Title: The World Stopped Turning
Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue
Warning: Character death, language
Note: Future fic, you know how I do.
"The world stopped turning the day Dean Winchester stopped breathing," Bobby Singer shakes his head at this part of the story, his story. "It was that brother of his, you see, that Sam Winchester. He just couldn't bear the thought of being away from his brother. Something snapped inside him. And this power, I'm surprised I lived through this, it just exploded from Sam as he sat on the floor cradling Dean in his arms. There was just this wave of heat; I thought the flesh would just burn from my bones."
Bobby lifts his eyes to his audience, a small group of torn and tattered survivors of these harsh times: old women and older men, teenagers, small children and tiny babies who probably wouldn't survive this next winter.
"The world stopped turning the day Dean Winchester stopped breathing. And everything that was evil that had been penned up and caged away inside young Sammy was released on the whisper of his brother's last breath," Bobby's throat tightens a little just as it always does at this part of the story, his story. "And when the dust settled and the tears had yet to dry from his cheeks, Sam looked me in the eyes and he said, I'll never forget it, he said:
"'It will not end this way. It can't end this way, Bobby.'"
"And then what happened?" a young boy asked when Bobby didn't continue right away.
Bobby's weary eyes flitted over the boy's features – he was probably no more than fourteen or fifteen.
"The world stopped turning the day Dean Winchester stopped breathing. It was that brother of his, son, that baby Winchester who destroyed everything because his brother was no longer here. He tore down the skies and ravaged the seas and destroyed the mountains and forests. Sam once asked me that since Dean was no longer in this world, why it should still exist."
Bobby runs a hand over his face and scratches at his beard and stares into the fire. A dog howls somewhere outside of the ramshackle building, followed closely by a whole chorus.
"The world stopped turning the day Dean Winchester stopped breathing. So Sam Winchester charged the gates of Hell and challenged Lucifer himself to a fight. And when it was over, Sam walked out of Hell, his brother at his side, fully restored."
"I don't get it," the boy spoke up again, his voice angry, "if Sam got his brother back, why didn't he fix what he had done to this planet?! Why did he have make all of us suffer?!"
Bobby smirked at the kid and leaned in close.
"Because, son," he whispered, "Sam was a Winchester. A Winchester's loyalty only ever lies with another Winchester. And Sam never felt the least bit of guilt for what he had done. Neither did Dean."
"It was revenge on the innocent," a blond woman with dark circles under her eyes spoke. "They've always been a selfish bunch, those Winchesters."
"The world stopped turning the day Dean Winchester stopped breathing. The evil in his brother was released with a wave of hellfire and mama's blood and undiluted rage, destroying the world and tearing and ripping and raping the planet of all its beauty. Then Sam stormed Hell and fought the devil and got his brother back. And when they got here, all seemed right in their eyes. The monsters no longer hide in the shadows because the shadows are everywhere; purity is choked and cheated and murdered; sin flourishes and nurtures all in the sickest ways.
"Those boys grew up twisted. It was only inevitable that they would change the world to suit them."