When it Ended//Supernatural Fanfiction

12- Fading Hope

Sam and Dean

The room was left ringing. Shattered pieces of glass littering the floor and covering every inch of their exposed skin, leaving angry red marks in their place.

Dean pulled himself up gingerly, knocking off small pieces that fell to the floor, keeping on hand protectively on Cathlene's shoulder.

"Sam." He called out, reaching behind him and pulling his pistol from his belt.

"Angels," was his brother's only reply, to which Dean nodded.

Pulling Cathlene up carefully, taking care to make sure she was well. As soon as she stood on both feet steadily, he let go of her arm, pulling the gun in front of him protectively.

"Get her out of here," he motioned to Sam, who nodded quickly and began steering the elderly woman out of the destroyed parlour into where they hoped would be a safer place.

Dean stepped forward, every footstep crunching on the shattered glass beneath him. His heart racing in his chest and his hands clasped tightly around the handle of his pistol, finger on the trigger. There was a sudden flurry of movement to his right and he whirled around quickly, raising the gun and pointing it at the origin. A woman stood before him, back tall and rigid, small malicious smile spread across her scarlet lips.

"Dean Winchester," the woman said, "it's about time we met." Dean didn't answer immediately, only raising the gun up more.

"You know those won't work on me," the angel stated boredly, lifting up a hand and flicking her wrist, sending the gun flying across the room and against a wall. "I thought the Winchesters would be smarter than that."

"What are you doing here?" Dean spat, anger slowly boiling up in his veins and causing his heart to twist. "Who are you?"

"Who I am doesn't matter," she spoke softly, leaning in closer, and raising her hand again, this time Dean flew back. Ramming harshly against the wall and pinning him against it, the air rushing out of his lungs and causing him to gasp for breath. He heard a small exclamation, and Sam was soon to join him, straining against invisible restraints.

"What I'm doing is easy, I'm going to kill the abomination, so I suggest you keep out of my way." The angel spoke, leaning in and lifting up Dean's chin with her index finger. "Or you'll be caught in the crosshairs, and I don't think you'd like that, would you? Unless you want me to kill your nice red haired friend."

At these words Dean felt his blood run cold and his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam hissed before Dean could say anything, "Blair didn't do anything to you."

"No, but Castiel did, and there are thousands of angels that would rather see him suffer for his sins in Heaven. Me included." The woman spat, "Castiel needs to suffer for the pain he caused us."

Dean felt anger slowly bud in his chest, straining vainly against the angel's restraints, refusing to give into the sense of helplessness that was beginning to overcome him.

"Now, back to you getting out of my business," the angel spoke again, walking up to him and scraping one long, manicured nail across his cheek. "Your little red haired friend is facing life or death right now, so make your choice, the abomination, or her." In response, Dean leaned forward as much as he could until he and the woman were a mere centimeter apart.

"Bit me"

And in a sudden flash of blinding light, the angel disappeared, her screams lingering slightly longer in the room before vanishing along with her. Falling clumsily to the floor, the brothers looked up to find Cathlene standing at the wall, one thin arm held up to stem the flow of blood that dripped from her forearm, the other hand pressed against a crimson sigil on the wall.

"Well, it's just like riding a bike, isn't it?" She remarked, a small smile stretching across her lips. "Though I think my son might kill me for staining the carpet."

-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-

It didn't take long for them to get from Conway Springs back to the bunker, well, at least at the speed Dean was driving. And as soon as they pulled into the garage, the impala screeching to a loud halt, he pulled out his phone, frantically dialing Charlie's number.

"Yo," a familiar voice rang out from the other side of the line, and Dean felt his shoulders sink in relief.

"Hey, Charlie," he began, "where are you?"

"Um, Arkansas, I think? The last thing I remember was arguing with a bartender over Princess Leia, and then I think making plans to elope? I don't know, it's a long story." Dean didn't reply immediately, simply allowing himself a few moments of relief as he listened to her short ramble.

"Okay, get to the bunker as soon as you can." He finally spoke, stepping out of the impala and slamming the door shut.

"Um, okay? I'm leaving now."

With a brief goodbye, Dean hung up, following after Sam into the bunker, their footsteps ringing loudly in the open space.

Cas sat at the table, coarse gray blanket draped over his shoulders.

"Dean, Sam," he greeted, nodding towards them, though still obviously in pain, standing up as quickly as he could and limping weakly towards them, "did you find anything?"

"Woah, woah, slow down," Dean immediately responded, grabbing the angel's shoulders and setting him back down.

As soon as Cas was firmly settled, looking up at the brothers intently, Dean leaned heavily against the table.

"Bubkes," he finally spoke, raising his hands slightly in defeat, "angels got there before us, we're going to have to lay low while we scope it out."

"We'll find her." He added as Cas' shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm going," Cas stood up, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders, "to go."

He gave each of them a small nod before padding off down the hallway and out of sight.

Dean sighed heavily, running a hand slowly over his face.

"What are you going to do, Sammy?" He turned to his younger brother, who stood at the entrance to the room, "even if--after--we find her, what do we do? Bring her into this life? Into the life that got her into this mess to begin with?"

Sam didn't answer, only pursing his lips and looking down at his feet. Allowing the room to delve into deep silence.

"I don't know," he finally answered, "but we'll figure it out, we always do."

But even then the line seemed old, fake, like a rubber band stretched too wide, feeble, breaking.

Dean shook his head, slapping the table softly with the palm of his hand before standing up, grabbing his laptop, a bottle of whiskey, and a glass, before settling down at the table. Leaning back heavily against the wooden chair. Opening up his laptop and switching it on, looking up slightly as Sam settled across from him, placing his own empty glass beside him.

Lifting up the bottle in invitation, Dean carefully poured, first in Sam's, then his own. Raising up the glass to his brother.

"Yeah, we always do."   

Sorry, again, this is kind of a filler chapter, and I meant for so much more to happen, but it just... didn't.

Writing is usually my lifeline, you know, the one thing that I can kind of rely on being there when everything is kind of at its worst. But right now, I can't even seem to write, and it's honestly killing me.

I'm really sorry for not updating regularly like I've been planning, I tried to take some time off to focus on my mental health (lol, like really) and it (obviously) didn't quite work and all I managed to achieve was make myself feel worse.

SO I'M LAME, BUT YOU GUYS ARE SERIOUSLY AMAZING AND I CAN'T IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT YOU ALL AS A PART OF IT. 

I'LL TRY TO GET THE NEXT CHAPTER UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, I PROMISE.

OKAY, I LOVE YOU GUYS.