fic: in the end
This was the end. Not the end of a chapter or the end of something else insignifcant - this was the end of the world.
Dean Winchester stood on the smoken, burnt earth and everything seemed so surreal to him. They had failed - both the angels and the demons. No one had won. Fires seemed to be burning in every corner of the world, and no one could spare the time to put them out, and so they burned. The sky had crashed upon the earth, leaving everything stewing in a grey-black dawn that never ceased. All about every face was despair and hopelessness, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to care at all.
Above him, the angels and demons battled tirelessly - they were merely streaks and plumes of smoke and light, the age-old battle of white versus black, good versus bad. Dean watched them fight with utter detachment - he wasn’t sure which angels were up there and which ones had been obliterated. And Dean wasn’t sure who was winning the battle - who had killed more?
The jets of light and dark that were the ally and the enemy occasionally fell to the ashen ground near Dean, and he saw their vessel shimmer briefly before evaporating to either heaven or hell. He stared at the ground for a moment after they were gone, before returning his dry eyes to the sky, wondering what would happen next, who would be taken from him next? Dean then smirked, realising that they couldn’t take any more from him; they were all gone. Bobby. Sam. Castiel.
There was nothing left but for all the world to end, and then he would be taken too. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anyone else - not in the end.
Dean Winchester stood on the smoken, burnt earth and everything seemed so surreal to him. They had failed - both the angels and the demons. No one had won. Fires seemed to be burning in every corner of the world, and no one could spare the time to put them out, and so they burned. The sky had crashed upon the earth, leaving everything stewing in a grey-black dawn that never ceased. All about every face was despair and hopelessness, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to care at all.
Above him, the angels and demons battled tirelessly - they were merely streaks and plumes of smoke and light, the age-old battle of white versus black, good versus bad. Dean watched them fight with utter detachment - he wasn’t sure which angels were up there and which ones had been obliterated. And Dean wasn’t sure who was winning the battle - who had killed more?
The jets of light and dark that were the ally and the enemy occasionally fell to the ashen ground near Dean, and he saw their vessel shimmer briefly before evaporating to either heaven or hell. He stared at the ground for a moment after they were gone, before returning his dry eyes to the sky, wondering what would happen next, who would be taken from him next? Dean then smirked, realising that they couldn’t take any more from him; they were all gone. Bobby. Sam. Castiel.
There was nothing left but for all the world to end, and then he would be taken too. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anyone else - not in the end.