A/N: So I've been on a roll recently but I tweaked a couple of things in this chapter, which means I'll have to tweak a few more things in the next chapter so it might not be out as quickly as the last few have been. Also warning: character death. Please don't hate me.
Chapter twenty-four
Apparently it was kind of a tradition for hunters to gather and have a shindig a couple of days before a big hunt and spend the day before talking tactics and prepping weapons and other supplies. Also, Dean noticed, hunters really liked to gossip. Hunting stories aside they were swapping secrets like bored old housewives.
Rufus had turned up late the night before and had quickly been filled in by Bobby on the things he didn't already know and they had shared a slug of Rufus' favourite whisky together before going to sleep.
Dean looked around at the cheerful faces gathered, even after a night of everyone sleeping on nearly every available inch of Bobby's living room floor, no one was complaining. Bobby had cooked an entire pig's worth of bacon with eggs and the coffee had been constantly brewing all morning, there was only one meal Bobby could cook and it was a freaking awesome fry up. People had arisen silently and - one at a time, had picked their way through an obstacle course of sleeping bodies towards the kitchen and breakfast. The system worked quite well since trying to fit eleven people in that tiny kitchen would have been uncomfortable if not impossible.
By the time Dean was getting his share of breakfast, Sam was outside walking through the towers of junked cars with Missouri, and his dad and Caleb had their heads stuck firmly under the hood of Caleb's truck. Bobby was just finishing cooking the last of the bacon while Pamela, pastor Jim and Ellen were chatting over coffee.
As Dean was tucking into his bacon Jo stumbled sleep-mussed into the kitchen and practically fell into her seat. Dean felt a flash of satisfaction that for once he wasn't the last one up. Bobby left the rest of the food on the table, grumbling that if it went cold, Rufus only had himself to blame. Fortunately, Rufus managed to raise himself before the food became inedible.
Once everyone had finished breakfast, Sam showed everyone the bullets he had made, explaining that he wasn't entirely sure how effective they would be against Azazel, but they should hopefully slow him down somewhat and any other demons that decided to show. Caleb was quite enamoured with the technique and congratulated Sam rather enthusiastically while patting him on the back.
"This is awesome! If this works I'm going to carve devil's traps on all my ammo!"
"We actually have to see if it works first," replied Sam drily.
Then Sam showed them his designs for a new devil's trap to hold Azazel, it consisted of a moderately complicated floor design plus four runes to be marked on the walls in each of the cardinal directions. He had made a few copies of each and marked the runes for north, south, east and west, handing them out for people to study. The gathered hunters were all impressed at what he had managed engineer from cobbled together scraps of enochian and latin. Their dad marvelled over the designs for so long he missed the next part of the explanation and had to ask Dean to repeat it.
Sam laid the floor plan for the convent they would be infiltrating the next day across the table. "The convent has been abandoned for years so the only civilians we have to worry about will be the sacrifices." Sam began trailing his fingers over the paper to indicate the areas he was talking about, "The ritual has to be performed in the congregation area, the rest of the psychic kids will be there too - there's only seven of them left but I'm not really sure what powers they have. As long as the ritual gets stopped before midnight, Lucifer won't rise. Me and Pamela will be distracting the psychics while Bobby and Dean lure Azazel into one of the traps - and pastor Jim, you have a lot of experience with demons too. If he's trapped, he can't complete the ritual. While we're doing that, we need the rest of you to find the victims and get them out of there - again, no sacrifices, no Lucifer."
"You and Pamela are going up against seven other psychics all by yourselves?" Missouri asked dubiously, "I'm not going to let that happen, I'll be going with you."
Sam's head snapped up, but then smiled warmly and have a short nod, "Thanks Missouri."
"How the hell are we supposed to draw all this fancy warding in three different rooms while all that ruckus is going on?" Rufus blurted while frowning at the design he held in his hands.
"We'll have to go in early. If we all work on setting up the traps before we have to crash the party it'll get done quicker." Sam fielded easily.
Dean watched as Sam answered a few more questions with a confidence the kid had been desperately lacking the night before. It seemed that once the attention had shifted from Sam himself to the plan, he really came into his own. The meeting only lasted a little longer and ended with everyone satisfied once a couple more details had been straightened out.
"Dude you're a natural leader," Dean commented amidst the hustle and bustle of hunters going about getting prepped for the hunt.
Sam frowned, "Everyone's scared, this is the biggest hunt we've ever been on, it might be the biggest hunt anyone's ever been on. They're all stowing their crap because they have everything to lose. This isn't like raiding a nest of vampires or going after a pack of werewolves - it's not just one town or one city that is in danger, it's everything. It's your hometown, it's Sioux Falls, Ellen's roadhouse, Stanford... It'll all go. Even the Flaming Arrows."
"Well if that won't make a group of grouchy old hunters sit up and pay attention, I don't know what will." commented Dean.
Sam's face was a picture of disapproval but Dean shrugged it off. He'd been on the receiving end of that look so many times from so many people that he had developed quite an effective immunity against it.
"There's something else I want to show you," Sam said, drawing Dean's attention. He stood hovering by the door, arm starting to twitch a little by his side.
"Ok...?" Said Dean as he followed Sam into Bobby's basement.
He stood at the bottom of stairs, still nonplussed as Sam started rummaging in the bottom of a cupboard in the corner. Dean thought about asking what the point of the trip downstairs was, but Sam seemed very intent on what he was doing. Eventually Sam found what he was looking for and approached Dean carrying a small wooden box with all the solemnity of a pall bearer.
"So... you want to show me an evil box?" Dean guessed.
"Evil box?" Sam started to question, but he quickly shook his confusion off, "No, I don't wanna know. I want you to have this." He said as he presented to box to Dean.
"Ok this is creepy. You're handing me a box that makes you look like someone just killed your puppy and you're telling me you want me to have it? What the hell is in there?"
Sam bit his lip, "It's a gun... It's the gun I used to kill mom." Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, "it's-"
"It's the only thing that can kill Azazel." Dean finished for him, "but why do you want me to have it?"
Sam looked at him like he was and idiot, "Because last time I used it, I killed our mom." Ok, so maybe Sam was right about him being an idiot. Sam continued, "When Bobby took me in I buried this gun down here, I never wanted to see it again. But now you need to kill Azazel with it, he's ruined your life just as much as he's ruined mine... How can I use it when I can't even look at it without..."
"Turning into a hot mess?" Dean suggested.
"Something like that," Sam eventually conceded with a wry smile.
Dean took the box and satisfied his curiosity with a quick peek inside, it was a pretty cool gun. "Well, I can't say I won't be happy to put that son of a bitch down for good."
Sam's smirk was conspiratorial and so was Dean's answering one.
It didn't take long to modify enough bullets for everyone and the hunters were well practiced at making holy water. Once the preparations were complete, Dean went to find Sam who was busy mixing the paint.
He stood over a metal bowl placed on the kitchen table. Two of Bobby's oldest books sat open to one side along with a notepad full of Sam's handwriting. The rest of the table lay host to a plethora of containers varying in size from small spice jars to a large plastic bucket, the contents of which also varied in their degree of ick.
Sam ran his finger down his notebook and then cast about the table until he grabbed one of the larger jars, it's contents mostly obscured from Dean by an old, washed-out label. Sam held the jar up for inspection and screwed his face up in disgust.
"This is so gross," he muttered to himself.
"What is it?" Queried Dean.
Sam looked up in surprise and lowered the jar, "human heart... From the county morgue."
Dean recoiled in disgust too, "What the hell do you need that for? What do you need any of this for?"
"Regular paint works for regular demons, but for Azazel we need something stronger. Holy fire works for angels, but Azazel's not really an angel anymore either. So," Sam sighed as he turned back to his work, "It was either this or the lifeblood of a virgin."
"No virgins left in Sioux Falls?" Dean joked, earning an exasperated look from Sam.
"More like: I refuse to kill anyone I don't have to," Sam muttered distractedly as he once again began concentrating in earnest on his work.
Once Sam had finished his concoction and filled several jars with it, everyone was ready to head out. It was a long way to the convent and they planned to stop overnight at just over half way there in order to be well rested for the hunt of their lives.
It was quite a convoy they made up, especially since at the first stop Bobby point blank refused to drive another mile with Rufus in his passenger seat. Luckily the issue was easily sorted when John volunteered to swap seats and Caleb had no objections to the change in riding partner.
They made it to the motel with no further incident, even as they were eating in the diner down the street. Sam however was quiet throughout the meal despite the cheerfulness around him.
"You ok?" Dean asked as they were making their way back to the car.
"I'm fine," Sam dismissed automatically.
"Yeah, sure you are." Dean scoffed, "No really, what is it?"
Sam shook his head, "it's nothing, doesn't matter." He said as he watched their family start to exit the car park.
Dean clenched his fists. "Yes it does," he rebuked through gritted teeth. He stepped in front of Sam and turned to confront him. "You say that all the damn time, but you're wrong! It does matter. You matter!"
Sam stood speechless for a few moments, staring as Dean stood challengingly infront of him, panting as if he had just been jogging. "I-I don't know what you want me to say."
Dean sighed, "I want you to tell me why you've been silent as a literal grave all evening. I want you to stop pretending you're fine just to please everyone else. It's not working."
"He's right, you know," said Missouri surfacing from the shadows and startling them both. She approached and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, "No one would blame you for being scared. This demon is the most powerful of all and he plans to unleash the prince of darkness on the world, but if you don't believe in yourself it's going to be that much harder to defeat him. They're going to try to exploit your every weakness, so you need to stay strong. Something which I'm told you excel at." Missouri raised an eyebrow at Sam but the kid still didn't look anywhere near to being convinced, "You have more friends than you realise and we are willing to stand with you against the oldest evil in the world - and let's face it, you gotta be something special to get Rufus to do some heavy lifting."
All three cracked a smile at the jab and then Missouri turned serious again, "you do matter Sam. You matter just as much as anybody else, and don't you listen to anyone that tries to tell you otherwise."
She pulled Sam into a fearsome hug; Dean had found himself ensconced within Missouri's arms a few times and, while initially discomfiting, he had always felt a lot better up in release. And by the look on Sam's face as she let go, the process worked on him too. Missouri smiled at them and with a last injunction for them to get some rest, she got in her car and went back to the motel.
Dean turned back to Sam, "so, do you wanna tell me what's wrong now or wait 'til we get back to the room?"
"Room," Sam sighed, and sidestepped Dean and made his way to the passenger seat.
Dean smiled his satisfaction to the empty car park for a beat before driving himself and his brother back to their motel room for the night. When they got back to the room Sam wandered over to his bed and lowered himself down to sit on the corner, clasping his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.
"Spill it dude, you heard what Missouri said." Commanded Dean, at which Sam gave a small laugh, but otherwise failed to speak. "Seriously she is scary when she gets hold of a wooden spoon. I've seen it."
Sam took a deep breath before speaking, "I have a feeling I'm going to have to kill the other psychics. But they didn't ask for this. We were all babies when Azazel corrupted us; I'm just like them, I could have been one of them..."
Dean scoffed. "No you couldn't." He said as he sat down on the edge of the other bed to face Sam.
Sam levelled a flat, disapproving look at Dean. "Yes I could. If mom hadn't been there to make sure I didn't turn evil, Azazel could easily have tricked me into joining him. Even with everything mom did, I still almost joined him."
"Really?" Dean said dubiously.
"Yeah, he was offering me all I ever wanted, to belong somewhere. To be part of a family that wasn't constantly scrutinizing my every move and wondering about my motivations, to have friends I didn't have to hide anything from or leave behind whenever there was another hunt... I could feel a sort of yearning for it in my gut."
Dean frowned, "So what happened?"
"In the end I told him I knew he was a demon and I would never join him and he smoked out. Not long after that I started getting visions and he started sending demons after us. You've seen what happened the other two times he made a personal appearance."
There was a moment of contemplative silence before Dean looked up at Sam and said simply, "you're wrong - in fact you're wong twice."
"What?"
"Ok first, you're really not like them, they were stupid enough to fall for Azazel's lies - demon or not, if someone offers you everything your heart desires, there's definitely something freaky going on - and secondly it wasn't mom that kept you from joining the dark side. That was all you buddy."
"If I hadn't been prepared, if I hadn't known what Azazel was, I would have joined him like all the rest," Sam objected, shaking his head.
"Just because you know something ain't right, doesn't mean it can't suck you in. Look at me and the Flaming Arrows, I knew what gangs were but I still joined because I gave into that temptation, the yearning, because it was easier. You're nothing like them Sam, you're way better."
Sam ducked his head and Dean could see the gears whirring into overdrive in his head, in fact Dean was surprised they weren't already worn down completely with the amount of overthinking that kid did.
Dean continued drive his point home, "they are monsters. But not because of a few stupid drops of blood, but because they wanna end the world and everything in it. And let's face it, they're not gonna have a problem with killing you."
Sam smiled sadly, "I guess you've got a point," Sam admitted reluctantly before standing and stretching, and then announcing that they really should get some rest.
When they reached the convent, they hid their cars further down the road and everyone silently began loading up. Apart from the weapons they had specially prepared for the hunt, Dean and his dad were also handed a scrap of paper each with an exorcism on. Dean nodded gratefully as he took the page, clearly he hadn't managed to fool the old geezer into thinking he actually knew the exorcism all that time ago. Dean fingered the second gun he had stashed at the small of his back and felt the weight of Sam's trust, it was intense and incredibly daunting but he couldn't help feeling uplifted that someone had actually put that much trust in him.
Once Sam had handed out his spell-jars to Ellen and Bobby, keeping one for himself, they began to approach the battleground. The place was deserted when they arrived and they quickly made their way inside. They split up, Sam snuck off in one direction with Pamela and Missouri while he, Bobby, Caleb and pastor Jim were to go another way and the rest of the group get another. Dean was uneasy as they crept down the corridor, soon arriving at the room they were to redecorate.
It was frustrating, fiddly work that involved a fair few whispered arguments between them - although to his credit, pastor Jim kept a civil manner throughout everyone else's hushed but aggravated accusations. But once the warding was eventually complete they all admired the effect proudly.
"We've still got a little while before Azazel and his entourage show up," Bobby said after checking his watch.
Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "what are we supposed to do now then, just sit and wait?"
Bobby raised his eyebrows at Dean, thoroughly conveying the message of course that's what we do, idjit without a word.
"The plan is to let Sam, Pamela and Missouri distract the psychics before we go in for Azazel. We need to let Azazel think that Sam is the distraction and we are the threat to give the others time to rescue the sacrifices." Explained pastor Jim gently.
They waited until they heard movement in the corridor, stilling as the parade of footsteps trampled past and then some.
"That was a lot of people going past," commented Caleb, "either they need way more blood than we thought or Azazel brought more than his psychics for back up."
"Caleb you're an idjit if you thought Azazel wouldn't have any demons with him," deadpanned Bobby.
Dean absently let his fingers graze over the cold metal of the colt, "doesn't matter," he said, "so what if Azazel brought more friends than we expected? We stick to the plan. We can still trap Azazel and deal with any demons that take exception to that."
Bobby nodded approvingly while pastor Jim did the same but in a more genteel manner. Caleb was grinning and nodding like he was getting hyped up for a sports event. They turned to face the door and listened for the first signs of mayhem before passing through and rushing down the corridor and into the congregation room. Dean's eyes automatically found his brother standing protectively infront of Missouri and Pamela who were shooting around him while he seemed to be stopping bullets like he was freaking Neo.
"Dean!" Bobby growled in his ear, "get your head in the game! Now you get after Azazel while we get going with the exorcisms."
Dean nodded and they all moved into the fray and scanned the pandemonium for the one with yellow eyes. Pulling his regular gun from his inside jacket pocket - he didn't want to waste any of the colt's remaining precious bullets until he had Azazel trapped - and made for a taller man with greying hair and wrinkles around his mouth and eyes which spoke of a lifetime of good-natured cheer. He didn't look at those wrinkles, or the wedding ring on his hand or the million other signs that this host was a human with a life and a family that would miss him. He just kept his gaze locked on those sickly yellow irises.
He took aim and shot, but missed and shot again immediately, squeezing the trigger twice more before a bullet found Azazel's bicep. Suddenly Azazel was rooted to the spot and focusing all his malice on Dean.
Dean felt himself tossed through the air and into the pews at the back of the room, he heard truncated exorcisms being yelled out all around him, being cut off and started again while he scrambled to get his bearings as he shook off the effect that breaking the pew with his back had on his diaphram. He raised his head in time to see the bullet fall out of the wound as Azazel healed himself and stalked towards him.
Dean took another shot and stopped the demon again but had to reload as Azazel began healing himself again. He backed up and shot again as Azazel started after him, keeping just enough distance between them as he executed the planned retreat. He was almost there when he was tackled to the floor from behind, by what Dean assumed by the savagery of the attack, was a feral demon. He managed to scramble away, back to the congregation room where Azazel had retreated and was tackled again, he rolled over quickly but was rewarded with a dizzying blow. Before the demon could get another hit in, she fell away screeching in agony as Dean felt a few droplets on his forehead and looked up to see pastor Jim turning away from him, flask in hand raised to splash another incoming demon.
With a cold dread, Dean realised as he got to his feet that the colt was no longer tucked away at his back. He shot Azazel again as the demon started to move but when he looked about him on the floor he couldn't see it; he looked further out, he could see Ellen, Jo and Rufus in one corner defending his dad as he tried to un-chain the sacrifices, but there were so many demons that, even with guardians, his dad was having to lash out with salt and holy water periodically.
An ear piercing shriek rose above the clamour and Dean span towards it to see Pamela writhing in the grip of one of the psychics, flames spilling from the monster's hands and licking Pamela's trapped arm. Within a split second Sam was tackling the psychic to the ground. They rolled and the psychic used that momentum to push Sam off him and launch himself once again at Pamela but before he could reach her he was sent sailing across the room. With an odd wave of his hand, Sam seemed to snuff the flames and took up a protective stance infront of her and called something to Missouri as the pyrokinetic wobbled to his feet.
The damn kid was still trying not to kill anyone!
With Dean's next bullet he found the psychic lunging at Sam this time and got him right between the ribs. As the psychic fell limply on him, Sam looked up and caught Dean's eye. But the moment was quickly lost as since Missouri was occupied with getting Pamela out of the church, Sam was outnumbered and without back-up. Luckily he didn't seem to be dangerously outmatched.
Dean shot at Azazel again before going back to searching for the colt. He ran out of bullets before he found it though but managed to escape Azazel's wrath for a few moments as a cry arose from most of the demons in the room. Someone had managed to complete an exorcism! Bodies dropped everywhere leaving only two demons standing besides a few of the psychics, but Azazel was now not distracted by healing his own body and with a great roar, sent out a shockwave that knocked everybody down and slammed shut all the exits with the locks clicking into place moments before there was frantic banging from the other side and Ellen's voice cutting sharply through the wooden door demanding to be let in, joined shortly by most of the other hunters.
At least they had managed to get the civilians out.
Dean looked around as he got back to his feet and noted that someone had moved Pamela, probably Missouri and Caleb since they were missing too. It was now only four of them against three demons and three psychics.
Bobby was the first to react and had shot Azazel in the chest before he was even standing, the demons lunged for him but were pushed aside by Sam who was panting from exertion and had a bead of blood forming under his nose. As pastor Jim rolled upright and whipped out his gun, firing at one of the demons, a girl suddenly leapt towards Sam only to be caught telekinetically and, with serious effort and sinking to one knee, he threw her away. During her fall she collided with another psychic who instantly fell limp the second the girl came into contact with him. As the girl was rolling to her feet for another attack, Sam - with a nauseous look on his face - took a knife from his boot and threw it at her, burying it up to the hilt in her shoulder.
Dean took it upon himself to put a bullet in her chest.
Dean turned to look again for the colt but the bodies strewn everywhere made his task even more difficult, but he searched amidst the sounds of fighting punctuated like clockwork by gunshots. Dean was getting more and more frantic until he spotted the handle and scrambled towards it. He had almost reached it when he felt a tremendous force pushing down on him and he collapsed into the floor while Azazel yelled triumphantly.
Dean turned his head slowly, his gaze sliding over Bobby who was in a similar bind to him and then into Azazel, talking with his two strongest demons by his side and a psychic standing over Sam, the point of a wicked looking knife not even an inch from his throat. He held up his hands in exhausted surrender, eyeing the girl warily.
"Well Sammy," said Azazel, "I'm impressed. You and your little group of friends put up one hell of a fight - just like I knew you would."
Sam only glared back. Azazel shrugged, "doesn't matter anyway, we're all here and my master will be joining us shortly."
Dean struggled against the force holding him still, yet he could only move a millimetre at a time - but it was better than nothing.
"We freed your victims," Sam countered, "if you don't make the sacrifice, you can't raise Lucifer."
The smug, self-satisfaction of Azazel's grin amplified it's evilness. "Oh but Sammy, you and your gang already have. All those demons you exorcised and all the psychics you killed, you did all my work for me."
Sam paled, looking around the multitude of bodies on the floor. "You hurt them while they were possessed," he croaked, "you made it so that the only thing keeping those people alive were the demons, and when the exorcism ripped them out of their hosts..."
"Well, it pays to have a contingency plan." Azazel said conversationally as he slowly pulled out an elaborately carved knife. There was a pained groan from the corner of the room and Dean recognised one of the psychics Sam had fought earlier coming round. Dean could almost feel the metal of the colt against his finger.
Sam's eyes closed in chagrin as the psychic rose to his feet and staggered a few steps. Azazel looked surprised, but only for a moment before he smiled in mocking fondness at Sam. "You left them alive," he sighed, "it doesn't really matter anyway, your friends have killed enough to satisfy the blood requirement anyway. Lucifer will rise."
"No," protested Sam through gritted teeth, his posture might have been bending under the weight of his fatigue, but Sam's hands were clenched into fists and his voice was loud and strong.
Dean's own hand finally grasped the gun as his strength was waning, he saw Sam start forward only to be brought up short by the knife the girl was weilding. Sam grimaced with the pain of pushing her away with his mind, she flew to the other side of the room and the other guy who had recently regained consciousness barreled into Sam and they began to roll around on the floor. Dean raised the gun to shoot Azazel but his arm was trembling with the effort, there was no way he could aim.
Dean dropped his arm to the floor, he waited as he watched Azazel turn away from the brawl on the floor and back towards the demons he intended to sacrifice. He put his hand on the back of the first demon's neck and brought their foreheads to touch in a strangely intimate pose and began chanting quietly in latin.
Sam rolled the psychic until he was sitting on him. Sam was struggling to subdue his opponent completely but was managing not to lose his advantage when the girl Sam had sent soaring across the room yelled, "hey!"
Dean looked over to see her kneeling over Bobby, she had a hand fisted in his hair, lifting his head up so she could press her knife against his jugular. She didn't say anything else, she only grinned wildly as she slowly pressed the blade harder against his skin and began to draw the knife across his throat.
"No!" Yelled Sam again, flooded with panic as he watched Bobby's blood bead and run down his neck, "stop it! You don't have to do this," he practically begged.
"Shut up!" She screeched back, no discernable trace of sanity in her voice, "this is your own fault!"
Tears were welling in Sam's eyes and he was struggling not to let them fall, his shoulders were betraying the heaviness of his breathing but he refused to breakdown fully.
"Sam!" Dean yelled and wiggled his wrist so the colt caught the light.
Sam looked up and recognised the glint, he held his hand out towards Dean and the colt fled Dean's hand and slammed into Sam's. He brought the gun round to shoot directly between the psychic's eyes and wasted no time before he twisted towards Azazel.
Azazel had just plunged the knife into the first demon's gut, then having heard the first shot, he was already starting to smoke out. As the demon was spewing out of the host's mouth, Sam reached out and the writhing miasma halted its flow and, bubbling furiously, began to slowly retreat. Sam was grunting and grimacing with the strain of forcing the king of hell back into his host, sweat glistened on his skin and the blood flowed freely down his face. Once the smoke had disappeared completely back inside the host, Sam raised his other hand and fired straight into the middle of Azazel's chest twice.
Like the psychic, Azazel's body crackled with power as it crumbled, however the amount of power that left the world as Azazel died was much more profound. Dean felt himself able to move again and sat up as Sam let out a snarl shooting the last demons standing and then brought the gun to hover millimetres from the forehead of the psychic sprawled below him, who raised his arms in surrender if a little hesitantly.
He saw pastor Jim get up and start running over to Sam but Dean turned towards Bobby. The door to the room burst open as Dean collapsed to his knees beside Bobby. He was gurgling and gasping for breath as his fingers vainly tried to hold back the gushing of his blood. The cut was deep. Dean hurriedly placed his hands over Bobby's, not holding out much hope of saving him but he didn't know what else to do.
Dean could feel people behind him, they too knew that there no hope for Bobby, so they just stood back and let them have some space. Sam was crumpled by his side, his whole body trembling with sobs he refused to let out. Bobby's eyes drifted over to Sam's and he began to huff more harshly.
"No, no," Sam pleaded, "save your strength."
Bobby's hand moved haltingly over to Sam's but grasped it firmly, "you got this, Sam. You and your brother will be alright... You're a goddamn hero Sam, I'm so proud of you... And if you go blaming yourself for this I will haunt you worse than the nastiest poltergeist you ever met." Bobby croaked. He nodded to himself and turned to Dean, "take care of yourselves, you're gonna need each other..."
Dean and Sam watched together as the light left Bobby's eyes, Dean stared in shock as Sam finally wept beside him, he couldn't bring himself to remove his hands from Bobby's neck until a pair of soft arms pulled him gently but inexorably away and embraced him.
Ellen squeezed him tightly and whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry Dean. Bobby will be missed by a lot of people but I don't think he had many regrets..." She sighed and released him, "let's get you outside." She slipped her arm through his and guided him into the cold air outside.
Dean looked up at the sky, mostly black apart from an inky blueness bleeding in from the east. As he returned his eyes to earth he saw Sam being led out of the convent by his dad. If Dean thought he was shaken by Bobby's death, it was nothing compared to the heartbreak all over Sam's face.
"Go. Be with your brother. We'll take care of the clean up."
Dean stumbled over to Sam and pulled him into his arms. He had never been the most articulate person, especially when it came to feelings, so he just held on tight and prayed to whichever gods were listening that there wasn't anything he could do to screw this up. They stayed like that for a while, Sam eventually letting himself weep on Dean's shoulder while Ellen pulled John back inside.
When Sam pulled himself away from Dean, sniffing and wiping his eyes on the back of his wrist, he was swaying. Dean swiftly walked him over and sat him propped against the brick wall of the building; Sam had tried to wipe the blood from his face but there was still a smudge of crimson on his cheek, but Dean was sure he looked quite a state as well so he just sat down next to him.
"You ok?" Dean asked gruffly as he assessed his brother's slouched form, head and eyelids drooping. It seemed a ridiculous question but it was the best he could do, given his empathetic ineptitude and his own emotional turmoil.
Sam laboriously raised his head to look at Dean with watery eyes, "no." He rolled his head to rest on the wall and looked up at the stars, "but maybe I will be... in time."
"Dude you sound like you're in the worst hallmark movie ever."
Sam looked at Dean even as he was regretting the words that had just slipped out. For a split second Sam's face was unreadable but then the corner of his mouth pulled tiredly into a sad smile and he said, "I'll try to work on that."
Through the relief that he hadn't just totally said the wrong thing, Dean was a little amused at how quickly Sam fell asleep. Yeah, we'll be ok Dean thought as he leaned his own head back against the wall and star-gazed as he felt his own fatigue sweep over him.
He was brought out of his reverie when a linen-wrapped body was carried out of the convent. Dean watched for a while feeling fuzzy-headed until Ellen came to stand in front of him.
"We're giving Bobby a proper hunters' funeral, but there are too many other bodies so we'll burn the rest with the convent." Said Ellen, her eyes sliding to Sam, "I'm sure he'll want to pay his respects too." She hinted and walked back to the pyre the rest of the hunters were beginning to gather around.
Dean bumped his shoulder into Sam's and as he awoke extremely groggily, Dean pulled him to his feet. There wasn't much ceremony about the burning of the pyre, pastor Jim said so few words that it barely qualified as a sermon and the rest of the event was conducted in reverent, mournful silence. Dean felt tears prick at his eyes again and he was sure the same could be said for everyone else present.
Once the fire had died down, someone set light to the convent and they all trudged back to their cars. They were all bone-weary as they made the trek back along the road to where they had left the cars. Even the spark of joy Dean felt as he slid behind the wheel of his baby was mightily subdued and he was overwhelmingly glad that the drive back to the motel was a short one. The boys only stopped to shrug out of their jackets and boots before crashing into their beds like waves at the shore.