Chapter 1: The Ending
There was a flash of light in the snowy glade. Animals scattered in the midnight gloom, fleeing from the light. There are those who would call them wise. In this case, they might have been.
The light subsided gradually, and in its wake was a man, breathing heavily on his back, clothed in flannel, and drenched in the blood of the innocent. The relief upon realizing his situation, evident on his face.
"He's gone!" He whispered to himself. "He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone he's gone."
Breathing heavily, he began to move his limbs, and shed a tear, as his body was his own again. Brushing the long hair from his eyes, Sam Winchester stood up and looked at his surroundings. Everything looked so beautiful! The touch of snow, the smell of the evergreens around him, the moon and stars in the clear sky. Such a sight had been deprived from his eyes for what felt like an age. For years all he knew was darkness, fire and ash, all finding their origin from his hands.
He couldn't believe the wondrous miracle that he was free, that the world was once again renewed, and that he was free once again. For the first time in years, his mouth genuinely smiled for joy.
He would have stayed that way for longer, wishing only that Dean could be there to see it, if it weren't for a sudden sound in the trees. Years of battle hardened instinct kicked into action as he rolled behind a fallen tree and scanned the treeline. Peering into the darkness he didn't see anything move. He cursed to himself wishing for an angel blade, or at least a shotgun. As it stood, his pockets were empty.
He allowed himself to question his miracle and wonder were he was. The last thing he remembered seeing through the cracks in his vision was Dean and Cas fighting to their last breath on a bombed out pile of blood and ash across a darkened sky. The hatred in Dean's eyes had been terrifying. Sam wondered if he had become as much of a monster in Sam's absence as the things they had once fought. Perhaps the Mark had changed him. Sam couldn't blame him. All he could blame was himself. If he had never said "Yes," this would never have happened. There had been a flash of light, and a horrific scream, and he was free.
Cursing that he had allowed himself to get caught up in revere instead of looking for the source of the disturbance in the woods, he peered out once again into the darkness. He heard what sounded like swords being unsheathed. He whipped around to see an unshaven man in a wife beater and knives coming out of his hands. What was he? A shapeshifter, a werewolf, or something else entirely? He didn't intend to give it the chance to find out.
"What are you doing out here?" It asked in a gruff tone.
Sam looked down seeing that he was still covered in the blood of all those people he had killed, and realized that whatever answer he gave, this thing wasn't going to believe it. So he launched from the ground toward this monster with a branch from the ground.
The man sidestepped him and still weak, Sam tumbled into the snow, leaving red stains from his clothes behind.
"I wanted to do this the easy way, Bub! But, you're giving less and less options!"
The man planted his claws in Sam's flannel pinning him to the ground.
"All I want is answers. What are you doing covered in blood that's not yours for example?"
Sam took a swing at him but missed, and Logan planted his other claws in the offending limb's clothes pinning him to the ground more thoroughly.
"Secondly, you are going to tell me how and why you threw yourself through a portal onto my front lawn."