"Across This New Divide"

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, or its characters.

Side Note: I really recommend listening to Linkin Park's "New Divide" while reading this fanfiction, (can be easily found on youtube), because that's what I listened to the entire time while writing the first chapter. Hence the story's title. Thanks!

Chapter 1: And the Rivers ran red…

He could hear them talking – Sam and Lilith. Ruby was also there, yelling an unintelligible string of words. He had to stop them…

…"Sam!" He shouted, desperately pounding on the locked door. He spotted a discarded candle stand off to his right, picked it up, and began to ram it against the heavy metal…

…"You're too late…" Ruby's eyes gleamed with excitement and triumph.

"I don't care." In a smooth, precise motion, Dean shoved the knife into Ruby's stomach, watching in twisted pleasure as her life flickered, quite literally, before his eyes….

Sam's eyes sought out Dean's, the hazel orbs brimming with regret and anguish.

"I'm sorry…" he half-whispered.

The older Winchester was too stunned to speak. His little brother – his Sammy – had broken the final seal...

Lucifer was free to rise.


Dean shook himself out of his reverie and shoved his hands into his pockets. He still considered it nothing short of a miracle that he and Sam had escaped from the Convent in Ilchester with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. Of course, Dean hadn't planned on waiting around for the freakin' Devil to rear his ugly head, so he figured that the fact they were still alive was due in part to his quick thinking. And possibly his fight or flight response, which, at the time, had been telling him to 'fly the Hell out of there.' He glanced over at Sam, who was staring off into space, feet propped up on the miniature table next the couch, arms crossed. They still hadn't completely made amends with each other – it would be a while before that could happen. But despite everything that he had done; despite the demon blood and all the fighting, Sam was still Dean's little brother, and deep down, Dean still trusted him. With the Apocalypse now upon them and with Lucifer roaming the Earth, it was vital that he trusted Sam. Because in a war where even some of the the angels were corrupt, Dean needed someone he knew he could always rely on. Sammy might have flown the coop the moment he began drinking demon blood, but Sam was, and would always be, right there with him.

"They never wanted to stop any of this," Dean announced tiredly, leaning against the motel room's wall. "They had a plan from day one, and none of it involved saving any Seals." Sam's brow furrowed, and he turned to face his older brother.


"The angels," he clarified. "They wanted to bring on the Apocalypse. It was their plan from the beginning." Sam's mouth dropped open slightly.

"But… why? What do they stand to gain by letting all the Seals break?" Dean snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"They seem to think that by lettin' loose the Big Man Downstairs, they'll get the chance to gank him for good. And if they win, it'll be Paradise on Earth, and everything will be rainbows, bunnies, and unicorns."

"And if they don't win?" Sam challenged.

"They're pretty sure that they're going to win."

"That's bull," Sam said shaking his head and lowering his feet from the table. "Like a couple of bigwig angels are going to be able kill Lucifer, his demon army notwithstanding."

"What I was thinkin'," Dean agreed, nodding. Sam shook his head in disgust.

"What about the all the people? The demons aren't going to stand idly by as their Boss creates Hell on Earth. A lot of good people are going to die." Dean glanced away, but didn't contradict Sam's statement. "This is… so messed up," the younger Winchester said, glaring at the opposite wall. "We have to do something, Dean. We can't just sit around and watch this happen." Dean heaved a sigh, pushed off of the wall, and slid down onto the couch next to his brother.

"Hey, I'm with you a hundred percent, man, but I got no idea what to do, much less how to start." Sam shot a sideways glance at Dean.

"Cas?" he suggested. Sam wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Castiel – it seemed that he'd done more harm than good – but since he was an angel, Sam figured that he had to at least be somewhat prepared for this sort of thing.

"MIA, ever since the archangel's appearance over at Chuck's," Dean answered flatly. It had been a few days since the breaking of the final Seal, and since then, he'd tried to contact the trench coat-clad angel several times. But either Castiel was ignoring him or he'd gotten the whip from his superiors again. The latter was more than a little worrisome.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in thought.

"What about Bobby?" Sam asked. Having already apologized profusely to a bemused Bobby over the phone for hitting him with the butt of his shotgun, Sam didn't mind asking the elder hunter for help. "Maybe he knows something we don't."

"I think Bobby knows a lot of things that we don't," Dean answered. "But this? I'm not so sure. I'm bettin' that he doesn't know much more than we do at this point." Sam rubbed a hand over his face and shrugged.

"Still, doesn't hurt to ask, does it? How about we just pay him a visit, and if he doesn't know anything, then he doesn't know anything. But it beats sitting in this crappy motel." Dean reached across the table and grabbed the beer he'd set there earlier, taking a sip before answering.

"It's about a day's drive to South Dakota," he pointed out. Sam frowned.

"You have something better to do?" Dean shook his head and leaned back against the couch.

"Fine," he said, waving his hand airily, "let's go ask Bobby."


"You really expect me to know how to kill the damn Devil?" Bobby asked incredulously. Dean glowered at Sam over his shoulder.

"Told you," he muttered. Bobby shook his head and led the brothers into his sitting room, plopping down on the couch.

"You boys give me too much credit if you think I'm that smart." Sam steadfastly ignored Dean's jibe, instead focusing his attention on the elder hunter.

"Bobby, you sure there isn't something, anything, in one of your books?" Bobby frowned.

"Yeah, sure, let me grab my Field Guide to the Apocalypse and get back to you on that," he said sarcastically, causing Dean to shoot a smug grin at his younger brother.

"Bobby, this is serious," Sam said, countering Dean's grin with glare. Bobby crossed his arms.

"I know that, boy," he said sharply. "Trust me; I've made my share of calls already, but those that actually believe half of what I told 'em don't have any more of an idea of what to do than me. What about the angels?" Dean shook his head.

"Uh uh, no way. The angels have been doin' a pretty piss poor job so far. Can't expect them to start rising to the occasion now." Bobby stared at him, his eyes narrowing.

"What about your angel? Castiel? Thought you said he'd started helping you guys." But once again, Dean shook his head, He turned to face the window, noting absently that it had begun to drizzle. The evening sky was beginning to grow darker with the coming clouds.

"Okay, first of all, he's not my angel, he's an angel. And I already told Sam that he's been gone since the day we booked it outta' the Convent."

"And you really don't have any ideas as to where he could be?" Dean stared out the window, blinking when lightning suddenly flashed, and thunder rumbled loudly.

"No," he replied finally. "None."


The figure appeared out of thin air and staggered to the left, before quickly righting himself. The rain, that had seconds ago been a drizzle, began to cascade down upon the solitary figure, soaking him thoroughly in a matter of seconds. Blood seeped from numerous slashes in his tan trench coat, commingling with the miniature rivers of water rushing down the street, causing them to gradually turn red. The figure continued forward, however, and if he was aware of his wounds, he gave no outward sign, save for the stiff manner in which he walked. Lightning crackled overhead; a burst of white fire across the starlit sky. In that split second, the shadows of an enormous pair of tattered wings flickered over the grey cement. The figure ignored this and continued to walk, his shoes scuffing quietly on the pavement. A streetlight exploded in a shower of sparks as he passed under it. He took no notice, but rather, pushed on stubbornly, his mouth set in a hard line, sapphire blue eyes squinted against the sheets of rain. After what seemed like ages, a house came into view; the windows were boarded up and broken cars lay discarded on the grass, giving off an air of abandonment. The figure paused just shy of the front door and glanced up, his eyes fluttering closed. Lighting flew across the sky, once again illuminating the area, casting the shadows of a pair of wings over the house. A moment later, the figure opened his eyes and brought up his arm hesitantly, then quickly knocked on the front door. He winced slightly at the movement, but other than clenching his jaw, remained still. His sharp hearing picked up muted voices from behind the door – voices that seemed to be arguing with each other.

"No, I don't know who it is. Can't see out the window – it's raining too freakin' hard."

"You didn't even look, Dean!"

"Shut up, Sam." A gruff voice sounded over the din of the fighting;

"Quit your jabberin', ya' idjits, and move out of the way – I need to get to the door, 'cause someone has to answer it." The door swung open abruptly, and the warm light from Bobby Singer's house enveloped the entryway and spread out across the porch.

"Dean…" the figure said quietly, his blue eyes locking with Dean Winchester's shocked green ones.


A/N: Mkay, so yeah… that was the first chapter. I'd love to hear what you think! This is the first time I've written a full-scale Supernatural fanfiction. If I get enough reviews, the next chapter will be up shortly. *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*