An AU ending to 4.03.
The world doesn't end on a Wednesday night, but Dean's world does. It's kind of funny, really, that after everything he's been through (after everything they've all been through) it all ends with someone actually doing the sensible thing. Maybe it's even the right thing.
Except, if it is funny, he isn't laughing. Not even a little.
Dean arrives just in time to hear the quiet and painful "no" fall from Mary's lips. He aims the Colt at his dead grandfather and knows it's too late. The demon bursts out of Samuel's mouth in a cloud of black smoke before he even has a chance to pull the trigger.
At least his mother is alive. Dean wasn't too late for that.
He hears the rustle of unseen wings and Dean doesn't turn his eyes away from Mary; he doesn't need to look to know that Castiel is standing next to him.
"This… should not have happened." He has never heard Castiel talk in anything but that grave monotone, except this time it's different. He can hear the hesitation in Castiel's voice, but Dean can't even begin to guess what the actual emotion behind it is. If there even is any.
It's in that moment that Dean knows. He knows that in the world where Mary Winchester dies over little Sammy's crib, where John Winchester becomes a hunter and raises his two sons into that life, in that world his mother doesn't tell the demon no. This… isn't that world.
He doesn't look at Castiel; his eyes are glued to the sight of his mother sitting on the ground, cradling his dead father's head in her lap and her own dead father lying on the ground next to her. And Dean knows now that his dad isn't coming back.
She doesn't cry.
Later Dean will wonder what he might have said to Mary, what he actually did that changed things. What was it that made her refuse the deal the demon offered her, when she never did before? What was it that made her give up her chance at the normal life she'd been craving? He will never ask.
But at the moment all he can think of is that it's all over. It's all over before it ever even began. John is dead and Sam will never be born and there's no reason for the world to end. Everything Dean ever cared for is gone in an instant and all he feels is numb.
Mary did what Dean never could have done; she killed Sammy.
"How am I still… alive?" Dean asks Castiel. If he's still here then maybe there's still a chance to bring his dad back, still a chance to… but no. He can't, not again. Dad wouldn't want him to, Sam wouldn't want him to, and all Dean wants is to tell the world to go screw itself, because this is his family.
Dean should have been gone as well. He would be okay with that. Or… well, obviously he wouldn't be anything at all since he would never have existed, but he's okay with the thought. What he isn't even remotely okay with is to be here, to be alive and remembering everything, knowing that his baby brother will never exist. Knowing that except himself no one will ever even know that his Sammy ever lived.
The only answer he gets is a flutter of wings, and when Dean turns his head to look, he already knows that he's standing there alone.
"Damn angels," he mutters without any real feeling at all.
He pockets the Colt. It's not going to help him right now; he doubts the demon is coming back any time soon. Maybe it will be back later, if Sam really is as important as the demons seem to think. If it is that important that it's Sam. But that's a problem for later. Just like all the rest.
You do the job in front of you.
Yeah, Dean thinks. He can do that. For now that's all he can do, if he starts thinking about all of it… not a good idea. And the only job in front of him right now is to take care of the only part of his family still left alive, to take care of Mary.
Dean walks over to where Mary is sitting. He can't help but brush a hand against the Impala as he walks past it. There's comfort in the hard, smooth lines of his baby; the cool metal under his hand. He doesn't let himself think about how she's not his, not now… not yet. Maybe not ever, now.
"You okay?" He asks Mary. It's a stupid question; of course she isn't. Neither of them is, and it's so obvious it hurts, but there isn't anything else he can say.
She looks up at him, eyes dry and hollow. He's seen it before; that look, those eyes. He's seen them in the mirror in the cheep motel rooms and abandoned houses that he's long ago lost count of. He's almost sure that if the demon had asked for her soul, she would have taken the deal.
Maybe he really is his mother's son.
"No," she says, voice low and blank. It's nothing but a statement of fact; she's not okay, she'll never be okay. No hunter really is.
Dean looks at John Winchester, who'll never be the father he remembers, lying there still and dead. Looks at Samuel Campbell who he barely knew, but who he'd come to respect in that short time, who didn't deserve to die at the hands of that yellow eyed bastard anymore than any of his family did.
"Yeah," Dean says.
She looks back down at the head cradled in her lap. She pets the dark hair gently.
"I need to tell his dad." Her voice wavers slightly. "I'll stay for the funeral." It doesn't sound like she's really talking to Dean. "And my parents…" her words drift off into the quiet.
She looks up, meets Dean's eyes. "You need some help hunting that demon?" The tone of her voice is hard and there's no real question in it.
"Yeah" Dean agrees, voice rough. "I think maybe I do." It's all either of them has now and for now, it'll have to be enough.