"He's coming." Sam said and reached over to Dean with his other hand too. Like he was trying to make Dean stay where the floor was glowing and rumbling. Make him stay where Dean did not want to stay.
"Sam – come on!" Dean said, yelled over the rumbling and cracking. He didn't like the look on Sam's face, too much awe and wonder, not enough scared and running. Did he want to see what was coming? When it came to 'fight or flight' Dad had taught them too well that 'fight' was the first order of business, but he also taught them to go into a fight cautious, armed, and prepared. And unlike the song, having only two outta three would be bad. Especially now.
Dean tugged, yanked, pulled, but Sam didn't budge.
'Don't you do this to me now.' Dean thought. They'd been fighting against this happening eight months now and now that it was here, it was so not anti-climactic and right now they had to run or die, Dean was sure of it.
And still Sam wouldn't budge.
They were going to stand here and they were going to die. Not that they might not die if they ran, but they'd at least have a running head start.
And still Sam wouldn't budge.
The ground shook more, the floor cracked more, blinding light filled the chapel. Lucifer was coming, and hell was coming with him. There was only one thing Dean could do.
He stepped in front of Sam.
The End.
