Convergence (2/?)
Title: Convergence (2/?)
Author: emmram
Fandom: Supernatural (gasp!)
Summary: Your regular End!verse AU wherein the end of the world is just the beginning of a brand new journey. Except it’s not quite that simple.
Notes: For the ever-wonderful veliseraptor (minviendha) for her birthday. This was supposed to be a short End!verse hurt!Sam drabble, and instead grew into a bit of a monster that I was forced to chop into bits. How many bits, I’m not quite sure yet. But I hope you like it!
Warnings: SPOILERS for s5; elements of later seasons, including bits of s8, come in later. Violence, gore, character death, metaphor-abuse. Also, I’m really, really rusty, so-yeah. It will all become clear! Really!
Part 2
The last time Dean fought a demon was on a chilly morning in February 2010. He had it tied to a lamp-post in the middle of the fucking town in broad daylight, a trapping sigil carved into its chest. Almost the entire town had gathered to watch as he slashed and hacked at it with Ruby’s knife; rubbed salt into wounds glowing red-orange; poured holy water down its gullet even while demanding for (something, anything) answers.
All the demon had to say was He has forsaken us! over and over again, as steam rose from its body in great clouds and black smoke peeked between its gritted teeth. Dean was patient and unrelenting-ten years of torturing souls in Hell had taught him that much-but months of killing nothing but Croats had left him with no patience for the devout. He killed the demon by driving Ruby’s knife into its gut; pretended that it didn’t smile as it died a slow, spluttering death.
There were no more demons after that; even the bastards that killed Bobby in cold blood in his own house were nothing more than people-crazed, confused, bloodthirsty. Dean prayed and screamed at the heavens; tracked omens and killed Croats by the hundreds, but nobody was providing the answers anymore. The truth couldn’t have hit harder it than it did the morning Castiel woke up with a hangover and spent almost the entire day hanging his head over a toilet (back in the days when they still had functional plumbing).
The ‘chosen saviour of the world’ ship sailed long ago, bud. You ain’t special, anymore. Move along.
Dean never quite understood (could never quite admit) why that hit harder than Sam saying yes to Lucifer.
And to think that he isn’t allowed to die anymore-
He and Sam (Lucifer) first search the corridors of the asylum, looking for survivors. At least, Dean is-Sam just rolled his eyes at him and told him there was nobody alive; that there was no point in wasting time even looking. Dean told him exactly what he could do with that shit, and took a fumbling step towards the building. Sam was by his side in an instant, steadying him by the elbow. “I missed you, Dean,” he said, giving that sharp, too-high laugh that makes Dean’s stomach churn.
Walking is slow progress; with his neck twisted at this angle, his balance is shot, and he’s falling more than he’s walking. Every instinctive turn forward ignites a white-hot pain in his neck. He’s reduced to doing a sort of awkward side-shuffle, which apparently is about as ridiculous as it sounds, because Sam can’t seem to stop laughing. “I’m going to wring your neck if you don’t stop that,” Dean growls at him, and it only makes Sam laugh harder, snorting on the half-congealed blood still coating his nose and chin.
The corridor is strewn with bodies-Croat or Hunter, Dean can’t say, because they’re just people in the end, right? They find Castiel eventually, lying spread-eagle on the floor with his throat torn open. There’s the faint imprint of gigantic wings on either side of him, charcoal-black. Dean sinks to his knees beside him, closes his eyes.
“I could try and bring him back for you,” Sam offers. “I mean, angels, sure-nobody’s tried bringing any of them back, but how hard can it be?”
Dean imagines Castiel going about with his neck flayed open, the air whistling past exposed vocal cords even as his skin flutters in the breeze like strips of cloth. The image, absurdly enough, makes Dean want to laugh. “No,” he says. “Don’t. He’s in… a better place. I think.” I hope.
“Whatever,” Sam says, turning away.
Dean opens his eyes, looks at Castiel’s own-wide-open still, as if in surprise-then struggles to his feet. He clenches and unclenches his fists convulsively, before deciding to bite the bullet. “Sam,” he says, “Why? Was it demons? Were you-tortured?”
Sam smiles at him. “Demons, Dean?” He throws his head back and laughs. “We’re aaaaall demons here. In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a demon-generating virus going around.”
Dean grits his teeth. “No. I meant-hellspawn. The real deal, with the sulphur and the screaming and the black smoke.”
“Oh, them. Yeah, they’ve been locked in Hell for some time now. Loooong before I said yes. The gates of both Heaven and Hell have been shut for yeeeears now, Dean,” he sings. “It’s all people killing people.” He pauses, cocks his head. “Hasn’t that always been the case, though?”
Dean stares at him. “What? That can’t-”
Sam waves a hand at him dismissively. “Trust me, this is what Lucifer wanted. Something about tablets, I don’t know. Maybe it was capsules.” He laughs again. “I don’t know-I wasn’t really able to focus. Was hard enough just to remember you, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes feel unexpectedly hot, and he swallows. “Lucifer’s… gone, then?”
“He’s still in here somewhere.” Sam looks distracted. He turns, his hands fluttering through the air like he’s trying to pluck something out of nothing. “I mean, in me. I was-in him for sometime, and it was… hard to think of anything. Just-hard to be. I don’t know what changed, but-” Suddenly he’s beaming at Dean again, and seriously, Dean’s neck was fucked up enough without the whiplash from Sam’s mood changes. “-I’m here, and you’re all I remember, Dean.”
Dean’s about to (shut him up and run and run and run) say something when Sam suddenly snaps to attention, holding up a hand to shut Dean up (literally-Dean can feel an invisible hand slapping over his mouth). They stand in silence for a few seconds before Dean can hear it, too-faint scraping noises and heavy breathing from the floor above them.
Sam grins. “Seems like we’re not as alone as we thought.”
TBC