I am so...sorry for this. I don't know what came over me. It's just, I was wondering about how Supernatural would end (Blasphemy, I know), and then I started wondering how anything would end in the Show, and then I thought about "going out with a BAM", and how I think that would be Dean's style... and then I thought about this:
To me, the world in Supernatural would never end( in a grand fashion), because Dean and Sam would stop anything that tried to make it do that before then. I think the world can't end, as long as Dean and Sam are there. I mean that's what the Show is about. The only way the world would end, was when Dean and Sam would stop fighting (which, let's face it, will never happen, but that's why this is fanfiction).
And the thing about that is... no one would even notice. No one would pick up on the small difference that two guys (plus old guy plus angel) made the choice to lay down their guns.
And that made me remember one of my favourite poems and you know the drill. I talk too much.
Disclaimer:
If I owned Supernatural, Cas would get a lot of hugs. Because he looks like he needs them, most of the time. Does he get a lot of hugs?
Then you can probably guess that I don't own it ;) Nor do I own "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Elliot.
This is the way the world ends:
Castiel is probably the one who takes it the hardest.
There are four people at Bobby's, sprawled across the living room. Dean is sitting next to Castiel, holding onto a bottle of Jack, taking a deep gulp from time to time and running a hand through is short and somewhat singed hair. He is covered in cuts and bruises, a deep gash adorns his face now, starting from his scalp, going down his cheek the way down to his chin.
Sam has settled on the couch and stares at the TV. He has no way to fully know what's going on in the show, because staring at it is all he can do now. An explosion and fire have left him mostly deaf and his skin is covered in burns.
Bobby himself is sitting in a chair behind a desk doing nothing but to listen as the clock ticks away. The boys don't know if he stopped hurting or if he still does. In any way, his pain is silent.
Castiel has lost something more than that. Physically, he is probably in the best shape out of all of them; he's bleeding, yes, but there's no permanent damage done.
Castiel, Angel of the Lord, has lost his faith. And it's strange, because he has always thought that Falling itself would hurt, not what came before that.
He is frowning, although he doesn't remember why (which of the many reasons it was, which problem, that caused him to), and listens for voices that he cannot hear anymore.
Tik Tock, Tik Tock, Tik Tock….
It is Dean's voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. "Cas, are you praying?"
Castiel looks at his hands as if he'd only just now realized that they were folded. He opens his mouth to reply: "I…" but no sound comes out after that, so he stops trying. He has not been praying. Fallen Angels do not pray. People without faith do not pray. There is no one there to listen to him anyway. But what is the saying he's heard before? "Old habits die hard". He supposes it would have been…relieving, for lack of a better term, to hear the voices of his brothers or sisters.
Castiel would like to explain this feeling to Dean, but then thinks better of it. What does it matter? So he just shakes his head; no, he had not been praying.
"Hey, whatever, man. I mean, you're an angel." A shrug. "Or you used to be. You know what I mean. Praying is probably your first instinct or something."
It might have been, once. And that is what's so ironic. Because his father had long abandoned them. He'd been praying forever and had never once thought about how there might not even be anyone to listen.
"Guys," comes Sam's too loud voice from the couch. He can't even hear himself anymore. "The sun is rising."
And they should be grateful.
They're not. Not really.
There is fire everywhere, and Dean and Sam are in the middle of it. They are fighting and yelling and cursing. They are breaking down concrete and shooting and snapping demonic necks as they go. They are pushing people out of the building and stopping attacks and killing demon after demon. They are doing all they can and they are great hunters.
There are small explosions and then there are the voices of small children crying and in the next moment Dean is running again. But Sam grabs his arm and drags him away,
("It's over, Dean! We gotta get out of here, there's nothing more that we can do! C'mon, Dean, Bobby and Cas are waiting! We gotta get out of here!"), but it's all too late now.
There is one big explosion. Castiel appears behind them and manages to get them out, but not quite in time.
In the end, they figure, the sound was probably the worst. Neither of the two brothers would ever forget the sound of burning children.
And this is where they quit.
It's not a conscious thought, but it's there, and they all know, somehow. It just hits them. They can't beat this. It's going to win. The burning houses and the killings and the dying children were only the start. (And God, why don't you care? These children couldn't have been more than five years old! Why don't you help?) And after the fraction of a second it takes them to realize this, they find themselves just a little past the point of caring.
They've fought too long.
And they're too tired.
And it could be over.
This is the way the world ends,
This is the way the world ends…
They suppose they are the calmer ones.
There are very few people in the world who know what's going on. And even fewer who really understand it. For the rest of them, they run around crying and screaming and demanding explanations.
But they; Dean, Sam, Castiel and Bobby, know that there's no stopping this. And they have accepted it. That's why they can be calm about this.
Of course, giving up was not really the Winchester way of doing things. That, they are aware of. And they feel guilty. But everyone has their breaking points, and Sam and Dean have long passed theirs. They were breaking for a very long time, and one can only crack for so long until they shatter.
They had it coming, really.
Neither Bobby nor Castiel blame them for this. Had it been them, they might have given up the second they realized they were no match. But like this… they tried. No one can say they didn't try.
All that was left now was to wait for the moment to come. Wait, drink, and spend the remaining time with each other, because each other was all they had left.
They are the calmer ones and they hate themselves for it.
This is the way the world ends:
"Guys," comes Sam's too loud voice from the couch. "The sun is rising."
It's funny, because all the great literati always said that daybreak was a sign of hope, or new beginnings.
It's funny, because it's not.
Dean follows his half-hearted gesture to the window. "Ah," he answers, because there was really nothing else to say.
They should be grateful. None of them are dead yet. They should be grateful for being able to spend their last moments with each other.
At least for that, they are.
The sun is rising and the end has come. They all get up to stand beside each other at the window, facing it head on. There are no "I'm sorry"s or "I wish it could have been different"s. No chick flick moments and no words spoken. There is a silent understanding between them; thoughts that they don't have to voice, because they get it.
The world ends like this:
Four men standing in front of a window to watch their last sunrise: A grumpy old man that has seen too many people he cared about die, two brothers, who had seen too much death, and who were forced to go way past their breaking points to finally learn how to give up, and one Angel, who had lost all faith and the ability to believe in anything but the people he stood beside at the end.
This is the way the world ends –
Not with a bang, but with a ((whimper)).