#motleywolf

shotgun, sandwiches, et cetera; 4K, nsfw, vague and probably inaccurate finale spec. I partially blame this jensen tweet. The rest belongs to @motleywolf.

When the dust settles, it's just the three of them. Somehow, it's always just the three of them.

They're standing in a cemetery in southern Nebraska. The sun is rising, bruising the sky a dark, angry purple. Amara is gone. God and Lucifer are gone. Sweat and dirt are itching at Dean's hands and face and neck. He has blood in his mouth. He must've bit his lip at some point; he doesn't remember getting hit.

Cas sways on his feet. Dean grabs his waist and says, "Hey. Hey, you all right?"

"Yes. I -- yes."

"Is he --?" Lucifer had seethed out of Cas' throat in a blinding, furious rush, and God had hurled him back downstairs with a bolt of something that screamed down from the sky like lightning. The earth had burned and shook as it cracked open. Dean can still taste the sulfur and ash. Still, he asks, "Is he gone?"

Cas nods weakly. He sways again, leaning into Dean's shoulder. Dean wraps both arms around him to steady him. He doesn't mean to slide a hand into Cas' hair, but once it's there he can't make himself move it. He shuffles back a couple of steps, stopping when his hip bumps the Impala. He pulls Cas closer. Breathes Cas in.

I’m so happy you’ve found some exercise you’re enjoying!!