A/N: I don't own Supernatural, the CW, or any other known entity contained within. Spoilers for "Abandon All Hope...", and as the title somewhat suggests, it takes place after the final scene. I hope you guys enjoy the story, and please review. :D
…Ye Who Enter Here
Bobby silently looks up as two solitary figures walk through his front door. He registers their stoic faces, the ones that try desperately to hide the pain and agony swirling beneath them. He watches as Dean raises and opens his hand, the Colt falling uselessly to the floor. Sam looks down, defeated.
The TV rambles in the background as Bobby takes hold of the picture, the one they shot just the night before. Rather than it being a great memory of a night of drinking and victory over finding the Colt, it is now merely a mockery.
A symbol of their failure.
A symbol of what they lost.
Bobby tosses the picture into the fire wordlessly, watching the flames lick at the corners. Both Sam and Dean do the same, simply staring as the picture fades to black underneath the heat of the fire.
When nothing but the faintest of ashes remain, Bobby turns to the Winchesters. "What happened?" he asks softly.
"Hell Hounds," Sam says, having been the first to find his voice, albeit tearfully. "They ripped Jo up… the only way to get rid of them was to…"
Bobby bites his lip, swallowing.
"Jo couldn't let them in, so Ellen stayed behind to…" Sam starts before losing his voice to the lump in his throat.
Dean looks down, closing his eyes and wincing slightly at the talk of Ellen and Jo.
Bobby nods and swallows back the emotions wanting to burst out. "What about Castiel?" he asks softly instead.
"Alive," Sam whispers.
Bobby silently processes the information.
Sam clears his throat, regaining his voice. "Not sure where he went, though."
"Clear his head," Dean mumbles, the flames of the fire practically louder than him.
Bobby and Sam nod, both allowing the fire to do the majority of the noise making.
After a few moments, Dean sniffs, dragging a hand over his face. Without a word, he disappears from the library and heads out the front door. Sam sinks heavily into Bobby's couch, reconciling that Dean needs the alone time. Bobby moves into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer before heading back into the library. He hands one to Sam, who accepts wordlessly.
The two drink, just as they did the night before, except tonight Bobby's is a place of sorrow, not of celebration.
*~*~*~*
Dean winds his way through the salvage yard, finding the corner he always used to go to as a child. The one place he would run to when he wanted to hide from Sam and get his own head together. He sits on the familiar old car, bringing his knees up toward his chest and resting his forehead against them.
As he allows himself to feel and mourn the loss of Ellen, the closest thing to a mother since his own, and Jo, with whom he'd always had a relationship that bordered between siblings and lovers, he thinks he hears someone walking near him. But he can't be bothered at this moment to be all that concerned.
The gravel crunches almost inaudibly, followed by someone sitting practically on top of him on the car. That can only be one thing.
"Go away, Cas," Dean whispers, trying to regain control of himself.
"To where?" Castiel counters, his voice lacking some of its normal, growling edge.
Dean can tell that, for once, Castiel feels something, be it sorrow or whatever. But at this moment, Dean also can't muster up anything within him to truly care. "Anywhere but here," he responds dejectedly.
If Dean had been looking, he would have seen Castiel flinch. Instead, Dean only feels Castiel move away a little bit.
"I…" Castiel attempts.
"Don't," Dean interrupts, head still against his legs. "Because you're gonna say one of two things. If it's 'I told you so,' I don't want to hear it. And if it's 'I'm sorry,' you don't even know the meaning of the words."
Normally Castiel would try to fight back here, but he doesn't feel like he has the right. So he recoils further, absorbing the verbal blows Dean unleashes.
"Just, answer me one thing," Dean says, finally looking up.
Castiel looks over apprehensively, studying the red rimmed and extraordinarily moist eyes of Dean Winchester.
"Where were you?" Dean asks.
Castiel looks away, cringing. "I followed the Reapers," he says regretfully. "I ended up being trapped by Lucifer."
Dean sighs, looking out across the salvage yard. "How'd you get out?"
"I… I broke a pipe, which pushed Meg into the circle, and then I threw her on the fire."
Dean turns back to Castiel, confusion temporarily edging over sorrow and the sick feeling of failure. "That worked?"
Castiel nods, still not meeting Dean's eyes. "A ring of fire is not unlike a devil's trap. If its continuum is broken in any way, it will no longer work."
Dean nods, sighing and looking away again.
Castiel remains perched on the car, but near the edge, lost in his own mind. For even if he sincerely doesn't understand emotions, there are a lot of them jockey for position in his brain. "What can I do?" Castiel asks Dean after a little time.
Dean scoffs. "That a general question?" he asks.
"No."
A sigh comes out more like a groan, and Dean puts his head against his knees again. "Go find God. And don't get killed."
Dean hears Castiel get off the car, the gravel crunching under the angel's feet as he stands. Beneath the familiar sound of flapping wings, Dean can barely make out, "I wish I could promise that last one."
*~*~*~*
Hours later, Sam is awoken out of his alcohol-infused slumber by a set of footsteps in the library. He looks through heavy slits to see Dean moving behind the desk, sitting down by the fire. The TV continues to flicker in the background, still being ignored by everyone there.
Sam pushes to be more upright on the couch, noticing the blanket he must have pulled over himself while sleeping. The one he vaguely remembered Bobby digging out of the closet. He quietly gathers it up before putting his feet on the floor and standing.
"Sorry," Dean barely whispers.
Sam knows that Dean could be trying to cover a myriad of things with that word, so he says nothing as he moves over to his brother. He sits next to the fire, throwing the blanket around Dean's shoulders. The older brother shrugs it off with a grunt and a mild glare.
Sam leans back against the desk, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
"I woke you up, didn't I?" Dean asks quietly.
Sam shakes his head, but both brothers know he's lying.
Dean leans back against the desk as well, with there being about half a foot of separation, and Bobby's balled up blanket, between the two Winchesters. "Where'd Bobby go?" Dean asks.
"Uh… to sleep, I think," Sam replies. "I don't know."
Dean nods, content to fold his knees and rest his elbows on them. He twists the ring on his right finger, silently watching the way the firelight plays off of it.
Sam looks over to his big brother, studying him in the orange glow. Dean seems to have aged significantly in one night, looking more like the man who stood before Sam a few weeks ago after Dean lost the poker game. Yet, at the same time, it is still 30 year old Dean sitting beside him, filled with sorrow and contemplation.
For the moment, neither of the brothers speaks, and the air is thick with apprehension. Both of them know something should be said, but neither of them knows what that actually is. So they sit on the floor of Bobby's library, with Dean staring at his hands and Sam staring at the floor.
After a few long minutes, they both turn to each other and say, "What now?"
Sam sighs heavily. "We know the Colt won't work," he says, flicking a splinter of some weapon that he picked up from the floor into the fireplace.
Dean frowns. "Yeah," he exhales. "Jo and Ellen died for nothing."
Sam balks, hearing the words that have been haunting his thoughts all night. "They bought us time," the younger brother reasons. "Time without Hell Hounds to worry about."
Dean shakes his head. "That time was supposed to go to killing Lucifer… which didn't happen."
Sam frowns.
"So, again, I say. What now?"
Sam shrugs one shoulder, flicking another splinter into the fireplace. "Have you heard from Cas?" he asks.
"Sort of," Dean replies, Castiel's last words ringing through his head. "He stopped by."
Sam nods quietly.
Dean twists his ring. "I told him to work on finding God."
Sam nods again, flicking another splinter.
Silence falls between them as the Winchesters allow themselves to think. They think about how badly they've messed up, even though neither of them had no way of knowing what would happen. And the one thing they thought could help them fix their mistakes ended up not working.
Not to mention everything else.
Bobby's in a wheelchair, forever, and that's on them. Jo got ripped into by a Hell Hound, trying to distract them from killing Dean. Ellen and Jo both sacrificed themselves to blow up said Hell Hounds, trying to give Sam and Dean a fighting chance.
But now it looks like all hope is lost.
Sam swallows hard, looking over to his brother's solemn face. Dean meets Sam's gaze, and both sets of eyes are conveying the same message.
What now?
The End.