There was too much blood and they both knew it. There was too much crimson coating the floor, too much. This was it. The end of the line. There were no more do-overs or reset buttons. No more outrunning fate or escaping Hell. Death was coming for them and there was no denying the inevitable.
Dean groaned and looked over at Sam, who was sprawled on the ground just over two feet away. He could barely breathe, something had broken inside him and was skewering his insides, and all he could taste was blood and the sour tang of bile.
But he could still see Sammy, still see his baby brother. Even if Sam couldn't see him. Dean's little brother's hazel eyes were slowly but surely glazing over.
Dean could feel it coming, the dark. Could feel it eating away at the corners of his eyes, could feel it blurring the edges of his mind, dulling his senses and slowing his heart.
"D'n?"
The older Winchester's heart practically stopped. Sam's voice was so weak, so broken and scared. Laced with a vulnerability Dean hadn't heard in years.
"I'm here Sammy, I'm here." Somehow, by some angel's grace, Dean managed to summon the strength and willpower to crawl over to his brother's side. Blood coated them both, staining and spreading dangerously across their shirts. "I'm here."
"D'n." Sam's voice was practically a whisper, the near-silent sigh of the wind blowing through a cornfield.
"I'm not leaving you, Sammy. You and me against the world, Always together right?" His own voice was weak and hushed, cracking and slurring as darkness began to claim him, dragging him down, down, down…
"Always."
That word was his anchor as he searched for something to say, anything, everything in this last moment of clarity, lucidity.
"Bitch."
The sound that escaped Sam's throat was wet and hacking- a laugh, Dean realized.
"Jerk," he replied in a voice soft as ever. His final breath.
And as the life slipped from his brother, Dean Winchester let his head drop finally, his eyes slipping shut, darkness overtaking him, for he knew without a doubt, that there would never truly be a goodbye between the two brothers, only a see you soon.
Ash hated being on bartender duty. But when the Roadhouse was full and Jo was in the corner flirting with that red-headed Hunter, Charlie, he had to step up and take one for the team. After all, the Roadhouse was his. He had created the Hunter's sanctuary upstairs and had warded it against the junk-less douchebags otherwise known as angels.
"What's the news on my boys, Ash?" A voice asked. "Anything new from Castiel?"
Ash looked up from the drink he was mixing. "Last I heard they were chasing a demon down in Milwaukee, some nasty son of a bitch," he said, sliding the drink over to Mary Winchester.
"You say that like it's a normal thing."
"Well, they are-" he paused, noting the sadness hidden in Mary's voice. "- they are the Winchesters," Ash continued. "Sam and Dean have saved the world more times than I can count-"
"- and started the end of the world in the first place that many times too, the idjits." Bobby slid onto the stool next to Mary. "Don't worry, Mary. I'm sure your boys are fine. They've had more than their share of run-ins with demons and the-"
A sudden noise cut through the air. Soft and persistent and calming and familiar. All eyes jumped to Ash, who shook his head. It couldn't be angels. The building was too well warded and protected against the celestial beings.
A small sound echoed through the bar, slightly louder than the hum from outside, growing louder by the second. John Winchester had gone paler than death himself.
"No…" he whispered. "It-it can't be..."
Two beams of light hit the Roadhouse windows before coming to a stop. A key was turned and the purring died away into a quiet nothingness.
Hearts froze and breathing slowed as it all clicked into place. Why the noise sounded so familiar and comforting.
It was the hum of an engine.
The engine of a 1967 Chevy Impala.
Lights flashed. Winds roared and rain poured. Glass exploded and wood was torn apart. Sparks flew and burst as a figure walked beneath the electric lights, a path of destruction lying in his wake.
And a scream. A scream that pierced the highest levels of Heaven and the lowest pits of Hell. A sound of pure despair and pain. Not even the screams of the damned could be compared to the one that left the blue-eyed angel as he knelt beside the two hunters.
Dean and Sam Winchester are dead.
Two hunters who had never been given a choice. Two hunters who had always put the world before themselves. Two hunters who had saved the world because it was their mess to clean up.
Dean and Sam Winchester are dead.
Two brothers who had more losses than wins. Two brothers who would charge into Hell one for the other. Two brothers who had taught a fallen angel how to love. Two brothers who had taught a demon to feel mercy. Two brothers who had taught others how to live.
Dean and Sam Winchester are dead.
The cries that left Castiel were broken. His cries were heard across the universe. Every angel in Heaven and every demon in Hell shivered as the bone-chilling cry rang in their ears.
Dean and Sam Winchester are dead.
Somewhere across the world, a red-headed witch leaned against the wall of her apartment in shock. Somewhere, on the throne of Hell, an ex-crossroads demon muttered "Bollocks" and slumped on his throne, defeated. Somewhere, hidden and living in secrecy, a trickster fell to his knees in anguish as he heard the news. Somewhere, in a far corner of the universe, two beings, one dark and one light, held each other closely as the news shimmered in the air around them.
Dean and Sam Winchester are dead.
Lightning flashed as Castiel's grace flared, as his wings spread to cover the broken bodies of the two boys. Two boys who had become his light of hope in the dark tunnel of the world.
The Roadhouse doors banged open. A gust of wind blew through the bar, causing its inhabitants to shiver.
No one moved. Time was irrelevant. Millennia could pass and not one hunter would move, eyes never leaving the two new arrivals.
Green and hazel scanned the room. Hundreds, thousands, millions of emotions flooded their eyes and flitted across their faces, until-
"Mom?"
Dean's voice cracked as he took half a step forward, Sam right behind him. A hand on his shoulder in moral support.
The ex-hunter nodded with a watery smile, moving towards the two. "Dean. Sammy," she said. "You both got so big."
The older Winchester brother broke.
Everything went sideways and blurred as he fell, legs unable to hold him up anymore. His knees hit dusty wooden floors just as a broken sob went through him. Mary knelt beside him, holding him tightly as tremors racked through her son.
"I'm sorry, mom. I'm so sorry." Dean's words were muffled and thick as he held on tight, his hold on her a silent promise that he wasn't going lose her- not again and not ever. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The older Winchester kept apologizing. The words were his mantra. They were the anchors that kept him tethered to reality.
Dean didn't even know what he was apologizing for. Letting Sam die in Cold Oak. Breaking the first seal in Hell. The apocalypse. Azazel, Ruby, Lucifer, Raphael. Sam going soulless. The mark of Cain. Him becoming a Demon.
For John's death. For Ash, Ellen, and Jo's deaths. For Bobby's death. For Charlie, Eileen, Kevin- innocents he had dragged into this life, victims of the twisted game. For everything and anything. For nothing at all.
And Mary held him through it all. "It's alright, Dean. It's ok," she soothed, stroking his hair softly.
Sam watched them through wet eyes. He was numb. His body rooted to the floor, freezing him in place. Emotions battled for dominance within his mind, sending rivers of tears streaming down his face.
John finally moved forward and joined the two on the floor, embracing his older son and wife.
Despite himself, Sam smiled.
This was all he ever wanted. His family safe, together, happy. The younger Winchester didn't know when he started trembling but he was suddenly shaking so hard he had to grab hold of a nearby table to stay standing. A firm, familiar hand gripped his shoulder to keep him steady.
"Sam."
A sob rose in his throat. "Dad."
John wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him tightly as tears fell, and mixed, from both their faces.
"Sam-"
"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so-"
"Sammy, I am so proud of you, son." John Winchester murmured to Sam. "I'm so proud of you both."
Sam relaxed into the touch. A fresh wave of hot tears spilled over, staining the plaid of his father's shirt.
They were safe. They were safe.
Safe.
After all, this was heaven and all was well.
Castiel's world was collapsing. Collapsing and falling. Breaking into pieces and crumbling to dust in the wind.
He had stopped feeling. The cool sense of numbness that coated his senses was confusing. But it was better than feeling. Better than accepting the fact that his two best friends- his two brothers- were dead.
He heard a voice saying something, but couldn't hear it through the ache in his chest, the pounding in his head.
Then it was burning.
Flames of red, gold, and orange made their way up the pyre, smoldering and blazing. Licking at the white bindings that covered Sam and Dean, setting them aflame.
He had wanted to bury them. Bury them in the cemetery their mother had been buried. Bury them and give them a proper funeral. Bury them and let their souls be at rest.
But he knew from experience that the only way to make sure something stayed dead was to burn them. He knew that in burning them he took away any opportunity, any sliver of hope that he had, to bring them back. And deep down, the angel knew it was for the best. Deep down he knew that they were happy.
Tears fell, hot and salty, down his face. The fire burned on, growing higher and higher. It sparked and danced, reflecting dangerously in Cas' clear blue eyes.
A hand on his shoulder snapped him to attention. The fallen angel rubbed a hand over his face to clear his mind.
"You going to be ok?"
Castiel looked down at the blonde hunter. After he had found Sam and Dean, bleeding out and broken, he had called his next in line emergency contact. Claire Novak.
Her and Jody had built the pyre and had stayed with him as it went up in flames and slowly began to die down.
Cas bowed his head with a small shake. It took all of his willpower not to become a piling mess of tears in front of the girl.
Claire watched Cas tense at her touch, at her words. She knew how much Sam and Dean meant to this angel. Hell, all she wanted to do was hunt down the son of a bitch that did the deed. But she stopped herself. For Jody…. And for Cas.
Castiel might not be Jimmy Novak, but Claire looked up to and admired him all the same. She had grown to care and love the angel. She knew that she could always count on Cas… and whether he knew it or not, he could always count on her to have his back.
A tear glistened on his face, reflecting in the firelight. The hunter moved forward because sometimes, actions speak louder than words.
Cas flinched at the warm touch, but relaxed when he saw the arms that held him. Claire placed her chin on his shoulder, rising slightly in her toes to do so.
"I'm always here if you need. You know that, right?"
The angel pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Claire. I know."
Jody called her name.
"Give me a call," she said, stepping back and giving him a smile. "If it gets too much and you need to talk. I know… I know how it feels to lose people you love. Promise me."
"I-I promise. And Claire?"
She turned back, watching him with concern.
"Thank you."
Then she was gone. Climbing into the passenger seat of Jody's vehicle, flashing him a smile before the car drove out of sight.
The pyre burned before him. Flames leaping high up, before dying down. Soon, all that was left was a smoldering pile of embers. A smoldering pile of ash.
The angel raised a hand to touch the pendant at his neck. He had found it amongst the boy's belongings and remembered Dean giving it to him on his quest to find God. He hadn't seen it in years. Cas knew that Dean had tossed it away. Sam must have saved it.
The fire died. A wind rose, stirring the leaves and sending a chill up Castiel's spine. His face was wet and warm. He needed to leave. He needed to go somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere and nowhere.
Anywhere but here.
Anywhere but the place he had watched his brother's burn. The final resting place of two of the greatest men he had ever known.
With numb legs, Cas strapped himself to the car. The sleek black metal was all too familiar. And instead of climbing into the backseat, Cas slid into the front.
Baby's engine purred as he started the car and put her into drive. Where he was going… well, that was beyond him.
Castiel drove. And drove. And drove. The tears falling freely. He could hear Dean's voice in his ear.
"Take care of her, Cas. Please. For me."
He pulled over to the side of the road and managed to get out of the car before falling to his knees, shaking.
He sat there, shaking and trembling. He cried until his eyes were red and his voice was hoarse and cracked.
It was all his fault.
If he had only been faster. If he had listened to Dean's prayers when the hunter had called on him the first time. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he had put aside the search for Gabriel for a single moment. If he had done that, Sam and Dean might still be alive.
But they were dead.
And Cas was to blame.
A soft tune played from the Impala as Cas slumped against her, sliding to the ground in defeat, all energy drained from his body. He didn't remember turning on the radio… but then again, he didn't remember ripping his trench coat off and pulling on Dean's leather jacket. He strained to hear the words of the song that played.
"Carry on my Wayward Son,
There'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest,
Don't you cry no more."