This Modern Hell
Heaven's Gate lay open, the holy fortress exposed. The battle, fiercely waged, was over. Once the only free realm left, the place of light, harmony and peace had fallen. The holy host had been unable to keep their kingdom safe. There was no longer anything to set it apart, even from Hell.
All the structures of mankind still stood. Cityscapes and skylines littered the planet as they had for years, however now they were in disuse. Earth resembled one giant, over-sized ghost town. What hadn't been destroyed in the great battle had been left standing. The natural world also remained; life continued on earth though it was scarcely seen. The one thing that had entirely altered was the sky. To look up was to see a coating of thick, black smoke, crackling and pulsing with life. Since Hell has been unleashed, the air had been full of demons exercising liberty over this new land.
Sam Winchester ruled over all realms, Hell being the first to submit. At the exhibition of his power at Lilith's execution, the dark armies had fallen into his stead, ready to serve. He had given them the earth, and that was how the second kingdom fell. Heaven's host had been imprisoned under Sam's rule since his victory in spreading reign Above. In his blood flowed the life of all three lands. He possessed a mutilated form of angelic blood in his system, twisted to hand him to the demons, but not enough to destroy his humanity. He belonged to all of them, and they belonged to him.
He had risen subtly, his capability unrecognised and his powers unwittingly nurtured. It has been said some tried to stop him when his potential was realised; most of them were dead now. None had kept Sam Winchester from his seemingly inevitable destiny.
No kingdom was out of his power's reach – all gates were open. At the stretch of his hand, the armies of Hell had fallen into his command. Dark forces did his bidding, some out of loyalty, most out of fear. To disobey was to forfeit life. Humanity ceased dominance on earth, millions dying at the hands of him and his followers. Some had survived, going into hiding; those who managed were usually hunters, trained in the art of vanishing from existence and remaining inconspicuous. There was no chance they were outside Sam's knowledge, but he let them live. His goal had not been genocide of the human race; it had been rule of the human's world.
Heaven was now home to nothing more than a celestial lock-up. The angels had refused to yield, and so they had been incarcerated. Cages stood side by side, filling the kingdom with Sam's prisoners. The cages were built of his very own power – the only thing he knew that could contain angels. Early in the battle, the angels had paid warning to the young Winchester, but he had refused to deny the power he possessed. After the first raids, Sam had discovered that if he tried hard enough, he could kill an angel. With Lucifer's sword in his hand, his blood allowed him the ability to destroy a celestial being.
Sam approached the barred beings, his eyes washing over them with ease. His armies informed him there were no free angels left – he had them all. Even through the bars, they did not seem defeated. There was courage and life in them yet – faith resided there. Sam didn't show and concern for the cages he passed; he continued to walk firmly, eyes trained ahead. From within the third cage stood the only angel with whom Sam had been well-acquainted. The angel did not meet Sam's eyes or show any sign of acknowledging his presence at all.
Stopping after a dozen or so cages, Sam eyes found the one prisoner that stood out from the mass. He sat, back against the side of the cage, dressed in the tatters he had been imprisoned in days ago. His hard eyes rose to meet Sam's, not a flicker of emotion traceable. A small, golden amulet could be seen hanging around his neck.
Sam raised his hand to the cage door and closed his eyes. Brow furrowing in concentration, the bars began to grow wispy, blowing away in a breeze unfelt. With a satisfied smirk, Sam relaxed his posture and stood in the opening, beckoning his brother as Jesus would a disciple.
"Dean, come with me. You don't belong here."
"No?"
"I'm rectifying the mistake."
"Rectifying, huh? By the looks of all these angels still living behind bars, I'm going to pass on that notion. But thanks all the same," Dean retorted in his trademark snark.
"Dean, I didn't want you imprisoned."
"Maybe not but it never would've happened if you had kept yourself under control." His words were cold and impassive, as if he was not talking to a brother.
"The demon that did this has been punished."
"You kill it?"
"Yes."
There was no clear reaction to Sam's answer. Dean didn't appear to be relieved, impressed or infuriated. Sam wasn't spending time reading his brother's features; he was simply waiting for him to rise and join.
Sam's face twisted into something that darkly resembled a smile. Even after everything he had done, it was this that scared Dean. He'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that Sam had chosen his path, and all Dean could do was choose a side and fight. A pit inside him widened, a sickeningly familiar voice screaming that he had lost his brother. Sam was not simply acting this was; this was who he had become. There was no more Winchester left in those eyes. When Dean looked there, he felt Azazel looking back.
Sam seemed oblivious to Dean's true feelings, waiting still. "Together we will rule."
Dean dropped his eyes, his heart reforming just to break at how blind Sam had become to what was wrong. He only knew of one last option; he'd hoped and wished and even prayed that it wouldn't come to this point, but it seemed he had no choice. Grief welled up in his eyes, but Sam didn't notice this as Dean's palms pressed against the ground and he pushed himself upright. Sam stepped back, allowing his brother to pass out of the cage. Angels watched in emotionless silence, following Dean's every move. Sam turned back to the cage, raising an arm once again and squeezing his eyes closed. A foggy imitation of iron appeared, solidifying to form the missing bars once again.
Dean's eyes were trained on the ground, away from his brother. In an instant he glanced at Castiel to find him looking back, eyes direct.
"I hoped we could be a team again, one day," Sam confessed, and this time a true smile shone through. Dean was amazed at how empty of virtue it was; there was nothing good shining out of his brother's face. Dean didn't show any enthusiasm in return, simply staring.
Sam turned, beginning to lead Dean away from the captivity. The elder brother took slow steps in his stead, pocketing his right hand and pulling out a silver hilt. He broadened his steps until he was behind Sam, and then, gripping the demon knife, he plunged the only weapon he was sure would work into Sam's back. The Dark Ruler screamed, golden waves of energy flashing and erupting from his body in waves. A salty tear leaked down Dean's cheek as he retrieved the knife, Sam's body falling as the earth and heavens shuddered beneath their feet.