The sky is blackening. The hellhounds are baying.
Dean is facing hell tonight. Outside, he's grim determination and smartass quips, but inside he's shaking with terror. The fear's been growing like a cancer in his chest as the days ticked by, and now he can barely summon the bravado to breathe past it.
Sam can see it all, and it floods him with more desperation and heartache than he can stand. How could they let it come down to this; to hours instead of months, to minutes instead of weeks? How could they have thought that a year was forever?
Lilith is coming. The pit is opening beneath Dean's feet. And he will learn one more lesson before evil draws away his breath-that tears may be wiped away in heaven, but they evaporate in hell.