fic: to the end [6/6]
Title: To The End
Author: aja_evenstar
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warning: PG, dark themes. Spoilers ip to 4x22
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: Picking up from the season 4 finale, the unfolding of the apocalypse.
A.N.// Sorry it took me so long to post the last chapter lol. Got a bit distracted, it seems! The thrilling conclusion *drum roll* Hahaha, unlikely.
Chapter 6
Standing back, colt-in-hand and smile firmly in place, Lucifer watched as the fourth Devil’s Gate stood before him. Feeling relatively self-satisfied, he sauntered forward.
“Not so fast,” a deep voice interrupted. Lucifer stopped calmly in his tracks, turning to see Castiel, flanked by Dean and Anna a few metres back, their brows mutually furrowed. Initially, Dean didn’t react to seeing Lucifer, but to seeing Sam, and it took a second’s thought to remind him that this wasn’t his brother. Not anymore.
“Ah, Dean. I wondered if you’d catch up to me.”
“I’m faster than you think,” he smirked.
“I must admit, I am impressed,” Lucifer nodded, his stance casual. “And this must be Castiel, Batman to your Robin.” He smirked in the angel’s direction, but earned no reaction in return.
“Watch who you’re calling Robin,” Dean told him, and the hint of a smile shadowed his features. “I don’t do spandex.”
Lucifer didn’t get a chance to wonder what he’d meant before Dean had disappeared. However surprised, the fallen angel wasn’t fooled, and spun around to freeze Dean in his place before he had a chance to attack. Laughing, he jutted his palm out and sent the Winchester flying back, as Castiel and Anna sped forward.
“I don’t think so.” With the wave of a hand they were frozen, the dark blade held firmly in Castiel’s hand. Lucifer stepped forward, plucking the sword from Castiel’s grasp.
“I’ve really missed this thing,” Lucifer mused aloud while he paced, sparing a glance for Castiel, who fruitlessly struggled to free himself. “I always wondered where it had gone. Never did I suspect my brothers would choose to wield it - a creation they condemned! Funny, what happens to even the greatest of beings then they feel there’s no other option.” He looked back up at Anna and Castiel from behind, slightly amused. “I guess we all have some darkness in us.”
At that moment he shifted the blade into one hand and forced it through Anna’s throat.
“Anna!” Dean roared from his distant position as the angel stiffened, her eyes bulging; the sword, still attached to Lucifer’s hand, was all that held her body up. He released it, letting her fall to the ground with the weapon still buried in her neck. Her mouth gaped, aglow, as her eyes, and then entire body lit up. Dean flinched as a wave of light exploded from her, engulfing the open field and dazzling them all momentarily.
As Castiel stared down at the lifeless vessel, his eyebrows knit, Lucifer wore a self-satisfied expression. He walked away from the scene and toward the Devil’s Gate, and Dean rushed to Anna’s side, noticing under his feet the dark outline of her wings. Once holding her body in his arms, he noticed it was ice cold, no trace of human warmth.
Lucifer regained the Colt from his pocket, striding to the gate when Castiel was in front of him once more. He remained cool and collected in the face of his younger brother, putting his weight onto one foot.
“This is really quite ridiculous. I mean what do you plan to do here, Castiel? You’re no match for me. Watch.” Without even lifting a hand, Lucifer sent his brother flying, but this time Castiel recovered swiftly, back to block the Colt. He strained to maintain Lucifer under his control, but he was no competition for the fallen angel, who countered the effects. Castiel found his grounding on a pile of rocks.
Satisfied, Lucifer continued on his way, unaware of the fast-approaching Winchester. Now bleeding, Castiel made one last attempt at guarding the road, and although it failed miserably, sending him on a fast fall to the ground, it afforded Dean just enough time to appear by Lucifer’s side. With one hand on his brother’s shoulder, he swung Lucifer around with the weight of lead under his fingers. He chanced one look into Sam’s ocean-green eyes before thrusting the blade through the angel’s throat.
The field descended into a distinct absence of sound, and Lucifer swayed uneasily with his eyes to the heavens. Dean jerked the sword back, leaving a gaping wound at the base of his brother’s neck. Almost gracefully, Lucifer fell back. His eyes, almost-shut, shot open and out of his mouth came a mighty roar - a deep bellow that shook the foundations of the earth and sent thunder breaking across the sky. Dean could hear Sam’s voice in there somewhere as he covered his ears, watching Lucifer’s features light up the purest of white. It was a white he’d seen only once before: St Mary’s Convent. Dean fell to the ground and shielded his eyes as light erupted, enveloping the valley in a powerful blast infinitely greater than Anna. Through his eyelids Dean could see the light dimming, and once it was mostly gone he opened them in time to see his brother’s eyes return to a dull blue. He was Lucifer no more; now he was simply Sam.
Dean sat, motionless, by Sam’s body, watching at how the wound barely bled. He lay there almost peacefully, head leaning limply to the side and hair resting lightly against his forehead. Dean reached out a tentative hand, letting it sit against Sam’s chest. There was really no point to it, but Dean was torn between checking to feel if Sam’s heart was beating, and the fear of finding that it wasn’t. Even through the layers of clothing, Dean knew Sam’s heart was still.
First he felt empty, void, like his own heart had stopped pumping life as well. It took a couple of silent minutes for reality to close in and beat down on him with the truth: Sam was gone at his hands. Gritting his teeth, Dean held back the urge to wretch, slumping forward as tears spilled out. Hot, salty drops soaked his cheeks, his hands, and Sam’s jacket as he bent over his brother, hands balling to clutch at Sam’s clothes desperately.
Castiel walked away from Anna’s stilled form and approached. His face was more solemn than ever, lowered, as if in mourning. Dean waited for the angel to make a move, take charge, but when he did nothing, Dean looked up expectant and angry.
“You said-”
“I can’t bring him back, Dean.”
Dean released Sam, lunging violently for Castiel, who stopped his with the raise of a hand. Dean tried to fight, struggling against an invisible force, but Castiel repeated his name, trying to grab Dean’s attention.
“Dean.” His eyes were narrowed, hard, when Dean finally looked up at him, breathing raggedly. “I can’t, but you can.”
Dean struggled less, his muscles losing their tension.
“You and Sam share blood. With the powers you now possess, you will be able to regenerate your brother.”
Castiel had released his hold on Dean now, watching as the elder brother looked down at his sibling with grief, fear and doubt. In amongst all this, Castiel traced a sliver of hope.
“What do I have to do?” Dean wheezed, speaking through his emotion and thundering chest; his hands began trying to wipe his face dry.
“You need to cleanse him. Even in death, he is tainted.”
“Cleanse-?”
“Exorcise. As I would a demon.”
Dean remembered witnessing the angels’ method of exorcising vividly, nodding slowly.
“That is what you have to do. Focus your energies on extracting everything dark from your brother, like a vacuum.”
Castiel stepped back, which Dean took as the end of his instructions. Although still slightly unsure, Dean kneeled slowly by his brother - it took a great deal of effort not to fall. Looking at his own palm, Dean tried to remember the feeling of power from when he had first been taught. Stretching his hand over Sam’s forehead, Dean prepared himself, but Castiel cut him off.
“Not his head. The wound.”
Dean’s eyes dropped to the small pool of blood at the base of Sam’s neck, and he hesitantly let his hand rest there, feeling ill at having contact with his brother’s blood. Holding back the thought that this was the second time Dean had watched his brother die, he tried desperately to focus on the fact that if Cas was right, he would also see Sam return a second time.
Eyes closed, Dean tried to will Sam’s body clean. It was difficult to focus, but the consequence of being absent-minded kept him on task. He tried to feel that power in his palm again, perhaps even the power inside Sam. Something unusual was stirring within, which Dean initially took for nausea over Sam. It was something deeper, however, something that wasn’t of Dean. He opened his eyes to see his hand glowing faintly. It was working. Pulling harder, there was an instant where Dean felt himself reach the contamination, and it threatened to fight off and defeat him; but Dean’s will won out, and Sam’s mouth and eyes lit up as Dean used all his strength to wrench Sam’s darkness out.
As soon as the energy possessed him, it vanished. Drained and panting, Dean removed his hand and tried to allow his eyes to adjust once the bright light had gone out. Removing his hand, where the wound had been, there was now little more than a bloody patch of skin. All that remained was a blackened scar, like a stain.
Dean’s eyes looked urgently to his brother’s, but no change came about. Sam remained as immobile as ever.
“Cas...” Dean’s voice panicked and breaking.
Before the angel had time to respond, Sam took a deep, gasping breath. His eyes flew wide and chest expanded suddenly.
Dean’s own heart almost gave out, but began beating erratically the second he processed Sam’s movements. Sam was moving. Sam was alive.
“Sammy,” he breathed, closing his eyes and reaching to pull his brother into an embrace. He felt warm, as he always had, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. Dean smiled as he felt Sam’s heart thumping against his own chest.
“Dean,” Sam said in a raspy voice. “Dean I-I can’t-I’m-”
“I know, Sammy. It’s alright.” Dean pulled away and held his brother at arm’s length, feeling the tears dripping from his chin.
Behind the reunion, Castiel had stepped back a few paces to pick up the infamous Colt, standing on the opposite side of Sam to Dean, silent. The elder Winchester didn’t look away from his brother easily, but when he did, Castiel handed the gun over, instructing,” Keep this safe.”
Dean found no response came to mind, watching with one hand on Sam’s shoulder as Castiel returned to Anna’s side. He lifted her into his arms, and in a blink the two were gone in a flurry of wind. A pang of sadness struck Dean’s heart at the life that had been lost in the battle, but his mind couldn’t afford much time away from Sam.
“Come on, let’s go.” Dean pulled Sam shakily to his feet. Sam looked about himself, scanning the field, confused.
“Where’s the car?” he asked.
Dean grinned, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ve learnt a few new tricks.”
Author: aja_evenstar
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warning: PG, dark themes. Spoilers ip to 4x22
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: Picking up from the season 4 finale, the unfolding of the apocalypse.
A.N.// Sorry it took me so long to post the last chapter lol. Got a bit distracted, it seems! The thrilling conclusion *drum roll* Hahaha, unlikely.
Chapter 6
Standing back, colt-in-hand and smile firmly in place, Lucifer watched as the fourth Devil’s Gate stood before him. Feeling relatively self-satisfied, he sauntered forward.
“Not so fast,” a deep voice interrupted. Lucifer stopped calmly in his tracks, turning to see Castiel, flanked by Dean and Anna a few metres back, their brows mutually furrowed. Initially, Dean didn’t react to seeing Lucifer, but to seeing Sam, and it took a second’s thought to remind him that this wasn’t his brother. Not anymore.
“Ah, Dean. I wondered if you’d catch up to me.”
“I’m faster than you think,” he smirked.
“I must admit, I am impressed,” Lucifer nodded, his stance casual. “And this must be Castiel, Batman to your Robin.” He smirked in the angel’s direction, but earned no reaction in return.
“Watch who you’re calling Robin,” Dean told him, and the hint of a smile shadowed his features. “I don’t do spandex.”
Lucifer didn’t get a chance to wonder what he’d meant before Dean had disappeared. However surprised, the fallen angel wasn’t fooled, and spun around to freeze Dean in his place before he had a chance to attack. Laughing, he jutted his palm out and sent the Winchester flying back, as Castiel and Anna sped forward.
“I don’t think so.” With the wave of a hand they were frozen, the dark blade held firmly in Castiel’s hand. Lucifer stepped forward, plucking the sword from Castiel’s grasp.
“I’ve really missed this thing,” Lucifer mused aloud while he paced, sparing a glance for Castiel, who fruitlessly struggled to free himself. “I always wondered where it had gone. Never did I suspect my brothers would choose to wield it - a creation they condemned! Funny, what happens to even the greatest of beings then they feel there’s no other option.” He looked back up at Anna and Castiel from behind, slightly amused. “I guess we all have some darkness in us.”
At that moment he shifted the blade into one hand and forced it through Anna’s throat.
“Anna!” Dean roared from his distant position as the angel stiffened, her eyes bulging; the sword, still attached to Lucifer’s hand, was all that held her body up. He released it, letting her fall to the ground with the weapon still buried in her neck. Her mouth gaped, aglow, as her eyes, and then entire body lit up. Dean flinched as a wave of light exploded from her, engulfing the open field and dazzling them all momentarily.
As Castiel stared down at the lifeless vessel, his eyebrows knit, Lucifer wore a self-satisfied expression. He walked away from the scene and toward the Devil’s Gate, and Dean rushed to Anna’s side, noticing under his feet the dark outline of her wings. Once holding her body in his arms, he noticed it was ice cold, no trace of human warmth.
Lucifer regained the Colt from his pocket, striding to the gate when Castiel was in front of him once more. He remained cool and collected in the face of his younger brother, putting his weight onto one foot.
“This is really quite ridiculous. I mean what do you plan to do here, Castiel? You’re no match for me. Watch.” Without even lifting a hand, Lucifer sent his brother flying, but this time Castiel recovered swiftly, back to block the Colt. He strained to maintain Lucifer under his control, but he was no competition for the fallen angel, who countered the effects. Castiel found his grounding on a pile of rocks.
Satisfied, Lucifer continued on his way, unaware of the fast-approaching Winchester. Now bleeding, Castiel made one last attempt at guarding the road, and although it failed miserably, sending him on a fast fall to the ground, it afforded Dean just enough time to appear by Lucifer’s side. With one hand on his brother’s shoulder, he swung Lucifer around with the weight of lead under his fingers. He chanced one look into Sam’s ocean-green eyes before thrusting the blade through the angel’s throat.
The field descended into a distinct absence of sound, and Lucifer swayed uneasily with his eyes to the heavens. Dean jerked the sword back, leaving a gaping wound at the base of his brother’s neck. Almost gracefully, Lucifer fell back. His eyes, almost-shut, shot open and out of his mouth came a mighty roar - a deep bellow that shook the foundations of the earth and sent thunder breaking across the sky. Dean could hear Sam’s voice in there somewhere as he covered his ears, watching Lucifer’s features light up the purest of white. It was a white he’d seen only once before: St Mary’s Convent. Dean fell to the ground and shielded his eyes as light erupted, enveloping the valley in a powerful blast infinitely greater than Anna. Through his eyelids Dean could see the light dimming, and once it was mostly gone he opened them in time to see his brother’s eyes return to a dull blue. He was Lucifer no more; now he was simply Sam.
Dean sat, motionless, by Sam’s body, watching at how the wound barely bled. He lay there almost peacefully, head leaning limply to the side and hair resting lightly against his forehead. Dean reached out a tentative hand, letting it sit against Sam’s chest. There was really no point to it, but Dean was torn between checking to feel if Sam’s heart was beating, and the fear of finding that it wasn’t. Even through the layers of clothing, Dean knew Sam’s heart was still.
First he felt empty, void, like his own heart had stopped pumping life as well. It took a couple of silent minutes for reality to close in and beat down on him with the truth: Sam was gone at his hands. Gritting his teeth, Dean held back the urge to wretch, slumping forward as tears spilled out. Hot, salty drops soaked his cheeks, his hands, and Sam’s jacket as he bent over his brother, hands balling to clutch at Sam’s clothes desperately.
Castiel walked away from Anna’s stilled form and approached. His face was more solemn than ever, lowered, as if in mourning. Dean waited for the angel to make a move, take charge, but when he did nothing, Dean looked up expectant and angry.
“You said-”
“I can’t bring him back, Dean.”
Dean released Sam, lunging violently for Castiel, who stopped his with the raise of a hand. Dean tried to fight, struggling against an invisible force, but Castiel repeated his name, trying to grab Dean’s attention.
“Dean.” His eyes were narrowed, hard, when Dean finally looked up at him, breathing raggedly. “I can’t, but you can.”
Dean struggled less, his muscles losing their tension.
“You and Sam share blood. With the powers you now possess, you will be able to regenerate your brother.”
Castiel had released his hold on Dean now, watching as the elder brother looked down at his sibling with grief, fear and doubt. In amongst all this, Castiel traced a sliver of hope.
“What do I have to do?” Dean wheezed, speaking through his emotion and thundering chest; his hands began trying to wipe his face dry.
“You need to cleanse him. Even in death, he is tainted.”
“Cleanse-?”
“Exorcise. As I would a demon.”
Dean remembered witnessing the angels’ method of exorcising vividly, nodding slowly.
“That is what you have to do. Focus your energies on extracting everything dark from your brother, like a vacuum.”
Castiel stepped back, which Dean took as the end of his instructions. Although still slightly unsure, Dean kneeled slowly by his brother - it took a great deal of effort not to fall. Looking at his own palm, Dean tried to remember the feeling of power from when he had first been taught. Stretching his hand over Sam’s forehead, Dean prepared himself, but Castiel cut him off.
“Not his head. The wound.”
Dean’s eyes dropped to the small pool of blood at the base of Sam’s neck, and he hesitantly let his hand rest there, feeling ill at having contact with his brother’s blood. Holding back the thought that this was the second time Dean had watched his brother die, he tried desperately to focus on the fact that if Cas was right, he would also see Sam return a second time.
Eyes closed, Dean tried to will Sam’s body clean. It was difficult to focus, but the consequence of being absent-minded kept him on task. He tried to feel that power in his palm again, perhaps even the power inside Sam. Something unusual was stirring within, which Dean initially took for nausea over Sam. It was something deeper, however, something that wasn’t of Dean. He opened his eyes to see his hand glowing faintly. It was working. Pulling harder, there was an instant where Dean felt himself reach the contamination, and it threatened to fight off and defeat him; but Dean’s will won out, and Sam’s mouth and eyes lit up as Dean used all his strength to wrench Sam’s darkness out.
As soon as the energy possessed him, it vanished. Drained and panting, Dean removed his hand and tried to allow his eyes to adjust once the bright light had gone out. Removing his hand, where the wound had been, there was now little more than a bloody patch of skin. All that remained was a blackened scar, like a stain.
Dean’s eyes looked urgently to his brother’s, but no change came about. Sam remained as immobile as ever.
“Cas...” Dean’s voice panicked and breaking.
Before the angel had time to respond, Sam took a deep, gasping breath. His eyes flew wide and chest expanded suddenly.
Dean’s own heart almost gave out, but began beating erratically the second he processed Sam’s movements. Sam was moving. Sam was alive.
“Sammy,” he breathed, closing his eyes and reaching to pull his brother into an embrace. He felt warm, as he always had, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. Dean smiled as he felt Sam’s heart thumping against his own chest.
“Dean,” Sam said in a raspy voice. “Dean I-I can’t-I’m-”
“I know, Sammy. It’s alright.” Dean pulled away and held his brother at arm’s length, feeling the tears dripping from his chin.
Behind the reunion, Castiel had stepped back a few paces to pick up the infamous Colt, standing on the opposite side of Sam to Dean, silent. The elder Winchester didn’t look away from his brother easily, but when he did, Castiel handed the gun over, instructing,” Keep this safe.”
Dean found no response came to mind, watching with one hand on Sam’s shoulder as Castiel returned to Anna’s side. He lifted her into his arms, and in a blink the two were gone in a flurry of wind. A pang of sadness struck Dean’s heart at the life that had been lost in the battle, but his mind couldn’t afford much time away from Sam.
“Come on, let’s go.” Dean pulled Sam shakily to his feet. Sam looked about himself, scanning the field, confused.
“Where’s the car?” he asked.
Dean grinned, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ve learnt a few new tricks.”