Dean was gone. There was no closure because there was no body…they didn't know what happened. It had been two days and it seemed wrong to do nothing, even if there was nothing to burn or bury. So they lit a fire and burnt one of Dean's prized possessions: his leather jacket. Sammy knew that it was a family heirloom of sorts, but he also realized no one but Dean could pull the look off in this decade. As they watched the flames consume the beloved but worn object, each member of the trio was absorbed in his own thoughts:
Castiel:
He is gone. It was all for naught. The world is still going to end. He was supposed to lead the fight.
Sam:
I can't do this, Dean. You were always here…you were the strong one. I'm nothing without you. It didn't do any good to save me.
Bobby:
Stupid idjit! Why'd you have to go and sacrifice yerself? Damn Winchesters….just glad you ain't here to see this codger crying over your sorry ass.
Sam walked back to the Impala through the black night, the light of the waning fire flickering reflectively on its darkened windows. He paused-gut aching and the back of his throat burning. The Impala and Dean were intrinsically linked. Every time he saw the car he thought of Dean and the times they had spent together in it. As he stared into the blackened windows, the flames from the distant fire seemed to dance over its surface, creating flitting figures. He stared into the windows. Slowly a figure was taking definite shape. Sam's breath caught in his throat as Dean's face stared back at him. Sam closed his eyes, giving his head a quick shake. When he opened them he still saw Dean. As Sam looked closer, he saw that Dean was trudging along an abandoned highway in the wilderness.
"Sam?" Sam jumped and gave a quick gasp as Bobby approached. "You okay, son?" Sam hurriedly looked back at the window. Nothing. Just the light and his grief playing tricks on him.
Dean looked around him. To the sides of the road all that he could see were fields that ended in thick forest. He looked ahead of him and behind him: a straight road as far as the eye could see. His eyes tightened in confusion.
"Hello?" He shouted to the emptiness. His voice echoed in the expanse, but seemed to come back to his ears hollow—as if he were in a closed space. He grimaced, feeling the nothingness around him. Not knowing what else to do, he began walking, following the road for hours. The scenery never changed around him, the road never twisted or turned. It was like he wasn't even moving.
He didn't know how long he kept on like this before he saw a small figure in the road ahead. Heart quickening, Dean sped up his pace and shouted hoarsely,
"Hello? Someone there?" The figure didn't react to his call, but continued to look out across the field into the forest. As Dean approached, he saw that it was a boy around the age of 12. The boy just stared into the space before him. Dean turned, standing side by side with the boy, trying to see what the boy saw. Spotting nothing, he turned to the boy, whose features looked pained. Not knowing what to do, Dean placed his hand on the boys head, ruffling his brown hair gently.
"Its gonna to be okay. We'll find our way back." The boy turned away from the woods for the first time and faced Dean, meeting his eyes penetratingly.
"Find our way back where?" Dean's eyes flitted back and forth as he searched for an answer.
"Home." He said.
"I don't have a home." The boy said matter-of-factly. Dean's head jerked back at the bluntness of the statement.
"Well, then, how about your parents?" Dean knelt down on one knee so that he was eye to eye with the boy.
"Gone." He responded, once again looking back at the forest. Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly.
"What's your name, son?"
"Joshua."
"Okay, Joshua, what are you lookin' at over there?"
"The woods are dark."
"Yeah. But that's ok, we'll stick to the road."
"You can't see what's in the woods from the outside. You have to go in. Why are you afraid of what you cannot see?"
Dean cleared his throat. "Well, if we're talkin' a rhetorical 'you', then 'you' would be afraid because you can't see it. It's unknown."
"But you won't know from the outside. You must go within."
"Huh." The kid reminded him of Sammy's depth. Were they still talking about the wood?
"Who are you, kid?" Dean was suspecting not all was as it seemed, though he didn't even know what to base that assumption on since he didn't even know what 'this' even was. The boy looked at him meaningfully,
"I am Joshua." He said it as if it answered the question completely. Dean nodded, accepting that as the only answer he was going to get.
"Well, c'mon Joshua, let's keep walking." He took the boy's hand and attempted to walk. The boy jerked out of his grasp instantly. Joshua's blue eyes widened in earnestness.
"The road never changes. It goes on and on."
"Then how do we get out of here? And, who would make a road that doesn't go anywhere?" He spoke to the air and wasn't expecting an answer.
"You made this road."
"What?"
"This is your life. You didn't want anything to change; you wanted to always know what lies ahead. There it is. It goes nowhere. It's always 'more of the same.'" Dean flinched at those words.
"What do you know about my life?" The boy just continued his penetrating stare. "What is this place?" Dean threw up his hands in agitation.
"This is a crossroads. You can continue on this path forever, as you did in life, or you can face the darkness." The boy pointed to the forest.
"What's in there?" Dean asked with trepidation. Joshua took a hold of Dean's hand with his small one and reassured,
"I will guide you." Dean met the child's gaze. It was full of sweetness, care and confidence. "But only part of the way." The hunter tore his eyes away from Joshua, looked up the road, then back to the dark wood. Gripping the little hand tighter, he stepped off the road towards the forest.
