The Inevitable End || Supernatural & Harry Styles

Chapter 7

They stood in front of the flames. Flames which were slowly burning away his bones. He'd become nothing but ash soon. They didn't speak nor did they move as they stood, their shoulders rigid, their hands cold. They'd done this at least a million times before, but this time it felt a little bit different.

And Dean couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed. He'd been right since the beginning but he didn't want to be right. Deep down, he still wanted to believe people were good even if all signs pointed to an opposite conclusion. Wind was beginning to pick up, Sam's hair swaying from side to side.

"Dean," he said. Dean stopped looking at the flames, and turned slightly to his brother. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"I wish I'd been wrong, man," Dean said. Sam sighed, saying nothing else until a long moment had passed. He licked his lips, his eyes locked on the flames. It was weird to think how he'd been alive once, how for years, he'd been lost.

"I'm going to ahead to the car. You coming?" He asked. Dean nodded. He looked at Sam, as he walked to the car, opened the door and took a seat. He was going to stand here for a moment longer, just a moment longer.

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

Sam paced around the small hotel room, nervously biting his fingers. Where is he?

His brother had left over an hour before in search of his car and he still hasn't returned. Sam had faith in Dean and knew he could hold his own, but why wasn't he back yet?

Sam came to a sudden stop, and pulled out his phone, looking at all of his unreturned texts. He grit his teeth; Dean had gotten into a habit of not returning texts which irritated Sam to no end. He had vainly hoped Dean would eventually reply, though. Anger growing inside of him, he shook his head and reached for his coat. With long and determined strides, he headed for the door, only to find it opening before he reached it.

"In a hurry to go somewhere?" Dean's voice came out sardonic and weary.

"Yeah, to find you," Sam snapped. "You've been gone and you haven't been answering your phone."

"Oops, must have had it on mute." Something in Dean's voice told Sam that wasn't the case. Dean simply plopped down on his bed.

"Did you find the car?" Sam asked, sitting down on the opposite bed. "And how did you know to come here if you didn't read my texts?"

"I just assumed you'd go back to the same hotel we were in before we left in the first place." He grimaced at the thought of the road trip he had to take with... with him. "Besides, there's only, like, four hotels in this damn town." He returned Sam's piercing gaze. "Yes, I got the car."

"What happened," Sam asked quietly. He expected his brother to be a bit more enthusiastic when he came back with the Impala. But something was wrong; it was written all over Dean's withdrawn face.

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "The cult," he said. "They were murdered. Every single one in the group was murdered by him. By Harry."

Sam's blood ran cold. "How do you know?"

"He told me. But there's more. He's a ghost, too, Sam."

Sam sighed and rubbed at his forehead, trying to ease the quickly rising headache. "Well, I guess there's only one thing left to do," he eventually set. He looked up at Dean, his face set in determination.

Dean's eyebrow rose, as he sat up straighter. He had a feeling he knew where his brother was going; they finally agreed on something. Dean frowned and leaned forward, harshly saying, "If it's anything besides 'salt his freaking bones' I'll murder you myself."