Sam was alone . For what felt like the first time in his life, he felt well and truly alone. It was different when Dean was in Hell—Bobby was out there, and there was a place to run to if he really needed it—and even when he was in the Cage, where he could comfort himself with the thought that Dean was alive, safe, and living his life out while Sam was being tortured. But now there was nowhere to go. There was nobody to run to. And there was nothing Sam could do about it.
He blinked through the tears streaming down his eyes. There was nothing left for him. His foot pressed on the Impala’s gas pedal. Dean was gone. He took a deep breath, and slowly lifted his hands off the wheel—
There was a body on the side of the road.
Sam swerved to the side. He looked like he was still breathing, and he’d never forgive himself if he just left him there. He opened the door and wrapped his jacket around himself, shivering slightly from the chilly wind. The kid couldn’t have been any older than sixteen, with a black eye forming on his face and blood coating his chest.
“Hey, you okay, kid?” he whispered, crouching down to check for a pulse. It was weak, but steady, and Sam let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. The kid let out a whine, and Sam made a decision.
It took a little maneuvering, but eventually the kid was in the back of the Impala, a spare coat draped over him, and Sam was speeding towards the nearest motel.
Klaus wasn’t sure what was going on.
Last he knew, one of his dealers was kicking his ass because—well, actually, he wasn’t quite sure why. Ben had been urging him to run, but when had Klaus ever listened to Ben? He just wanted his drugs, dammit. But now, some shaggy-haired giant was placing him on a bed, making soft shushing noises at him. Something was making some sort of high-pitched whine, too, and—oh, that was coming from him. Ben was standing near him, never taking his eyes off the new guy. Klaus looked towards him.
“Should be safe,” Ben muttered with an eye-roll. “Should’ve just left it alone with Josh, dumbass.”
Was that the dealer’s name?
Shaggy was back, a first-aid kit in his hands. And, damn, that thing was huge. It was almost as big as the emergency medical bag Mom always had for after a mission.
There was a cloth gently wiping the blood and dirt from his face. He closed his eyes, and he could almost imagine it was Mom fixing him up.
The kid had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past hour. When he was conscious, he kept calling for his mother, someone named Ben, and occasionally a Diego. It was nothing too serious; mostly superficial, and he only needed to stitch a few gashes.
Now, Sam was sitting on a chair near the door, head in his hands. He wished Dean was here. He’d know what to do. Dean always knew what to do. Sam only fucked things up, and he really, really didn’t want to hurt the kid. He just wanted Dean . God, it felt like he’d lost him ages ago. When was the last time Dean actually trusted him? Before he released Lucifer, probably.
Listen here, you bloodsucking freak…
Sam had no idea why Dean even bothered staying with him. Why Dean kept him by his side even after everything Sam had done. How could he even look him in the eye? He’d never made good on his threats, if he had Sam wouldn’t be sitting here right now, but sometimes Sam wished he had. He wished he’d just gotten it over with, shot him or stabbed him or burnt him alive, he didn’t care. Maybe if Dean had, he’d be alive right now. Maybe Bobby would be there, and standing. Maybe Ellen and Jo would be perfectly safe. Maybe Cas would be in Heaven, in his home, with his family. All Sam ever did was ruin things—
“Hey,” said a voice, slightly slurred.