The Walking Dead
K Hanna Korossy
Walking to Dayton wasn't a good plan, but it was the only plan they had.
They did pass a few hulks of stalled cars on overgrown highways, but every one Dean tried was dead: out of gas, no batteries, overgrown motors. Hoofing it was their only option, and apparently passing through a vamp-infested tunnel on the way. Awesome. Dean tried not to think of the Mines of Moria.
Cas had hung back to talk to Maggie and Floyd, the two survivors they'd picked up along the way, and Sam moved up from their six to walk with Dean a while.
Or maybe to talk.
"I wonder what happened here. On this Earth, that left it like…this."
Dean's gaze followed Sam's, to the crumbled pavement, the permanently gray skies, the too-quiet trees. A dying world. He sighed. "An and Shaiming did."
A beat, then Sam swiveled to look at him, puzzled. "Who?"
"An and Shaiming. Charlie told me about them. Well, this-world Charlie."
"And An and Shaiming are…?"
"Us." He glanced over at Sam. "Well, replacement us. Since Mom and Dad didn't get together in this world, we were never born. An and Shaiming were up as Lucifer and Michael's vessels."
Sam paused. "And they said yes," he finally guessed.
"And they said yes. And it wasn't just some little one-on-one beatdown at Stull. It was army against army, with Azazel and Lilith and Hell backing up Lucifer, and Raphael and all the angels on Michael's side. Took out half the planet in a day. Since then it's just been mop-up."
"Wow." Sam digested that as they walked on. Then he side-eyed Dean. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Haven't exactly had a lot of time." And it wasn't something Dean liked to think about.
A scuffling sound in the trees drew them up short, Sam putting up a hand to silence the three following them. They waited long seconds, but nothing burst out of the underbrush, and he finally dropped his arm. They went on, alert and guarded.
"I guess we didn't do so badly then," Sam finally continued. "I mean, yeah, we started the Apocalypse, but we also ended it. Right?"
"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "But we made a crap-load of mistakes doing it. Mistakes that cost people's lives." Some of them people they'd cared about, people who'd trusted them.
"With archangels and demons working against us?" Sam was giving him long looks as they went. "We did our best, man. Maybe that's the best anyone could have done."
"Yeah, maybe," Dean conceded, unconvinced. It wasn't a bad point. He'd have to think about it.
Sam nudged him with one shoulder. "And we're still here, still fighting."
Dean actually felt himself smile at that. That they were.
Five hours later, Sam was dead, and Dean was choking on the irony.
And nineteen hours after that, Sam walked into camp…and Dean let himself start to believe.
The End