All Worlds Converge To Where You Are (5/8) SGA/Supernatural crossover
Chapter 4 :: Master Fic Post
They make it to the outskirts of Chicago in 12 hours. With the state of the roads nowadays, it's pretty impressive. They try to circumvent the city the best they can, but the circulation is dense with people fleeing, having thrown random possessions in their cars. For half a mile they follow a station wagon that has something wrapped in a carpet roped not that securely on the top of the car. John can't figure out what it could be until they finally pass the little family, a couple of babies and suitcases jammed in the back, and a piece of the carpet flaps, showing an old mirror. It just doesn't make any sense that they'd want to bring a mirror, he thinks. Then again, not many things make sense anymore. At one point Dean has to pull over to let a military convoy pass, with kids heavily armed with automatic weapons and a grim set to their faces. John looks the other way, but sends a thought for the safe return for as many of them as possible, thinking it can't hurt.
The atmosphere is pretty heavy in the SUV, and there's not much talking going on, but then again John doesn't mind. That he can keep the silence seems to be appreciated. Since they left Bobby's, they've rotated the driving between Dean, Cas (who's a good driver but insists on respecting speed limits no one enforces anymore), and John in about 4 hours shifts. When he's not driving, John watches the scenery whiz by, fields in disarray after being hit by tornadoes and floods inter-spaced by farms - that are burned down more often then not - and the shaky rumbles of little towns. Near Kalamazoo there's a pack of dogs near the road snarling at their vehicle as they pass, and John thinks it doesn't take much to go back to the wild, when necessity or disaster hits.
Detroit has long lost any semblance of organization, the crime rate having reached record levels in the last two years. While civic rights and freedom to assembly have been revoked all over America, here wannabe crime lords pop up every four blocks or so, soon followed by extremist vigilantes groups, who in the name of justice hit first and ask questions later. It's all about power. The last couple of weeks have been harsher, riots every night that are not deterred by an extreme weather vortex that seems to be circling the city. People have been blaming climate change, but the three men traveling with John talk of omens, the apocalypse and Lucifer. Both explanations make about the same amount of sense to him, to be honest.
When they make it to Detroit under the deadline, Dean insists on going to the motel he's sure Sam will know about, if he got the message right. The problem is that the place in question is smack dab in one of the worst neighborhoods to want to be in right now (which Dean actually thinks is not such a bad thing), but also that it's just a lot of rubble right now. Yes, there's a sign advertising the 243 W was once here, but the place itself burned down what looks like months ago.
"Okay, so that's a bust," John says, finally seeing it.
It's not just a bit damaged, it doesn't have a roof anymore and all.
"Whatever, I'm staying here," Dean says, determined.
"What?" Bobby asks, looking at him with disbelief. "There's nowhere to stay, Dean!"
Rolling his eyes, Dean gestures a bit.
"We'll find a place for you guys to stay close enough, and I'll come back here and sleep in the car."
"Of course, a two year old Escalade with all the trimmings" - because, they took John's car, again - "won't attract any unwanted attention," Bobby says as if he's going along, but yeah. Seriously. Just driving here made more than a dozen shady guys eyes shine with want, and it's plain day. John wonders if they're not in danger to lose their wheels while in the car as they speak.
"If this one is not standing, wouldn't the sane thing be to follow the Yellow Pages listing until the first motel that DOES, indeed, rent to customers?" John suggests, trying to be constructive while respecting, if possible, the John Winchester rule of finding your family when forced apart and living under aliases.
Castiel has a little laugh.
"But that would imply being sane..." he says with a sarcastic smile.
"Oh, shut up," Dean says, glaring at him. "Would take too long to drive around town and all."
"Let's find something close and think of something else," Bobby suggests and Dean scowls but does so. They end up two streets over, at the Motel 8, with two double rooms that must not have seen customers for a long long time. In fact, the big man with the out of control sideburns who lives out of unit 1 seems pole-axed for a second when they ask who's the owner, before shoving them the keys in exchange for 30 bucks and telling them there might not be running water. Great.
Bobby glares at Dean and tells him he's going to shack up with Castiel, who'll be able to not sleep and prevent Dean from slipping out, which of course pisses Dean off but he ducks in his room nonetheless. By default, John's rooming with Bobby which even if he likes the man for his no nonsense attitude, is a bit disappointing. John would have appreciated another chance at Dean and an orgasm or two before possibly meeting the Devil. Odds being what they are, this could be his last night on Earth. But John's not even stretched completely on his bed before Dean is popping his head in the room to say there's no way he's staying here doing nothing and that he's going to spend the night at the burned down motel anyway.
"Dean..." Bobby says with a groan and what seems a life full of exasperation pushing it out, "John told Sam we'd arrive tomorrow, he won't show tonight. There's nothing over there but trouble."
"What if..." Dean starts, obviously angsty that something finally gives.
John gets it, that Dean just wants to get this over with as soon as possible, and if all goes well, grab his brother and run. He doubts that it's going to be that easy. John hates to gang up on the guy, but rest would not be a luxury, for anyone.
"Bobby's right. I'll go get you at 0500, we'll be there at sunrise."
Dean shoots him a look that's half pissed, half betrayed and then he sighs.
"Okay, fine. You wusses. I'll send Cas for the first shift to watch the car. Sheppard you're second," he says, then leaves making the door close hard, and John can hear him stomp to the other room.
At least they'll have time to rest, John figures, although his night will be cut in the middle by the guard shift (John always hated the middle spot). But it's true that if they wanna keep the wheels, someone must be in it, or lying against it, with a gun. John goes to check the bathroom, bringing his duffel: there's water, although the pressure is anemic at best. Better than nothing, so John fills the sink and does a courtesy wash up, then brushes his teeth. When he goes back into the room, Bobby's already in his bed so John turns in too. Bobby's not sleeping, John doesn't think so, but John doesn't know what to say. He's about to settle for a good night when Bobby speaks up.
"Will you do me a favor, John?"
"Sure."
"Whatever happens tomorrow, stay close to Dean. He's going to try a stupid stunt, I know it," Bobby says.
"And I'm supposed to what, hold him back?" John wonders; he's sure done his fair share of stupid stunts himself.
"Maybe. Calm him down. Tell him to be careful. He listens to you, which, let me tell you, is as rare as the Pope's shit."
John wonders why that is, since he appeared out of nowhere four months ago, and yeah they've worked together fine and generally get along, but what... then he grins.
"Must be my first name," John says.
Bobby has a surprise laugh at that, and that's a first. He doesn't look like a man who has laughed much in the last years.
"Could be. He sure listened to Daddy Dearest." With that, Bobby sighs and looks at the ceiling. "John Fucking Winchester was one tough son of a bitch. I nearly offed him myself because he was a pain in the ass, but I'd give anything to have a dozen like him with us now."
There's a contemplative quality to the silence that follows.
"What's gonna happen tomorrow, Bobby?" John finally asks. Is it going to be as bad as you guys lead me to believe, he doesn't dare to voice.
"It depends on Sam, I guess. If Lucifer or his minions show up. I don't have a clue. But Dean's going to try to bring Sam back no matter what, kicking and screaming if he has to."
It doesn't make much sense, if you ask John.
"Why did he leave him on his own that long, then?" You just don't do that, you don't leave anyone behind, all on their own!
"Because he's one stubborn little shit. He really thought he was protecting Sam by them staying apart. I guess it just finally dawned on him that he was wrong. Those two, really..."
"Is it all true? The deals? Hell?" John's been wondering about it while sitting in the car for hours. All he's got that's concrete enough is witnessing some serious mojo from Castiel. Dean, on the other hand, could be delusional, and have made up an intricate sob story. He could easily be lots of fries short of a happy meal.
"'Fraid so," Bobby says. "Look outside, listen to the news and try to tell me this isn't the end of the world."
"Point." If he'd imagine the Apocalypse, this wouldn't be far from it. Maybe with added brimstone.
On the other hand, Bobby could be missing some marbles too. Still, all of this, the fact that if Dean, Bobby and Castiel are to be believed and what's turning the World upside down and inside out is a biblical apocalypse? It makes John wonder if it's not all way over his head. He's been in (and thrown out) of private catholic schools all through his childhood, but the faith he was taught about was never backed up at home so John never really believed in organized religion. Right and wrong, doing your best so the scales tip on the good side, sure. God and Lucifer, archangels and the four horsemen? Not so much.
"Just be careful tomorrow," Bobby says gruffly.
"I'll do my best."
"Those idjits are... they're all I got left." Sons to me, John hears loud and clear.
"From what I've seen and heard, they're worse than cockroaches, so..." John says, which is a pretty awful thing so say now that he thinks about it. Thank god Bobby doesn't sound offended.
"Got that right."
"Night Bobby," John says.
"Yeah, you too."
John's been trained to fall asleep at the merest opportunity to do so, but it's harder tonight. He doesn't hear anything from the other room, so he supposes Dean's not exploring his chances at sexing up an angel, yet, which gives him a small sense of satisfaction. At least he won't be the only one to not get amazing sex before death.
***
The burnt motel looks even worse when they walk to it at dawn, probably because they inspect it closer and are hit with the smell of it. Obviously it's been used as a dump and a couple of rats scuttle away when John kicks at rubble. Dean is as tense as a bow, has been up for hours now because he took the last shift watching the car. Castiel is looking around, skittish like John's never seen him. Bobby stayed at the motel where they slept with the SUV, and Dean has a radio to call him in case of emergency. How Bobby could either come and get them or get away on his own is glossed over and John just shuts up because he doesn't want to bring it up.
They've crossed the path of five locals who eyed them speculatively, but then noticed Dean's rifle and blood-shot eyes and decided wisely to carry on. John sits down on the cement slab of what must have been right in front of the motel's office and watches the windows of the apartment blocks across the street, quiet still at this hour, no one stirring. Dean paces, movements fluid and restrained, while Castiel stays still, now, eyes closed as if he's trying to smell or sense something.
There are no cars, no one walking by and everything but Dean is still. John starts to think that this could be it, really, they could be the last 3 human beings left in the world. A crow decides to break the silence before flapping away. There used to be a store at the first level of the block across the street. The windows have been shut by plywood, but the door is ajar, which means whatever was in it - there's no sign that John can see to tell him what it was - has been looted long ago. John happens to be looking at it when there's a tiny movement: the door moved. He focuses his attention there, always coming back to it after sweeping the perimeter, and after a couple of minutes there is definitely some movement inside. John turns to Dean, about to discretely inform him, but it hasn't escaped his notice either. Dean's still pacing but definitely keeping the door in his line of sight at all times.
There must be a way to go check it out and keeping at least a tiny advantage in the surprise department. The way John sees it, they're pretty much sitting ducks, here in the open. What's annoying is that there is no way to know if it's only one person in the closed up store, if they're in any way related to the Sam situation and even if they're armed or not. These days, though, pretty much everyone who wants a chance to survive is armed, even kids. John gets up and stretches, turns his back to the street to shield his movements as he tells Dean just loud enough that he'll go take a leak while describing what he intends to do in a couple hand gestures. Dean nods, and John turns the corner by the motel, then sprints in the alley between the motel and a decrepit old 4 apartment block, weaves between the cars parked at the back of it before running back to the street on the other side of the block.
John glances rapidly to the store, now a bit out of the way, and Dean is still pacing, although he has changed his path so it takes him to and fro from the motel to the street now obliquely. Only a couple of feet closer, but he's anticipating John's move. When Dean turns his back and starts waking away from him, John hopes that whoever is in the block is following him with their eyes. John runs rapidly across the street, before plastering himself against the wall. When Dean turns around again, John starts advancing as silently as he can, but still as fast as he can, towards the door that is slightly ajar.
There is no safe way to do this, and John hopes whomever inside doesn't shoot out of nerves. When Dean is as close as he used to get with his pacing, John kicks in the door, yelling as he does so:
"Police, everybody down!" He's not been in the police in a long time, but he knows that for some people it triggers a moment of confusion that can be enough. There is a startled yelp and John aims at a shadow who jumps back. "Don't move or I shoot!"
The damn store is dimly lit, and although the early morning sun outside was weak at best, the contrast is bad enough that John can't really assess in how much trouble he could be. He moves fast to take cover by an old desk and Dean's barging in, gun at the ready, sees where John is aiming and does the same.
"Who's there?" he asks, voice low and dangerous. It's all fine and dandy to be two against one, or so it seems, but the problem could be someone who shoots first and tries to talk later. Luckily for them, it's not the case.
"Whoa there, cowboys," a definite feminine voice says, although those days it doesn't mean it's safer, if anything the ladies are more of the 'better safe than sorry, let's shoot first' school. "Everyone breathes and no one will get hurt."
Slowly John can distinguish more and he's pretty sure now that there's no one else in the store.
"Sure sweetheart," Dean says, although his tone is anything but seductive. "You come out nice and slow and we'll all play nice."
There's sigh and effectively the shadow in the back raises her arms, holding a pistol loosely by the barrel as a show of good faith before walking around from behind the counter where she was hidden, then takes two steps forward.
"Put the gun on the floor," John says, and she complies, before pushing it towards him.
As soon as she does, John gets up from his crouch and advances rapidly on her, wary that she could be hiding another weapon. She doesn't move from her non threatening pose and John does a thorough frisk. The girl is maybe five foot eight, lean and toned, pretty in a non conventional way with very dark eyes and longish curly black hair in a ponytail. She's wearing a flannel shirt over a tank top with skin tight jeans, but not packing any more apart from a big knife John takes from her left high boot.
"Why are you here?" Dean asks. John knows Dean wants to ask about Sam.
"Why are you guys here?" she counters, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "All I saw was three armed strangers who seemed to be waiting for trouble."
"None of your business," Dean replies, then squints. "Cas?" he then calls up.
"Is everything okay?" the angel says, appearing in the doorway. He was just outside it seems.
"Yes."
Dean gestures to John, who instead of pulling on the girl's arm to make her go forward, casually shows the way with his hand, although he's ready for any sudden movement. The young woman seems to appreciate not being manhandled and isn't difficult, walking until she's in the small patch of light given by the door. With a guesstimate, John figures she must not be much over twenty, probably of Latino heritage. She's a proud one, for sure, holding straight and keeping a you-don't-phase-me attitude as Dean watches her critically.
"Is that her?" Dean asks Castiel.
"What?" she says, looking puzzled, but Castiel is nodding.
"Yes, it's the girl in Chuck's vision," he confirms.
That seems to appease Dean a little.
"What?" the girl asks again. Then she frowns. "Who's Chuck?"
"Ah, well see, I don't have time to explain right now," Dean says with a small smile that's not really pleasant. "Where's Sam? Can you take us there?"
Suddenly, the girl doesn't seem so bullet-proof anymore and she recoils a bit, only to bump into John, which makes her jump.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Dean scratches his feet on the door's threshold and scatters salt around. John had noticed some at the motel, too, and Bobby had said it was to keep the demons out. Which... yeah.
"I think you know exactly whom I'm talking about," he sighs, bows his head and when he looks up again he looks way more vulnerable. Surprised at the sudden show of emotion on a guy that usually just radiates anger and nothing else, John wonders if it's an act. "Look, we're not the bad guys here. Sam's my brother, I just want to see him."
The girl still shakes her head.
"Look, I can't..." and she shuts her mouth. Opens it and then shuts it again, looking frustrated. "Even if I wanted," she then says with a shrug. Dean looks impressed.
"The sneaky son of a bitch. He cursed you?"
She nods, smirking.
"But you could lead us there, right?"
Once more she seems to hesitate.
"Look, I know you guys have been on the run for a while, and you don't know us," John starts, taking his reasonable voice. "I swear we just want to talk to him."
She sighs and Dean, who is definitely losing his patience, just snaps.
"Cas."
With the air of a guy who doesn't like to be asked to do it, Castiel steps forward with a small apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry but..." He takes her hand. She tries to pull away, but Cas is griping it tight, looking at her intently.
"Hey!" she protests but after a couple of seconds Castiel lets her go.
"I'm sorry Dolores," he says. "This will save time for everyone. I can take you to Sam now, Dean, it's not very far."
The girl's eyes are huge.
"Shit! What was that? and please, don't Dolores me. Only my mom used... I'm Dee," she says, rapidly landing on her feet and starting to give them a you-don't-impress-me attitude, but John knows she's shaken. He tries to sound as friendly as possible.
"I'm John, this is Dean, Sam's brother, and our friend here with the super powers is Castiel."
Dean rolls his eyes but he's already shooing Cas in motion, who instead of going back on the street starts to cross the store, going for the far wall. The back door, of course. They all fall in step and John keeps Dee in front of him, since no one knows what she could try. Cas didn't specify that her intentions were bad, but he prefers not taking any chances. The back exit leads into a dark alley that smells of piss and garbage, and they follow it a bit, then Castiel starts leading them in the streets, the neighborhood here completely in ruins. There doesn't seem to be anyone living in what used to be apartment buildings save from animals that used to be pets. It's lucky that the Croatoan epidemic hasn't reached Detroit in a big capacity yet, because it would be the perfect place for an ambush. John thinks of Chicago, which just got two thirds of the downtown area quarantined, and wonders just how much time Detroit still has.
"Sam might not be there. He could be gone for good," Dee says after five minutes.
"Bullshit, you're a scout. You have to report," Dean counters.
"Not until noon," Dee says with a sigh. "And he usually finds me, not the other way around."
At that Dean looks back, with a frown.
"And what does that mean? He moves all the time and you trail?"
Dee scoffs, and her pony tail swings with her head.
"Well, he used to. Now I'm not so sure. It's like he's just waiting to be found," she sounds bitter. "Might as well put a neon sign, make it faster for that bastard to find him."
"Then we'll find him first," John says, to redirect Dean's focus towards him. "Would Sam try to attack us, like the other day?"
He still remembers having his wind pipe crushed and how it hurt even when he woke up.
"If he believed you for the dream walking, I don't think so. Not the old Sam. But who knows." I don't know him anymore seems to hang in the air.
"It's here," Castiel says, stopping before a building that's in even worse shape than the others. Normally, John would not even set a foot in there, too worried to fall a couples of floors lower unexpectedly. "I can't go in," Cas announces, kicking rubble.
"He angel proofed it?" John asks, as Dean follows a weird graffiti with his fingers. "Why would he..."
Castiel looks at him with disappointment.
"Lucifer is a fallen angel, John," Cas says.
Oops. Yeah, right. Although seriously, not remembering things like that from school should not be held against him.
"Oh. True." He didn't know that the Devil being an ex-angel still held, he'd thought leading Hell would rip you of any or all angel characteristics and/or obligations to respect squiggly lines on the wall.
So Castiel stays out, and it seems Dee decided it's no longer necessary that she tags along, so she just stops right there too. Dean and John enter the building and it's really a big heap of crap, walls bashed in, trash everywhere, and graffiti on the walls. Dean glances down at a heavy line of salt by the threshold and makes sure to walk over it, so John does the same. It stinks in here and John can't wait to get out. Since there's two ways to go, either downstairs in what promises to be a creepy basement or upstairs into the unstable unknown of whatever still stands past the lobby, Dean stops and considers. After all, years apart or not, they're still after his brother. Personally, John would go up, where fire exits and windows exist for your convenience, because who knows if there's a way to get out from the basement.
Dean hesitates, and just when John is about to nudge him to take a decision, he bellows.
"Sammy!" said as Sammeh, familiar and heartfelt.
John almost jumps out of his skin, as he was totally not expecting that. Way to go on the stealth department. On the other hand, they're not trying to surprise Sam but to prove him they are who they said they were in the dream. So if that's the way Dean used to look for Sam? Good idea to use it. It sure sounded like something Dean had shouted a million times.
If anything, it's what saves them because there's a chuckle from the side of the room they're in. It comes from behind an armchair where John would never had thought someone would be hiding, it's so hideous. Seriously remiss on his part, because when he swivels towards it, they have a rifle aimed at their head. Well at Dean's head. Sam, because it's definitely the same guy as in the dream, hair even wilder and looking worse for wear with exhaustion, is looking at them with a smirk.
"Hey Dean." Eyes fixed on his brother, as if not completely sure it's not a dream. "Sheppard," he says, acknowledging his presence and John wonders for a second how he knows his last name before he remembers the name tag on the uniform in the dream. Sam might say John's name but does not even spare a glance his way. It's like being completely dismissed and John figures it gives him a tiny advantage, as he trains his own gun on the guy's head. Who knows how far gone he is.
Dean seems just as fascinated, eating up Sam's appearance and frowning at the result. He doesn't lower his gun, neither does his brother.
"Hey," Dean says. "You look like shit."
That makes Sam's lips curl in an approximate of a closed mouthed smile.
"Thanks. What are you doing here, Dean?" In Detroit, in this building, talking to me, in regards of the apocalypse. It's a question that obviously has many levels and meaning.
Dean looks pained, winces.
"It can't go on like this, Sam," it's soft, an apology in itself.
"I know," Sam says, and all of a sudden he sags, lowering his rifle and puts a hand on the ugly ugly armchair as if he needs the support. "I know." When he looks up, it's with a flicker on his face that almost looks like hope. "You've got the Colt?"
Dean lowers his gun too, and takes a couple of steps forward, as if called to Sam but forces himself to stop half way. It doesn't look easy for him to do.
"No." Shameful, Dean looks down.
"What?" Sam looks confused and lost once more. "You found another way?"
Shaking his head, Dean admits the cold hard truth.
"I didn't find anything at all, Sammy. I'm sorry."
If possible, Sam crumbles even more unto himself, his face falling. But it lasts only a second and he composes a bland mask, then straightens up. God the man is tall. John had thought maybe it was exaggerated by the dream.
"Okay, okay," he says. "But you still have Ruby's knife, right?"
At that, Dean looks confused.
"I do, but... it didn't even tickle Cas, back then, why..." John isn't sure what Dean is talking about but he does see Dean's face as he somehow gets why Sam asked. "Oh no, no way. No no no." Dean actually steps back.
"I can't by myself," Sam says softly.
"You tried?" Dean squeaks, getting flustered. "Jesus Christ, Sammy!"
Throwing his arms open wide, Sam raises his voice, suddenly pissed off.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time, what do you think! A way to end it all, small price to pay! Obviously it didn't work, but the knife..." Sam says with seems like longing.
In a flash of insight, John figures they are speaking about the knife that makes the demons sparkle. It kills them dead, Dean had explained later, do not go to Hell, do not collect $200. And then it adds up, what Sam's asking and why Dean looks pole-axed and doesn't even reply.
After a bit of a stare off, Sam hits the chair, then passes a hand on his face before combing his hair back.
"Jesus Fuck, Dean, you promised me." He sighs. When he talks again it's resigned and dispassionate. "If that's not why you're here, what do you want?"
The way Sam is pretty much listless puts in contrast the nerves humming below Dean' skin, all kinetic energy ready to burst out.
"Well first, we've got to leave this place, he's close. Too close."
Sam shakes his head.
"I'm tired of running, Dean. I can't do it anymore."
He does look exhausted, worn out. But the mere idea to wait and see doesn't cut it with Dean, who gestures at their surroundings.
"And what, you'll stay holed up in this dump until he finds you? Give up?"
Sam straightens a bit, tilt his head to the side.
"I never said anything about giving in to what he wants. I'm just done running."
It makes Dean pause, considering.
"What, you want to fight Lucifer? Do you have anything that might work?"
Jaw clenching, defeat gives way to anger again on Sam's face.
"No, that's kind of why I was hoping you were bringing the fucking Colt!"
It generates a similar reaction in Dean, who kicks at some rubble, probably feeling even guiltier that the plan to get the Colt backfired so spectacularly on them.
"Well I don't have it. What a fucking stupid plan. He's gonna trick you, or else kill you."
"He won't trick me," Sam declares.
"You can't outsmart the Devil, Sam," Dean says.
Sam shrugs, showing he knows that and is prepared for it.
"He's hoping Lucifer will kill him," John spells out, because obviously Dean doesn't want to hear all of what Sam is not saying, but is still there, loud and clear. Dean gapes at John, then scowls at Sam.
"Tell me that's not your plan," Dean asks Sam.
Shrugging again.
"The vessel he's wearing is holding up with duct tape at this point," Sam explains. "He's desperate for a change, but I won't give in. He's vulnerable like he probably never was before. If I can get him angry enough to waste his other option..."
"And by that you mean you," Dean points.
"If he wastes me, his days are numbered, I'm sure of it," Sam says.
"What a shitty plan. He found one temporary vessel, who says he won't do it again?" Dean counters.
"Waited 3 years, didn't do it."
"And if he captures you, then tries to wear you down?" Dean asks.
The wince in Sam's expression is clear enough. He knows that's one of the weaker points of his plan.
"It would... suck." Probably the understatement of the millennium. "I won't say yes," Sam affirms.
"No," Dean says. Definitive, in a 'do not even bother to argue with me' tone. He even has the face to go with it.
"What, no?" Sam says, blinking.
"I veto this plan on the grounds that it's insane. You're obviously delirious and not in your right mind," Dean declares, with expressive gestures on the side of his head. It makes Sam roll his eyes.
"It's my decision to make, Dean."
"The hell. You're coming with me and we'll look at whatever comes next when we get there," Dean declares, as if it's all settled.
"What happened to the fire and oil of the Armageddon, how we're supposed to stay as far as possible from each other?" Sam asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well that's over," Dean says simply. "World is ending anyway, so fuck it all. You're coming with me and that's it."
A twitch makes the corner of Sam's mouth curl up. "That's it, huh?"
Dean nods.
"Yup. Got anything to say against that?"
Sam sighs, then with a tiny jerk of a shoulder he shrugs.
"I guess not."
He might try to play nonchalant, but Sam can't quite hide the sudden way his body relaxes. Dean sees it too and the grin on his face is nothing like John has ever seen before. Reassured at his welcome, Dean briskly walks forward and Sam stumbles towards him until they're crushing each other in a hug so tight John wonders about breathing capabilities. It's so out of the range of anything he'd ever experienced himself that John felt uncomfortable even witnessing it. He turns his back to the brothers, who just don't seem to want to let go anytime soon, and walks out of the building.
***
Chapter 6
Master Fic Post