Posted on Leave a comment

Apocalyptic Love Songs 10

“We’ll just have to explain and hope for the best.” Dean hiked the duffel bag up his shoulder and strode the rest of the way down with a big, friendly grin. “Good morning, officers! Great day for a hike!”

“Come with us, please,” one of the officers said and they both took Sam and Dean inside.

Dean expected to find other rangers inside, and thought they would scold them about respecting Closed Road signs and public lands, and hopefully they’d get off with a fine. Instead, Dean stepped back into the officers the moment he saw Lorcan Murphy and his two goons waiting inside. “Not you again,” Dean said and one of the officers grabbed hold of his arms.

“How the hell did you find us?” Sam said, held fast by the officer and one of the rangers. The eyes of both men, it was no surprise to see, were now completely black.

“A little bit of help and little bit of magic.” Lorcan walked closer to them. “My mistress’s pet tracked you down, I followed, and here we are. And this . . .” He took the duffel from Dean’s shoulder and knelt to unzip it. “Here it is,” he said reverently and unsnapped the locks. “And look at all the pretty things you’ve given me, too,” he said, pleased, and took out the spear point. “I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime.”

“Put that back!” Dean shouted, and at Lorcan’s nod his big goon punched Dean in the face.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, and turned his glare on the possessed officers. One of them flew across the room and slammed into the mounted display of arrowheads.

“You’re going to be a problem, I see,” Lorcan said and put his hand on Sam’s forehead. In a moment Sam crumpled, his eyes rolling back in his head, and even the goons looked scared.

“No! Sam!” Dean shouted. “You kill my brother and I swear to God I will fucking end you.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” Lorcan said, closing the briefcase again. One of the rangers swung Sam’s limp body over his shoulders in a fireman’s hold, but the goons still held onto Dean. He braced himself, trying to prepare for what he knew was coming. “I need him alive until my mistress is done with him. But you, you’re just proving to be more trouble than you’re worth. On the other hand . . .” He smiled and took out the handkerchief with Dean’s blood on it, and crumpled it in his fist.

Dean groaned as his leg blazed with pain, and he collapsed in the big goon’s grip.

“That’s much better,” Lorcan said, and took out a lighter. “Grady, leave him some souvenirs, would you?”

“Yes, Mr. Murphy,” the big goon said, and leveled his fist at Dean’s face. He beat on Dean as Lorcan set the handkerchief on fire and dropped it on a desk. Between the stars exploding in Dean’s vision and the screaming pain through his body, Dean saw the desk blaze up and the flame leap from the desk to the chair to the wall.

Worse still, the possessed rangers carried Sam out of the station and Dean couldn’t do anything more than gasp Sam’s name.

The station was half ablaze and Dean’s face felt like one enormous bruise when Lorcan said, “That’s enough, Grady.”

“What do you want us to do with him, Mr. Murphy?” said the little one, holding Dean’s head up by the hair.

“Just leave him. They’ll find him after the snow melts.” He bent and patted Dean’s cheek, and Dean tried to spit some blood at him. It dribbled down his chin. “Thanks for gathering all the treasures, Dean. I’m sorry you won’t get to say goodbye to your brother — oh, wait, no. I’m actually not sorry at all. Goodbye, Dean.” He nodded to his goons and they dropped Dean on the floor and left the station.

Bits of ash were falling on him, and he reached back as best he could to brush them off his neck. He tried to push himself upright, but his leg wouldn’t hold his weight. He dragged himself to the door and tried to turn the knob, only to find that Lorcan had locked it from the outside. He slid down the door and closed his eyes, and then pulled off his jacket, hissing with pain, and wrapped it over his nose and mouth.

I’ll die of asphyxiation before I burn to death, he thought. His body hurt everywhere, and the rafters were starting to creak and splinter. One could fall at any moment, could pin him beneath it, could block his only means of escape.

Dean pulled himself across the floor and wedged himself under the desk, and the metal of the desk felt searing hot against his skin.

He whispered, “Castiel, if you ever loved me, help me. Help me now, Cas. Please. I don’t want to die like this. Castiel, help me. Please, Castiel.”

Wrapping his arms around himself as best he could, Dean watched the fire blaze and prayed.


They say in Hell, demons held their breath.

They say in South Dakota, Bobby Singer looked up in confusion, thinking for a moment he’d heard his old friend John Winchester call his name.

They say in New Hampshire, visitors to America’s Stonehenge reported an earthquake that dislodged the stones over the Oracle chamber.

They say in Chicago, visitors to the art museum asked each other, “Wasn’t there a door there a second ago?” as they looked at a medieval tapestry.

They say in Heaven, an angel flew down to Earth like he’d been fired from a gun.


They say in a burning forestry station outside of Lovell, Wyoming, the angel Castiel blasted open the door and walked through the fire to pull Dean Winchester out.

Leave a Reply