Better Together Challenge, Trying something new

Hi everyone! We're going to try a new type of challenge firecho suggested.

I'm basing this challenge off of Big Bang challenges that are popular in some fandoms on LiveJournal. The idea on LJ is that people sign up as writers, artists, and vidders and are randomly assigned into teams. Together, they have to create a story, art pieces, and a video as a set.

Here's what we're going to do. No sign ups, no random teams. You may make your own teams of 1 writer, 1 artist, and 1 vidder. You must have three people to participate. You may not belong to multiple teams.

Each person on the team has specific tasks. The writer will write the story, of course. The artist will make the graphics and the vidder will make the video. Separate tasks, but you must work together to make a body of work that ties together. The graphics should be visuals for the story. The vid and story should make sense together.

The Specifics:

All work submitted must comply with board rules.

No spoilers.

Everything you create for this challenge must be new: new writing, new art, new vid.

The Fic

- I'm not setting a limit on the story, but it should be short. It'll be easier to write a shorter story in the time frame you're given and easier to read when it comes time to vote.

- No specific prompt for the story. It can be funny, horror, future fic, or Wee!chesters. No alternate universes and no crossovers, please.

The Art

- Your graphics should connect to the fic.

- You must make:
------1 banner (600 pixels wide x 200 pixels high or smaller)
------3 avatars (each 100 x 100 pixels)
------1 wallpaper (your choice of size)

- No animation, please.
- Text, brushes, textures are at your discretion.
- You may make your pieces match, or they can be different. That's up to you.
- You may not use any season 4 images.

The Vid

- Maximum length: 5 minutes (including any credits)
- Your choice of music
- You may use any Supernatural clips from seasons 1-3.
- You have some flexibility in what to make your video about. You may make a trailer for the fic, make a vid about the fic's plot, make something that matches the tone of your fic...it's up to you.

After the submission deadline, we'll vote on the best set of work.


How to submit your work:

One person from your team should post all of the work in one post in this thread. Please include the following information:

You don't have to sign up by a specific date, but once you form your team, I would appreciate it if you posted in this thread saying who's on your team and what each person is doing.

Just post:

Writer - Member Name
Artist - Member Name
Vidder - Member Name

That way, we have some idea of how many people are working on this challenge.

Deadline for submission: Friday October 10th, 11:59 p.m. EST
** You must submit all of your team's work in one post


Play nice with your partners and have fun! Feel free to PM me with any questions.

Awesome Idea.

Now I just need a group.

This challange sounds interesting. I would love to join in. I am a writer/vidder so I could fill either of those roles. I just don't have a team. If anyone would like to join up with me for this one that would be awesome. As a writer I always have tons of ideas. Though I don't always post much of my work. I prefer suspence and love to write vivid descriptions. Also good a the barbed wire weggies too. To be honest I don't do happy endings real well.

As a vidder I have all the episodes on my computer so I can pull high quality clips from anywhere in the show to make the video. Though I am restricted to just clips from Supernatural at the moment. But they are High-Def clips and I know my way around my editing software. Also I am open to any concept pretty much. Right now I really want to write something or make a vid I took a vacation from it for a while but with the new episodes starting the creative juices are starting to go nuts.

Oooh, this sounds fun! Very interesting idea.

I'd love to participate! I could be an artist for a group if anyone's interested

Here's my art thread:

http://z14.invisionfree.com/Supernatural/i...?showtopic=7579

I would love to do some writing.
This sounds like a really great challenge.
Now for the group... *ponders aimlessly*

Hey, sounds like fun. I guess I can write if I can find a group. *waits to be included*

YAY! got a whole group.

Writer: mummyluvr
Artist: SamJaredforever
Vidder: Me

Can't wait to see what all the groups come up with this challenge is very cool.

All right well I wanna write. Like real bad!! So PM me if you wanna be in my team!!

SUBMISSION
Ok we finished our submission for the challenge. So here it is.

Writer - mummyluvr
Artist - SamJaredforever
Vidder - Exdemon1120

Chasing Rabbits

May second had been colored in red. It wasn’t because May second was his birthday, even though it was. He hated thinking of it that way, like it was a special day, like he deserved to be happy on it. As far as he was concerned, he never deserved to be happy again.

It was one of those little plastic cards that fit neatly inside his wallet, along with the scammed plastic he still had left over from those months when he’d had a partner. He took it out and looked at it everyday, just to remember. To make sure that he never forgot.

May second was red, but every day after it was black, marked off by a hand that shouldn’t have been as steady as it was.

He turned the little calendar over in his hands, looking at the picture on the back. Once, back when he had bought it, the image had been clear. Now it was smudged, rubbed raw in the place that made him think of his brother.

Sam blinked away the tears that still threatened to form behind his eyes, even after he had blocked out all those squares on the back of the card. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. He shouldn’t still be falling, should still be tumbling, chasing rabbits down a hole leading to nowhere but a dark abyss that Dean had warned him to stay out of.

Dean was in that hole, though, wasn’t he?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Two hours after his brother’s death, Sam refused to leave the older man’s side. He had taken Dean from New Harmony, snuck him from the house before the demons and Bobby could even react. He had taken his brother and he had run.

He’d driven blindly, wildly for two hours before stopping at a motel. He’d smuggled Dean inside, laid him out on a bed, and just sat. He stared. He wondered if Dean had done the same, back when he’d been dead. He’d have to ask Alice.

He’d shaken his head at that, wondering where the thought had come from. Some song, something that Dean would have listened to. Something about rabbits and drugs and Disneyland.

They’d never been to Disneyland. Sam had always wanted to go, but their father hadn’t let them. Dean had promised. He’d said that one day they would, just the two of them. John would never know.

Dean had lied. Sam didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d have to ask Alice about that, too, he supposed.

He laughed.

-.-

One week and two days after Dean’s death, Sam finally burned the body. It was starting to smell.

That was a lie. Dean had stated to smell long before the week was up. The wounds left by invisible claws had putrefied faster than the younger- now only- hunter had expected them to. Still, he’d held out hope. Maybe he could find a way. Maybe he could save his brother.

Hell, if he couldn’t, maybe Alice could.

Truth be told, Sammy hadn’t moved from his brother’s side since taking him from Indiana. He’d moved from the chair to the bed, from the bed to the chair, and so on and so forth, but hadn’t done much other than that. There was no more research. There was no more time for research. There was only time for regret and death and the sickening sweet smell of blood as it seeped through what was left of his brother and into the thin motel sheets.

He carted the body out to the Impala, sliding Dean carefully into the passenger seat, buckling him up for safety, and searched for the perfect place to build the pyre. He went to work as soon as he found it, Dean’s glazed eyes watching him all the time. He hadn’t had the heart to close them, had felt that he needed that stare, had deserved that stare.

He had failed his brother, had let the man die, even after he’d promised to save him. He felt like the worst person in the world, the worst brother in the world.

Sam had piled up the wood, set his brother atop it, and draped a sheet over the body. He hated to think of Dean like that, as an empty shell, something no longer there. His brother was supposed to be vibrant, lively, all smiles and crude jokes and Dean.

He could remember the last time this had happened, the last time Dean had died, taking that little bit of humanity Sam had held onto with him. He had felt that die, and he had hated it. Even now, as he trekked back to the car, searched through the trunk- so damned unorganized- for salt and lighter fluid and matches, he could feel it.

One pill made him larger, and one pill made him small. The pill the Trickster gave him made him feel nothing at all, and that was what scared him. That was what was happening again. That numbness, closing in on the edges of his mind, threatening to overtake him as the smell of his brother’s rotting flesh finally had. He feared it. Maybe that had been the point.

He covered and doused the body. He tossed the match. He’d have to find that song of Dean’s, have to listen to it. He’d have to tell Alice, make her listen to him. He had to tell someone what he was feeling, what he was scared of. If he didn’t, he might just become that numb thing again, might just become something wrong.

-.-

Two weeks, five days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes after Dean’s death, Sam found the Trickster again. He begged for his brother’s life. The damned thing snapped its fingers, laughed, and said it was sorry. There was nothing it could do. Maybe Sam could go ask Alice. She might know.

He staked it. He knew the damned thing wasn’t expecting him to move so fast, not with the haze of tears covering his eyes, not with that waver in his voice. He staked it right through the heart and watched it die.

Sam stood over the body of the Trickster, and felt. For the first time since his brother’s death, he really felt. He felt sad and he felt angry and he felt worthless and he felt like a failure. And that was what made him human. That was what made the stupid thing that Dean had done worthwhile.

He burned that body, too.

-.-

One month, six days, and seven hours after Dean’s death, Sam was still Sam. He was still hunting a bit. He was still keeping in touch with other hunters. He was still feeling the appropriate human emotions.

They hit him in waves, strong bursts that washed over him, sprawling him out on the single motel bed, threatening to crush him each time. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Sometimes Bobby was with him. Sometimes it was Ellen. Most of the time, he was by himself. He hunted less and less, following fewer leads. If someone called him with a job, men on the chessboard telling him where to go, he would listen. He would hunt. Otherwise, he didn’t do much.

It was his fault. All his fault. He felt it with every fiber of his being, no matter what anyone else said. He knew where his brother was, what was happening to him. He could imagine Hell, knew what it must be like. It was this. It was being left behind. It was grief and anger and confusion and loss.

It was Hell.

Sam was in Hell. So where was his brother?

-.-

Two months, three weeks, and two days after Dean had died, Sam finally found out what that damned song was. He was starting to feel like logic and proportion had fallen sloppy dead, and what the hell did that even mean?

So he asked Bobby. Bobby knew everything.

Well, Dean knew everything. But Dean wasn’t here right now, was he? And whose fault was that, again?

Sam hated crying over the phone, especially after all the time that had passed, but Bobby let him cry it through, let him get it out of his system. He’d confessed to Bobby, let Bobby be his Alice. He’d told the older man what he’d feared becoming, and they’d both agreed that any sign of human emotion was a good sign. Crying was good. Tears were good. Humanity was good.

The song was “White Rabbit.” It was by Jefferson Airplane. It was about Alice in Wonderland, so Sam had been right. Disney.

A very merry Un-birthday to me, he thought, and hung up the phone before Bobby could hear him laugh the laugh of the lunatic he feared he might be becoming.

-.-

Three months exactly after Dean had died, Sam was at Wal-mart. He was making a beer run. He’d started drinking more as the tears had stopped. Maybe it was a vain attempt to replenish the dried-out ducts, maybe just a way to try and forget the memories of those glazed eyes, the flickering flames of the funeral pyre. He’d stopped trying to figure it out.

The calendar cards caught his eye, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was that stupid song, the one that had been on a loop in his head for three months. They were sitting out on a small white rack, barely noticeable, but he saw them, nonetheless.

He was drawn to one, a blue one with a picture of two large rabbits on it. They sat side-by-side, one white, one black. The white one had its nose tucked firmly into the other’s ear.

The picture made Sam smile, reminding him of the long-ago days of his childhood when he’d been so grossed-out by germs that Dean would do anything just to get him to scream, including waking him up on the morning of his sixth birthday by sticking his tongue in Sam’s ear.

He picked up the small plastic card and added it to his basket without even thinking. He needed it. It made him smile. He hadn’t smiled in a long time.

He took it up to the check-out counter, still grinning that grin, the expression feeling so foreign on his face. It really had been too long.

The clerk didn’t even look up as he slid his purchases onto the conveyor belt. He flashed her a smile, loving the way it felt on his face, the way it warmed his body, and glanced at her nametag. “Hey, Alice.”

She passed the beer and card over the laser set into the counter. “Hey.”

The smile faded from Sam’s face. Something told him that she knew. Something in her voice, in the way she looked at the card and smiled, the way that her eyes turned murky and dark as she looked up at him.

Sam took a slow step back, wishing he’d kept the knife that Dean had stolen from Ruby, wishing that he hadn’t handed it over to Bobby for safe keeping.

“You know,” the demon said, stepping out from behind the counter and flashing a know-it-all grin, the calendar still grasped in her hand. “If you go chasing rabbits, you’re surely gonna fall…”

His heart clenched at the words, the sarcasm dripping in her voice. “Get away from me.”

“I know what happened to your brother.”

Whatever good feelings the smile had brought to the surface of his system were gone now. He was cold, alone. Dean was in Hell. “Leave me alone.” He grabbed the card from her hand, surprised to find the action easy. She didn’t put up a fight, didn’t try to stop him as he turned and walked away.

“You need to pay for that, sir,” she called after him, her eyes returning to their former bright blue.

He looked back at the card in his hand, at the picture of the rabbits. One white, pure as the snow. One black, dark as night. The white one was a prankster, fun-loving, care-free. He was a fighter. He would do anything for anyone and ask for nothing in return.

The other was different. He didn’t realize what he had until he lost it. He was selfish. He was evil. A plague upon the earth. Some kind of monster.

There was that whole Anti-Christ thing.

He rubbed his thumb across the picture of the white rabbit. No. Dean had told him that he wasn’t evil, and he had been right. Dean had always been right. Dean would never lie to him. Not ever.

-.-

Three months, one week, six days, and five minutes after Dean had died, Sam was lying face-down on a motel room bed, crying. He had let himself forget, hadn’t wanted to remember what had happened, where Dean was, and that had been his undoing. That had made him weak.

He was a horrible person.

He had gone back to the Wal-Mart to exorcise the clerk, had waited for her in the parking lot, had hit her over the had, tied her up, shoved her in the trunk, and trapped her under a painted symbol on the motel room’s ceiling.

She’d woken up, bound and terrified, and he’d hit her with the holy water. He’d performed an exorcism. He’d said “Christo.” Nothing happened.

Her named was Marie. She had been working at the Wal-Mart for a little over two months. She had reported him to her manager. He’d robbed the store. She thought he was going to rape her.

Such a creeper. An occultist, too, if the weird symbols and chanting and this ritual were to be believed.

He hit her again, right over the head, and left her in the room. He fled the scene, scared to death. What the hell was happening to him? Her name was Alice, he could have sworn it. She’d had black eyes. She’d been a demon. She knew about Dean.

He was hallucinating. Seeing black eyes and Disney references where there were none. He was chasing rabbits. He was knew he was going to fall.

He cried himself to sleep. He dreamed of Dean hung up by hooks, bound by chains, screaming his name, over and over again, dripping blood, for all of eternity.

-.-

Four months, two weeks, two days, five hours, twenty-six minutes, and forty-two seconds after Dean had died, Sam was looking at his calendar. The many black boxes and single red one mocking him, staring up at him, laughing.

Somewhere outside the safety of his cluttered room, police sirens sounded. He glanced at the door, at the line of salt that he’d laid down to keep himself safe. Himself and no one else.

He shuddered. So alone. One bed, one bag, too much room in the car, in the motels, in his life. Too much time to think. Too many thoughts of torture, of meat hooks, of rusty chains and blood and sweat and fear and Dean.

His head hurt. His head hurt and his eyes burnt with tears and that bitch’s words echoed in his mind. He could wipe Lilith off the map. She was scared of him. He was some kind of Demon King Wanna-Be, even though he didn’t. And all of this was because of that damned demon, that yellow-eyed bastard that fed him his blood, fed his head.

Feed your head, he thought, turning the card over in his hands again. The picture of the rabbits faced him. There was only one now, the black one, and wasn’t that appropriate?

Feed your head.

Someone knocked at the door. He wanted to ignore it. Really, he did. Something wouldn’t let him, though. It was the same thing that kept him awake at night with visions of Hell, his own and his brother’s, torturous visions that pained both his head and his heart.

Feed your head.

He got to his feet, crossed the room, and pulled the door slowly open, careful not to disturb the lines of salt he’d placed between himself and the cruel outside world. His eyes bugged as soon as they landed on the figure outside his door.

Dean smiled up at him, pale as death and smelling of ash, but looking otherwise unharmed. “Hey, Sammy,” he said, voice breaking with emotion. “I came back.”

Feed your head.


Banner


Avatars
-.- -.-




Video Link: White Rabbit

If there are any groups still in need of an Artist...drop me a PM...I'd love to take part

>>My short (Spoiler free) "Banner bug2" thread ATO<<

I'd love to participate as the Graphics Artist. If someone need's one - PM me:)

Nine more days!

Four more days! Make sure you post your work in this thread!

Vidder: Nightshadeis

Artist: Hobbleit

Writer: Firecho

VIDEO: When Angel's Fly Away * Note: This vid isn't actually 7:00 Minutes long. There's some dead air at the end

ART: avis


banner


wall


Story

WHEN ANGELS FLY AWAY

[I]It's hard to see your way out
When you live in a house in a house
Cause you don't realize
That the windows were open the whole time.

Dean stopped believing in Angel's when he was seven. It had nothing to do with his mother's death, or the fact that they were hunting evil and they never showed up. Dean stopped believing in Angel's because, if they were really watching over them like his mother had told him, then he should have seen it coming. He should have known that she was going to die, how gruesome it would be. But he didn't know, and it was his fault she was gone. So, there were no Angel's just monsters.

Standing at the bathroom sink, looking at himself with a broad stretch of snowy wings. He glared at himself, he was evil- he wasn't human. Then, as quickly as it was there the rage and anger was gone and fear set in. Would daddy take him away from Sam? Would daddy kill him because he wasn't human?

With his heart hammering into his chest he grabbed the first aid kit and pulled out a pair of scissors. The kind that dad saved for really bad injuries. Dean had seen it cut clean through wire and fencing, it could cut through bone surely. With a cry of pain and despair Dean slowly cut away a part of him. Staining the beige tiled floor with bits of white and red. He never told anyone, and when Daddy asked why he was leaning forward. He lied and said he pulled his back carrying Sammy to bed.

* * *

Freud believed that the Super Ego in the mind repressed emotions and situations. Hiding them as if they were never there, urges, fantasies, dreams and experiences. Dean never remembered his snowy extensions, or the fear of being abnormal, or cutting through bone with a pair of blunt craft scissors.

At twenty-two with Sam long gone. Standing in the kitchen of some psychic Dean gets reminded of what the Superego slammed into the barricade of the back of his mind. In a cheap suit with a pad and paper, standing next to his sort-of-cleaned-up father, Dean looked at the woman. Raising his head ready to ask questions when she moved forward.

With tears in his eyes she reached up and cupped his face, moving her hands up and down, tracing very contour. He stood stock still, in shock. Tears pierced the corners of her eyes and streamed lightly downwards and she spoke in Spanish quickly, in a whisper. Like a prayer.

John turned and looked at his son with equal shock. He gently moved between them and grabbed the woman pushing her gently back wards. As if she must've been moved by some strange turn of events, or possibly heard about Dean being a hunter.

“Dean, get to the car.” it was a command but Dean didn't respond. It was like his brain was trying to play catchup. “Dean!” John's voice finally permeated Dean's mind and he moved to leave the kitchen and get into the car like he was told.


“You don't understand. He's an angel, he's an angel from God! He's here to save us!” The woman's thick accent and broken words boomed in Dean's head as he left the room, running to the car. He wrenched open the door and sat in the passenger seat of the Impala waiting for his father to take him to Uncle Bobby's.

John got into the car and turned it on in complete silence. Dean stared out the windows with foggy eyes and wariness as he remembered the bathroom. The feathers the pain, the crunch as he finally separated the wings from his body. Swallowing deep he looked at his father.

“Dad.” his voice was quiet. Like a child caught in a cookie jar, trying to explain like it's not what it looks like. Accept this time, it's life and death, love or disownment. John looks at Dean and smiles, but somethings different. A little lighter, a little softer, a little hidden.

“It's just crazy talk Dean.” John doesn't speak for the rest of the ride back to Bobby's, he just spares occasional glances at Dean as though he's expecting him to open the window and fly away.
* * *

John buys a truck from Bobby. He says that Dean is ready for his own hunts, and that he can have the Impala- he had fixed it more times than John ever had, and Dean really did consider it a home. So, Dean took the car with complete gratitude. He was his own man now, he was his own boss. Just at the thought, John handed Dean a file folder filled with coordinates and news scraps.

“Get goin.” He said with a smirk. It was one of the few times John was so light hearted with Dean.

* * *
Dean drove along the dirt road back to the motel where he was supposed to meet his father. Thoughts clouding his mind, the demon he was fighting was terrified of him. It practically wept at his feet as though he was something stronger than man. Then it called him Angeles. Dean sent it back to hell, where it belonged, but that didn't mean that the unsettling feeling in his stomach wasn't still lingering and slowly eating away.

Pulling over to the shoulder of the road Dean turned of the keys and got out. He stepped out of the Impala and walked around to its hood. Sparing a glance down the empty expanse of straight tarmac he pealed off his shirt and tossed it to the tan ground. Closing his eyes he thought about freedom, flight, about never having another problem another care in the world. He felt his shoulder blades ripple and the soft touch of white as it scraped against his shoulders spreading to its full length.

Dean spread and closed his wings, having immediate control he looked and touched them. He looked at them with sorrow and disappointment. It was a part of himself that he had hidden in fear but it was the key to his own freedom. Looking at the cliff on the edge of the road he took a running start, and for the not the first time in his life, leapt without second thought. The only difference is this time, he wasn't afraid of falling.

* * *

Seeing Sam again, watching his girl friend, the love of his life burn alive on the ceiling Dean decided that he had no right to bare the wings of the warrior. He hadn't saved Jessica, and had barely saved Sam- but had simply condemned him to a life that he didn't want to live. He had taken him from one shallow existence filled with content and happiness and had dragged him into one of anger and hate and bitterness. No, Dean didn't deserve to wear the veil of flight.

He didn't tell Sam either. Sam was having a hard enough time searching for his own self than worrying about who or what Dean was.


Sometimes though, Dean would open the window of the Impala, all of them, and embrace the sensation of wind through the car. It was almost like falling, the Impala an extension of his soul- much like his wings- enabling him to fly, to be free. It was something Dean longed for, something that Sam thought he had turned away. But, it was simply Dean knowing the truth. The only escape from evil, was through the soft guidance of flight, into the sky that no one could reach. To go up to the vast insurmountable depths of the great unknown clouds.


Dean never showed Sam his wings. Not until Sam fell through the balcony because of a poltergeist somewhere in the Hollywood hills. Dropping, fast, down, down, down, without second thought Dean spread his wings and leapt. Spreading his wings and diving after Sam scooping him up and taking him back to the safety of the ground below.

Fearful of his brother's reaction Dean left. Jumped into the sky and was gone for hours, leaving nothing behind but the small silver keys of the Impala. Sam waited in the hotel room for hours, waiting for his brother's possible return. Pacing, thinking, extrapolating.

The front door opened slightly as Dean walked in, his bare chest covered in little droplets of moisture. He had ripped his shirt when he saved Sam. Without any thought's or hesitation Sam walked over and embraced Dean.

He could be free, he could leave, go anywhere in the world and rid himself of this life. But to do so would mean to leave Sam behind and Dean knew that with Sam there was always home.


It's all here for you as long as your choose to stay.
It's all here for you as long as you don't fly away.

Sorry for the delay. I am a video virgin and didn't know it took as long as it does to upload and junk with videos. I swear that it was completed before Midnight, as Grkgrl knows.


Here is the lovely team:

Video Maker: Lo (This is my first video, so I think the team is doomed. Everyone knows I am a writer. )

Artist: Cakehole Cat

Writer: Raven524

Theme: Darkest Hour. This is a collaboration of works that pinpoint the future of the boys (in our opinions). It is about all of the bad things that have collectively worn down Sam, and how it effected Dean overall and where they end up at the end of everything. It isn't a happy theme.


...........................................................................................................................................



Video: Darkest Hour
Music: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning by Smashing Pumpkins
Clips: Various clips throughout seasons 1-3
(And no one told me youtube makes everything so much darker than the original. )

Click here to view: Darkest Hour



Artwork:

Icons:
1. 2. 3.

Banner:


Wall:

[mono version]

Story:

Time has stopped before us
The sky cannot ignore us
No one can separate us
For we are all that is left
The echo bounces off me
The shadow lost beside me
There's no more need to pretend
Cause now I can begin again

The Beginning is the End by Smashing Pumpkins



The Darkest Hour
By Raven524


Bobby Singer stood on the hill and looked down into the cemetery below at the lone figure standing before the crypt. Aged eyes filled with tears at the injustice of what was to happen. They had all fought so hard to prevent this but now that it had come to it, he had no stomach to finish. He turned and looked at the man beside him, worn down by the weight carried for so long and yet standing strong against the storm to come.

The old hunter pulled his coat tighter around him as the skies above them boiled in angry ribbons of darkness and light. The heavens themselves seemed to be holding a breath along with the rest of the world. No one would remember what was to transpire. Either the world would go on or it wouldn’t. In the end only a few would really know what had happened.

He turned towards the oldest Winchester to offer comfort even though he knew it would be rebuffed. He could only imagine what was going through his mind at this moment. How many times had the man beside him given his all only to have it thrown back at him? What more could be asked? He’d suffered the very flames of Hell and defied the Heavens above to save the man who would now betray them.

“You know there was nothing more you could have done Dean.” Bobby tried to reach his surrogate son. “The Sam we knew no longer exits—hasn’t been for months now.”

Green eyes flashed fire as they turned to look at him. Bobby stepped back at the pain he saw in the depths of Dean’s gaze. “We don’t do anything until I say. Do you understand me? I will handle what needs to be done. It’s my job…”

“Aw crap Dean, why don’t you let me take care of it. Sam wouldn’t have wanted you to…” He never saw the fist coming until it was too late. The oldest Winchester lashed out and hit him square on the jaw forcing the old hunter to step back.

“I said no Bobby…” Dean calmly stated as he absently rubbed his knuckles. There was no apology on the man’s face only resignation. Bobby shook his head and moved to stand beside his young friend. There was no time for anger or for hate, not with what was coming any moment.

Dean stepped forward and gazed down at the man who was his brother. “Did you ever think we’d see this in our lifetime Bobby?” The question was asked quietly as if he was afraid of the answer he’d receive.

“I kinda hoped we wouldn’t. No one wants to be here for the end game son. If the books have it any where near right, it won’t be a walk in the park.” Bobby rubbed his sore jaw as he stood once again next to Dean to view the battlefield below them.

“I can’t believe we are the last, all the others gone…” Dean whispered as he dropped his head for a moment. Bobby could see the guilt and pain of loss clearly etched on the young man’s face. The war had not gone well for those who sought to wage it. It had started with the death of all the hunters at Harvelle’s Road House, then twenty more at the hand of vengeful spirits called by Lilith only to be continued until all of them were gone.

Ellen’s and Jo’s deaths had been the hardest for all of them. It had been the catalyst for the final change in Samuel Winchester. Years of loss and pain had finally been too much. No matter how much he and Dean had tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault, he still felt like he should have been able to do more to prevent their deaths.

The vision of their deaths had come to Sam too late for them to do anything to stop it. The demons had found them on their way to one of the safe houses. Bobby could still remember Sam’s screams when he saw their death. It hadn’t been pretty. The sons of bitches had tortured the girls to get Sam’s whereabouts and the young hunter had been forced to witness it all.

They had refused and died for their loyalty as had so many others before them.

Of course he and the boys had rushed to stop the carnage but they had arrived at the bloody massacre too late. The bodies weren’t even recognizable any longer. As Bobby and Dean buried the remains Sam had disappeared into the night. It was the last time they’d seen him but it didn’t take long to figure out where he’d gone.

Dean had managed to track him through the long line of deaths. It seemed that Sam Winchester was now on a mission and he no longer cared how many died. At first it appeared to be vengeance painted in crimson as they tracked the young hunter. Where once Sam had objected to the loss of life of the innocent host; he now no longer cared. Just like after Dean’s death, the young hunter was taking out his own version of retribution. But soon they heard disturbing rumors of the psychic who could kill with his mind. Whispers on the night wind that were said quietly less those who spoke incurred his wrath.

Finally they had managed to get hold of a demon who told them where to find the youngest Winchester. Bobby shivered as he remembered the revelations that night.

The demon hunter watched as Dean interrogated their prisoner. The oldest Winchester doused the unholy captive with the sacred water and smiled at the pain painted on the man’s face. “You’ll soon be joining your other friends back where you belong…” Dean hissed as Bobby opened his book and began to speak the exorcism.

“It will be a short trip and then it will be our turn to hunt you…” The man screamed as he struggled to escape his bonds.

Dean held up his hand to Bobby. “What are you talking about?”

“The end is near now that the boy king has accepted his rightful place. The apocalypse foretold throughout the ages is at hand. The final seal is about to be broken and our true master will be free. He has promised to reward us for our devotion to him.”

“You’re lying…” Dean jeered as he stepped back and motioned for Bobby to continue.

“You’ve seen what your brother can do; you know I speak the truth. Your own father saw this day coming and tried to stop it. He is the key to the final lock. But you can’t stop destiny any more than you can stop the sun from rising. In ten days you will see, the beginning is the end. Your brother will accept his fate and set us all free.”

Bobby and Dean watched as the demon left, his laughter haunting in its memory as they tried to escape the truth behind the words. It had only taken Bobby a few days to figure out the meaning behind the words and it had chilled him to the bone. That was why he and Dean were now looking down at the old cowboy cemetery in Southern Wyoming.

It was the place where the war began and it is the place where it would now end.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

All was darkness; the past was a distant memory, the present and future on the same road now heading for the final crash into destiny. He had spent years of fighting against what was now to transpire and it had left him empty; a shell of his former self. He who had believed in good, who had argued angels did exist was condemned to the darkness and it made his soul cry out at the cruel hand fate had dealt. However, there was no room for hate or compassion; all that was left was duty. Today it would end where it all began. The war to end all wars and he was the catalyst, the smoking gun.

Sam Winchester stood before the very gates of hell where he had thought he’d been reborn. The death of their adversary should have been the end but all it had wrought was chaos and pain. For a short time he had lived the illusion of normalcy only to be reminded of the dormant power within ready to explode.

Flashes of a life past assaulted him. A mother he had never known and a father old before his time were his lineage. A brother who gave his all and still ended up with nothing to show for his sacrifice; a woman he’d loved more than life itself and another he could have loved given a chance, both taken from him. Anyone who he had held dear lost to the curse that was his alone to bear. So many had died…The light of humanity flared for a brief moment as all he’d lost fought for purchase in his mind only to be doused once more with the reality of his position.

He looked down at his hands. If he looked close enough he could see the blood of centuries embedded in the skin. He wondered now why he’d fought so hard against what destiny had dictated from even before his birth. Once he’d tapped into the power the choice had been simple. Destruction was his birthright. He would bring order to chaos and lead the army released from these very gates three years ago.

He sensed their coming. It wouldn’t be long now before the multitudes answered his call. Even those who had stood behind Lilith and the other usurpers of his throne had come to acknowledge his strength. No one could stand up to him and those who had were now mere dust beneath his feet. He was absolute and his word was law. There was nothing in heaven or on earth that could stop him.

His minions on earth and those who stood on the other side of the door would soon be joined by his will. He would crush anyone who stood in his way. Failure was not an option nor would it be tolerated. Winchester stubbornness would see the day, maybe not in the way his father or brother would approve but in the end at least one Winchester would be on top. One Winchester’s life would mean something.

He would be the last to bear this weight; master of a nothing place perhaps, a world no longer recognizable but he would no longer be the pawn of destiny. He would bend it to his will and force it to bow to his desires. He was no longer a creature of fear but the one to be feared and he could live with that.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean looked up and saw the undulating cloud of evil converge on the cemetery below them. His brother was all but obscured by the darkness now. Any light extinguished by the dark masses as they answered some unknown call. For a moment fear raced through his veins. Not for himself but for the brother who had been but now remained in face only. He felt like the old fire horse who knew only how to run towards the flame to save those who would perish only to die in the fire.

And yet he could not answer the call this time. His task lay in another direction. As he turned his back on the scene he felt another piece of his soul splinter. Yes he’d survived four months in Hell but it paled in comparison to what he was now forced to face. A directive given to him by his father and one he never thought to obey was now upon him. The angel Castiell had warned him but Dean had ignored him. He’d denied the directives given and fought for his own path only to find its end coincided with what heaven had decreed for him.

“Come on Bobby, it looks like the gang’s all here. It’s time to close the door…” Dean motioned for the old hunter to follow him back to the place where they had hidden the truck and the car. He just hoped they would be able to do what needed to be done without being detected.

“I shore hope this plan of yours works Dean. Otherwise we are goin’ to be facing a bunch of pissed off demons with nothing between us and them.” Bobby remarked as he quietly followed his young charge.

“What you worried about Butch? My plans always work…” Dean’s eyebrow rose. He had wanted to leave Bobby behind, even tried to sneak away but the old man was too smart.

However he couldn’t fault the old hunter his part in this final battle. He’d earned his place in blood and tears. Besides it had been his experience and guidance that had kept both of them alive so far when all the others had perished. It was his calmness that doused the flame of despair in Dean after Sam had left.

“Seems to me that scenario didn’t end up too well for those two, as I recall Butch and Sundance both died…” Bobby remarked dryly. Dean chuckled softly as he removed the tarp from the back of the pick up truck. Inside were long rails of iron. It had taken them almost a week to trace the original tracks only to find this one break. Without a sound both men picked up the first rail and headed towards the break in the track. Soon the second rail followed. It didn’t take long for them to remove the damaged track and replace it with the new.

“Well that aught to do it. I just hope they can’t break through once I start reciting or figure out how to disrupt the speakers we planted.” Bobby said as he opened the door to the truck and picked up the microphone they’d rigged. The plan was simple. Trap the demons inside the devils trap originally created by Samuel Colt and exorcise the demons back to where they’d come from.

“It worked before at the jail, it should work now. But remember you gotta give me time to get in position.” Dean pulled the colt from his coat pocket and checked the chambers. He still couldn’t believe Bella had returned it to them. A month ago he’d gotten a letter from an attorney at one of their drop boxes. It told him he had received a bequeath from Bella in her will and instructions on where to collect it.

At first he thought it might be money. After all the girl did owe him for the lottery tickets she’d stolen. However the drop box he was directed to held the very gun she’d taken from them; the colt. There had been no note, no apology just the weapon in the box. As he gazed at the weapon in his hand he wondered where she was now. He had no memory of her while he’d been vacationing down south. But there was no time to worry about things he couldn’t change. What was done was done.

“Dean why don’t you let me…” Bobby started but stopped at the glare he received from the young hunter.

“This was always to be my role, my job in this whole mess. Sam is my responsibility and mine alone. You just do your job and I’ll do mine.” Dean’s eyes softened as he watched the emotions flow across the old hunters face. “The beer is on me when we’re done…”

Without waiting for a response Dean headed back towards the cemetery and his destiny.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sam’s body shook from the effort it took him to control the dark masses surrounding him. He could not only see and feel the evil but also taste it. If he wasn’t careful he would drown in the sea of emotions and desires of the demon hoard. For the first time since he’d arrived he felt a shiver of fear race through him. There was so much at stake, one wrong move and it would be over before it began.

“What are your orders my King?” One of the larger demons asked as he knelt before Sam. The young hunter wasn’t fooled. The demon before him only acknowledged his power to destroy him; loyalty and respect were not given or expected. He held the reigns of hell through fear.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment; a soft smile curled his lips before he opened them again. He turned and looked at the gateway to Hell. “Stand back while I release the rest of our brethren. We have much to do and little time to do it…” Sam replied before he closed his eyes once more.

It was time…

The fires of Hell itself glowed from Sam’s eyes as he opened them and stared at the lock on the door. As he unlocked his mind to the power within it became a simple matter of moving the right levers within the catch to open the door. There was pain as he continued to work but he ignored it. Soon it wouldn’t matter, nothing would.

As the heavy doors slowly creaked open on rusty hinges the mass of darkness vibrated with the impending victory. Soon they would all be free and the world would be theirs for the taking. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled as clouds formed above to join with the sound of joy from those who had been damned.

They were so enthralled no one noticed the lone figure moving quietly from headstone to headstone. The air crackled with energy and in the center of it all stood the youngest Winchester, body bathed in white light. Sam closed his eyes and reached deep within himself. It was time for the final battle he opened his eyes for a brief moment and looked to the one who now stood bravely between him and the gate. The colt pointed at his chest with a hand that never wavered.

“Dean…” Sam whispered

“Sam…” Dean acknowledged as time stood still. At last it had come to it. The final battle between good and evil came down to two men. Not demons verses angels as many foretold but human beings made of flesh and bone. Suddenly the world was silent as all watched.

Sam smiled softly, his eyes returning for a moment to their normal hazel color. He gazed into the green eyes of his brother, his protector and now his executioner. No words were spoken as the two brothers looked at each other. No words were necessary as the Winchesters spoke without making a sound. There were no words for what was about to happen. Young eyes now old were filled with regret but Sam calmly met the eyes of his older brother. Dean stiffened for a moment his gaze softening as he saw what he needed to know, what he’d always known.

“You’ve come to kill me?” Sam asked softly. His eyes held no censure but only warmth as he looked at his older sibling. A dimpled grin long forgotten found a moment to appear on the too thin face. The past few months had not been easy for either of the Winchester brood.

“No Sam, I’ve come to save you…” Dean replied as he slowly lowered the gun and turned to stand at his brother’s side. There was no need to think or reason, it was time and they would face it together as it had always been and would always be.

Without warning Sam closed his eyes and opened the door to the power he’d held in check all his life. The darkness that always lurked just below the surface, crying for a chance to be free; he could feel it building inside until his skin felt as if it would split from the strain. He raised his arm, his hand extended even as he heard the first whispers of discontent from the swirling masses.

Sweat gathered on his brow and his body trembled. All that he’d learned from Ruby combined with the lessons learned from his father and brother. The one who had worn the traitors coat for the past few months finally spoke but not the words of triumph expected by his followers. Instead they heard their doom pass through the betrayer’s lips.

“I command you all to go to Hell!” Sam Winchester said softly. His hand shook as screams of hundreds of lost souls split the air. The boy who would be King of the darkness now sought to send all who had escaped back to the underworld with nothing more than the force of his will. Destiny had called and he had answered as his father and brother had taught him. The deception now bared for all to see.

The weaker demons were immediately sucked back through the doorway to Hell while those who were stronger sought purchase to remain. Sam remained staunch in his effort to win this war, the battle between good and evil would end one way or another this night.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean stood beside his brother and watched in amazement as demons were sucked through the gates and into the darkness beyond. For a brief moment he actually felt pity for those lost souls as his own experience in the dark pit flashed before him. But the time for reflection was past. Instead he looked back at his brother and smiled even as he worried. Sam had told him about his ability to command demons shortly after he’d returned from his visit to hell. At first he had been angry but as time moved on and he saw his little brother save countless innocents from possession he wondered if he’d been too quick to judge.

The only problem was he’d never seen Sam try anything on this scale before. The mind tricks always took so much from his little brother. He never complained but he could tell it tired him every time he had to tap into his powers. Sometimes he’d even get physically sick. To use this much power, it couldn’t be good for Sam.

He heard a growl to his left and turned with the colt raised. A large demon was surging forward towards Sam. Clawed hands appeared from the dense smoke. Without a thought Dean aimed for the center of the mass and fired. A defining scream signaled the end of the demon’s journey as the bullet did its work. Dean quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Now Bobby!” He screamed into the mouthpiece as he tried to be heard over the unholy din.

He watched another large mass form to their right. Now that the demons had figured out what Sam was doing, the battle began in earnest. While Sam continued to work his mojo on those he could control Dean would take care of the son of bitches that were able to fight back. A united front was presented against the darkness as flesh and bone stood before the very pits of hell and almost dared those who would remain to fight.

Bobby’s voice echoed and joined with the cacophony of voices that swirled around them. Dean placed his hands over his ears for a brief moment as the noise became almost painful. He could see Sam’s body begin to waver as the storm flowed around him. It was clear his brother was weakening. Dean reached up and placed an arm around his brother’s waist. He frowned at the unnatural heat he felt through his brother’s clothing. His brother was burning up.

“Sam!” Dean cried as he tried to steady his younger sibling. The ribbons of darkness flowed and undulated like waves in the ocean as more of the unholy hoard were sent to their doom. And yet there were still so many. It had been a hopeless battle from the start but then their whole life had been lived in desperation. He aimed the colt once again and fired as another demon came too close.

He felt his brother shudder for a moment but just when he thought Sam would collapse his brother squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. His hand shook but remained extended towards the swirling masses. There was no color in his little brother’s eyes as they blazed white. Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder briefly with the hope his brother would know he wasn’t alone.

A low growl sent a shiver up the older hunter’s spine. He didn’t have to turn to recognize that sound. He’d heard it once before just prior to when he was sent to Hell by Lilith. One of the demons had called forth the hell hound in hopes it could do what they could not. Dean looked at Sam and wondered if he sensed his danger but his brother continued to stare at the gates, his concentration complete.

Fear froze the blood in his veins as he relived the previous attack. His hand clutched at his chest as phantom pain shot through him. The sound of demons mixed with Bobby’s voice reciting the exorcism created a weird symphony of sound that almost drowned out the snarling of the beast. Dean turned slowly to face his darkest fear. “Come on bitch, let’s see what you’ve got.”

As the hell hound lunged Dean calmly pulled up the colt and took aim. The bark of the pistol in his hand signaled the release of the deadly bullet into the heart of the beast. As the animal screamed the oldest Winchester smiled. But his joy was short lived as the momentum of the beast caused it to slam into him. He felt the claws rip his flesh as he became buried beneath the weight.

Dean was trapped; the gun now lay outside his reach as he gazed up. Who would protect his brother now? As if in answer to his unspoken plea; clouds of white, first wispy but soon boiling with the rage of heaven descended from above. Dean watched mesmerized as the white surrounded the dark and absorbed it. There were no wings, no corporeal bodies or clashing of great swords. Only the sound of fear rose on the wind as God’s holy army joined the fray.

He heard the final cadence of Bobby’s voice as the old hunter finished the exorcism. Those who could be expelled by the powerful words had been destroyed but still some remained. Dean and Bobby had known it would not work for all; some demons were too powerful to be controlled by the words spoken by men. But it reduced the number significantly. Dean looked to his side and saw his brother stumble for a moment before he walked slowly towards the gate.

“Sam no!” Dean cried out. Sam’s intent was clear. He was heading for the largest mass of darkness hovering just outside the great doors. If his little brother could not push them in with his mind, he was going to try to do it physically. Dean frantically struggled against the dead weight on top of him. He had to save Sam; he couldn’t let his little brother make this ultimate sacrifice. Years of devotion to this one cause was too inbred in him to prevent his response. And yet the monster holding him in place refused to be moved.

A strong hand placed on his shoulder announced the arrival of Bobby Singer. The man grunted as he pushed the large beast from Dean. “About time you got here old man.” Dean gasped as he rolled and curled into himself for a moment to absorb the pain. He figured a rib or two were cracked for sure. But there was no time to give into the pain. The very air around them was filled with the sounds of battle.

As Dean managed to get to his knees his breath caught in his throat. “Bobby—NO!”

Bobby had found the gun and aimed it at his younger brother. Before Dean could react the sound of the gun seemed to fill the night air. Once again an eerie calm surrounded them. The older Winchester watched as the deadly projectile flew towards its target. His breathing stopped all together when he saw his little brother turn and spread his arms wide as if he wanted the impending death.

“SAMMY!” Dean cried out as his legs suddenly found their strength. He shoved a stunned Bobby aside and tried to put himself between his brother and the bullet.

“Not this time Dean.” Sam said softly as he closed his eyes and held out his hand once more.

Dean and Bobby both watched as the bullet seemed to slow. At the same time a dark shadow appeared behind Sam. Neither hunter could believe what they saw as Sam calmly stepped aside and allowed the bullet to pass, right into the dark shape just before it engulfed him. A moment of pain passed over Sam’s face before he turned once more to enter the battle.

“What the hell?!!” Bobby cried as he stood beside Dean.

“He didn’t turn Bobby. I knew he wouldn’t go dark side; all these months he’s been gaining their confidence. He’s trying to send them all back—help me Bobby we have to keep him from getting too close to that gate!” Dean watched as his little brother stood toe to toe with a large monster.

Red eyes glowed from the disfigured shape. Dean raised the colt but once again it was torn from his grasp as another demon swirled past. “Damn it!” The young hunter cried out as he dove away from the claws aimed at him. His roll brought him within inches of the gun but another form streaked by and intercepted the demon. Dean watched in awe as the air shimmered and an unholy shriek filled the air. He’d heard this sound before and knew immediately who had saved him.

“I thought I told you to lower the volume Dude!” Dean said as he continued to cringe from the sound. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn he heard the white mass in front of him laugh before it turned and joined the battle front.

Dean stood and once more looked for his little brother only to find him in a battle of his own. He watched in horror as Sam and the demon fought, neither willing to give ground. His little brother was covered in blood, his own blood as he continued to fight. His gaze was fierce as he managed to shove the demon toward the door. Sam looked back for one brief moment, his eyes full of apology as he yelled towards the two remaining hunters.

“Close and lock the door—now before it’s too late. I can only hold them a while longer!” and with that Sam Winchester took a running start and shoved his adversary through the doorway and disappeared.

“NO!” Dean yelled as he ran towards the door. He would have run through if Bobby hadn’t managed to pull him back.

“Damn it Dean, this ends here and now! If we don’t get this gate closed they’ll escape again and it will be over for us all!” Dean stepped back as tears ran down his face. He heard his brother’s voice from long ago in his mind.

“Eventually Dean you will have to let me go…”

It was time.

Dean put his back into pushing the heavy door closed while Bobby worked on the other. It seemed to take forever but in fact only minutes passed until the doors were finally shut. Bobby pulled out the colt and fit into the lock, turning it until the bolt fell in place. The two hunters turned as one and looked out at the cemetery. Every tomb stone, tree and bush within the boundaries had been leveled. The air smelled of sulfur and brimstone and the sky was still dark as night.

“So any idea on how we get rid of the rest of these yahoos?” Bobby asked as he gazed at the dark swirling masses still trying to break free.

For once Dean Winchester didn’t have a snappy come back. He turned to look back at the gate, his eyes filled with tears as he spoke. “We continue to fight them with everything we got Bobby…we continue until it is done.”

Hours later…

Dean leaned up against the door, his eyes looking out over the devastation around him. It was hard to believe it was over and they were still standing. Bobby and Dean had both continued to fight using whatever means they had at hand until the last dark mass disappeared. The air was quiet, not even a bird or sound of an insect could be heard. Armagedeon had come and they had answered but at what cost?

“You know he wouldn’t want you to grieve for him Dean. He went the way he wanted to, he went out fighting.” Bobby said as he pulled his hat from his head and looked towards the horizon.

“So what now Bobby? Do I just keep fighting the good fight? I don’t know what to do…tell me, what am I supposed to do?” Dean’s eyes filled with tears as he gazed at the gate that had taken his brother from him.

“You continue to fight evil Dean Winchester…you continue God’s work.” Dean jumped as Castiel walked towards him. He was back in his accountant body only this time there was actually sympathy in the warrior angel’s eyes.

“God’s work—right I’ll add it to my calendar.” Dean pushed away from the gate and began to walk away.

“Whether you want to believe it or not Dean, you and your brother have always done God’s work. But there is still more to do—evil still exists and it will take men like you and your brother to continue the fight. For now the seals have been restored but many of my brothers were lost in this battle. My task here is done for now, but yours will continue for a time.” Castiel followed Dean and Bobby as they headed back towards their vehicles.

Dean stopped and turned back to look at the warrior angel. “Look, I’m glad this whole holy war thing worked out in your favor. However, I’ll continue to help those who need it, not because it’s God’s will but because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what my father taught me and it’s what my brother died for. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to bury my brother…” The hunter paused as he realized how stupid that sounded. There was no body, nothing to bury except for maybe the memories and the pain.

“Of course, I understand your grief Dean. But it will be short lived I assure you. We will be in touch again when the time is right…” Castiel remarked as he turned and walked back from where he had come.

As the two weary hunters walked towards the vehicles Bobby stopped and stared at the Impala. “Dean? It can’t be can it?”

Dean looked up and noticed the tall figure hunched down in the passenger seat of the Impala. He didn’t have to guess, he already knew who it was as he ran towards his car. He saw the faint fog on the glass as he slowly opened the passenger door. His arms caught his younger sibling to keep him from falling as he reached up to check Sam’s pulse. He sighed with relief at the steady beat he felt there.

“He’s alive Bobby—he’s alive!” Dean cried as he pulled Sam into his arms and held him.

“Well I’ll be damned! Do you think Castiel?” Bobby scratched his head before he placed his worn cap back on.

“Who knows. But let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to explain the new landscaping arrangement to the local police.” Dean gently pushed Sam against the seat before he closed the door. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel okay Bobby?”

“Shore thing…” Bobby responded as he headed for his own truck.

“Okay Sam, I’m going to get you back to the hotel and check you out. Then you and I are going to have a long talk about your need to give your big brother gray hair before his time.” Dean remarked as he started the car and headed to the hotel.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sam groaned as he fought his way through the darkness towards consciousness. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to see where he was. His body ached in so many places and his head felt like it was going to explode. He dug his fingers in the soft material covering him and was confused—surely hell wouldn’t have downy comforters would it?

“Open your eyes Sammy, you’re safe…” Words from a voice he thought he’d never hear again pulled him the rest of the way to the surface. The young hunter blinked as he tried to bring the room into focus.

“It’s about time you decided to wake up Sleeping Beauty. Bobby and I were beginning to wonder if we were gonna have to find you a prince to wake you but decided to draw straws instead—Bobby won.” Sam saw his brother’s wide grin as he fastened his eyes on his face. He reached up and was surprised to find out how weak he was as his hand dropped back onto the bedspread.

“Take it easy Sam, you’re a little banged up but for the most part you seem to be in one piece…”

“How—how long?” Sam croaked. He licked dry lips and smiled in appreciation as a bottle containing cold water was placed at his mouth.

“Easy now, small sips. I don’t need you getting sick on me again.” Dean sat next to him as he placed the half empty bottle on the night stand. “You’ve been out for three days Sammy…”

Sam could see the haunted look in his brother’s eyes. He knew it had been three days of worry for his big brother. And yet he had no memory of what had happened after he entered the gates. He remembered pain, unbelievable pain and then nothing.

“What happened? Where’s Bobby—is he okay?” Sam needed answers.

Dean laughed softly as he patted Sam’s shoulder. Sam winced as pain radiated down his arm. “Sorry Sam, I forgot…” Dean replied as he pulled his hand back. “You’ve got a few burns on your shoulders—you know like I had after…”

Sam looked over at his bare shoulder and saw the blistered red hand print. “Castiel?”

“I don’t know Sammy; I thought you were—gone…” Dean looked away for a moment before he swallowed and met Sam’s eyes. Sam could see the grief still swirling in their depths. He could understand the pain; he’d lived without Dean for four months before the angel had yanked him from Hell.

“I’m sorry Dean…” Sam whispered as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

Dean smiled as he pulled the blanket up further. He thought Sam was already asleep when he heard his brother’s soft voice. “Is it finally over? Did we win?”

The oldest Winchester sighed before he answered. Bobby had already found another hunt for them once they were ready. He looked down at his younger brother and smiled as he realized it didn’t matter. He had all he needed right here. “Yeah we won little brother.”

“But there’s more out there isn’t there Dean—more evil for us to fight.” Sam’s eyes opened again as he struggled to rise from the bed.

“Yeah, there will always be more for us to fight—but not today little brother…not today” Sam smiled and relaxed as he felt the blanket once more snuggled up against his chin. He could deal with still hunting but for today, he thought just maybe—he would sleep.

The End.

You made it Lo even after losing half of your video and being hit on the head by an errant vase of flowers! (Darn Poltergeists!)

Just read the other entries and WOW, such great talent! The songs and banners fit the stories perfectly! Great job to everyone who entered and good luck when the voting starts!