It had been two days since the confrontation with Schneider. After Castiel flitted Nathan to angels-only-knew-where, he came back to find the three Winchesters still clinging to each other. He considered them with his cool gaze, disappearing and reappearing directly in front of them. The last thing Dean remembered was the angel’s gravelly voice ( Read more... )

The scene froze before his wide eyes and John fought for breath. Sam had just killed Dean. Castiel stepped up beside him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“This was the destiny that Dean and Sam were headed for, one of several possible fates based on the choices they’d made,” Castiel nodded toward Sam hovering above Dean’s lifeless body. “Sam would ( Read more... )

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Dean rolled to a stop and stared down the dirt drive. A battered green aluminum mailbox sat to the right of the aproned entrance with faded white letters painted on the side: SMITH. Through the dense trees he could just make the silvery shine of Piedmont Lake, the sun reflecting off the placid surface like spilled paint. Easing to the side of the ( Read more... )

Dean sat at one of the remaining dining room chairs, head in his hand. He’d been at it for over an hour, slicing Nathan’s skin with hundreds of shallow cuts similar to those Schneider’s betrayal left on his heart. Blood slowly flowed from the wounds in tributaries over pale skin, merging to create rivers that ran with gravity’s pull to fall in ( Read more... )

Sam squinted against a harsh ray of light insistently prodding at his eyelids. He could feel Dean’s heat beside him and arms around him and wanted nothing more than to revel in their warm, peaceful cocoon a little while longer. His mind drifted on hazy, pre-wakening thoughts and he happily rode the current until memories started filtering in. The ( Read more... )

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean tightened his fingers threaded with Sam’s.

“After that fight, I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” Sam pulled back a little and settled his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A rush of cold air over his damp skin, coupled with the memory of Schneider telling Sam during his attack that he’d made sure that Sam’s family wouldn’t believe him ( Read more... )

Dan groaned and tried to wriggle from Dean’s hold. “Fuck off!”

“Look, the only reason I haven’t put a bullet in your brain,” he nudged Dan’s temple with the muzzle of his gun, “is Sam, the saint that he is, wouldn’t want me to. So instead I’m gonna give you two options, you either tell me where Schneider would hole up and I’ll call 911,” he motioned ( Read more... )

Sam’s body hurt and the room smelled strongly of his sick still lying on the floor next to the cot. The pain ebbed and crescendoed with each movement, spiking from mind-numbing pain to conscious-erasing agony. He was actually grateful for the periods of blackness, the respite from the constant hurt allowing him to refortify his resolve, knowing ( Read more... )

Maybe he changed his mind about seeing you.

No! Dean refused to follow that train of thought. Sam had texted him and requested they meet. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t intend to come. No matter what, he wouldn’t do that to Dean.

His eyes snapped to the door as the little bell tinkled, just as it had every time since he’d sat down and just ( Read more... )