Echoes of Hell (Supernatural Fanfiction Book 4)

The Final Showdown

Sam's Point of View

The air crackles with tension as we prepare for the final showdown. This isn't just another hunt; this is a war. Crowley's forces are growing stronger, and it feels like the weight of the world is on our shoulders. The safe house we've relocated to is crowded with hunters, angels, and anyone else willing to fight. It's a full-blown war room, with maps, plans, and weapons scattered across every available surface.

Dean sits in his wheelchair at the center of the room, wrapped in Mom's old cover. His recovery has been slow, but there's a steely resolve in his eyes that I haven't seen in a long time. Still, the guilt lingers. I can see it in the way he avoids my gaze, the way he clenches his fists when he thinks no one is looking. He's carrying the weight of his decisions, but he's here, and that's what matters.

We gather around a large table, everyone present: Castiel, Gabriel, Bobby, Ellen, Jody, Rufus, Ruby, and the rest of the hunters. The plan is simple: hit Crowley where it hurts, cut off his power, and take him down for good. But simple doesn't mean easy, and we all know it. Crowley's a slippery bastard, and he's not going down without a fight.

Dean's voice cuts through the room, low and determined. "We're not letting him win. No matter what happens, we stick together, we keep fighting."

Everyone nods, the resolve in the room almost palpable. But there's an unease that none of us can shake. We've been through too much to be naive about this. Crowley isn't just going to roll over. He's going to make us pay for every inch of ground we take.

The Battle Begins

The battle erupts in a storm of chaos. Demons swarm the field, snarling and clawing at anything in their path. Hunters and angels clash with them, the sound of gunfire and the flash of angel blades filling the air. Dean, despite his injuries, refuses to stay on the sidelines. He's out of the wheelchair, standing with a grimace, his face set in determination as he fights alongside us. Mom's cover is still wrapped around his shoulders like some kind of shield, a reminder of why we're fighting.

But then, things start to go wrong. Crowley appears out of nowhere, his smug grin cutting through the chaos. "Well, well, what have we here?" he sneers, his eyes locking onto Dean. "Back for more, Winchester?"

Dean raises his gun, but before he can fire, Crowley raises his hand. A thick, dark fog seeps from the ground, swirling around Dean. His eyes glaze over, and I see the panic set in. Crowley's manipulating him, twisting his thoughts, making him see things that aren't there.

"Dean, no!" I shout, but it's too late.

Dean's face twists in anger, and he turns toward me, his gun aimed right at my chest. I see the struggle in his eyes, but Crowley's hold is too strong. He takes a step toward me, and I know he's not in control anymore.

"Dean, it's me! It's Sam!" I try to reach him, but he's lost in the fog.

Just as Dean's finger tightens on the trigger, Castiel bursts through the line of demons, his wings flaring with a bright, blinding light. He grabs Dean's arm, forcing it down, but Dean struggles against him, driven by the fog clouding his mind.

"Dean, stop! This isn't you!" Castiel shouts, his voice booming with authority. He slams his hand against Dean's forehead, sending a surge of light through him.

Dean stumbles, his gun dropping to the ground. The fog around him dissipates, and for a moment, he just stands there, confused and shaken. Then the pain hits him like a freight train. His knees buckle, and he collapses to the ground, crying out as his still-healing bones throb with renewed agony.

"Dean!" I'm at his side in an instant, dropping to my knees beside him. "Cas, do something!"

Castiel is already moving, his hand glowing as he tries to ease the pain. But the damage is done. Dean's breathing is ragged, his face pale as he clutches his leg, the one that had been broken the worst. The guilt that had been gnawing at him resurfaces, even as he struggles to stay conscious.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the battle. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up, Dean. It's not your fault. We're getting you out of here, okay? Just hang on."

But Crowley isn't done. He's livid, his face contorted with rage. "You think you can just take him back? He was mine!" he snarls, his voice dripping with venom.

Before anyone can react, Crowley lashes out, sending a blast of dark energy at us. I brace myself, but Gabriel steps in front of us, taking the hit. The force of it sends him sprawling, but he quickly gets back on his feet, his eyes blazing with fury.

"You want him? You'll have to go through me first," Gabriel growls, his wings unfurling in a show of power.

The battle intensifies, with angels and demons clashing in a deadly dance. I try to shield Dean as best as I can, but he's slipping in and out of consciousness, the pain too much for him to bear.

Dean's Point of View

The pain is unbearable. Every breath feels like fire, every movement like knives cutting through my skin. I can barely think through the haze of it all, but one thought keeps pounding in my skull: I almost hurt Sam. Crowley got into my head, and I almost... God, what's wrong with me?

I hear Sam's voice, distant but insistent. He's trying to pull me back, trying to get me to focus, but it's so hard. All I can think about is how I messed up again. I thought I was getting better, but now... now I just feel like I'm falling apart.

The next thing I know, I'm being lifted, dragged away from the battlefield. I want to fight, want to tell them to leave me, but I can't even get the words out. The pain's too much, and all I can do is hang on, hoping that whatever's coming next, it's quick.

But then I feel it—a warmth, a light. Castiel's hand is on my chest, and the pain starts to ebb away, just a little. It's enough to let me breathe, to let me think. But the guilt... that's still there, eating away at me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, though I don't know if anyone hears me. "I'm so sorry..."

Sam's Point of View

Castiel and Gabriel hold Crowley at bay long enough for us to get Dean out of there. The battle isn't over, but the tide has turned. Crowley's forces are retreating, and we've managed to hold our ground. But at what cost?

We get Dean back to the safe house, and he's barely conscious. The healers do what they can, but the damage is extensive. It's going to take time for him to recover fully, both physically and mentally.

As I sit by his side, watching him sleep, I can't help but feel a sickening dread. Crowley isn't going to let this go. We may have won the battle, but the war is far from over. And the worst part? I don't know if Dean's going to survive it—not just physically, but emotionally. He's been through so much, and every time we think he's getting better, something pulls him back down.

But no matter what happens, I'm not giving up on him. We've been through Hell and back—literally—and we're going to get through this too. Crowley be damned. We're going to win this war, and we're going to do it together.

Even if it kills us.