A/N: Just remember, this is an AU, anyone you thought was dead probably isn't. Based on the My Chemical Romance song, Welcome to the Black Parade.
WARNING: Prepare for feels.
Bodies covered the streets more heavily than any snow fall could. The light filtering through the grit in the atmosphere was red, making it look like everything was covered in more blood than was true.
Dean Winchester sighed and let the stained white curtain fall back over the window. He turned to see the other survivors standing in the decimated motel room with him: there was Castiel, an angel; Jo Harvelle, daughter of the deceased hunter William Anthony Harvelle; her mother, Ellen; an old flame, Lisa, and her son Ben; Kevin, the AP turned prophet; and, of course, his younger brother Sam.
It was hard to imagine that this small group of rogues was all that was left of human race. The rest were either possessed by demons or dead.
The hunter took another group at the ragtag band. In their eyes, among the pain, loss, depression, anguish, and nearly overwhelming fear, it was clear they expected Dean to lead them.
He couldn't help but recall a day from the distant, happy past...
When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
Four-year-old Dean bounced happily in the back of his father's truck. John Winchester gave a hearty laugh as he looked in the rear-view mirror. "Calm down, Dean." he chuckled. Dean managed to stop wiggling, but his fingers drummed on his knees excitedly. "Sorry, Sir." he said, the beat of his fingers quickening. "I'm just excited. Are we almost there?"
"Yes, son." John replied, suddenly becoming very somber. Young Dean didn't notice. For the rest of the drive, the only sound was Dean's fingers against his knees.
When John parked the car (finally, thought Dean), father and son walked hand in hand to the main street. As the stood on the side of the lane, they didn't have to wait long for the performance they came to see to start. The young boy's eyes widened as the drums started to beat a quick, rolling tune, a percussion band joining in. His eyes became even bigger once the musicians came into view. All of the men dressed in vibrant red and gold costumes marched in step. Dean could've sworn one of the men looked at him and winked. Dean listened to the marching band's tune in silent amazement. Nothing was off. Every instrument played at the same time on the same note. Even the chant the band had started was perfectly together. Dean couldn't tell what they were saying; he was pretty sure it was in Russian, though.
The young boy jumped when John put a hand on his shoulder and crouched down to talk to him. "See the tall man at the front?" Dean nodded. At the very front of the precise lines of four, a six-foot man marched. On his head sat the only hat in the whole band; it was tall with a plume of red and white feathers.
"He leads the others," John continued; "He starts the marching, the instruments, the chanting. They all depend on him."
"Yeah, uh-huh." Dean's eyes were still fixed on the marching band.
"You'll have to be that person one day. Everyone will expect you to keep your head and lead them."
He said, "Son, when you grow up
Would you be the savior of the broken
The beaten and the damned?"
Looking at those around him - though he hadn't paid much attention then - Dean realized how true those words were.
He didn't want to be the leader. He didn't want to be in this situation. Part of him wanted to lay down and die. Another part wanted let another lead this battered group. But this was the role he was assigned; the song he was forced to lead.
Behind him, a trumpet sounded. Dean looked out the window to see a Wendigo holding a white flag. Meg stood next to the beast with a self-assured grin on her face. "Come on, Winchesters." she taunted. "We're under a flag of peace. We just want to talk." The hunter turned to his younger brother. Both cocked their guns.
"Stay here." Dean commanded to the others as both hunters walked out into the desolated street.
"What is it?" Sam demanded of the demon.
"Just a little bit of friendly advice; no need to be rude." Meg smirked.
"Oh, right, like you haven't been trying to kill us for the past few months." Dean snapped back.
Meg shrugged. "All's fair in love and war."
Sam stalked up, fists clenched at his sides. If he had laser vision, Meg would have a hole in her forehead by now. "You b-"
"Whoa, Sammy, let's hear the lady out." Dean stopped his brother with an arm across his chest.
Meg's smile widened. "Yes. You'll both be interested in what I have to say."
"So spit it out!" yelled Sam, beginning to press against Dean's arm.
"Calm down, Moose. I'm getting there." The demon made a show of pausing and checking her manicured nails. "I have orders from high up to tell you Sam: don't worry, you'll enjoy the pit." She laughed as Sam pushed against Dean's arm again.
"You're making the mistake of thinking I'm going downstairs at all." He growled.
Meg chuckled again. "Dean, try not to cry too much when the world crashes around you. You won't be able to save it."
Dean growled. "Leave. Before I put a bullet through your brain." Sam suddenly didn't seem the worst of Meg's concerns right then.
Meg raised her hands. "Struck a nerve, did I? It's not my fault you can't save anything. Anyways, you boys have fun. I have... plans... to make." Meg turned and walked away, swinging her hips tauntingly.
The brothers turned and walked back into the room.
"What did they want?" Jo asked, pausing as she bandaged Ben's arm.
"The same thing demons always want: to antagonize us." Dean said and sat.
Jo nodded and went back to tending to wounds. Dean tried not to notice as out of the corner Sam sunk to his knees, his hands clasped as he muttered to no one.
Young Dean frowned as a Charlie Brown float passed. "Why couldn't Mom come with us? Is it because of the baby? Is that what made her sick?"
"Yes, son." John replied. "It happens sometimes."
The boy pouted. "Then maybe we shouldn't have a baby."
John let out a little chuckle. "Now don't say that. Your mother will get better. And you'll have a little brother."
Dean's pout intensified as folded his arms. "Well maybe I don't want a little brother."
Dean resented those words now, looking at his baby brother scared for his life. Apparently, Sam'd felt the same vibe: Meg hadn't been lying.
He said, "will you defeat them
Your demons and all the non-believers
The plans that they have made?
Because one day, I'll leave you
A phantom to lead you in the summer
To join the Black Parade"
And that's what it had become, wasn't it? A black parade. He was leading his friends, his family, to their deaths. He knew there was no other choice. But they also couldn't know.
"What do we do from here, Dean?" Ellen asked. She was kneeling on the floor over a fire, trying to make something to fill their empty stomachs. The hunter had to think about this. He wasn't even surprised when Cas came and put his hand and Dean's arm, the despair he felt inside must have been showing.
"We carry on." he said at last, his eyes wandering to the bodies out the window. "We keep going; make sure that - though they're dead and gone - those we've lost's memories carry on."
Ellen nodded absently behind him.
Dean felt something tingle in the pit of his stomach, but he was too slow to react. A web of cracks appeared in the window pane as a single bullet tore through it. A dot of red appeared on Cas' brow as the round ripped through his flesh.
A scream pierced the air, "CASTIEL!" and Dean looked around to find the culprit, only to see the others staring at him. Cas dropped to the ground, his hand trailing down Dean's arm as he did so. Dean followed suit, his hands racing to Cas' forehead. He looked at the others and yelled, "I need some help here!" They just stared at him with blank faces and pitiful eyes.
"Someone help me!"
"No, Dean." Cas managed a strangled whisper.
"No, Cas." Dean choked out. "Don't you dare die on me!"
"Dean, it's going t-to be-"
"Castiel, I swear if you say it's going to be okay... It's not going to be okay! NOTHING IS OKAY! YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW SELFISH THAT IS?!" Dean was screaming and pounding his fists against the ground like a child, unaware of the blood running across his knuckles.
Cas' voice was barely a whisper. "I know, Dean. I am selfish. But I'd do anything for you." He attempted a smile as his breath hitched.
"Cas..." Dean had a warning tone in his voice. He had decided that he hated the stupid angel; his stupid, selfish, self-depreciating angel.
"D-Dean... I love y-you..." Castiel's eyes fluttered shut and his chest fell and didn't rise again.
Dean felt void of emotion. He didn't feel Sam try to pull him off the fallen angel as blood pooled around them. He didn't feel the crack of his knuckles as his fist slammed against Sam's jaw. He didn't feel Jo put her arms around his shoulder as he started to sob. He could only feel his fists clutching Cas' trench coat and his tongue mutter "I love you, too, Castiel."
A world that sends you reeling
From decimated dreams
Your misery and hate will kill us all
So paint it black and take it back
Let's shout out loud and clear
Defiant to the end we hear the call
Two hours passed and all Dean could do was weep. Sam came and sat next to his brother.
"He was the best." Dean breathed. "The best of anyone. How could he hate himself?"
Sam just shook his head.
"There has to something more. I can live without him, but it feels so wrong. He can't be gone. The world's lost its brightest - my favorite star."
Lisa walked in. "We're ready."
Dean nodded numbly and followed after her, Sam behind him. Outside, the others surrounded a pit. In it, Castiel laid, looking almost exactly the same except without his coat - Dean was holding it tightly to his chest.
Both Jo and Ellen said a few words. Kevin filled the grave and put a make-shift wooden marker. Sam looked at Dean then herded the others in. Dean stood at the foot of the grave. "We'll give you a proper burial someday, Cas. I swear." Then he turned and went in the motel.
The group looked at Dean with tear-filled eyes.
"Go to sleep. Tomorrow we fight these monsters and take our world back."
Ben gave a weak cheer as he climbed onto his cot. Dean laid down on the floor, using the trench coat as a gentle snores filled the room.
Sam whispered, "Dean?"
"I'm fine, Sammy."
There was a long pause. "Okay. Sleep well."
Dean used taking watch as an excuse to stay awake. He didn't want to face the nightmares that danced behind his eyes even when he was awake.
At sunrise, everyone else woke up. They silently loaded magazines, sharpened knives, whittled stakes, and filled flasks with holy water. As they walked out, loaded with weapons, they were pelted with a hailstorm of bullets.
The hunters heard a scream as Ben fell, his mother soon after.
I'm killing them. Dean continued to feel no emotion, but that single thought. It's all my fault. They're dying because of me.
On and on we carry through the fears
Disappointed faces of your peers
Take a look at me
'Cause I could not care at all
Ellen gasped as the bullets targeted Jo. She died before her body hit the floor. Ellen ran forward and cut off the head of a vampire, yelling something about vengeance. A werewolf came behind her mauled her in seconds.
Dean dived behind a pile of rubble as a wall of flaming arrows flew at them. He turned to see Sam beside him. Over the younger Winchester's shoulder, he saw Kevin. Dean didn't even blink as the prophet was filled like a pincushion. Everything clicked in the hunter's brain as another comrade fell. He stood up. "You've killed everyone else, what do want?!" He yelled across the battle field.
"We've gotten what we wanted." Ruby said as she strutted forward. "You are now the last two pure humans on Earth. Sorry, only one pure human."
Dean turned to his baby brother. He exhaled sharply as Sam's eyes flickered black. There was a sadistic smile twisting his features as he pulled out a gun and shot himself in the stomach. The demon left in a dark cloud.
"Sammy..." Dean breathed out. He knelt next to his responsibility. "Oh my... No. I can't lose you too."
Sam smiled weakly at him. "Hey, you will be okay. You keep telling yourself that you won't, but you're stronger than that."
Dean choked on his tears. "No, I can't go on without you. You're the one that kept me from doing the worst things..."
The youngest Winchester coughed and blood trailed from the side of his mouth. With effort, he mumbled, "Jerk." Then, a look of peace settled over his features and his eyes drifted lazily downwards.
"Sammy? Sam!" Dean sobbed into the lapels of Sam, his baby brother's, jacket. Finally, he hiccuped and started to rise.
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy who wanna sing his song
Just a man, I'm not a hero
Dean faced the demons, tear tracks cutting through the grime on his face, and dropped his guns. He spread his arms out wide.
"Well?" He shouted, his single cry splitting the silence. "Shoot me then! Or eat me! Or just torture me! Get it over with!"
The demons and monsters all slowly pulled away. A pretty woman with red hair remained. "Hello, Dean Winchester."
"Are you the executor? Could you hurry it up a little?"
The demon smiled slyly. "But Dean, why would we want to kill you? We've achieved our goal."
Dean dropped his arms, realization dawning on him. "What?! Are you crazy?!"
Abaddon appeared deep in thought then finally concluded, "Yes. Dean you have lost everything, everyone. The only person you have left is the one you hate the most: yourself." She faced the others. "Let's go." The creatures started to walk in the opposite direction.
"You can't do this!"
The red head turned back to him. "Oh darling, I think I just did. Have fun!" She followed her troops up a hill. She looked back for a moment and called, "Don't kill yourself; we'll just bring you back." Then, they were gone.
Dean dropped to his knees on the body strewn ground. His lips parted and a howl tore across the battleground.
Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Though you try, you'll never break me
He had failed.