fic: Emergency (2/-)
Title: Emergency
Rating: R (Language + End of the Worldy-type stuff)
Pairing(s): Matt/Dom (but not overtly)
Word Count: 2,547 (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers for all five seasons of Supernatural; graphic death/character death later in the story.
Summary: "Declare this an emergency, come on and spread a sense of urgency.... Its time we saw a miracle, come on its time for something Biblical... This is the end of the world."
While trying to find the whereabouts of Pestilence, Sam and Dean Winchester stumble upon and article in a British newspaper. All signs point to the Croatoan virus. When Cas informs them that the outbreak appears to be an attack on a newly unprotected prophet (after Gabriel's death) Sam and Dean realize that they had no choice but to travel to the small seaside town of Teignmouth, Devon to make sure this prophet makes it out alive.
A/N (if any): This was originally supposed to be a simple crack story, but it has taken on a life of its own. For that I would like to thank thevinegarworks , hopeandmemory , theballoons , and cawmrseagull for listening to me while I talked about this and worked things out in my mind.
Previous Chapters: 01
“Matt!” Dom looked over at Chris and shrugged. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
Chris crossed the room. “Matt? Come on, say somethin’.”
“We should go,” Tom shouted peaking out at the crowd. “Its only getting worse!” Tom watched in horror as a young woman, in her early twenties at the oldest struggled to get away from the crowd. She screamed as she broke free but was grabbed suddenly by a man behind her. After a few seconds Tom realized it was the band’s tour manager. He twisted the girl’s head around and started bashing it against the side of the stage until an explosion of blood covered him. “Oh god,” Tom whispered. He turned his back from the scene and tried not to vomit. In the end he failed in that endeavor. “We need to get out of here.”
“Matt won’t move,” Dom shouted. He looked from Tom back to Matt and put his hands on Matt’s shoulders. “MATT,” Dom screamed as he shook him.
Matt flinched and turned his eyes on Dom. “This isn’t supposed to be real,” he said softly. Matt’s blue eyes were glossy as tears filled them. “This isn’t supposed to be real.”
For a moment Dom was baffled. He knew that Matt was trying to convey something, but he was at a lost to what that ‘something’ was. Then it hit him, and he was reminded of a time several years earlier. Matt had confided in him about a recurring dream he had. The end of the world. “How is that even-”
“We need to leave,” Tom told them frantically. “NOW!”
Matt nodded in agreement. He was still shaking and visibly terrified, but he was slowly regaining his composure. “Wait… where’s… where’s Morgan?”
Chris put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, ushering him out as they made their way towards the buses. “He took Kely and the kids home to get clothes and their passports. I told them to go to your house,” he explained. They moved as quickly as they could, an attempt to make it out without drawing attention to themselves. When they got back to the buses though, they saw the fighting has spread to the crew as well, and getting onboard the bus was impossible.
“Come on,” Chris told them. The four made their way down an empty street. It was dark save for the glow of fires near the Den. They had nothing with them, save a pair of drumsticks that Dom grabbed before they left. No weapons, no instruments. Everything was left back at the Den and that did not sit well with any of them.
The screams faded as they got farther from the Den. Lights were out in the houses and the city itself seemed dead. All of them had grown up here and none of them had ever been scared in Teignmouth’s streets until that night. When they finally made it to Chris’ home, he quickly locked all the doors and windows. They stood in the kitchen, out of breath and full of fear.
The only light in the house came from the kitchen. Morgan and Kelly had obviously been through before they got there. The passports were gone, and Chris’ sat on the kitchen counter. “What the fuck was that,” Tom asked.
“We can’t stay here,” Matt announced.
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Chris told him. “Look outside, you saw the Den. We can’t go back out there.”
“If we stay, it’ll spread and we’ll never get out. We can’t stay.”
“What are you talking about. There’s no way I’m going back out there,” Tom told him.
“Tom’s right, Matt,” Chris agreed. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialed Kelly’s number. Chris paced around the kitchen nervously, his heart beat faster with every ring, but Kelly didn’t answer. “Damn it,” he muttered. Tom grabbed a glass of water while Chris tried Morgan’s phone. Again, no answer.
“It’s a bloodbath,” Tom told him. No matter what he did he could not erase the image of that girl’s skull all but shattering against the stage. “We’re… we’re safer here.”
“No, we’re not,” Matt pleaded. “Listen to me! We’re not safe here.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We have to get out of Teignmouth.”
“What are you talking about,” Chris asked, repeating Tom’s earlier query.
Matt looked to each of his friends. For once he was carefully choosing his words before he said them. “I… I’ve seen this happen before.”
“What,” Chris and Tom both asked in unison.
“I’ve… when… when we were recording Absolution-”
“THAT,” Chris shouted pointing outside, “NEVER HAPPENED WHILE WE RECORDED ABOSLUTION!”
“SHUT UP! Let me finish! When we were recording Absolution I… I had these dreams, nightmares. This.”
“Those were just nightmares Matt. This is reality. You probably just watched too many horror movies. That’s not what this is.”
“No, Chris! This is the same thing. I know it is. We can’t stay here. This… whatever-it-is will spread and we’ll be trapped here.”
“That’s a bit much Matt,” Tom told him. He finished his glass of water and shook his head. “I think you’re getting a little carried away here. Besides, I’m not leavin’. Not in the dark like this. We should rest here.”
“I’m telling the twuth!” Matt stopped and sighed, almost growling. “The truth! Dom,” he said looking to the only one who had not spoken a word since they left the Den. “Tell them, Dom.”
“I….” Dom looked back and forth between Chris and Matt. He felt as though their very lives rested on his shoulders. He had no idea that they truly did. On one hand, Matt’s claim was a bit outlandish, and that’s in a long storied history of outlandish claims. On the other hand, Dom remembered Matt waking him up night after night. Dom remembered how terrified Matt was of those nightmares, of the thought that he might be going crazy. He remembered being amazed by the clarity with which Matt remembered the dreams and how strangely familiar everything that was happening now felt to him. “Maybe they’re right, Matt,” Dom answered eventually. He was reluctant to say it, and the look of disappointment almost betrayal in Matt’s eyes made him regret it. “We can leave in the morning. When everything’s died down a bit, and we can see where we’re going.”
“Its not a good idea,” Matt told them, but he resigned himself to their plan. He was outnumbered anyway. “Things will only get worse.”
September 25, 2009 - Teignmouth, Devon (The Den)
Castiel appeared with Sam and Dean in the middle of a large field. At one end was a collapsing stage. It was midday and the sky was on the verge of rain. They could have smelled it if it weren’t for the mangled bodies that littered the blood-soaked field. The smell of death and rotting flesh filled the air and burned inside their noses.
“They’re too afraid to come into the city to clean up the bodies,” Sam observed. He covered his face with his sleeve, hoping to block some of the smell. “God, its worse than we thought.”
“It was a test,” Castiel answered. “To see how fast you could contain it. No one will enter Teignmouth until everyone is sure the threat is gone.”
“Meaning until everyone is dead,” Dean answered.
Castiel looked away from Dean. “Yes.”
Dean sighed and surveyed the area. “Anyone know where we’re supposed to find this Bellamy guy.” Cas and Sam both shook their heads. The trio made their way, stepping over and around bodies, towards the stage. Dean was the first to climb up onto the stage and take a look around. Blood was everywhere, along with more bodies. Some were just simply limbs lying around. “Gross,” Dean said with a sigh.
Sam looked over the stage with Dean, hoping to find something there that might tell them where this Matt Bellamy would be. There was nothing except wires, blood, bodies and broken instruments. Dean found the remains of a few basses and Sam found Matt’s broken guitars. Laying off to the side surrounded by broken glass and wires was one guitar that appeared to be in tact. Sam looked down at the red guitar that was covered in glitter. He picked it up, the strapped read “Manson”. Sam glanced back at Dean as he pulled the guitar over his shoulder and swung it around his back. “Well I think its safe to say they’re not here.”
“This way,” Castiel called to them from behind the stage.
Sam and Dean followed Cas down a series of deserted streets. Sam carried a rifle in one hand, a duffle bag in the other and the guitar strapped to his back. “What’s with the guitar, Sam?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug, looking to his brother. “Once we find him, he might want it back?”
Dean simply rolled his eyes and walked on ahead of Sam. Just before they turned a corner, Castiel stopped suddenly. He raised his arm to stop Dean and they peaked around the corner. There was a large group of people huddled in a circle. They could hear a man’s voice screaming, begging to be spared. There was something inside Dean that wanted to rush down the street, but he knew that the man was already dead. There was no point.
Suddenly the sound of metal hitting asphalt echoed through the empty streets. Castiel knocked over a trash can. The group stopped and all of them turned in unison, spotting Sam, Dean, and Castiel. “Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered before the three turned on their heels and began running.
Every few seconds Dean looked behind him for two reasons. To see how far away their pursuers were, and to make sure neither Cas nor Sam fell behind. Cas was weaker, the trip had drained him and he was beginning to lag behind. Dean slowed for a moment and grabbed Castiel’s arm. “Come on!” They continued running down empty streets with no destination. Sam turned a corner and tried to get into one of the houses on the street, but the doors were locked and windows were boarded up. “Shit,” Dean muttered. They tried the next house and found the same result.
Dean looked up to see the rabid citizens of Teignmouth turning the corner in pursuit. They had no time to try any more houses so they took off sprinting down the street once more. Thunder rumbled above there heads and large drops of rain began to fall. The sky had darkened as a storm approached. Dean rounded a corner, leading the group, and as he passed by a closed door, it flew open. A hand reached out from the darkness and pulled him back. Sam and Castiel followed Dean into the building. “Close the door! Close the fucking door,” came a shout from one of the corners. The door closed quickly and Dean could hear it lock.
There were no lights in the room, save for one. Dean could barely make out that it was a light from a small handheld camera that was sitting on a table. Outside they heard footsteps. The horde passed by without knowing that Sam, Dean, and Castiel were inside. Silence filled the room until finally a light came on. Dean looked around at their surroundings. They were in a bar. Sitting at a table near the center were too men. Both were skinny and (from their seated positions) appeared rather short. One had longer blonde hair and wore a black t-shirt under a red Tartan vest, and red jeans. The other had brown hair and wore a dirty white t-shirt with gold designs on the front and a pair of black pants. At the end of the bar, opposite Sam, there stood a larger, taller man. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of black pants. The blonde at the table seemed to stand out the most. Another thin man (though not quite as thin as the other two) stood in front of Dean, next to the door.
It took a moment for Sam to recognize them. “Well,” Sam said with a small smile. “That was easy enough.”
“Where did you get that,” the shorter brunette asked, standing.
“What? Oh!” Sam took the guitar off his back and handed it over. “I think that’s yours. It was the only one not completely shattered. You’re Matt right? We’ve been looking for you.”
Matthew took the guitar out of Sam’s hands and hugged it. A smile fell on his face for the first time in weeks. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment. “That’s Dom,” he said pointing to the blonde. “Chris and Tom.” He motioned to the one by the bar, then the man by Dean. “Who are you?”
“Dean Winchester. That’s my littler brother Sam, and this is Cas. We uhh… we know what’s happening here.” Dean studied Matt for a moment. His gaze seemed to make Matt somewhat nervous and the shorter man stood a little straighter. “You uhhh… You know Gabriel’s dead right.”
Dean’s words confused him and Matt shook his head. “Who?”
“You don’t know. Every prophet is protected by an Archangel. Gabriel’s dead, you’re free game now.”
“Sam,” Cas interrupted. “He doesn’t know.”
“Prophet?” Matt laughed a little bitterly. “What do you mean a prophet? I’m a musician. I’m not a prophet. Sure I… I had a dream like this a long time ago… but….”
“You’re a prophet of the Lord,” Castiel told him. This proclamation only made the group break out in hysterical laughter. Castiel looked over at Dean. “I don’t understand why they’re laughing.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Dean shouted over the yelling. “SHUT YOUR FACES AND LISTEN TO ME!”
“Excuse me,” Chris said from the back of the room. “You’re going to come in here, after everyone in this city has died. You’re going to come in here and tell us some bullshit story about Matt bein’ a prophet. Then expect us to listen to you. We don’t know you. I have other things I need to be worrying about besides what you have to say. I haven’t heard from my wife of any of my children in twenty fucking days. I don’t know what sort of sick pleasure you’re getting from this game but you can take it somewhere else. We saved your lives you should be thankful.”
“This isn’t a game. You’ve seen it out there. How long have you been stuck in here? Two, three weeks? This isn’t a game,” Dean told them. “Look, I get that you’re worried for your family. God knows I’ve been there, but this is important and you need to listen to us.”
“What could you have to say to us,” Dom spoke up. He had been quiet mostly, as he had for the past few weeks. “Who are you? What do you even know about what’s happening here? How did you even get here?”
“Cas brought us,” Dean answered. “I told you. My name is Dean Winchester. This is Sam. And this is kind of our lives. It’s a really long story, but suffice to say… this is the end of the world.”
Rating: R (Language + End of the Worldy-type stuff)
Pairing(s): Matt/Dom (but not overtly)
Word Count: 2,547 (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers for all five seasons of Supernatural; graphic death/character death later in the story.
Summary: "Declare this an emergency, come on and spread a sense of urgency.... Its time we saw a miracle, come on its time for something Biblical... This is the end of the world."
While trying to find the whereabouts of Pestilence, Sam and Dean Winchester stumble upon and article in a British newspaper. All signs point to the Croatoan virus. When Cas informs them that the outbreak appears to be an attack on a newly unprotected prophet (after Gabriel's death) Sam and Dean realize that they had no choice but to travel to the small seaside town of Teignmouth, Devon to make sure this prophet makes it out alive.
A/N (if any): This was originally supposed to be a simple crack story, but it has taken on a life of its own. For that I would like to thank thevinegarworks , hopeandmemory , theballoons , and cawmrseagull for listening to me while I talked about this and worked things out in my mind.
Previous Chapters: 01
“Matt!” Dom looked over at Chris and shrugged. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
Chris crossed the room. “Matt? Come on, say somethin’.”
“We should go,” Tom shouted peaking out at the crowd. “Its only getting worse!” Tom watched in horror as a young woman, in her early twenties at the oldest struggled to get away from the crowd. She screamed as she broke free but was grabbed suddenly by a man behind her. After a few seconds Tom realized it was the band’s tour manager. He twisted the girl’s head around and started bashing it against the side of the stage until an explosion of blood covered him. “Oh god,” Tom whispered. He turned his back from the scene and tried not to vomit. In the end he failed in that endeavor. “We need to get out of here.”
“Matt won’t move,” Dom shouted. He looked from Tom back to Matt and put his hands on Matt’s shoulders. “MATT,” Dom screamed as he shook him.
Matt flinched and turned his eyes on Dom. “This isn’t supposed to be real,” he said softly. Matt’s blue eyes were glossy as tears filled them. “This isn’t supposed to be real.”
For a moment Dom was baffled. He knew that Matt was trying to convey something, but he was at a lost to what that ‘something’ was. Then it hit him, and he was reminded of a time several years earlier. Matt had confided in him about a recurring dream he had. The end of the world. “How is that even-”
“We need to leave,” Tom told them frantically. “NOW!”
Matt nodded in agreement. He was still shaking and visibly terrified, but he was slowly regaining his composure. “Wait… where’s… where’s Morgan?”
Chris put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, ushering him out as they made their way towards the buses. “He took Kely and the kids home to get clothes and their passports. I told them to go to your house,” he explained. They moved as quickly as they could, an attempt to make it out without drawing attention to themselves. When they got back to the buses though, they saw the fighting has spread to the crew as well, and getting onboard the bus was impossible.
“Come on,” Chris told them. The four made their way down an empty street. It was dark save for the glow of fires near the Den. They had nothing with them, save a pair of drumsticks that Dom grabbed before they left. No weapons, no instruments. Everything was left back at the Den and that did not sit well with any of them.
The screams faded as they got farther from the Den. Lights were out in the houses and the city itself seemed dead. All of them had grown up here and none of them had ever been scared in Teignmouth’s streets until that night. When they finally made it to Chris’ home, he quickly locked all the doors and windows. They stood in the kitchen, out of breath and full of fear.
The only light in the house came from the kitchen. Morgan and Kelly had obviously been through before they got there. The passports were gone, and Chris’ sat on the kitchen counter. “What the fuck was that,” Tom asked.
“We can’t stay here,” Matt announced.
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Chris told him. “Look outside, you saw the Den. We can’t go back out there.”
“If we stay, it’ll spread and we’ll never get out. We can’t stay.”
“What are you talking about. There’s no way I’m going back out there,” Tom told him.
“Tom’s right, Matt,” Chris agreed. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialed Kelly’s number. Chris paced around the kitchen nervously, his heart beat faster with every ring, but Kelly didn’t answer. “Damn it,” he muttered. Tom grabbed a glass of water while Chris tried Morgan’s phone. Again, no answer.
“It’s a bloodbath,” Tom told him. No matter what he did he could not erase the image of that girl’s skull all but shattering against the stage. “We’re… we’re safer here.”
“No, we’re not,” Matt pleaded. “Listen to me! We’re not safe here.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We have to get out of Teignmouth.”
“What are you talking about,” Chris asked, repeating Tom’s earlier query.
Matt looked to each of his friends. For once he was carefully choosing his words before he said them. “I… I’ve seen this happen before.”
“What,” Chris and Tom both asked in unison.
“I’ve… when… when we were recording Absolution-”
“THAT,” Chris shouted pointing outside, “NEVER HAPPENED WHILE WE RECORDED ABOSLUTION!”
“SHUT UP! Let me finish! When we were recording Absolution I… I had these dreams, nightmares. This.”
“Those were just nightmares Matt. This is reality. You probably just watched too many horror movies. That’s not what this is.”
“No, Chris! This is the same thing. I know it is. We can’t stay here. This… whatever-it-is will spread and we’ll be trapped here.”
“That’s a bit much Matt,” Tom told him. He finished his glass of water and shook his head. “I think you’re getting a little carried away here. Besides, I’m not leavin’. Not in the dark like this. We should rest here.”
“I’m telling the twuth!” Matt stopped and sighed, almost growling. “The truth! Dom,” he said looking to the only one who had not spoken a word since they left the Den. “Tell them, Dom.”
“I….” Dom looked back and forth between Chris and Matt. He felt as though their very lives rested on his shoulders. He had no idea that they truly did. On one hand, Matt’s claim was a bit outlandish, and that’s in a long storied history of outlandish claims. On the other hand, Dom remembered Matt waking him up night after night. Dom remembered how terrified Matt was of those nightmares, of the thought that he might be going crazy. He remembered being amazed by the clarity with which Matt remembered the dreams and how strangely familiar everything that was happening now felt to him. “Maybe they’re right, Matt,” Dom answered eventually. He was reluctant to say it, and the look of disappointment almost betrayal in Matt’s eyes made him regret it. “We can leave in the morning. When everything’s died down a bit, and we can see where we’re going.”
“Its not a good idea,” Matt told them, but he resigned himself to their plan. He was outnumbered anyway. “Things will only get worse.”
September 25, 2009 - Teignmouth, Devon (The Den)
Castiel appeared with Sam and Dean in the middle of a large field. At one end was a collapsing stage. It was midday and the sky was on the verge of rain. They could have smelled it if it weren’t for the mangled bodies that littered the blood-soaked field. The smell of death and rotting flesh filled the air and burned inside their noses.
“They’re too afraid to come into the city to clean up the bodies,” Sam observed. He covered his face with his sleeve, hoping to block some of the smell. “God, its worse than we thought.”
“It was a test,” Castiel answered. “To see how fast you could contain it. No one will enter Teignmouth until everyone is sure the threat is gone.”
“Meaning until everyone is dead,” Dean answered.
Castiel looked away from Dean. “Yes.”
Dean sighed and surveyed the area. “Anyone know where we’re supposed to find this Bellamy guy.” Cas and Sam both shook their heads. The trio made their way, stepping over and around bodies, towards the stage. Dean was the first to climb up onto the stage and take a look around. Blood was everywhere, along with more bodies. Some were just simply limbs lying around. “Gross,” Dean said with a sigh.
Sam looked over the stage with Dean, hoping to find something there that might tell them where this Matt Bellamy would be. There was nothing except wires, blood, bodies and broken instruments. Dean found the remains of a few basses and Sam found Matt’s broken guitars. Laying off to the side surrounded by broken glass and wires was one guitar that appeared to be in tact. Sam looked down at the red guitar that was covered in glitter. He picked it up, the strapped read “Manson”. Sam glanced back at Dean as he pulled the guitar over his shoulder and swung it around his back. “Well I think its safe to say they’re not here.”
“This way,” Castiel called to them from behind the stage.
Sam and Dean followed Cas down a series of deserted streets. Sam carried a rifle in one hand, a duffle bag in the other and the guitar strapped to his back. “What’s with the guitar, Sam?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug, looking to his brother. “Once we find him, he might want it back?”
Dean simply rolled his eyes and walked on ahead of Sam. Just before they turned a corner, Castiel stopped suddenly. He raised his arm to stop Dean and they peaked around the corner. There was a large group of people huddled in a circle. They could hear a man’s voice screaming, begging to be spared. There was something inside Dean that wanted to rush down the street, but he knew that the man was already dead. There was no point.
Suddenly the sound of metal hitting asphalt echoed through the empty streets. Castiel knocked over a trash can. The group stopped and all of them turned in unison, spotting Sam, Dean, and Castiel. “Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered before the three turned on their heels and began running.
Every few seconds Dean looked behind him for two reasons. To see how far away their pursuers were, and to make sure neither Cas nor Sam fell behind. Cas was weaker, the trip had drained him and he was beginning to lag behind. Dean slowed for a moment and grabbed Castiel’s arm. “Come on!” They continued running down empty streets with no destination. Sam turned a corner and tried to get into one of the houses on the street, but the doors were locked and windows were boarded up. “Shit,” Dean muttered. They tried the next house and found the same result.
Dean looked up to see the rabid citizens of Teignmouth turning the corner in pursuit. They had no time to try any more houses so they took off sprinting down the street once more. Thunder rumbled above there heads and large drops of rain began to fall. The sky had darkened as a storm approached. Dean rounded a corner, leading the group, and as he passed by a closed door, it flew open. A hand reached out from the darkness and pulled him back. Sam and Castiel followed Dean into the building. “Close the door! Close the fucking door,” came a shout from one of the corners. The door closed quickly and Dean could hear it lock.
There were no lights in the room, save for one. Dean could barely make out that it was a light from a small handheld camera that was sitting on a table. Outside they heard footsteps. The horde passed by without knowing that Sam, Dean, and Castiel were inside. Silence filled the room until finally a light came on. Dean looked around at their surroundings. They were in a bar. Sitting at a table near the center were too men. Both were skinny and (from their seated positions) appeared rather short. One had longer blonde hair and wore a black t-shirt under a red Tartan vest, and red jeans. The other had brown hair and wore a dirty white t-shirt with gold designs on the front and a pair of black pants. At the end of the bar, opposite Sam, there stood a larger, taller man. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of black pants. The blonde at the table seemed to stand out the most. Another thin man (though not quite as thin as the other two) stood in front of Dean, next to the door.
It took a moment for Sam to recognize them. “Well,” Sam said with a small smile. “That was easy enough.”
“Where did you get that,” the shorter brunette asked, standing.
“What? Oh!” Sam took the guitar off his back and handed it over. “I think that’s yours. It was the only one not completely shattered. You’re Matt right? We’ve been looking for you.”
Matthew took the guitar out of Sam’s hands and hugged it. A smile fell on his face for the first time in weeks. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment. “That’s Dom,” he said pointing to the blonde. “Chris and Tom.” He motioned to the one by the bar, then the man by Dean. “Who are you?”
“Dean Winchester. That’s my littler brother Sam, and this is Cas. We uhh… we know what’s happening here.” Dean studied Matt for a moment. His gaze seemed to make Matt somewhat nervous and the shorter man stood a little straighter. “You uhhh… You know Gabriel’s dead right.”
Dean’s words confused him and Matt shook his head. “Who?”
“You don’t know. Every prophet is protected by an Archangel. Gabriel’s dead, you’re free game now.”
“Sam,” Cas interrupted. “He doesn’t know.”
“Prophet?” Matt laughed a little bitterly. “What do you mean a prophet? I’m a musician. I’m not a prophet. Sure I… I had a dream like this a long time ago… but….”
“You’re a prophet of the Lord,” Castiel told him. This proclamation only made the group break out in hysterical laughter. Castiel looked over at Dean. “I don’t understand why they’re laughing.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Dean shouted over the yelling. “SHUT YOUR FACES AND LISTEN TO ME!”
“Excuse me,” Chris said from the back of the room. “You’re going to come in here, after everyone in this city has died. You’re going to come in here and tell us some bullshit story about Matt bein’ a prophet. Then expect us to listen to you. We don’t know you. I have other things I need to be worrying about besides what you have to say. I haven’t heard from my wife of any of my children in twenty fucking days. I don’t know what sort of sick pleasure you’re getting from this game but you can take it somewhere else. We saved your lives you should be thankful.”
“This isn’t a game. You’ve seen it out there. How long have you been stuck in here? Two, three weeks? This isn’t a game,” Dean told them. “Look, I get that you’re worried for your family. God knows I’ve been there, but this is important and you need to listen to us.”
“What could you have to say to us,” Dom spoke up. He had been quiet mostly, as he had for the past few weeks. “Who are you? What do you even know about what’s happening here? How did you even get here?”
“Cas brought us,” Dean answered. “I told you. My name is Dean Winchester. This is Sam. And this is kind of our lives. It’s a really long story, but suffice to say… this is the end of the world.”