Something was wrong. Alan felt it in the air, in his gut. Bright Falls was beyond recognition now; everything was destroyed. Shadows surrounded the town, enveloping almost everything. Buildings were destroyed, cars abandoned, blood on the streets. Parts of the town had geographically shifted like tectonic plates, leaving gaps to oblivion between them. It was just like the image of the town he had seen during his time in the Dark Place, but it was real. Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder clapped. The writer's blood ran cold. No ordinary storm was coming. A fork of lightning the color of blood cut through the black clouds. Whether or not the clouds were a manifestation of the Dark Presence, he didn't know.
It's over. You are a fool to think you can stop me. A blinding, fiery pain came suddenly, and Alan cried out in agony, grabbing at his head. The Dark Presence. Dean and Sam Winchester are dead. You cannot win against me. I am eternal. Through the pain, he was reeling. Sam and Dean were dead?
"DAMMIT!" he shouted.
You will write for me as you once did, or you will die as they died. The pain magnified, and Alan screamed. He thought he felt blood trickling from his nose, but he wasn't sure. Resist and you will never see your wife again.
"Touch Alice again – and I'll kill you," Alan ground out through his teeth. He thought he was going to go blind from the torture the Dark Presence was inflicting upon him. "Fucking hell!" His head felt as if it was going to split open. He groped for the steering wheel, struggling to focus through the agony. He slammed on the brakes abruptly; it would only be a matter of time before he crashed the car. Blindly, the man stumbled out of the vehicle, staggering about. A howl pierced the night, and trees dropped like dead flies. Shadows blotted out the moonlight. The writer could feel the Dark Presence shift its eyes towards him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His instincts were screaming at him to run, but his body was immobile, incapacitated by the Dark Presence's torture. The pain subsided suddenly, and Alan collapsed to the pavement, shaking. The Dark Presence had spared him, and it scared the hell out of him.
If it wanted to kill me, it would have done so by now, he thought grimly. Sam and Dean are both dead. He rose to his feet, using the vehicle to support himself. The tables had turned now, the game changed. His intuition told him that the Dark Presence was waiting for him. Waiting for the right moment to strike. When he had journeyed to Cauldron Lake the last time, the Dark Presence had done everything in its power to stop him. It unnerved him that it hadn't seized its opportunity to kill him on the spot, but there was no time to think on it. Time was running out. The writer forged onwards into the night.
Alan climbed out of the car and made his way to the cliff-side, his emotions swirling about. He was afraid for Sarah and Barry (This thing killed Sam and Dean. It is only a matter of time before other lives are lost, he thought to himself grimly), brokenhearted that he would never see Alice again – never hold her in his arms again, feel the softness of her lips against his, hear her whispers – and unnerved by the Dark Presence's dormancy. He couldn't bring himself to be angry; perhaps he had been born for this: fighting – and ending – the eternal war between the Light and the Dark. Zane had brought him here to Bright Falls to fight the Dark Presence; he was the only one who could finish this.
"I love you, Alice," he said softly, before stepping off the edge of the cliff and falling…falling…falling.
Alan's eyes shot open, and he jerked upright, taking in his surroundings. He recognized the typewriter sitting on the desk, and it came to him. Bird Leg Cabin. By the typewriter was –
The Clicker, he realized. Beside him lie the bloody, mangled corpses of Sam and Dean, their unseeing eyes staring up towards the ceiling. The writer felt a stab of awe and sadness as he looked upon the brothers. It'd been their love for one another that had gotten them killed. Dean had refused to let Sam die alone, and had stayed true to his word. He didn't know the reasons why Sam had chosen to embark on his suicide mission, but he knew that the brothers' relationship was fucked up. Fucked up, complicated, dangerous, codependent.
Slowly, he rose. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he turned around to see Mr. Scratch standing before him, his hands and clothes covered in blood. "Did you do this?" he demanded. "Did you kill Sam and Dean?"
"No. That was all the boss's work," said Scratch. "I know, it's tragic. Like Romeo and Juliet. You see, I knew Dean was Sam's weakness and Sam was Dean's weakness. That's how I take out my enemies, you know. Find out their Achilles Heel, and use it against them."
"Get anywhere near my wife and I will kill you all over again." Alan's hands were curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He felt blood, but ignored it.
"Really?" the madman mocked. "I've killed so many people I might as well take a bath in their blood. Your wife may or may not have been one of them, given how many people died during the party but, you're next on the list." Shadows crawled at his fingertips. There was no time to think, just to act. The writer grabbed the Clicker from the desk and clicked. A blinding light engulfed the room, and there was a deafening roar. The Dark Presence. This wasn't enough to kill it, but I bought myself enough time to finish this. He dropped the Clicker, sat down at the desk, and began to write.
"This ends now."
Dean opened his eyes. He thought he could see the light of the surface beckoning him to safety. The last thing he remembered was holding a tearful Sam in his arms, desperately assuring him of his love. Even now, as he swam towards the light, he found himself deep in regret. He regretted every cold, cutting word he'd said to his brother in the past year. He regretted letting his brother undertake the trials to close the gates of Hell. He regretted coming here to Bright Falls. He regretted everything.
The eldest Winchester ascended towards the light, gasping as oxygen filled his lungs. He swam towards the pier, coughing and spluttering and shivering uncontrollably. Dean collapsed on the shore, his body screaming against the senses that mercilessly assaulted him. Day had risen, the sun's warmth enveloping him. There was nothing but light and warmth. Any signs of the Dark Presence were gone. It was if nothing had happened. What the hell? "SAM!" he shouted. "SAMMY? SAM!" His heart was pounding in his chest; whether it was from the shock of what he'd seen in the Dark Place or fear for his little brother, he wasn't sure. "SAMMY!" Please god, let him be okay. "SAM!"
Several moments passed, until suddenly, his brother surfaced from the black waters. "Dean? DEAN!"
"Over here, Sammy," Dean said. Sam swam over to him, crawling to shore. He too was trembling, both from the cold and shock. "You okay?"
"I-I'm fine," his younger brother answered. He met Dean's eyes, and Dean felt his heart break for him. He could see the shock, the anger, the guilt, the anguish in his eyes.
"Sammy…" Without another word, Dean pulled him into his arms in a protective, consoling embrace as Sam wept into his shoulder. "Shhh, shhh, it's over now. You're gonna be okay, Sammy. You're gonna be okay."