Warning: Dean/Sam snuck in there, against my intentions.

The good news is that the world doesn't end because of Sam.

The bad news is that the world does end.

In a blink of an eye, hunters go from fighting demons and ghosts and the other uglies that go bump in the night, to fighting machines in broad daylight. Sam's a tech geek at heart (they need a power source, he tells them. Take out the power source) but Dean sticks with what he knows and chops their motherfucking heads off.

That seems to work just as well as Sam ripping out their battery packs or whatever.

They still lose the war. Even Lucifer dies, trapped within the body of his vessel. The machines had adapted to kill demons and angels both, though fuck if anyone knew how the hell they were doing it. They find as many survivors as they can, stock up on supplies, and head underground before the gas hits.

They're the lucky ones.

Cas tells that that there are others out there. Just wait, he says. Wait until it goes quiet.

In the beginning, there are seventeen of them. Cas was the only angel that had even remained on Earth, the others high-tailing it back up to Heaven or whatever when angels started dying left and right. He gets called Up now and again, always comes back with food and supplies so no one asks questions or dares to complain.

Most of the hunters they knew died. Bobby hadn't survived long once the machines revolted. Sam and Dean had buried him nearly a year before they went underground, built a great pyre and salt and burned the body, Cas and Chuck standing by as they all paid their last respects. Ellen had died saving her daughter's life, had asked Dean to watch over Jo with her last breath. Sam personally thought Dean felt responsible for enough people, but he hadn't said a word and let Dean keep his promise.

Cas watched over Chuck like a hawk, kept a supply of paper and pen for him because apparently if Chuck didn't write, he'd literally go insane. Cas brought most of the others to them himself. Lucas Barr had been a surprise, fifteen years old with eyes that were dead and duller than they'd been at eight. He had gone back to being mute, but from what Dean could gather the poor kid had watched his mother die and no one could blame him. Sam's Stanford buddy Zach Warren had shown up on his own with his kid sister, who not only had a toddler in tow but a belly that was very round. Becky Warren's husband had died so that they could get away.

The nine others were a sad bunch. Four kids, the eldest a lost looking eleven year old and the youngest a ginger-haired three-year-old who clung to her daddy's hand with her fingers in her mouth. There were three women, two mothers and a librarian, and two men, a father and a retired detective.

The old man had been the first to die. Cas took the body away and no one asked him what happened to it. Zach caught pneumonia a month later and died two weeks before Becky, who didn't have the strength to make it through labor when the baby ended up being breech. Dean didn't say anything when Sam named the baby girl Becky and took the kids under his wing, not even when the little boy started calling him Uncle Deen and the baby reached to him like she would a parent.

For three years, they stayed in their prison and waited for Cas to tell them it was okay to venture outside. The librarian had a heart attack and everyone watched her die helplessly, one of the kids developed seizures and passed away in the night. The married couple, perhaps the only family to have gotten through the war still intact, had another baby to join their other two. The baby was blind.

No one really rejoiced when Castiel finally opened the door and let them walk outside.

The sun was bright against their eyes, a stark contrast to a world that had been burnt and destroyed.

Grass was beginning to grow again and the children ran through it happily.

Sam's daughter Becky pulled away from his hand and squealed, "Dolly!"

Dean scooped her up before she could watch the small burlap toy, handed her off to Sam and prodded the toy with his boot, curious but suspicious all the same. The toy jerked, came to life, and ran away. Dean's gun found its way to his hand when he realized there were others, just like the first, scattered here and there, all alive and running.

Cas laid a hand on Dean's arm and shook his head, "No… Life is different now, Dean. It comes in smaller sizes now."

Becky pouted, arms folded across her chest, "I wanted the dolly, Daddy, but Uncle Deen scared it 'way."

"It's probably best, baby." Sam tells her, kisses her blonde curls, and sends her off to her brother. Sam's hand takes Dean's, skin warm and dry and fingers huge as they twine with Dean's. They stare off into the sun together, taking in the light.

"It was written that the world would be destroyed by fire," Castiel tells them. Dean refrains from rolling his eyes, but just barely. "It is time to rebuild. You must find them."

"The dolls?" Sam's eyes are wide and disbelieving.

"They are the ones that destroyed the machines, the ones that saved the world. And it isn't only human life that has suffered from the machines. Their kind lost their souls to it."

Sam shudders at the thought, souls were precious things, "But they're dolls."

Castiel looks only amused, a small smile curling his lips. He turns away from them, allows Becky to half-crawl up his side and settles her on his hip, listens as she rambles on about one thing or another, "Uncle Cas, Uncle Cas guess what Davy found!"

Sam shakes his head at his little girl's antics, wraps his arms around Dean's middle and rests his chin on his shoulder. "What do you think?"

Dean sighs, "When is he ever wrong?"

"Not often."

"Fucking hell. Let's go find us some freaking dollies then."

"Becky'll love it."

"It's probably why he's for this plan. She's got him wrapped around her little finger."

"You're right there with him on her other hand."

Dean twists his head and bites at Sam's jaw in retaliation but doesn't argue. All the kids are spoiled as rotten as the adults can make do, Becky the worst of all with Castiel at her beck and call.

Dean tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants, kisses Sam fleetingly, and pulls away. He grins, "Don't wait up."

"Uncle Deen!" Becky calls and Dean glances over to find her beaming at him from Cas' shoulders, "Where you goin'?"

"Get you a present, pretty girl."

Becky giggles and claps her hands in joy.

Dean comes back with four little burlap dolls. Becky is over come with joy, even more so when she learns her new friends are alive and they talk. Her favorites are the tiny little twins, Three and Four.

Dean's kinda partial to them himself.

Not that he's ever admitting that aloud.