Disclaimer: Don't own. Just playing in the sandbox.
Warnings: ANGST, character death
"I win," Lucifer whispers and it's Sam's voice, Sam's mouth, saying those words and Dean's been here before, seen how this goes.
This time, he doesn't think he even wants to care. Not anymore.
He's here alone, except for the Devil and his brother's body.
Castiel would have been here, would have followed him here, but apparently, third time was the charm. It's been nearly a year now, since the Fallen angel in front of him snapped and blew Castiel into tiny little pieces.
Bobby, well, Bobby was a little pile of ashes buried in the middle of the junkyard. The old hunter didn't have an angel standing by to pull him out of Hell and Crowley hadn't been as charitable as he'd seemed. The Hell hounds hadn't left much.
He'd even had to walk to get here, since the Impala had been atomized two weeks back in a fight with a demigod gone sour. Dean had gotten to walk away, but his baby had become so many particles of dust, blown away in the brisk breeze that had popped up.
Ellen and Jo were dead, Pam was dead, John was dead, Ash was dead, Gabriel was dead, Adam was dead, Chuck was dead, Becky was dead and Sam was as good as. For all he knew, the whole world was dead. There certainly hadn't been anyone in the three towns he'd passed through on the way here.
Only Dean was left and somewhere deep inside him, he couldn't say he was surprised. It always seemed to end like this. Just him.
Just him and the Devil.
The smug bastard.
Lucifer grins, the curl of Sam's lip both eerily familiar and totally foreign. "No real heat behind those words, Dean. If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared."
Dean blinks, but doesn't say anything. Nothing to say, not anymore. No one left to say something to, had there even been anything to say.
"You could maybe start by acknowledging that I won," Lucifer says. He snaps and Dean flinches automatically, but nothing happens to him. Lucifer lifts the blood red rose and sniffs.
"Such a sweet smell, the smell of victory," he murmurs. "Especially after waiting so long to smell it. You put up a good fight, Dean, you and Sam."
Dean flinches again, for an entirely different reason. Lucifer smiles.
"Got something to say about that, Dean?"
"Just get it over with," Dean said. His voice is rough with disuse and it hurts to talk. But it's a small hurt in an ocean of bigger ones and the pain barely registers.
"I'm not going to do anything, Dean. What could I possibly do to you that you can't do to yourself?"
Dean looks up, something flickering to life in him for the first time in days. "What?" It feels like fear.
"Live, Dean. Live and suffer. I may even pull some strings and get you a longer lifespan."
Lucifer snaps and disappears.
Dean is left alone.