Author: Holly Lukeman
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."
-- Terry Pratchett
The sun was barely peeking over the soft swell of the horizon, leaking orange and yellow all over Bobby's junkyard. Sam sat with his elbows propped on his knees, his feet on the step below him as he sat still on the porch. There wasn't much noise, just some bird calling frantically for something. It broke the silence like a scream.
"Hey, mind if I join you?"
Sam didn't turn; he didn't need to. "You don't have to ask, Dean."
"Right. Yeah." Heavy footfalls approached from behind, and then Dean was dropping onto the step with Sam.
They sat in silence for several moments, just watching as the sun moved slowly down, drowning behind the brown autumn-touched hills. Dean's knee leaned casually against Sam's, making the younger man itch to draw away, worried that Dean would contract the hideous disease that swarmed under his skin. But he held still.
"You, uh, still having those dreams?"
"Dreams?" He breathed the word in a mild tone.
"Yeah. You, uh - you talk sometimes."
For an indeterminate number of moments, the quiet hanging like a shroud over them. Sam could almost feel it drop around him, suffocate him, drag him into the evening-cooled ground.
"About the end. You talk about the end... like you saw it." Dean took a breath and let it out slowly. "Like a vision."
Sam followed the warm glow of the sun as it was sucked down into the hills."I never talked in my sleep during visions before."
"Things are different."
True, Sam thought to himself. And not an unreasonable thing to think.
"You wanna tell me what happened, Sam?"
As though Sam hadn't answered his question, Dean kept going. "What did you see?"
Sam shrugged, feeling his dark plaid shirt scratch against the skin of his shoulders; it was new, replacing an old one too stained by blood to be saved. "The end. You said it yourself."
Dean hesitated. "And…and what happens?"
Giving no answer, Sam shifted on the step so that their knees no longer touched. He leaned forward, letting his chin dip toward his wrists. He didn't want to look at the dying light anymore.
"How's it going to end, Sammy?"
After a moment, Sam turned to him with a smile like white pain. "Happily ever after, Dean."
Together, they faced the horizon, where no sun was to be found. There was only darkness.