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Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is
(Bang bang, shoot shoot)
May 2nd, 2007
It was three in the morning in Cambodia, of all places, when he received Dean's call.
It was an undercover mission, which meant he was currently posing as a simple janitor in a highly prestigious office building that may or may not be trying to steal some Stark tech. He was on watch during the day, and Bobbie Morse (code name Mockingbird) took over from him at night.
So imagine his surprise when the shrill ringing of his cellphone interrupted his precious sleep. He answered it grudgingly after making sure his hearing aids were in place.
"Yo," he greeted with a yawn.
"Clint," came his younger brother's voice, raw and hoarse. "I, I need you to know… What's happened, it's all my fault. I'm gonna fix it."
Clint straightened up from his position in bed, his heart beating fast and a sick feeling in his stomach.
"Dean, what are you going to do?" he said, his tone coming out a little harsher than intended. "What's happened?"
Dean gave a humorless laugh.
"Sammy's dead, big brother. He got a knife in the back last night and I'm gonna fix him."
A feeling of absolute dread washed over the archer at Dean's words. Sam was dead. Sam was dead. But then his brother's other words hit him with full force.
"How are you going to fix him?"
"We'll be seeing you soon, Clint." Dean's voice was deadly calm.
Clint swore to himself as he nearly tripped trying to untangle himself from the bedcovers and plant his feet on the ground, at the same time trying to dial Coulson's phone.
"I need you to send in someone to replace me," he said in a rush as soon as he heard Coulson answer the phone.
"Wha- Hawkeye, are you hurt?" Coulson's voice was full of concern.
"No! No, I'm fine, it's my brothers, my baby brothers, Coulson, please." He was practically begging, and didn't even think of the fact he'd just revealed, a fact that he'd been hiding since he joined the organization.
"Brothers? Agent Barton, please explain what's going on!"
"What's going on is that my baby brother is dead, and my other brother is probably going to do something stupid, and I don't even care about this stupid mission anymore, I'm going to them!" He was breathing heavily, and he slightly red in the face.
On the other line, Coulson let out a sigh. After a slight moment of silence, he spoke.
"Agent, I," he cleared his throat. "Alright, you may go. We'll send in another agent to take your place, but you need to meet with Director Fury and I as soon as you are able."
"Thank you," was all that Clint said, and he ended the call.
He had the S.H.I.E.L.D. tech people track the signal from Dean's cell, and he soon found himself by an old town called 'Cold Oak'. He didn't know quite where his brother was, until he saw Dean's Impala pull into an old – and more than likely abandoned – motel parking lot.
"Dean," he called to him, his face unreadable.
Dean jumped a little, and turned to his older brother with a slightly guilty expression.
"Hey, Clint," he said cautiously as the agent walked up to him. "I, uh, you didn't have to come."
Clint crossed his arms at him.
"What the hell did you do?" he growled, and his younger brother flinched.
"I made a deal." He confessed, his voice almost a whisper. "I went to the crossroads and sold my soul to a crossroads demon to get Sam back. Happy?"
The archer stared at him in shock.
"You did…" he trailed off, staring in horror at his brother's face. "So, ten years to live, then?"
Dean paused, and then shook his head, not looking his older brother in the eyes.
"One." He whispered. "I get one."
Clint didn't know whether to slap him or hug him, so he did neither. He simply walked into the motel room with the younger man. He saw Sam, standing in front of a mirror and examining a fresh scar on his back.
Dean's face morphed into relief as soon as he saw his moose of a brother.
"Sammy? Thank god."
Sam looked at him, brows slightly furrowed.
"Hey," he said, his eyes darting between both of his older brothers.
Dean moved forward and pulled the tall young man into a tight embrace, and Sam winched a little.
"Owwww," he complained. "Uh, Dean?"
Dean released the younger man, looking like he might actually cry.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm sorry, man. I'm just… I'm just happy to see you up and around, that's all."
Sam nodded at him, looking puzzled. Clint couldn't take his eyes off of him, knowing just how close he was to losing his younger brother. The three Winchester brothers sat down, and Sam shot a look to the oldest before returning his gaze to Dean.
"Okay," he said. "Dean, what happened to me?"
Dean hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly and catching Clint's gaze.
"Well," he ventured, "what do you remember?"
Sam's brows scrunched together as he attempted to remember. Clint leaned forward slightly. Would Sam remember that he'd been dead for an entire day?
"I, I saw you and Bobby, and… I felt this pain." Clint's breath hitched a little as his brother spoke. "This sharp pain, like, white-hot, you know, and then you started running at me, and… that's about it." He finished his recount, and stared at Dean expectantly.
Dean nodded, the look on his face making it clear that this was not a good memory for him.
"Yeah, that," he swallowed, "that kid stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood, you know… It was pretty touch and go for awhile."
What kid? The archer thought to himself.
Sam looked confused again.
"But Dean, you can't… you can't patch up a wound that bad."
"No," Dean confessed, and for a moment Clint thought he would tell the truth. "Bobby could. Who was that kid, anyway?"
Again, what kid?
"His name's Jake," Sam said. "Did you get him?"
Dean shook his head.
"No, he disappeared into the woods."
Sam stood up.
"We got to find him, Dean. And I swear I'm gonna tear that son of a bitch apart.
The other two brothers exchanged worried looks.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean said. "Easy, Van Damme."
"You just woke up, all right?" Clint added. "Let's get you something to eat, huh? You want something to eat?" Sam nodded.
"I'm starving," said Dean. "Let's go."
The three of them sat together and ate their lunches, and Sam told his older brothers just what had happened when he'd mysteriously showed up in Cold Oak. Apparently, there were a bunch of other kids like Sam, kids with powers that simply weren't natural.
There were a small group of these kids – including Sam and the guy that had stabbed him – and they had all killed each other off, one by one. A girl called Ava used her powers to summon demons and kill one of the boys. She herself had been killed, and it had just been Sam and that kid Jake when Sam had been killed.
"And that's when you and Bobby showed up," their brother finished, motioning towards Dean.
Dean grimaced a little.
"That's awful," he said. "Poor Andy."
Clint sighed.
"Sounds like he was the only one of you who didn't want to kill anyone," he agreed. "Kid didn't deserve it."
Sam nodded grimly.
"The demon said that he only wanted one of us to walk out alive." He told them, and the older Winchester brothers exchanged a tense look.
"He said that to you?" Clint questioned, and Sam nodded.
"Yep," Sam said, and he scoffed lightly. "He appeared in a dream."
The demon that had killed their mother, killed Sam's girlfriend, wanted these psychic kids for some sick, twisted plan, and Clint didn't know what that plan might be. He had never wanted to kill old Yellow Eyes more than in that moment.
Dean stared at his younger brother.
"He tell you anything else?" he asked him, and Sam shook his head.
"No," he replied. "No, that was it, nothing else." He frowned thoughtfully. "You know, what I don't get, Dean, is if the demon only wanted one of us, then how did Jake and I both get away?"
"Yeah, Dean," Clint chimed in, giving his brother a look. "How did he get away?"
Dean refused to meet either of their eyes.
"Well, I mean, he left you for dead. I'm sure they thought it was over." He took a large bite of pizza and turned away slightly. "So, now that Yellow Eyes has Jake, what's he gonna do with him?"
Sam shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know," he said, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "But, whatever it is, we got to stop him."
Dean's head shot up and he met Clint's eyes, worry obvious in his expression. Clint turned to their younger brother.
"You should probably wait, Sam," he advised the younger man. "You've only just… healed. We don't want you getting hurt."
"You need to get your rest," Dean added. "We've got time."
Sam shot him a light glare.
"No, we don't," he tried to argue, and Clint fixed him with a look.
"Young man, you were… you just recovered from something major." He growled out. "You're staying right here until we know something more substantial, got it?"
Sam scowled at him, but didn't look away.
"Well, did you call the roadhouse?" he asked his brothers. "They know anything?"
Dean clenched his jaw and looked away once more.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
Clint shot him a questioning look.
"You didn't mention the roadhouse at all when I got here," he said.
"Dean," Sam's eyes didn't leave his brother. "What is it?"
Dean slumped slightly in his chair.
"The roadhouse burned to the ground," he said softly. "Ash is dead, probably Ellen. A lot of other Hunters, too."
Shock made Clint immobile for a brief moment. He didn't do much business at the roadhouse; he had no real need to. But that didn't change the fact that he'd known the people there, and that they'd been close to his brothers since their father's passing. Heck, they'd even had Adam's birthday party there last fall!
Tears had formed in Sam's eyes as he stared at Dean.
"Demons?" he asked, and Dean gave a short nod in way of answering.
"Yeah," he said. "We think so. We think because Ash found something."
"What did he find?" Sam questioned.
"Did it have something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon?" Added Clint.
Dean shrugged slightly.
"Bobby's working on that right now," he answered.
"Well, come on then. Bobby's only a few hours away," Sam said, standing from the table.
Both of his brothers stood quickly, and Dean grabbed the taller man by the shoulders. He tried – to no avail – to get Sam to sit this one out, to take a break after almost dying.
After actually dying, Clint thought, wincing ever so slightly.
"Let me go on ahead," he said after Sam made it quite clear that he was not staying put. "I'll… let Bobby know that you're doing better. It might make him feel a bit better, y'know."
Dean looked at him, gratitude showing in his green eyes.
The archer offered both of his younger brothers a quick hug before driving towards Sioux Falls.
Bobby Singer welcomed Clint into his home with open arms.
Well, he didn't call him an 'idjit' or threaten him in any way, which was basically the same thing for him.
"Boy," he said hoarsely as he opened his paint-peeled front door and took in the sight of the younger man. "Dean told ya what happened, then?"
Clint swallowed a lump in his throat and hastily blinked his stinging eyes.
"Yessir," he said quietly. "And he told me what happened when you left." He looked the gruff old man in the eyes. "He went to a crossroads and sold his soul to a demon. He has one year 'till the Hellhounds come for him."
Bobby stood stock-still in his doorway, a look of shock on his face as he processed the information that had just been given to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clint cut him off with a pleading look.
"Sam and Dean are on their way here right now," he continued. "You can't tell Sam what happened. Dean doesn't want him to know just yet."
Bobby closed his eyes briefly and nodded, just as the roar of the Impala's engine signaled the arrival of the two younger Hunters.
The information that Bobby had received – the information that had gotten Ash killed – was cryptic. Bobby had no idea what it meant, and Clint didn't know much more than anyone else in the room. Apparently, it was all demonic omens that were spread out all over the country, except for one particular spot in Southern Wyoming. That area was completely clean, almost like…
"The demons are surrounding it," Clint realized, and the older Hunter nodded in agreement.
Dean frowned at the map spread out on a table before the four Hunters. He looked to Bobby.
"But you don't know why?" he asked him.
"No," he replied, frustrated. "And by this point my eyes are swimming." He shot a furtive look at the youngest man in the room. "Sam, would you mind taking a look at it? Maybe you could catch something I couldn't."
Sam didn't look up.
"Yeah, sure," he agreed.
Bobby glanced at Clint, jerking his head to Sam, as if to say, 'you keep an eye on that boy.' Clint nodded to him.
"Come on, Dean." The gruff older man said as he weaved his way around tall stacks of books and other things piled up in the room. "I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in."
"Yeah," Dean said, and followed after him.
Not too long afterwards, Dean and Bobby reentered the house, this time followed by a familiar person. Brown curls streaked with gray, and a worn face. Her bar – and everyone in it – had gone up in flames, so how was she alive?
"Ellen?" Clint said in confusion and shock, and Sam's head shot up. "I – we thought you were dead!"
Ellen Harvelle – former owner of the Roadhouse – shot him a half-hearted smile.
"Hey, sweetie." Her voice was hoarse.
Bobby led the woman to the kitchen table where they both took a seat as he busied himself by pouring a shot of Holy Water into a small shot glass. He pushed it towards her and she frowned.
"Booby, is this really necessary?" she asked the man, but his face remained impassive.
"Just a belt of Holy Water," he told her. "Shouldn't hurt."
Ellen lifted the shot glass to her mouth and swallowed the blessed water, keeping her eyes on the Hunter sitting across from her.
"Whiskey, now, if you don't mind." She said blandly. Bobby almost cracked a smile.
Dean looked at the woman curiously.
"Ellen, what happened?" the younger man asked her, leaning in closer. "How'd you get out?"
Ellen watched as Bobby poured amber liquid into a glass for her.
"I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else." She scoffed. "But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck." She accepted the drink Bobby offered her, taking a large gulp before exhaling sharply. "Anyway, that's when Ash called, panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high and everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes." She closed her eyes briefly.
Sam looked downwards.
"Sorry, Ellen." He said softly.
Clint watched as Ellen's eyes filled with tears.
"A lot of good people died in there, and I got to live," she snorted. "Lucky me."
"Ellen," the archer began. "You mentioned a safe."
She nodded.
"A hidden safe we keep in the basement," she confirmed.
"Demons get what was in it?" Bobby asked her, and her eyes hardened as she gave a slight smirk.
"No," she said, and pulled a folded map from her pocket. She spread it out across the table, and the others could clearly see the black lines and X's marking it.
"Wyoming," Dean said, and pointed at the lines. "What does that mean?"
They had returned to Bobby's study to see if they could find something in his massive compilation of books that might shed some light on the mysterious map. So far, they were unsuccessful. Clint couldn't take his eyes off of his younger brother, as if Death might come to claim him at any given moment. Although he was relieved that Sam was alive, it was incredibly stupid of Dean to do what he had done.
"I don't believe it," Bobby said suddenly, setting the book he'd been looking through on a side table. Clint glanced over at him.
"What?" he asked.
"You got something?" Sam added.
Bobby snorted.
"A lot more than that. Each of these X's," he pointed to the marks on the map, "is an abandoned frontier church, all mid-19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt."
The name sounded familiar to Clint, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he might have heard it. Hadn't he been a famous Hunter or such? Wait! He had built a gun that could kill anything in the world, including demons. He cracked a small smile. If Colt had a hand in this, it might just be good news.
"Samuel Colt?" Dean questioned Bobby. "The demon-killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?"
Bobby gave a short nod.
"Yep. And there's more. He built private railway lines," here he motioned to the black lines on the map, "connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this."
He took a pen and connected the points on the map until the shape of a star had been made. A grin slowly made it's way on to Dean's face.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is," he said, and Sam quirked a smile as well.
"It's a Devil's Trap," Clint grinned. "A big-ass Devil's Trap."
"One hundred square miles," Sam said in wonder.
Dean almost laughed.
"That's brilliant. Iron lines that demon's can't cross."
Ellen stared at the map.
"I've never heard of anything that massive," she said.
"No one has," Bobby informed her.
Dean frowned slightly.
"And after all these years, none of the lines are broken?" he questioned. "I mean, it still works?"
"Definitely," Sam said with a nod.
Clint looked at his younger brother.
"How do you know that?" he asked him.
Sam tapped the research that they'd originally come to Bobby's for.
"All those omens Bobby found." He replied. "I mean, the demons, they must be circling it and they can't get in."
"But they're trying," Clint murmured, tracing the star shape on the map.
"Why?" Ellen asked the question that they were all thinking. "What's inside?"
Dean explained that nothing was inside the Trap, save for an old cowboy cemetery in the middle. Sam suggested that there was something in the cemetery that Colt was trying to protect.
The Devil's Trap, for some reason, reminded Clint of a S.H.I.E.L.D. location known only as the Sandbox. It was where they kept the most dangerous things that Agent's had come across, including artifacts and people. The Sandbox was meant to keep people on the outside, and to keep things from getting out. He was suddenly struck with an idea.
"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out?" Clint finally said, looking up. "What if he was trying to keep something in?"
Ellen frowned.
"Now that's a comforting thought," she said sarcastically.
"Yeah," Dean replied, "You think?"
Sam glanced towards the older Hunter.
"Could they do it, Bobby?" he asked him with a frown. "Could they get inside?"
Bobby shook his head.
"This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it." He answered. "No way a full-blood demon gets across."
Sam furrowed his brow thoughtfully.
"No," he agreed. After a pause, he added, "But I know who could."
The night air was heavy as they watched the young man walk towards a crypt standing in the cemetery. He looked slightly nervous, but he stayed stoic and continued to his destination.
“Howdy, Jake.”
Sam, Bobby, and Ellen appeared from the shadows, their guns raised. Dean and Clint stood behind a large tomb, ready with their own weapons.
Jake spun around, looking at the tall young man in utter confusion.
“Wait,” he said. “You were dead, I killed you!”
Sam smirked.
“Yeah? Well next time, finish the job.” He replied easily.
The dark-skinned young man did not look away from him.
“I did!” he protested. “I cut clean through your spinal cord, man.” Sam, confused, shot a quick glance at Dean, who lowered his eyes briefly. “You can’t be alive. You can’t be.”
Bobby moved forward slightly.
“Okay, just take it real easy there, son.” The older man’s voice, while gruff, was calm.
Jake glared at him.
“And if I don’t?” he tested, and Clint tensed slightly.
“Wait and see,” Sam threatened, but the other man only laughed.
“What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do, kill me?”
There was no pause, no hesitation as Sam spoke his next words with an unsettling glare.
“It’s a thought.”
Jake snorted.
“You had your chance,” he said. “You couldn’t.”
Sam’s glare deepened.
“I won’t make that mistake twice.”
Jake began to laugh, and the sound of his laughter made Clint’s gut twist. Beside him, Dean moved from his position behind the tomb and stepped out of the shadows, his grip on his gun tightening.
“What are you smiling at, you little bitch?” he snarled, and Jake’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile and he turned back to face the rag-tag group in front of him.
“Hey, lady,” he said. “Do me a favor. Put that gun to your head.”
Shakily, Ellen raised her gun to her head and pointed it at her temple.
“See, that Ava girl was right,” Jake continued. “Once you give in to it, there’s all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.”
So the kid could control people with his voice, Clint realized. He smirked slightly as he removed his hearing aids and pocketed them. His world was immediately enveloped in silence.
Although he could no longer tell what anyone was saying, he understood that Jake would make Ellen shoot herself before anyone could even touch the dark-skinned man. Sam, Bobby, and Dean lowered their guns, but Ellen’s was still firmly directed at herself.
Jake turned around and pulled out a gun – the demon killing Colt gun. He inserted it into the door of the crypt like it was a key. Clint caught Dean’s eye and he jerked his head toward Ellen. Dean nodded, and he and Bobby grabbed to woman before she could even pull the trigger.
Together, Clint and Sam opened fire on the man before him. He fell to the ground, gasping, and as Sam made his way over to him, Clint returned his hearing aids to his ears and turned them on.
“Please… don’t,” Jake was gasping, his eyes wide. “Please.”
Sam shot him three more times in the chest, and Clint winced slightly as the blood splattered onto his younger brother’s face.
Ellen and Bobby walked past Sam, and Bobby gave the younger man a hard look. Clint and Dean walked over to their brother, and Dean looked down at the body of the young man. Sam used his shirt to wipe the blood from his face.
There was a sudden noise of stone rubbing against stone, and the five Hunters turned to see what was happening. Two separate engravings on the crypt began to spin in different directions, and then came to a stop.
“Oh, no,” Bobby muttered.
Ellen turned to him.
“Bobby, what is it?” she asked him, worried.
“It’s hell.” Bobby said simply.
Clint’s eyes widened, and he rushed forward to remove the Colt from the crypt before Dean grabbed him by the arm and yanked him backwards.
“Take cover,” Bobby called. “Now!”
All five of them ducked behind tombstones as the doors to the crypt burst open and a large, writhing black mass erupted from the other side and shot outwards. The Devil’s Trap surrounding the cemetery was breached, and the demons were escaping.
The black demon smoke continued to pour from the crypt, with tendrils of smoke haring off in different directions.
“What the hell just happened?” Dean demanded, peeking at the open crypt from behind one of the tombstones.
“That’s a Devil’s Gate,” Ellen called back to him in reply. “A damn door to Hell.”
Part of the railway iron surrounding the cemetery bent and broke into two parts, and Clint looked at it desperately.
“Come on!” he shouted to the others. “We gotta shut that gate before anything else gets through!”
“Lemme see the Colt,” Dean said to him, and Clint pressed it into his younger brothers hands. “If the demon gave this to Jake, then maybe…” he started to say, but was interrupted by a crash of thunder. The Yellow Eyed Demon appeared behind him, flinging the gun out of Dean’s hand and into his own. Dean had an astonished look on his face, and Clint was sure that it was mirrored on his own.
“Boys shouldn’t play with Daddy’s guns,” The demon grinned, and he tossed Dean and Clint into the air. Clint managed to land more or less unscathed (although he was quite dizzy), but Dean’s head hit a tombstone, and he lay there, stunned.
“No!” Clint wheezed, having had the wind knocked out of him.
Sam, who was struggling to help Bobby and Ellen get the door to the crypt shut, looked over at the sound of his eldest brother’s voice. He caught sight of Dean lying weakly next to a tombstone, and then at the Yellow Eyed Demon, who gave him a feral grin.
“Dean!” Sam cried. He let go of the gate door and ran towards his brothers. The demon threw him against a nearby tree.
“I’ll get to you in a minute, champ,” he said. “But I’m proud of you. Knew you had it in you.” Dean struggled to get upright, and the demon tossed him against a post. “Sit a spell. So, Dean…” he began, that mockery of a smile still on his face. “I’ve gotta thank you. You see, demons can’t resurrect people, unless a deal is made. I know, red tape – it’ll make you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy’s back in rotation.”
The demon laughed an ugly laugh; throwing back it’s meatsuit’s head. In his dizzy haze, Clint wondered just what the demon was talking about. He still didn’t know what it wanted with all of those ‘special kids’, but he did know that Sam was one of those children.
“Now, I wasn’t counting on that,” the demon continued, “but I’m glad. I liked him better than Jake, anyhow. Tell me,” He cocked his head slightly and stared down at Dean. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘if a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?’”
Dean glared up at him.
“You call that deal good?” he snarled, but the demon didn’t waver.
“Well, it’s a better shake than your dad ever got,” It replied. “And you never wondered why? I’m surprised at you. I mean,” The Yellow Eyed Demon approached Dean, speaking with him face to face, “you saw what your brother just did to Jake right? That was pretty cold, wasn’t it?”
The demon chuckled, and the next words that it spoke sent shivers up Clint’s spine.
“How certain are you that what you brought back is one hundred percent, pure, Sam?”
Clint could see Sam standing off a few feet away, looking horrified. He was uncertain as to whether or not his younger brother had heard what the demon had just told Dean, or was just upset at the demon facing down his brothers. Behind him, tendrils of demon smoke continued to pour from the crypt, and what appeared to be ghosts were now exiting it and walking among the graveyard.
The demon laughed again and continued taunting Dean.
“You of all people should know, that what’s dead should stay dead. Anyway, thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive, for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn’t have done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family.”
As the Yellow Eyed Demon cocked the Colt and aimed it at Dean, the transparent figure of John Winchester grabbed the demon from behind, ripping it from the host body, which fell to the ground, gun still in hand. The boys’ father and the writhing demon wrestled for a time before the demon pushed John’s spirit to the ground and reentered its meatsuit.
The demon stood, but was met with Dean’s hard glare as he pointed the Colt at the monster that killed his mother. With a loud cracking noise, he fired the gun directly into the demon’s heart, and it fell to the ground once more, dead.
Sam rushed over to help Clint stand up, and Bobby and Ellen finally managed to close the gate doors. They all turned to look at the pale figure of John Winchester, who walked towards Dean with a soft smile on his face. He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and neither of their eyes remained dry. Sam supported Clint, and the two of them approached their father and brother.
“Thanks, Dad,” Clint croaked, and their father nodded and smiled at the three of his sons. With another look at Dean, John stepped backwards and disappeared into a white light.
After John left, the three of them moved to stand over the demon’s still smoking body, astonished.
“Well,” Dean said. “Check that of the to-do list.” He gave a relieved laugh, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Clint couldn’t blame him; the entire ordeal felt like some bizarre dream, ending with the death of the demon that had killed their mother exactly twenty-four years earlier. Twenty-four years of revenge, finally over.
“You did it,” Sam said, staring at Dean.
Dean gave a small smile and looked at his brothers.
“I didn’t do it alone,” he said.
“You did good, kiddo,” Clint said, his voice still hoarse.
There was a slight pause before Sam broke the silence.
“Do you think Dad really…” he began, “do you think he really climbed outta hell?”
Dean shrugged.
“The door was open,” he stated.
“And if anyone is stubborn enough to climb out, that’d be our Dad,” Clint surmised.
Sam looked upwards.
“Where do you think he is now?”
“I don’t know,” answered Dean.”
Clint placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder.
“He’s someplace better than hell, that’s for sure.”
“I kind of can’t believe it, guys. I mean, our whole lives, everything has been prepping for this, and now I…” Sam chuckled. “I kind of don’t know what to say.”
Dean snorted.
“I do,” he said, and he leaned closer to the body that the demon had possessed. “That was for our mom, you son of a bitch.”
Clint joined Bobby and Ellen, and watched as his younger brothers walked over towards the Impala. The two of them had quite a bit to talk about, he thought, and they needed to do it without him interfering.
“I’m glad that Dad got out,” he said to the two older Hunters, and Bobby grunted in agreement.
“I wish he hadn’t got himself in there in the first place, that idjit,” he said. “Still. He saved his boys.” He shot Clint a look. “What’re you planning on doing, boy?”
The archer gave a shrug.
“I don’t know. I need to tell my wife that Sam’s back, and I think I’m gonna have to talk with the Director about my deserting my post. We’ll see what happens after that.” He looked back towards his brothers. He could tell that Dean had finally told Sam the truth about everything, but both of the boys were taking things much better than he had anticipated.
He, Bobby, and Ellen approached the younger men as they finished talking, and Ellen began to speak.
“Well,” she said. “Yellow Eyed Demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate.”
Dean frowned slightly.
“How many you think?” he asked.
Sam was the one who answered his question.
“Hundred. Maybe two hundred,” he said. “It’s an army. He’s unleashed an army.”
Bobby looked between the three brothers.
“Hope to hell you boys are ready.” He told them. “’Cause the war has just begun.”
A war… They had ended the fight for revenge, but had entered something new and entirely different. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about Clint’s little brothers, the Yellow Eyed Demon was dead, and hundreds of demonic souls had been set loose from hell.
“Well then,” Dean said with a smile. “We got work to do.”
END