Malcolm's Kitchen…
Sam didn't know why he had to come here, to the diner. Maybe it was because he wanted to be sure Lynn was safe, she'd been so kind to Dean. Maybe it was because Dean said go to Lynn if there was trouble, if something happened to Dean.
Dean had gotten into a fight with a man. Sam didn't think Dean was hurt, but his instructions to Sam were clear. If anything happens to me go to Lynn. If Lynn needed help, Dean would help her. Dean would follow after Sam. Sam ran. He wanted to do what Dean told him to, he wanted Lynn to be safe, he wanted Dean to be safe.
He was confused. Nothing made sense other than the jumble of numbers in his head. One, one, one, zero, two, two, two, two. Over and over the numbers rang through his head until everything else was pushed out. They chased him no matter how fast he ran. His only other clear thought was to run. Some odd scrambled up logic dictated if Dean was in the diner, and Sam was in the diner then Lynn was safe and Dean was safe and Peter couldn't do anything.
Sam didn't stop running until he ran straight into Lynn. She grabbed his arms, pushing him toward a booth, away from the people in the diner. "Honey, where's your brother?"
"Dean promised, Dean promised. They were in the way, because they were in the way."
Sam barely spared a glance to a small group of people ten or so feet away grabbing and pulling at one another.
"Who was in the way?"
"Sam's a bomb. Save Dean, can't save Dean, save Dean." Sam pushed by her, barely paying attention to her trying to pull him back by one arm. "You! Not hurting Dean. Not taking my brother!"
When or how Peter had gotten there Sam neither knew nor cared. He landed on the boy, both of them crashing to the ground. Nothing was taking Dean again. Ernie pulled him off a second later just before Sam's hands got a good enough grip on Peter's neck. From somewhere farther inside the diner Sam heard high-pitched giggling, it sounded more like someone was afraid.
"Who is taking Dean?" Ernie was shouting at him, shoving him away from Peter, to the booth again.
Sam saw Dean charge through the door, stopping long enough to look around, look for Sam. His face was flushed from running, his eyes wide and frightened. He was already moving through the diner when Lynn pointed to Sam. Dean nodded to her. Peter darted away from him, stopping on the far side of the diner, near the jukebox.
Dean hadn't made it quite halfway across the room to Sam when a girl slid into the booth across from him. "Hi!" She leaned over the table and Sam couldn't help looking down her shirt, then away fast. She had long, light brown hair that fell in chunks over her shoulders and breasts. There was a pale expanse of skin between where her tight shirt stopped and her low, tight jeans began. She reached across and stroked two fingers over his cheek. "You are so cute."
"I—thank—uh—I'm Sam."
Her smile widened, her eyes shown. She was pretty. "Marie." Her finger slipped into his mouth for a second then skimmed his lower lip.
Sam gulped.
The jukebox flared to life. Strains of music filled the air.
Silver bullets in the jukebox, spin another round. Everybody at the back of the line it's midnight at the lost and found. Midnight at the lost and found, lost souls in the hunting ground. A remedy for all your ills, at the lost and found. Midnight at the lost and found.
"You can't use silver bullets you have to mix the silver with lead, or they'll be too soft." Sam blurted out.
Marie's eyes widened, she leaned farther over the table. "Wow. That's hot!" She reached across the table, latched onto Sam's shirt and pulled herself over and onto his lap.
"Sam!" He was pretty sure Dean didn't like this.
"I've seen werewolves, they are nassss-teee." Sam thumped his hand against the table in beat with his words.
"Really hot." Marie stuck her tongue down his throat and her hand into his jeans and grabbed—oh there!
Hangin on barely, hitch a ride away. Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today.
"Sam quit fooling around with that girl." Dean's hand on his shoulder caused Sam to pull back from Marie.
"I'm not the one fooling. You keep telling me to get laid more often."
"I didn't mean right now!"
They both looked at the wall with the jukebox. Peter stood beside it, holding up the unplugged cord. The power was still firmly out.
Hangin on barely, hitch a ride away. Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today.
Without warning Marie's warm hand and curious tongue were yanked away. Dean had her by the arm.
"Hey! He's a big boy, and he's mine, get your own." Marie's voice was an indignant squawk.
"Listen sweetie, I don't care how old his or how old he lives to be, that's my little brother and he'll never, ever be old enough for you."
"Asshole." Marie spat.
"Pediphile!" Dean returned.
"But Dean…"
"No!"
Ernie appeared beside Dean. "What the hell?"
Whatever answer Dean was going to give Ernie was cut short by Marie making another dive at Sam's lap. Dean caught her around the waist and shoved her back.
The jukebox's volume ramped up. Two women and a man landed on the table across from where Sam sat. He watched as they tugged and pulled at one another's clothes.
Some one hit someone else, tossing them over the service counter.
"This is insane." Dean growled and grabbed Ernie, moving him back in time to avoid being hit with a chair.
"How is that thing even playing? We still have no power." Ernie shouted above the wracket.
Midnight at the lost and found, lost souls in the hunting ground, A remedy for all your ills, at the lost and found, Midnight at the lost and found...Silver bullets in the jukebox, spin another round. Everybody get back in line, last call for the lost and found…
"Come on, Sam. This whole place has gone nuts."
Dean took hold of Sam's arm, started pulling him to his feet.
The jukebox skipped and scratched, it was so loud it made some people stop and cover their ears. A second later another song blasted out, impossibly loud.
People began ripping food from the refrigerator behind the counter. Others were throwing dishes and trays.
Your soul, your soul. You're going down, boy, all the way down. Hellhounds on your trail, boy, Hellhounds on your trail…
Dean's hand slid from Sam's shoulder. The color left his face. Pivoting on his heels he put his back to Sam, faced the jukebox. He froze in one spot, trembling head to foot.
Sam lost track of what the others in the diner were doing, it was all a jumble of noise and motion.
A clock was chiming to twelve. Lilith opened the door. Sam begged and pleaded for it to stop. Dean was dragged to the floor, blood and bone ripped and shredded away.
Come a little closer it's a feeling that I can't deny. I was weak, but I never thought I'd speak about the darker side. Is that a tent? I could repent on the side of the road. But, I kept on going yeah I headed for another load.
Lilith's hand raised and the room whited out. When it cleared, Dean was lying dead and bloody. Sam had barely a second to realize he was still alive before Lilith vacated the body and slithered away in a black haze. Sam's world closed down to the mangled body of his brother. He didn't try to stop the tears. When Bobby rushed in, trying to move Sam away, to help him, Sam spun and hit Bobby hard enough to knock him into a wall.
Hit Bobby. Christ he'd hit Bobby.
On a road outside of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Well I guess I hit rock bottom and the dawn was not in sight. And a Tempest made of fire, onset the sky aglow. And a sweet young thing called out my name. And this is how it goes, she says...Go boy, can you hear them? Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?
Sam carried Dean to the Impala and carefully, with the utmost tenderness, he'd placed his brother in the back, covered him with a blanket. Starting the engine, Sam pressed foot to the gas pedal and drove. Paying no attention to the speed limit or other cars, he careened down the road, intending to drive until a fatal blow stopped him. A cop tried to stop him. Sam hit him too, right before the man saw the body Sam had in the backseat. He sped away not knowing, or caring if the cop was alive or dead.
The car stopped, almost of its own accord, at a cemetary in Wyoming. The Hellgate wouldn't open, Sam needed time to prepare, set up the rituals. He laid Dean in a caretaker's shack.
He couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open the Gate, bring Dean out.
Still Sam held on.
The world faded away, narrowed down to the bottles of whiskey he found in the trunk and the ruined flesh of the man who'd been his brother.
Gripping Dean's shoulders with both hands, Sam shook him. Pleading, "Dean!" He wanted the memories to go away, but they washed over him in a tsunami, vivid and relentless. Under his hands Dean's entire body shuddered. He did nothing but stand and stare at the jukebox.
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning. Up from the ground in the middle of the evening. Up from the ground and I'm falling back down. Up from the ground and I testify.
How much time went by before Dean's body vanished, Sam had no idea. Now he was alone, horribly, painfully alone. Even Dean's corpse was gone. Reason and time lapsed away.
Still Sam hung on.
Every cut that heals reveals a scar that you can never hope to hide. All the pain that you restrain keeps building up deep inside. If you think you're above it then it's you my friend that I implore. You've got to talk before you run. See the night before the dawn. Before you pull yourself off the floor.
The next thing Sam felt, truly felt that wasn't grief or pain was warm fingers against his face. A deep, familiar voice pulling him from his stupor.I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning. Up from the ground in the middle of the evening. Up from the ground in the middle of the night. Oh, I testify.
The scars on Dean's chest Sam had seen for the first day only. He remembered them, everyone of them. Sam couldn't see them now, but they were there. He didn't care, they were there and so was Dean.
Sam shook Dean again. Without letting go of his brother's shoulders, Sam straightened and locked eyes with Peter standing across the room. Curling his lips to a snarl, Sam focused on Peter.
Peter stilled and glared right back.
"Demon flashy thing doesn't work on me." The words hissed from Sam's mouth without his brain actually forming the thought.
Dean's shoulders twitched, he turned his head and his eyes slid to Sam.
The jukebox scratched and screeched again, another song blared at them.
It's the end of the world as we know it. It's the end of the world as we know it. It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
"I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this crap." Ernie pulled his pistol up, other hand waving at Peter, "Get away from there!" He elbowed Dean's arm.
Peter dropped the jukebox's electric cord and jumped to the side.
"Yeah." Dean snapped out. "This ends." Shrugging off Sam, he reached behind his back for his pistol. Raising it to match Ernie's aim, Dean shouted the command, "Get down!"
Sam watched as the people in the diner obeyed without question and dropped. Some were screaming, some crying, others rolling together on the floor.
Dean and Ernie opened fire on the jukebox.
Blue-white flame mingled with orange-red. Sparks flew in all directions, hitting the ceiling and bouncing off the walls and the people. The sparks grew and coalesced, combining into one ball of glowing, shimmering blue-white orange tipped flame. It hovered for a second, then exploded outwards. Flames lapped around Dean's neck and arms, igniting his hair and curling around his fingers and climbing his legs.
Sam froze. His stomach churned, hairs all over his body rose, his skin tingled while his mind screamed NO! Next he felt Dean's weight hit him and crush him to the floor. Fire surrounded them. Dean was screaming his name, screaming SAM!
One, one, one, zero, two, two, two, two flew out from the ball of flame at Sam, swirled around he and Dean before being melted away by a fire burning blue-white and deep orange all at once.
Song lyrics:
Midnight at the Lost and Found by Meatloaf
Testify by Meatloaf
It's the End of the World as We Know It by R.E.M.