The battle raged around them; pillars of smoke, columns of fire, the clanging of swords. A lingering glance fraught with meaning and understanding passed between Sam and Dean. "To hell with it," the brothers cried in unison.
Dean and Sam visit a bar filled with off-duty Air Force personnel on November eleventh and raise a toast to their friends who fell in this Godforsaken holy war; they mean Mary and John, Jo and Ellen, but everyone hears Carrasco and Espinoza, Andersen and Helton. If it's this hard to tell what's a sign of the apocalypse and what's people being (flawed, murderous, destructive) people, if humans will go right on killing each other even without demons and angels egging them on... Dean can't bear the thought of the disappointment in John's and Ellen's eyes if he gives up, and Sam flatly refuses to prove Lucifer right; some days that's all that keeps them from giving up.
His brother is bleeding in his arms, and a creature is screaming above their heads. His father's voice is haunting him, yelling instructions, encouragements, insults, so loud that he can't hear his own thoughts, can't muddle through years of programing to do what HE thinks he should do. Because right now, the choice is between his baby brother, and a bus-full of children.
Reply
Dean sighed and went back to loading the Colt, wondering whether archangels could hear his thoughts.
Reply
Reply
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment