Chapter 2 - and one wing in the fire

Daylight turns to darkness in an eyeblink. Dean doesn't remember getting hit. He dreams he's in his crib again. The dark taste in his mouth is salty and sweet.

The first blow rocks his head back. The second one shatters his right elbow. Dean comes back to himself with a jerk

The demons around him bow respectfully.

"We'll help you shed your useless humanity," the one wearing that little girl says. "It's time for the Boy King to rise, free and unchained."

Dean closes his eyes as they move in again.

When he opens his eyes again they all die.

Sam watches Dean closely. He's too pale, too quiet. Dean sits on the back porch and stares blankly into space.

His arm's healed already. The other injuries have faded away. Dean's wounded in his mind, and that's something Sam or Bobby can't bandage.

So Sam sits and talks. He weaves a chain of memories between them.

"You remember those fireworks we set off that time? I'm thinking we could do that again."

Dean doesn't answer.

Sam talks anyway. He throws his words out like a lifeline. It's up to Dean to grab on.

Heaven can wait, and so can Hell.