[SPN]: The one hundred and forty-four thousand people of Israel.

[lemanya]

6203 words
Gen AU/ R.
Warnings for temporary character death and foul language.
Disclaimer: only the original character is mine. wishful thinking does not create ownership.

Author’s notes: Finally finished after what I think has been a year. An interruption to “flow” triggered a severe writer’s block on the character, and I hope it doesn’t show through because there was a time there that the voice was very much dissociated from the original. I began writing it just after episode 4.10 aired, thus the mention of deceased characters as if they were still around- and character’s alliances. I didn’t feel it would work if I eliminated characters because of their canon demise, and similarly with location differences in regards to the final seal. So it’s very much AU.
A/N 2: The title is from Revelations- the 144,000 people were servants of God from the twelve tribes of Israel, and were protected from the destruction of the earth by a seal marked on their foreheads.
A/N 3: Regarding grammar and spelling. The blatant misuse of correct spelling and grammar in some places is necessary for the character's voice, but if something really isn't right beyond that please let me know.

Summary: Where was I? Ah right, we're all going batshit crazy in the same house 'cause we lived through the end of days. An Outsider’s point of view on the apocalypse, the Winchesters, and how one night of death can make all the difference in surviving.

Dedicated to mimblexwimble.

**

Ah shit, sorry, didn’t mean to step on you. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a light would you?

Fuck, didn’t think so. Never mind, it’s not like they’re easy to come by these days. Can find a thousand cigarettes wherever you’re parked but no way to get them started. Thanks anyway. Huh? Nah sorry, haven’t had a cent to spare since I started gambling. I tell you, no matches or lighters or good flint wood lying around but every hustler and his mom is ready and willing for a game of cards to zap the cash away. Mind if I sit down? I can offer you a sip of the Daniels if you’d like. Ahh, you’re in recovery. I apologise. Smart move by the way, you gotta keep your wits about you in these times. Of course gambling just doesn’t matter now since I don’t even have a cent on me anyways, and I reckon you’d be hard pressed to find someone who did in these times. There’s something about the release of Satan himself that causes the whole financial cake to topple over. Recession? What fucking recession- economies don’t matter no more.

I still remember the time when I had money to spend, summat to spend it on and I could walk around in a suit. Man, I remember suits. Tailor-fitted and finest cotton, you felt like the world was your damn oyster and nothing could bring you down. Didn’t matter if you was a lawyer or a tradesman, a suit was the highest symbol of power. Still are as a matter of fact. You can tell, 'cause I guarantee you anyone in one of them suits is Demon. Damn evil bastards are taking human luxury and making sure we damn well know it. Riding our bodies like they own us, and I guess in a way they do, but it’s a god-damn psychological ploy when one moment you’re playing poker with your best friend and the next his eyes are black and he’s slitting the dealer’s throat and you think when the fuck did he get hijacked?

Hijacked. That’s what the hunters are calling it nowadays. I mean, you still get the possessions, but they’ve come to mean more of the long term holdings like Alastair or Lillith, who put on suits and control the world. Well, not Lillith, she still likes the little white dresses. Word to the wise, keep your eye on the kids out there. Just as dangerous, just as likely to be demon. Anyway hijackings are fucking cruel. I reckon they’re worse really than possession. A hijacked human is being ridden by a demon for the fun of it, just to fuck with the rest of our minds, taken control of for a short while before the damn bastard jumps to another person. Keeps us all on our toes you see, 'cause you never really know who might be hijacked. And these days the host lives too, every damn time. Part of the game, that they know what’s happened and what they’ve done while summat evil was riding them.

Sorry? How do I know you’re not hijacked? Well easy… you wouldn’t be in this room if you were. See the salt lines by the door? And that symbol directly above it? Traps against the demons. Lined right into the walls so as they can’t get through the cracks. Iron and holy water and rock salt all blended into the frames and the paintwork and that. Put there by the Winchesters themselves. Or so I’ve been told. What do you mean ‘who?’ ain’t you never heard of the Winchester boys? Or the Hunters? God bless their souls. They’re angels in these times. More like Angels than those damn fluffy sons-of-bitches with the mojo power. Oh I don’t deny for one second they’re God’s warriors fighting on the side of good, but they’re damn heartless when it comes down to it. Well, Castiel ain’t so bad. I’m pretty sure some of them sigils are his work. You ain’t from ‘round here are you? I only ask since you don’t seem that clued up on things going on… Ah right- so you know about Demons and you know about Satan, but it’s all the little bits and bobs that the Hunters taught us that you got no idea about.

Was gonna say, for you not to know about the apocalypse, you mustn’t have been conscious for the past six months. Well, don’t you worry, ‘cause right here is one of the few safest places left on earth. And I know it don’t look like much, fact of the matter is it looks like crap. But even though it’s a big old’ ancient mansion-type piece of crap, I’ve been here for a while now and I ain’t never seen anyone get hurt in this house so long as they stay on this side of them walls. None of those demons out there, not a single one can get through the spells and hoodoo and whatnot protecting this place and that’s the only way we’re gonna survive this.

Mind you, not all of them are following the path of Lucifer. That demon girl, Ruby or summat, she’s on the light side and holding strong. Kinda gives you hope doesn’t it? And I tell you, we need hope in a world like this, where you can’t even get a light for a cigarette. Say, how long you been here anyways? I don’t mean to prod about in your business but you don’t seem to be kitted up with one of Mitch’s survival packs. That’s Mitch through there, by the stove. He puts together these great little individual kits with blankets and pillows and torches and a flask for water and a little bible and a ‘welcome to the safe house’ treat. Usually peanuts. Salted, o’course. I don’t know where he gets it all from but the Angels have been keeping tabs on us since the Winchesters ordered them to and so I reckon they’re probably the source of the comforts we do have. Plus an endless supply of Holy Water. Well, Mitch blesses it most of the time cause the Angels aren’t around much- he was a Priest see, back before Revelations kicked in and the churches got burnt down. But still, we’re one of two houses I know of in this state that has a working water supply, protected by whatever the Angels did to it so the Demons can’t dehydrate us to dust. Mind you, it was probably the Hunters- and even then it was probably the Winchesters- that told the feathered dicks to do so.

Have I ever met the Winchesters? Of course. They’ve been round here a fair few times. Never actually got round to saying hi, my name is… but I helped them unload a trunkful of weapons a couple of times and they always sleep in my room if they’re here for a night. Closest to the door see, in case of an attack. Well, not if the demons decide to attack from the rear. Maybe they just like my room, after all, first night they ever stayed long enough to see the sun come up the front door banged in and there they were, glass sticking out of one’s leg while he held his half-conscious brother up. Looked a fright he did, eyes unfocused and bleeding out of his eyes and ears. And nose too probably, couldn’t really tell there was so much blood everywhere. They needed a place to bunk in and I offered my mattress.

I reckon that’s the night things changed forever. Well, for me at least. Trust the Winchester’s to put a perspective on things. I wasn’t much interested in how the outside world was faring before that night; I was more concerned with the saving of my own arse and wondering how the hell black smoke can be so alive. Damn well turns out Hell makes the black smoke so fucking energetic. It’s twisted right, ‘cause even though them demons is ruthless and evil, when they’re floating around in the air like synchronised swimmers they look fucking beautiful. Creepy thought innit? But it’s the truth. You ever seen a brigade of demons dancing over the horizon at sunset? Amazing sight. Oh no denying it’s fucking terrifying, it scares you shitless to know they’re coming for you, but it’s still beautiful.

Ah don’t look so scared. I told you, this house is the safest place you’ll find for ten thousand miles in any direction, and no army of Hell is getting through. And I can say that for certainty, ‘cause I’ve seen them try. I tell you, if any of them big cities had half of the protection we got on this house, none of them would have crumbled. I remember it like yesterday. The night the sky turned red the buildings fell. Completely outta the blue too. No warning, and as far as I know only a handful of people made it out of the big cities. Including Marcy. She came outta New York with just the clothes on her back and a band of stragglers too frightened to do anything but listen to her. Oh, that’s Marcy there down the hall with all the kids. Five of them are hers. A word of advice, don’t piss Marcy off. She’s got a swing the strength of an angry horse and a temper to match. Other than that she’s an alright gal, and she’ll look out for you as long as you give her reason to.

And remind me to introduce you to Frankie-boy. He’s always brilliant for a laugh. No matter how grim the situation, Frankie-boy can bring a smile to your face. You’ll love him, everyone does, just hold on tight to your personals cause he’s got nimble fingers. Mind you, them sticky digits is highly amusing sometimes. He’s got fifty buttons from Castiel’s damn coat stashed away cause Frankie keeps on nicking them and Cas doesn’t know what happens to them so he just mojos new ones back on. Fucking hilarious that is. Damn angel. Probably the only angel who gives a damn about us and he ain’t as much of a dick as that Uriel fella, who’s got a stick so far up his arse Frankie-boy says he’ll need a butt inspection glove that fits to his armpit and tweezers just to reach it. Not that anyone would want to mind you. And anyway, I think in some way Castiel knows exactly what happens to his buttons. But yeah, Frankie-boy will make you laugh and Mitch’ll get you one of his packs and Marcy will look out for you.

And anyway, we all look out for each other here. We ain’t got anybody else. We’re at the end of the world and this is who we’re gonna be spending eternity with. God help us eh? We sure damn need it. And I mean, everyone here’s great, and there’s not a better bunch of people I can think of that I’d like to live out my days with, but they’re all crazy bastards and so am I and if you stay long enough anywhere- you’ll turn into one too. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, but all I can say is I’m in it for the ride. Should be fun, as long as I can find a decent box of matches.

Aw, gee thanks Mitch, mighty kind of you to bring us some blankets. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have one of those pack thingies of yours around on hand? Excellent. Ta, mate.

Where was I? Ah right, we’re all going batshit crazy in the same house cause we lived through the end of days.

And ain’t that a story for the youngens. And it ain’t a story I’m likely to forget. I reckon I’ll remember every damn detail of what happened since that last seal broke. Like it was fucking yesterday. That goddamn seal broke on a Friday, three in the afternoon. Suck it to the heavens I reckon, you know with Christ’s death being three pm on a Friday all those thousands of years ago…well this time we ain’t getting anybody rising from the dead to save us. Probably a good thing, you don’t really want the dead up and walking about, no matter their intentions. The Winchesters once said what’s dead needs to fucking well stay dead and followed it up by blasting the head off some freaking zombie that was trying to get in to us, then wiped out the witch coven that raised ‘em. It ain’t a lesson you forget easy.

At least- it was three pm in Kansas, where the seal was. With time differences and all it was nearly four at my place when the sky turned red. Freakiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, that deep blood red like in the movies when it’s thick and shit and dripping into perfect little puddles on the floor. A thing like that stands out, especially with this mighty screamy roar that came with it. Mind you, it wasn’t like a scream that you hear. It was the kind that echoes in your mind and drowns out all other noise 'til there ain’t anything else but it and it’s bouncing in your brain and making you think you’ve gone crazy cause it ain’t something you’re hearing, it’s something you are. In hindsight, I guess it was the sound of Lucifer coming up from hell, but it was all pain and rage and hate and death and human in that roar.

Nearly shat myself. Course, that wouldn’t a’ mattered too much since I was on the fucking John anyway- and that’s the Shakespeare of stories for the grandkids, taking a dump while the Earth gets blown to hell- but fact is it was fucking scary, especially with all the shaking that came after. A sonic boom type thingy like you see in the movies, where it’s just that wave of sound. Like a damn earthquake a thousand times over, all across the US. Well really, all across the world, ‘cause the bastard’s uphill climb ended up destroying Tokyo and flattening Sydney. Demolished pretty much every major city within 2 hours- New York, Paris, London, Hong Kong, D.C. I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count them all. Shame Las Vegas broke, would have been nice if the demons kept it nice and whole. Would have brought a little more fun to the situation.

But may all the dead rest in peace now, cause they’re damn lucky they’re not around to deal with living. Frankie-boy thinks that maybe they may not be so better off, what with the illusion of a heaven but the certainty of hell- maybe the dead didn’t escape so lucky. Most serious Frankie-boy’s ever been really. But don’t let that deter you from meeting him though, you can’t help but like him.

Huh. You know, they say the Winchesters were there, at the last seal. Trying to stop it of course, but they ended up watching it happen. Imagine- standing helpless while the ground burst open… Hmm? How do I know the Winchesters didn’t help it happen? Well I told you, I met them. Oh mate, you wait till you meet them. You’ll beat yourself up for thinking they may have had a hand in it. You wouldn’t ever think that again. Those boys are the most anti-demon humans ever, which I guess is a little ironic, being what they are. You know, the Boy-king and the Student. But nah, they got hearts of gold, except when they’re wasting summat evil, and they’ve been raised right. Besides, rumour says it started for them after demons killed their mother. In Kansas no less, and that’s fucking dramatic irony for you. Apparently though the demons got the dad too. You’d have to be evil yourself to join forces with the bastards who are responsible for killing both your parents.

Anyway, after that seal broke everything just went silent. I think that was more scary than any city collapsing for no damn reason. Nothing but silence left, all the sound drained out suddenly, not even a resonating buzz to give you a heads up that your eardrums are fucking busted and you’ll never hear again. It all just… stopped. Grass kept swaying in the wind and people kept on screaming and yelling and nothing coming out. Or at least, nothing going in. Still seems like that sometimes. You can walk for days on end and there’ll be nothing but the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, no people, no animals, no life. The only places you’re likely to find people are places like this. Safe houses where the water runs and the clocks tick and the kids laugh. Normal. You lose yourself out there. Things are dead. There’s no way to tell time, our blessed technology carked it. Figures. Shows just how much we depended on it all. Watches, phones, computers, cars… no more working appliances, not even the freaking toasters. And there we were, in the middle of every damn magnetic field going haywire. It was only after the angels tinkered with the clocks in this house that we even knew what second of the day it was.

You know I’m not exactly sure what I prefer. Knowing how much time has passed versus having no clue. I know Frankie-boy is getting a little antsy over how many months we’ve been here. I think what’s most frustrating is not knowing what’s going on outside. The angels don’t tell us much and it ain’t like we can ask the demons… and the hunters are too cut up whenever they stop by to be of much assistance too. It seems like we’re winning this thing, but mighty slowly. I don’t even know how many people are left in the world. I don’t doubt that there are other places like ours- refuges modified to house the last of the fleshies. But I got no idea where they are or how many there are. And I tell you what, if we’re any indication of what’s left of the human race it’s a damn surprise we haven’t offed ourselves yet, though we wouldn’t be the first. To jump off the nearest bridge that is. Bout a week after moment Zero there was a spate of suicides ‘cross the country. Some of them demon work I think, hijacking and whatnot, cutting or hanging or jumping or setting fires and leaving the bodies at the last possible moments. Mind you, I only found out through word of mouth, so it’s highly plausible Chinese whispers got the better of us and eight thousand down the west coast was actually Castiel has the best coat. Doesn’t matter in the end. Not all of them were demonic… some people- most people I guess- just couldn’t cope.

But here we are, with Mitch’s packs and Cas’ buttons, a thousand packets of salt and a slice of the hope cake and hey, it’s not too bad. It’s a laugh at times and we’re alive, and if this all manages to blow over, we’ll be alive then too. No sense in giving up just yet.

I do apologise. I don’t mean to get so down on you, ain’t much of a pep talker and the last thing you want to hear is the ramblings of a half mad roomie you’re gonna be spending the rest of your days with… What do you mean you’re leaving in the morning? Hey, ain’t you been listening? It just ain’t safe at all out there. There’s only so much we can do. Well… yeah, we got a few charms we can give you to keep some o’ the nasties at bay but they’ll find a way through, you believe me. Stay for a bit longer, I know I bitch about this place a lot, but it’s really not that bad and it’s much better than anything you’ll find out there. Yeah, well, give me a few days and I’ll convince you. Else I’ll get the Winchesters to tie you up. I’m pretty sure we got a basement.

Sorry? Oh, yeah I was talking about the Winchesters, wasn’t I? And that goddamn night. The night that Sam died. So yeah, I don’t remember how long ago it was, but it wasn’t long after I first arrived here. Frankie-boy said I could room with him, and managed to convince the angels to pull in another mattress. Nice thing it is too… them posture-pedic ones they use to have at the swanky hotels. Or something like that. Anyway, I was a bit jittery, it being my first apocalypse and all and it didn’t help much that Frankie was passed out on the couch in the front room snoring off half a bottle of Johnnie that Cas had placated him with. And I was laying there wide eyed, listening to the beginnings of a storm and scratching various parts of my body when they itched. Nothing better to do. Until I heard it. Growling noise, coming up hard and fast from outside towards the house and I freaked the shit out. Damn near hit the roof as I jumped off my mattress and before I knew it, they were stumbling through the doorway and I was saying set him down here and he was saying a chorus of Sammy and wake up and be okay and please and Sammy was just laying there bleeding all over the place. All over my mattress. Took three washes of holy water and a bit of angel mojo to get it out.

But yeah, so Sam’s bleeding and Dean’s kinda freaking out a bit and it’s all making me freak out just a little bit more and I reckon I blacked out cause I don’t remember getting a bowl of hot water and a spare shirt, but I did and holy shit there really truly is a huge-ass glass shard sticking out of Sam’s leg and his side and I’m kinda really hoping it isn’t wedged in his liver. Dean’s still just running his mouth where every second word is Sam or some variation of- and he isn’t being very helpful so I kinda blank out again and when I’m back with it- the bloody shard is in my hand, which is red and there’s red everywhere else too. Sam of course, chooses that moment as his wake-up call and sputters more blood out everywhere.

Things go pretty much downhill from there.

Dean mentions he’s got to stitch him up and could I please apply some pressure right there, and yeah, that’s good, keep it pressed down like that but Sam’s twitching away from the both of us with harsh painful sounding moans. Dean’s still talking nonsense to Sam and it seems to be working, Sam taking deeper breaths and relaxing as he focuses on his brother. Dean says just gotta fix you up Sammy, keep still, gotta fix you up while pulling out a needle and a lighter and I’m thinking okay, this I can do, this is easy, just keep pressing. Don’t think too much about it.

But Sam’s shivering like a fucking vibrating massager and I’m doing everything I can to clean the blood away but it’s coming out way too fast and Dean’s sterilising a needle and fuck it’s the middle of the fucking apocalypse and there’s a guy bleeding to death in front of me and yeah, it’s a little hard to not think about it when you’re the support cast of Apocalypse Now. I kinda like to think I’m a pretty emotionally stable kind of person, but now’s looking like the perfect time to just cry and fall apart and wish my mom was here and then I notice Dean- Dean who, quite frankly is poster boy for the emotionally stoic- Dean’s fucking shaking too.

And that’s just the fucking icing on the shitty cake.

You know when you’re young, and you reckon you’re the hero of the world, and you know in your heart that you can swordfight and shoot a man point blank in the head and hey, climbing mountains and jumping out of windows is easy peasy and nothing phases you and when it comes down to it, you could do anything? Load of bullshit. You grow up and you realise that everything’s actually really gross and you couldn’t ever do that because you’re really not all that cool and so you avoid anything that makes you a little uncomfortable because hell, there’s no way you could actually sword fight or jump in front of a bullet or be a ninja karate expert without years of intensive training. People just aren’t naturally that awesome. Not even when the moment calls for it. But even though I ain’t anything like a doctor I knew I would have done a hell of a better job than Dean right then, and the MacGyver inside of me takes driver’s point and before I can really think it all through, I’m running a needle through Sam Winchester’s body.

Since Dean’s stammering out instructions and repeating that’s good every now and then, I figure I’m not doing too bad a job, and even now, I hope to hell that things were always gonna be that way and it wasn’t my doing for the events that happened next. It’s kinda silent after that, Dean still saying whatever comes into his head and Sam trying to breathe evenly but it only works when he gets close to passing out before Dean coaxes him back again. It’s only after I’ve tied off the thread that Sam begins coughing. It wouldn’t have been so bad you know, a cough could very well have been attributed to the storm outside which was showing no signs of letting up but of course Sam has to take things to the extreme, because he’s got blood coming up out of his mouth with every hacking noise he makes.

Dean’s dabbing the sodden shirt at Sam’s mouth but it’s so useless it’s practically married pathetic and had millions of useless pathetic demon babies. There’s more blood outside of Sam’s body than there should be in it and Dean mutters something about stopping the bleeding and then louder says You don’t do things by halves, do you Samantha? Couldn’t just leave it, you had to fucking go and check if it was still alive. Sam smiles weakly, says was worth it though, or you would have gotten staked. And Dean shifts, and pushes his brother around gently into a more comfortable position. But Sam’s ten foot enormous and a bit of a dead weight. So Dean smacks him and pokes his finger into Sam’s armpit.

And he says Come on Gigantor and Sam coughs up another round of blood and mutters figures you’d still be a jerk, you don’t have a fucking off switch. Dean fucking snorts at that and lies down next to Sam and as I’m thinking this ain’t something I should be sticking round for Dean whispers into Sam’s shoulder don’t you leave me bitch, don’t you dare leave me. I can’t keep at it if you’re not here. That got me that did. Wasn’t even a matter of won’t- just can’t. Like his whole world started and stopped with Sam and I guess- well, if the rumours are anything to go by then growing up like they did I suppose it makes sense. They’d bring on the damn apocalypse for each other if it meant they could save the other’s life. And now if Sam didn’t make it? Dean wouldn’t have any other choice but to be right behind him.

But Sam just shudders violently and his eyes slip closed. I’m panicking thinking he’s just offed it right there but Dean sits up and pulls Sam’s head in to his lap and thank God Sam moves then, reaching up weakly to grip Dean’s arm that’s wrapped around his chest. I’m thinking this is pretty much the time where I ought to really be leaving and giving them some fucking privacy and Dean looks up like he knows what I’m thinking and says stay instead and so I sit back on the floor by Dean’s knee and the water bowl and start back up cleaning the sweat and dirt and blood off of Sam. Dean says thank you and I know he ain’t meaning just me staying.

My own throat’s pretty clogged up with something so I don’t reply but Sam fills the silence in broken mutters that go I’m sorry and couldn’t let it get you and again… huh, getting pretty good at this. Dean’s humming in Sam’s ear and Sam huffs out a wet laugh and sings along in whispers, until they hit the second verse when Sam stops and just says Greyhound and Dean nods but doesn’t stop singing. Sam stutters out never should have left and Dean clutches him tighter against his chest and Sam says I came home though. You came and brought me home. Dean’s voice is quiet, but I can still tell it’s breaking at odd moments and suddenly I’m in on the secret. Sam is going to die. Sam is going to die and there isn’t anything anyone can do about it and Jesus Christ it’s real and Sam fucking Winchester is going to die. He blinks slowly and his eyes aren’t focussed, his breathing harsh and his body shaking and his voice rasps as he says Guns blazing- like it should be, Dean singing in his ear in words now and Sam says yeah, but I came home and that’s when his heart stops. The rasping noises fall quiet and his eyes are closed and he’s stopped shaking. His hand drops from Dean’s arm as Dean breathes out one more broken, hollow, tear-streaked line stuck in on Lodi again and the song ends and it’s final.

I leave the room after that. Dean’s rocking his brother’s body with hitching breaths into Sam neck and there’s a sick feeling in my stomach that the corner between the floor and the wall of the corridor where I wedge myself into isn’t doing anything to relieve. Neither was putting my head between my knees. The only thing that accomplished was looking like a dickwad. I’m not sure how long I spent there, but it must have been a while ‘cause when I looked up- Dean was standing there in the doorway, staring a hole into the wall opposite us. No one goes in there he says and I nod. There’s a pause and I can’t think of anything proper to say so my mouth runs without consulting my brain and I splurt out did you want to bury him here or… and I don’t need the silence to tell me I’m a dipshit. Just as I’m contemplating locating a shotgun and blasting my skull out Dean looks down at me and says he won’t need to be buried and just walks away with empty eyes and I’m left sitting there thinking what the fuck?

I know, I know, you’re thinking it too. Here I’ve been talking about them boys as a double and now I’ve just gone and said Sam died- but there’s a difference between dead and died and fact is, Sam flat out died. Past tense. Sure ain’t dead now. But don’t fret or anything- there ain’t anything to worry about in regards to that, cause Sam ain’t some thing that got brought back by a demon or a spell, like zombies or hell, revenants. It’s difficult to explain, but if anything, the Winchesters are the exception to the goddamn rule and that’s how it should be. Besides, he’s Sam, totally all there, all him, body working like it never broke. I guess I have Castiel to thank for that.

Sorry. Sorry, got lost in thought. I’m just thinking about that night and it’s kinda really real now. It isn’t anything I’d ever really thought about deeply before. You know, I don’t exactly know how it all went down. I didn’t see everything that came next. I was still in the hallway, and you can see, there through the doorway- see the window? I stood at that same window and watched Dean stand in the blackness of the front yard just as the damn storm really kicks in, like it’s feeding off Dean, screaming right along with him. Thunder’s too loud to make out anything past Castiel! and Please! and you son of a motherfucking bitch! and I can only see him when the lightning flashes- like a fucking strobe light in some surreal play and all the actors change positions while it’s still dark. Tablets or something they’re called, tableaus I think. One flash and Dean’s alone, another and Castiel’s there too. Flash and they’re two feet apart, Dean’s shoulders shaking. Flash, and Dean has Cas by the collar of his coat. Flash, Castiel is glaring at Dean as Dean snarls at him and flash, Dean’s on his knees, fingers gripping the hem of Cas’ coat this time and shaking his head while the rain streams out of his eyes. Then Cas is kneeling too, the fingers of one hand gripping Dean’s hair at the nape of his neck and the other over his heart. Dean’s lips are moving and he’s trembling in the rain and in Castiel’s hands and then Cas says something and Dean’s shoulders slump and he nods once. Another flash of light and Castiel is gone, Dean kneeling muddy in a growing swamp and the door opens up behind me and out walks Sam.

People bleed, you know? Not just in red. They bleed in blue and yellow bruises and white tears and dirt marks and black scratches. They bleed without being torn open in hoarse screams and broken sobs, and sometimes it’s more painful when there ain’t anything visible to patch a bit of gauze onto. Dean bled out that night. And that? Was the single most frightening thing I’d ever been witness too. It won’t ever matter how many demons come barraging through them wards, I’ll face all of them with a skewer just so long as I never see the Winchesters like that again. I know I know, it’s damn near twisted that those boys are that close together in the pea-pod, but once you meet them, you couldn’t give a damn. Once you know them, makes total sense. Everyone sees them as these big damn heroes- near invincible and I guess in some ways they are. They save humans and kill demons and are planning on bringing down Lucifer and they are the stuff that Legends only wish they could be, but we gotta face it- they’re not immortal. They’re just as human and just as broken. But they’re the best thing to happen to this world, and they ain’t giving up on us or each other any time soon. And that we can thank God for, and hope like hell he’s listening.

They were gone by morning without anyone noticing, not even a dust trail left behind by that beast of a car. I tell you though, if nothing else puts hope in your heart, them boys will.

Well I’ll be. Speak of the devil. Or rather don’t, sometimes it has a habit of being a summons. But d’ya hear that? That growling noise? That’s the sound of salvation right there. That’s the sound of them boys coming in. Look, if you really weren’t planning on staying, I’ll wish you luck and send you on your way with a couple of amulets, but I only ask you wait till morning when it’s that little bit safer. Stay tonight, meet them boys, listen to a few good campfire stories. Frankie-boy’s sure to think of something that’ll have you pissing yourself. Maybe he’ll tell the peanut butter tale, man I love that one. But you know, us, here… living? Best damn thing I can think of, even if we will all go insane by the end of it. We all got stories of how we survived, and it’s enough to put some light back in our lives. A haven in a heartless world I guess. We all gotta live for the moments nowadays, and I’ll make sure that tonight is one you won’t wanna miss.

You know, it’s strange. I never really thought about the end of the world like this until now. All bright and hopeful-like. You must be bringing out the optimist in me. This- me being right here with you and Mitch and Marcy and her gang and everyone else living under this roof- this is everything. Do you see it too? It’s an odd feeling, like all the good things and all the not-so good things are living together in one little gift-wrapped box. For now all we can do is take care of each other, keep each other alive. It may not seem like much, but it’s kinda all we got.

But you know what? I reckon that's how we're gonna win.