We are not traitors

The stars are still shining when he walks with Neil into the grass. He's barefoot, because there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of point in shoes, and while he won't say it - mostly because he's not sure how - the whole thing has the quality of ritual.

The one Neil found used the word purification. He's not sure how else he's supposed to think about this.

It's cold, but he doesn't really feel it, because it's not like he's not cold too. He stands in the grass and looks up at the sky. It's clear now, but later on there might be snow. He thinks that might be nice. Assuming he gets to see it.

He keeps having to make these choices. Everything is one test after the other. Once he would have been very angry about that. Now he's done with angry. There's not a whole lot of point in angry. There's a point in Neil beside him, and there's a point in the possibility of feeling his own heartbeat again.

And Now Another Clue
674 words
R

( The thing you need to understand about Dean is that this was never about sex for him. )

Eventually something has to give.

He's not sure when or what. There are a lot of things he doesn't know, and he's long since gotten comfortable with that, but not knowing in this case is its own kind of uncomfortable. That the thing is going to lose, he has no doubt whatsoever.

That the rest of them might also lose some things, he's well aware.

Night after night, not the kind of hunting he prefers to do, and what else is different is Neil at his side, which feels more right than he would have expected. But the girls are starting to notice how tired their fathers are, and something has to give.

Neither of them have the kind of stamina this takes. And he knows without needing to be told that time is running out for Dean.

He doesn't have his gun anymore. It's useless here. Instead he's purchased what's essentially a machete, though he's not sure how he'd use it against the thing holding Dean hostage, but at least it feels like more protection than a bullet.

In the dark of an alley he pauses and closes his eyes for a moment, head tilted back, breathing. What are they even looking for? Trails of blood? Bodies? Demon tracks? Does it matter? There's no sulfur in anything he pulls into his lungs. Hasn't been. He's not sure he even totally believes it.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy," he murmurs. "But sometimes I miss being afraid."