It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
Written for spn_gen_bigbangminibang challenge.
Summary: It’s the end of the world. Really.
Teenchesters. Sam 15, Dean 19.
Rating: T
Words: 6910
Warnings: A few cursewords. Sad. Mention of suicide.
Disclaimer: I wouldn’t mind having the Impala. Sadly, I don’t own anything.
Thank you to:
When I saw that annartism would be the artist to this story I was terrified. Very terrified. Because how on earth could my fic be as good as her drawings?
And look at these AMAZING drawings. Really, look at them. I can’t stop! Thank you so much for this stunning art!
A HUGE thank you to my hero borgmama1of5 who took the time to correct my grammatical mess. It’s now readable! She’s fantastic! Any mistakes left are of course my own.
Also, thank you reapertownusafor organizing this!
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ART: Pretty, pretty art this way! Tell annartism how awesome she is!
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It’s the end of the world. Really truly, the end of the world.
The scientists have calculated that some weird asteroid thing will indeed hit Earth and everything is going to go kaboom, with nothing intact left behind.
That had been four months ago, now Earth has two months left. The U.S. government had tried to keep it calm and orderly, explaining how they were building bunkers that people would go to and then everything would be all right. But then some other scientists started saying bunkers weren’t going to work, we’re all fucked. The official response said those doomsayers were wrong, until a very highly placed politician had a mental breakdown and ran around the White House naked in front of the press, screaming that ’we’re all gonna die.’
So yeah, it’s not a secret anymore. Everyone will die. They’re still working on the bunkers all over the world, though. You never know. If they’re underground they might survive. And maybe the calculations are mistaken. Maybe the asteroid will just miss earth and the scientists will go “oh…”
Dean doesn’t think Earth has a chance, like most people, he believes they’re going down. Mostly because Sammy thinks so. While Dean has no idea about astronomy things, Sam does.
So the world is a mess, no surprise.
Everyone is trying to do all the things they’ve never done, getting the most out of the last months of their lives. People are doing drugs, drinking, having orgies, eating way too much, or doing other hazardous things like speed driving, balancing on top of high buildings, and so on. Some people are stealing, murdering each other. But there are also people trying to find lost loves--the marriage rate has gone through the roof-and a lot of folks are trying to do their best to be a decent human being at the end. So people are dealing with it in all different ways. Surprisingly, a lot of the world keeps going like normal. A lot of folks go to work as usual. Making sure others have food, can buy medicine, keeping the law, have electricity. At the beginning, anyway. As Doomsday gets closer, though, people start giving up. Now there are abandoned places everywhere.
The Winchesters are still going on like they’ve always done. Because what else can they do?
Dean eats more. Which he figures, is better than what Sam does.
Dean looks in the backseat, where Sam is almost hidden by all the books he’s got. When Sam heard they were all going to die in a few months he panicked about not having read all the classics and made Dad stop at every library they passed. The Impala is filled with all the books he is trying to read before the world ends. And this is what he’s doing now, flashlight in one hand, chewing on his lip, and eyes darting back and forth with such speed Dean gets dizzy just watching him.
“So, you’re basically going to stay on the bottom, with lots of extra oxygen handy and hope that the water protects you?” The man’s voice seems astonished.
“Yup,” a quirky voice answers. “We’ll have enough oxygen to survive until it’s all over.”
“Don’t they say the ocean’s going to boil because of the heat?” a skeptical woman is saying.
“Ehhm…” The quirky voice doesn’t seem to have a good answer to that.
“I don’t know about you, Steve,” the lady continues, “but I prefer being blown up by the asteroid, rather than being boiled to death.”
Dad snorts and turns off the car radio, sending Dean a look. The radio is pretty much now all talk shows with people talking about their crazy ideas on how to survive.
Dad sighs. “Let’s see if we can find a motel for the night.” Dean nods and looks out the dark window. It’s not easy finding places to sleep anymore, all the empty motels are either trashed beyond use or have been taken over by other crashers. The last place they stopped at, someone started shooting at them when they pulled in. So they’ve slept in the car pretty many times the last few weeks.
They’re out in the middle of nowhere. They avoid the big cities, pretty much always have, but in these times they really do. Too many people living too close to each other in a time of despair. It’s not really a good combination.
They pass one motel, but it’s dark except for what looks like a bonfire in the parking lot. Dean makes out shadowy figures by the building. Dad decides not to check it out and says that they, once again, will spend the night in the car.
Sleeping in the car was much easier when they were younger and Sam and Dean could both fit in the backseat. They still have to share the space, but now it always ends with neither one of them comfortable.
They both stretch out and start with the never-ending battle.
“Your legs are too long.”
“That’s because I’m older than you, dumbass.”
“Your feet are like, next to my face, jerk.”
“What do you want me to do? Chop them off?”
*Smack*
“Ow! You little shit, don’t hit me with your tiny, bony legs.”
“Well, don’t stick your stinky feet under my nose, then.”
“So turn your ugly face to the other side.”
“I don’t-”
“Boys. Shut up and go to sleep.”
---
The next morning they are lucky enough to find an open gas station. The collection of sandwiches are meager and stale-looking, but Dean cleans out the store’s supply while Sam picks up cans of soup and bottles of water. When they stop at a rest area with picnic tables to eat lunch, dad announces they have a case. They haven’t worked on one since the whole ’end of the world’ thing was announced. Dad had at first thought the end of the world thing might be a case and spent the first month researching and calling Bobby and Pastor Jim and Caleb. Unfortunately it didn’t take very long to realize that the asteroid is nothing supernatural, and the fact is that they really can’t do anything about it.
“A case?” Sam says skeptically, squinting his eyes because of the sun to look at Dad.
“Yup,” Dad answers and turns the page in the newspaper he’s found.
Dean puts his sandwich down on the table for a minute and swallows. “And what would that be?”
“A poltergeist in New Lennox, about 10 miles on,” Dad answers, still reading his paper.
“Dad, why would we take a case?” Sam says, giving Dean a what the hell look.
“It’s what we do, Sam,” Dad answers.
“Dad,” Dean starts. This may be the first time he thinks Sam is right to ask that question. “Really, why would we take a case? It’s not like the poltergeist will be there for long, you know... with the…world ending.”
“You got somewhere better to be, Dean?” Dad looks up.
“Well, no, but....”
“So what’s the problem?” Dad goes back to the newspaper.
---
The poltergeist is only a few minutes from where they are. Dad had caught the story at the gas station. The house had been abandoned years ago, but people walking by have heard screams and noises from inside and reported seeing shapes in the window. The police have been there several times, and civilians too. All in all, four people have been hit by flying things in empty rooms in the recent past. A typical ghost house.
So research it is. Sam is pissed that they’re doing this, because it’s completely useless, Dean is kind of agreeing. On the other hand, he likes hunting and it feels good to go back to normal. Just an easy hunt. And Sam stops complaining as soon as he starts researching, because weird as he is, he likes that.
But there’s not much to research even though Sam reads as much as he can. It’s clearly a poltergeist and all they can do is wait until it gets dark and head into the house to get rid of it.
---
The house is light blue, the siding fading and falling off and it has a big garden full of trees and flowers. If they would ever have moved into a house, Dean would have liked it to look like this. Sure, it hasn’t been taken care of in years, and the garden is very overgrown, but it’s still a nice house. And Sam would have liked it, Dean is sure of that. And in the end that’s all that matters.
They sit in the car going over the strategy; it’s important things go as they should this time. No one wants to spend the last time they have in a hospital.
“I don’t want to see any mistakes tonight, understood? No reckless actions. I don’t care if we’re dying soon, we’re not dying today. ” Dad finishes his little speech and they both nod. “Any questions?”
They shake their heads.
“Dad?” Sam says just as Dad puts his hand on the car door, and Dad turns around in his seat. Sam looks a bit uncertain and bites his lip, looking straight into his dad’s eyes. “Why are we doing this?”
And Dad grins. “Because it’s fun,” and steps out of the car.
Sam looks a bit taken aback by that, and Dean probably has the same look on his face. Because none of them have ever heard that. To Dad, hunting’s been more of a revenge thing than fun thing. And to have fun while hunting? It’s one of the first things dad had taught them, hunting is serious business, no playground.
Sam turns his head to look at him but Dean just shrugs, letting go of the confusion, and opens the car door with a grin on his face.
Sam follows him and together they march after Dad through the jungle of overgrown plants.
“This is it, boys,” Dad looks at them as they come up to him, standing on the front porch of the house. “This is the last one.”
They both nod.
“You two going to show me how it’s done?” He asks, a hint of a smile on his face mixed with something else. Pride.
This has been their life for years, this is what they do. And when everything goes as it should, is sure as hell is fun. And even though Sam wouldn’t admit it out loud, Dean knows Sam thinks the same.
He catches Sam’s eyes and they both smile.
“Yes, Sir.”
And it is a perfect ending. They work as a team, as in sync as they could be. The only glitch is that Sam gets hit in the face with a flying book. But when Dad and Dean run over to Sam who’s laying stretched out on the ground, Sam just grins up wildly at them with bloodied teeth and holds up the old book with fading golden letters across the cover: “Ghost Stories.”
---
A few days later they hit a pretty big town. They need to get some supplies, some food. And this one seems to have pretty many open stores. It’s one of the bunker towns that people will take shelter in. The construction is impossible to miss. Explosions can be heard and a herd of yellow machines are parked everywhere. Outside a chainlink fence people are watching, cheering on the workers. Usually bunkers are built in the outskirts of the town, but here it is right in the middle. Dean figures there was a park there before or something, spotting the sawed-off trees some kids are playing on nearby.
Sam and Dean watch for a while as Dad is in a nearby store. Not that there’s much to see, really, considering the action is taking place underground. But the big hole is hard to miss.
“Dude, can you imagine the toilet lines? Like, have they even thought of that?” Dean says.
Sam looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Really? That’s what’s on your mind? Restrooms?”
“What?” Dean answers. “It’s an important matter.”
“We should be lucky we even get toilets. And food.”
“Well, how much fun will it be to spend your last hours on earth needing to take a leak…or worse?” Dean shudders.
Sam starts to answer but gets interrupted by a conversation behind them.
“What are they doing, Mommy?” a little girl in two pigtails and a red polka-dotted dress is asking as they walk pass them. “They’re just building a new tunnel,” The mom replies in a tight voice, forcing a smile towards her daughter.
That ends the conversation about restrooms.
“I hope they get finished in time,” Sam says sadly after a bit. “It’s amazing how much work has been done the last few months, but there’s still a lot of work left. I mean, all these bunkers, statistically speaking, some of them will fail.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Dean asks.
Sam shrugs. “It gives people hope.”
---
The bunkers are a big operation. All over the world, old secret military bases, tunnels, subway lines, different types of shelters, everything that is far enough down are turning into bunkers for people to go to when it’s time.
They’re also building new ones, lots of them. Dad spends two weeks helping out in one place when they’re low on cash. Dean just hopes they don’t build too many holes, so the ground falls in.
The plan is that a few days before the end of the world day, people will come to live in the bunkers. That is, until the asteroid crashes into the world and they all die together stuck in an ugly room.
To organize this, a big lottery is arranged. Everyone will have room, the government says, but they need to assign who will go where and when so not all the people go to the same bunker.
Every family is therefore getting one ticket to one particular bunker. Whether they want to go or not is up to them. And many people don’t. They want to die in their homes with their family in a place they love, and not with a bunch of people they don’t know.
But many people still have hope that the bunkers will work, so there is expected to be some chaos.
Dean wouldn’t really mind just the three of them sitting in the Impala watching the fireworks of exploding rocks. On the other hand, it will probably be more terrifying than pretty. And it’s supposed get so hot you die from that first, at least according to some scientists.
The decision about what they would do had been a pretty quick decision. It had turned out that even if they’re Winchesters, and don’t like hanging with other people, they are Winchesters and Winchesters don’t give up. Because if there is a chance, the slightest chance that they can survive this, they’re going to take it.
Dad picks up the golden ticket from a post office in Oregon. There’s a date, time, a map and a reminder to bring identification in the letter. “John Winchester, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester” is written on the top in bold letters. Dean thinks they should have written something funny on it like, “Welcome to your last place on earth.” But there’s not even a picture, unless you count the map.
“Charleston, Illinois,” Dad says, waving the papers as he opens the letter. “You two good with that?” Like there’s another choice.
---
They don’t do much after that. They drive toward Illinois slowly, making sure to stop at some interesting places along the way. In Wyoming they stop at Yellowstone, something they’ve never done before, even though they’ve passed through the state many times. Sam seems most excited about it and won’t stop talking about all the geological things, and runs around collecting stones.
“Last time you picked up rocks from the ground you were five,” Dean says as Sam shows him a stone.
“Dean. This is a moss agate,” Sam answers like it’s the most fantastic thing he’s ever found and puts it in his pocket.
They’re getting low on food, and in the last few days they’ve only spotted one open diner, so they take a detour from the main road they’re on to find somewhere to stop.
Driving into Rockville, Iowa, Dean thinks it’s a bit strange how there’s no one around. It is the middle of the day after all, and someone should be out walking, or driving. Instead it’s empty, and he gets a really uneasy feeling about it.
As they round the corner towards the town square, Dean sees it before he can hear his dad’s loud intake of breath. There are dead bodies lying all over the square, and Dean’s stomach clenches.
A whole family is on the ground beside a minivan, mom, dad, daughter and two sons. Holding hands, all dressed in nice clothes. A bit further away there are two police officers in dress uniforms, sprawled on the ground next to the police car. The lights are flashing slowly, batteries on their way to dying. No sirens.
Dean hastily looks back at his brother, seeing Sam’s still got his head buried into a book. Dean looks at his dad, sees his mouth moving before any words come out. Dean quickly clasps Dad’s arm and gestures his other hand towards Sam. Dad checks the rear view mirror and notes Sam’s lack of attention and nods, carefully turning the car around. There’s no need for Sam to see this.
Sam, however, chooses the right moment like always, and before Dean can stop him, looks up. “Hey, don’t you think….” His voice stops abruptly, eyes staring out the window at the mass of dead bodies. Dean can literally see all the color in Sam’s face disappear. Dad drops the cautious speed and steps on the gas pedal. They don’t want to stay here.
Mass suicide. It’s been all over the news for weeks. Groups, or sometimes even whole towns, taking their lives. This must be one of those towns.
The suicide rates since the end of the world was announced are much higher than before. At least according to all the authorities still tracking this, like it matters. Dean doesn’t think it takes a genius to figure it out.
Dad surprises him by not leaving the town immediately. Instead he stops in front of a grocery store, hands clutching the steering wheel. They can’t see the bodies anymore, but knowing they’re there, only a few blocks away, Dean just wants to go, just go.
Dad licks his lips and looks and turns his head toward Dean meeting his eyes. “We need some stuff.”
Really? There are dead people, not far away from them; Sam’s looking completely freaked out in the backseat, not saying a word, and dad want to stop for groceries. But Dean knows what dad is saying. There’s not anyone alive and there’s a store filled with food right next to them.
Dad turns, looking at Sam, too. “We go in, guns ready. And we check for people. If anyone is there…we leave. If not…” He lets the last words trail off. But Dean knows what he means. If not, they take as much they can carry.
“You okay, Sam?” Dad asks and Sam nods slowly.
When Dean opens the car door he can feel it. The smell of death is hanging in the air and fills his nostrils, his mouth...Dean gags and loses his breakfast, the images from the square flashing in his mind.
He feels a hand on his shoulder. Dad. Dean holds out his hand, letting his dad help him up. Sam is standing further away with that shocked expression on his face, staring at the supermarket.
The doors are open and they walk toward it, guns high. Dad decides to check the store first himself; it’s not a very big supermarket. He leaves them standing ready at the door just in case something would happen.
Turns out it is clear, no people, and he calls them in to start packing what they can. Sam just stands, staring at the aisle of cereals like he’s never seen any before. Dad gives Dean a stern look to continue, and walks up to Sam.
“Sam,” Dad lowers himself a little, looks straight into Sam’s eyes. “Sam, if we don’t do this, someone else will. We’ve seen loads of scattered places like this.” He puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “People go in and take what they want, because no one cares. This time we are first. No one owns this store anymore, we’re not doing any harm.”
Sam nods a little, still looking like a lost five-year-old, but grabs one of the bags from Dad’s hand and slowly starts filling it with cans of food. Together the three of them are done quickly. It’s not just that they want to leave, it could be dangerous to stay.
Before they enter the car again, Sam loses his breakfast as well.
---
The next afternoon they reach a town that has actual live people in it. Luckily, it’s close to the road so they can see activity going on, because they don’t want to hit another town like the last one again. It doesn’t take them a lot of time to find a diner that is open. Many people are there, laughing and having fun, and it’s easy to forget what’s going to happen, and what they just saw. But as Dean thinks, what else can you do, really.
Dean picks three different flavors of pie: cherry, lemon and strawberry. The mid-forties waitress doesn’t even glance up at him from her notepad.
In the booth next to them a lady is yelling, “I don’t care if it’s the end of the world, Earl, you eat so much you puke again, and I am leaving you to go have hot sex with the gorgeous Brazilian guy at the gym.”
Dad laughs into his drink and Dean grins. The waitress just looks bored and nods toward Sam, “What do you want?”
“Nothing thanks,” he mumbles, staring down at the table.
“Come on Sam,” Dean tries. “You gotta eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Sam answers with his still too pale face, not looking at him. “Can I go back to the car?” he meets dad’s eyes. Dad makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture and Sam get up from the table and leaves the diner. Dean’s stomach drops. Before, Dad would have insisted Sam sit at the table even if he didn’t eat. But this is not before. Everything is different now. These days Dad seems to agree to most things. Most things, Dean thinks sadly. Dad had not allowed him to blow up Caleb’s house even though Caleb had left it and would never return. Caleb had even laughed about it and said Dean could do whatever he wanted.
Dean sighs deeply and turns to Dad. “Will you take the pies with you?” and heads out to join Sam.
Sam’s in the backseat, book open in his lap, but he’s not looking at it, instead, staring at nothing, lost in thought. Dean jumps in on the other side, moving the mountain of books so he can sit close to his brother. Sam’s quiet and Dean doesn’t say anything, because what can he say? He really doesn’t know how to start this conversation.
So Dean waits, Sam is the one who needs to talk, and Dean will listen to whatever Sam wants to say.
“There were babies, Dean,” Sam starts after a while. “They killed the babies, and the children and…” Sam stops, voice going thick.
Dean closes his eyes for a second. “They were all going to die anyway, Sammy. You know that.” And it’s tragic, but it’s the truth.
“They could have had a month more with each other, they could have stayed and tried surviving.” Sam’s eyes are filled with tears.
“You really think the bunkers going to work?” Dean asks skeptically.
“Of course not, we’re going to explode. But that’s not the point,” Sam says in such a normal tone that Dean starts laughing. Because it’s fucking hilarious how ‘we’re going to explode’ is not the point.
Sam looks at him, realizing the same thing and his mouth starts twitching. It doesn’t take long until he’s laughing along with Dean.
And that’s how dad find them, roaring with laughter in the backseat, not able to keep themselves upright.
---
It seems like they’re on the grand tour of saying goodbye to people they know (and that list ain’t long.) Bobby is the last one.
The salvage yard is like it always is, dog running up to greet them, barking at the intruders until realizing who it is and then jumping around in joy instead.
Bobby feeds them dinner, and once again Dean is hit with the realization how normal this is despite what is going on. That is, until he sees the opened lottery letter on Bobby’s desk.
“So where’s your final rest place?” Dean asks, motioning to the letter.
Bobby takes a long drink from his beer bottle. “Right here, boy.” Suddenly the food doesn’t taste as great anymore to Dean.
Sam seems to think the same thing because he drops his fork and stare at Bobby, “You’re not going to try?” he says weakly.
“Nah, I’m not one for public places,” Bobby answers.
Dean knows what Sam is thinking about, Sam’s been having a hard time dealing with people giving up since the dead town, getting quiet and teary every time they see someone who won’t try surviving. So it’s no surprise that Sam asks to be excused from the table.
“Go ahead,” Dad says and sighs.
Bobby, however, just stares at that, then says “You stay, Sam,” and Sam stops rising from his chair.
“Don’t let an old man ruin your dinner, it’s nothing to be upset about, I’ll be fine.”
Dean assumes that it’s because Sam looks so tragic just staring at his plate that Bobby sighs just like Dad a few seconds later. “Oh well, go ahead and explore my books instead. I’ve got a new one about ancient temples you might be interested in.”
Sam hastily leaves and Dean kind of wishes to follow. Except he doesn’t, right now Bobby’s awesome stew is all he wants to think about.
“You’re going soft, Winchester?” Bobby says as Sam is gone.
“It’s a bit of a touchy subject,” Dad answers.
Bobby snorts. “Really? Everyone dying is a touchy subject?”
“We hit a suicidal town a few days ago,” Dad explains grimly and Bobby’s face falls.
“Few days ago, huh? You were there first?”
Dad nods.
“Damn,” Bobby says and that kind of sums it up.
---
Charleston, Illinois.
There are cars everywhere and it takes them two hours to find a place to park, even though they don’t have to worry about parking tickets. It’s kind of fun to see all the weird places people have parked their cars just to get rid of them, at least for the first hour. Finally they find a spot in someone’s backyard, cramming the car between a sandbox and a swing set.
Dad grabs their bag with the stuff they’re going to bring, swings the bag across his shoulder, and nods towards the Impala. “She was a fine car,” he says, and Dean suddenly loses the ability to swallow.
There’s a moment of awkward silence when none of them know what to say after that.
“I’ll…head over to the registration line.” Dad points toward the huge line they can see far away and clasps his hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“Looks like we might have to stand there for a while, so no hurry,” And he walks away, almost tripping over a forgotten teddy bear in the grass.
Dean is just staring at the Impala, realizing what is happening.
“Oh my God,” Sam exclaims next to him, and Dean flinches. He thought Sam had followed their dad. ”Are you crying?”
Dean hadn’t even noticed, but now he can feel the hot tears streaming down his cheeks.
“It’s a car, Dean, a car!” Sam continues loudly.
Dean sniffles. “It’s a 1967 Impala.”
He doesn’t look at Sam, instead places a hand on the smooth and warm surface of the hood; he can imagine the look on his brother’s face just fine without seeing it. He needs this moment, because, really. He’ll never see this car again. The car that’s been with them his entire life and is filled with memories, from Sam having the stomach flu and puking all over it to them practicing catching Skittles with their mouths in the backseat. This is it, no more Impala after this. And that hurts a lot.
He thinks Sam has left but suddenly Sam walks past him, opening the car door and Dean glares at him for interrupting. “I forgot something,” Sam mumbles in response to Dean’s dirty look.
Sam leans in the backseat and grabs a last book, then closes the door and goes after their dad. But Dean doesn’t miss his how Sam’s hand trails along the Impala with the top of his fingers in a silent goodbye. Sam then walks away fast, a hand going to his face as if wiping tears.
---
They stand in line for a long, long time until they can finally enter the bunker. It’s big, much bigger than Dean expected. Boring gray walls surround them with... Dean has to take an extra look… paintings.
“Dude, this is a Monet,” Sam says in shock, staring at the one closest to them.
Dean groans. “This wasn’t part of the deal, I don’t want to die in an art museum.”
“It’s not, Dean” Sam says and rolls his eyes. “To make people feel better they put up paintings in the bunkers, and some of them got famous ones. I didn’t think we would get to see one, though.” And he walks up to it in awe.
“Oh yeah,” Dean says sarcastically, “This makes me feel so much better. I’m going to die tomorrow but who cares, look at these pretty flowers.”
Sam hits him for that one.
---
To prevent chaos, every family gets an assigned spot in the bunker. They find the Winchester one next to a wall. A yellow sign on a stand with their names on it, and three mattresses on the floor next to each other with blue blankets folded neatly on top.
Dean sits down on the one in the middle and leans against the wall. Dad and Sam follow him.
“Now what?” Dean asks, watching all the people in the huge room getting settled. Sam opens up his book and Dad opens his journal to... who knows what.
Dean just sighs.
---
The toilet lines are terrible. Dean had been right. It seems like there’s a never-ending line and after a few hours of staring at it suspiciously Dean has to go. And considering he’s going to stand in line for a while, he might as well start.
But he’s lucky, because the girl in front of him is hot. Blond curly hair and a small, mysterious smile. And better, she’s totally into him.
“You know,” she says after a very brief conversation, including some heavy flirting, twirling a curl of her hair around her finger, “Last night on earth and everything…” She smiles seductively.
Dean smiles back. “Honey, I’m not one to say no, but maybe you haven’t noticed, it’s a bit crowded in this joint.” He glances around to make his point that yes, sadly it is people everywhere.
She looks at him funny and makes a head motion to the end of the line where the toilets are. He makes a face, “Really?” She laughs and leans forward whispering in his ear “Why do you think there’s such a long line?”
---
Dean is feeling way too happy when he’s coming back considering it’s the end of the world, and the fact that he just spend one hour waiting in line to take a piss, but the smile is hard to lose.
Dad and Sam are both eating and Dad hands him one of the food tickets. “They said it would be alright for you to come and get it later.”
They’re all divided into specific mealtimes, different color food tickets, so that not everyone will come at the same time. Which is actually pretty smart.
Dean grabs the ticket. The word RESTROOM is written on it. He has to hand it to them, at least they have a system so people don’t miss their food times.
“Hey, Dean!” Dad yells after him as he leaves. “I know there are many interesting people here, but try not to take so long, will you?”
Dean just grins back.
---
He gets his food all right, some kind of potato stew in a puke green bowl served by a way-too-enthusiastic volunteer. When he comes back, Dad and Sam are already finished with their dinner. They’re both looking a bit irritated, sitting as far away from each other as possible, and Dean gets the feeling there’s been a fight going on. The look on Sam’s face and Dad’s determined flick of pages as he reads his journal is something sadly familiar.
But Dean’s not too upset about them fighting even though they don’t have much time left. They’ve hardly been fighting at all the last few months, having come to some kind of silent agreement about being nice to each other. Which has been good for all of them. So he just sits down between them and starts eating, hoping the strained feeling will disappear soon. And the stew is good, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating.
Sam is nervously glancing over at the toilet line. “It looks shorter...right?”
Dean snorts. “Absolutely.”
Sam bites his lip and starts tapping his knee with his hand.
“Sam,” Dean says, swallowing.
“Yeah?”
“Go to the bathroom.” He takes another bite.
“Oh, I don’t…” Sam answers, trying to look innocent.
“You’re acting the same way you did when you were four and had to go. And this time I’m not cleaning it up.” He grins.
The look of horror on Sam’s face is fantastic. Dean laughs and Sam changes his expression from horror to annoyance and stands up. “Fine, see you in a few hours then.”
With Sam gone, Dad puts his journal down. “You doing okay, Dean?”
“Eh... yeah,” Dean answers, a bit unsure. Dad’s not the kind of guy that talks about feelings and the few times he’s done it, well, kind of awkward.
“You know, we haven’t really discussed this...dying thing.” Dad looks down at his hands. “I just...most of your life, we’ve spent looking for your mother’s killer, and as much as it bothers me that we never got the answers, I still think we’ve done some pretty good things for this world.”
Dean loved his mother, he really did. But it’s typical Dad for believing that the only sad thing about the world ending is the fact they won’t be able to revenge Mom, and that’s the only thing Dean and Sam have been thinking about as well.
Dad clears his throat, continuing. “Dean...I...I want you to know that I’m proud of you, okay? You’re a great hunter Dean, and would have turned into one of the best.”
Dean has no idea how to answer that but Dad just smiles. “How’s that for a misty good bye speech?”
Dean laughs. “Have to ask Sammy about that, it’s more his department.”
“Yeah...” Dad says. “I tried talking to him, didn’t go well.”
Dean winces. If that talk was anything like this, he understands why Sam’s pissed. “Well, I don’t know what you said, but... talking about hunting and revenge wouldn’t really be the right approach with him.”
“Yeah.” Dad makes a face. “Should’ve gone with something else, right?”
---
Sam comes back after long time. “I am not drinking any more water. That was terrible.”
“Told ya weeks ago,” Dean says and grins victoriously.
“Well, good for you,” Sam answers sourly and lays down on his back. “Where did Dad go?”
“He wanted to have one last cup of coffee and joined that line.”
“Oh, I saw that one from the toilet line, didn’t look fun.”
“Nope. But he was kind of desperate”.
Sam grins. “He hasn’t had coffee for days.”
“So...” Dean says, twirling the edges of Sam’s blue blanket between his fingers. “Heard Dad tried to talk with you.”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, he just wanted to tell me it’s okay we never found Mom’s killer.”
Dean let go of the blanket and picks up Sam’s book instead flipping through the pages. “Well. It’s kind of been the only thing on his mind for the past fifteen years.”
“And the reason we’ve had this wonderful life, right.” Sam is staring up at the gray ceiling.
“It hasn’t been too bad,” Dean answers, because it hasn’t. Sam doesn't answer and that clearly shows that he’s more sad than angry. Because normally Sam has a thousand things to say about the life they’ve had.
Dean sighs and lays down as well. It’s getting quite late and the whole room is quieter.
“I just…” Sam says, “I would have liked to live in a house, stay in the same school...and...” Sam stops.
“And what?” Dean asks, turning his head to look at him.
“Gone to college.” Sam answers and looks away.
Dean’s been suspecting it. Sam’s attitude towards hunting and the hard work he’s put into school... well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
Plus, the image of seven-year-old Sam coming home from school talking about the guy from cooooollege visiting their class has kind of been stuck in his mind forever with the fear that Sam might leave him one day.
“I don’t know, it would have been cool,” Sam says and shrugs as Dean doesn't answer him.
“Guess you’re stuck with me and Dad until you die instead,” Dean says, grinning.
Sam laughs, then smiles and quietly adds, “Well, I guess that was the way it was supposed to be.”
The “And it’s not too bad either” is left unspoken. But the way Sam steals Dean’s little chocolate bar dessert right after that, says it all too clearly.
---
Dean doesn’t hear the first hit, but he hears the screaming. He sits up on his mattress where he’s been sleeping, hears people around them crying and feels Sam grab his hand, clutching it hard. Dad is calmly reading one of Sam’s books, there’s definitely no panicking from him, so Dean relaxes a bit.
But he can hear them now, explosions far above them, and he shudders.
Dad lowers his book as the light starts to flicker.
Sam smiles sheepishly. “I don’t think that’s a ghost, Dad,” and Dad starts to chuckle.
The couple next to them is staring at them in horror, which makes all three of them burst out laughing.
---
It’s a bit of a panic for a while, but when it’s clear no one’s dying immediately, the screams stop and people gather close to each other, talking in low voices while listening to the bangs above them. Dean suddenly remembers the Impala and realizes there’s probably nothing left of her by now.
Bobby comes to his mind after that, but he quickly erases that thought. He can’t think of that.
Instead he turns his focus on Sam.
Sam, who has let go of his hand and is instead chewing intensely on a…Twizzler.
“What?” Sam asks as he sees their looks, because Dad is also watching by now.
“I love Twizzlers,” Sam states. “And if I’m going to die, I want to die eating one,” he continues and takes a huge chunk of the candy.
Dean quickly throws himself toward a bag of M&M’s and starts inhaling it. “I can’t believe it’s the last time I’ll eat this.”
All around them people are hugging and crying or praying. Dad shakes his head, ”Good to see you boys got your priorities straight,” grabs a Snickers from their pile of candy, and leans against the wall.
---
It’s getting warmer and the air is getting thinner. At least that what it feels like, Dean has no idea if it’s his imagination or not, but somehow it feels like the end will be happening soon. And the feeling seems mutual because everyone is quiet, too quiet. The lights flicker one last time and then die, leaving them all in darkness. Someone screams but it is quickly shushed. Quiet whispers, some sobs, a baby crying, and the bangs above them.
Dad scoots closer to them and Sam grabs Dean’s hand again. Dean squeezes back this time. Sam’s Twizzler-sticky fingers are warm against his, fitting perfectly in his hand like they always have.
Dad’s hand is resting on his shoulder, and the other probably on Sam’s.
It’s happening.
“Sam?”
“Mmm,” Sam shifts beside him, coming closer, head resting on Dean’s arm.
“I’m the one who ripped out the page from your Dr. Seuss book when you were six.” Sam stops moving, grips Dean’s hand tighter. “I knew it, jerk!” And Dean can feel him grinning against his shoulder.
Dean smiles. “Bitch”
*
Then there's nothing.
******