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Dean and Sam stand back-to-back, watching as the Hunters exit the Roadhouse in groups of twos and threes and four and start to circle them. They’ve all heard the rumors – they all know what feeds Sam’s visions.
“Dean,” it’s Sam and Dean feels him starting to slump down, “no, please, God, not now – not now.”
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice strains and then he sees what’s happening. His brother is on the ground, moaning as the pain consumes and it’s all Dean can do to just stand tall, body rigid as he watches the other Hunters surround them – Dean’s fingers itching toward the Colt tucked in the back of his jeans.
And just when he thinks that all is lost, there’s a screeching of tires and a rumble-roar of a powerful engine.
It’s John.
Only one of the Hunters doesn’t get out of the way in time – Dean watches as the man falls beneath his father’s tires. But honestly? Dean can’t find it in himself to care as he picks his brother up and throws him into the truck.
“Go, go, go!” he shouts and John’s screeching out onto the road just as fast as he can.
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End.