2013:
"Jess! Jessica!"
Sam Winchester held his one-time fiancé—dying a second time as her body destroyed itself from the inside out—close to him, murmuring frantically into her hair. "No, no, no I can't lose you again..."
She squeezed his hand weakly, eyes wide open and afraid but determined. She shook her head minutely.
Sam tried to keep his breathing steady through the confines of his gasmask as he watched her body stiffen and still and drain of life. He pulled her closer and let the tears fall against the glass of his goggles.
The sun set violet and gold through the haze of smoke, illuminating him from behind and casting his shadow across her, and across the myriad bodies collapsed in the dust. Some dead from disease, some from wounds, some from radiation. Others still were being tested for the strains of H-AID and those that tested negative were being bundled into the fold of heavily-covered hunters, angels, vampires, and others. Those who tested positive... Well they'd be dead within the week. They were told to leave and avoid people. Just... go off and die somewhere else.
Even Mrs. Tran. Even Henry Winchester.
The job was to be cold.
Sam clearly couldn't do that, but now it was too late anyway. He tightened his arms briefly around Jessica's body, then let her slide to the dirty asphalt, and stood to rejoin the members of the Medusa community.
Sam watched as the angels and demons—the only ones not covered head to toe in fabric and protection—rolled the corpses into a pile. Doused them in holy oil, salt, gasoline, and set alight with the snap of a spark drifting from Lucifer's blistering fingers.
The blaze lit the night like a second sun.