The prompt was: 'natural disaster'
word count: 1018
characters: Sam, Dean, Death
set post 7x10 (no spoilers for future eps)
Their lives have never been easy. Never. After Bobby dies though...things get a lot worse.
Despite Sam's protests, Dean summons everything he can think of, but nothing is willing to bring Bobby back. Though he didn't even attempt to summon him, Death himself tells Dean no, before he even has a chance to ask, and adds, "You two have tried my patience far more than any other being I have ever encountered. Stop this. Take solace in each other, and stop trying to upset the balance of nature." Dean glares, Sam nods, and Death leaves, shaking his head.
They don't speak for two days. They're too exhausted for words, and they have work to do. They give Bobby a proper hunter's send-off. Dean pours one bottle of whiskey into the earth and drinks another. Sam sees Lucifer sitting next to Bobby's corpse on top of the pyre, singing "Come on baby, light my fire..."
Afterwards, they sink to the ground, and fall asleep next to the ashes.
When Sam wakes up, Dean is gone. When he hasn't come back six hours later, Sam calls Dean's cell. He calls again and again until Dean finally picks up and says, "Give me three days. I just need some time to -- I just need some time."
Sam tells Dean exactly what he thinks of his plan. Dean promises he won't do anything stupid, but Sam doesn't believe him.
When he gets back to the abandoned house they've been staying in, he goes to his laptop to track the GPS he hid in Dean's duffel, between the lining. After a few minutes, he sees Dean heading East and goes to pack his bag and everything else they've stored here. It'll take Sam at least a day, if not longer, to catch up with Dean, and that's assuming Dean stops to sleep. There's a good chance they won't come back here.
After gathering their things from the bathroom, Sam hears a scraping noise from far back in the house. He waits, pushing into the scar in his hand as hard as he can, trying to be sure it isn't just in his head, but the scraping continues. He grabs his flashlight and follows the sound. The scraping gets louder as he walks, and new sounds -- something like wood splintering --mix in on the outskirts of his hearing. Beneath his feet, the floor feels more and more uneven with every step. The floorboards look warped. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again quickly, trying to clear his vision. As his foot lands on his next step, the floorboard beneath it rises. Sam walks faster, trying to get to the corner of the old house -- they're usually more stable. He finds the nearest wall, presses himself against the corner, and sinks down, watching the floorboards around him curl and smolder like burning strands of hair.
Dean drives through the rain and gets angrier the further he goes. He's been trying to push past the edge of the storm for the last eight hours. He can't even see the edge of the dark clouds anywhere. He grinds his teeth again, missing the Impala's familiar feel, sound, and smell. The car he's borrowing is an old Mustang -- a decent enough car, but it's old and the rain is starting to seep into the windows where the weather lining crumbled away long ago.
The rain is pouring down so hard the road's started to flood. Dean slams his palm against the steering wheel when one of the front wiper blades stops moving. In the distance, lightning strikes, just to the right of his vision.
He pulls his phone out when the ringtone goes off again, flips it open and snaps, "Dammit Sam, just -- " he stops yelling when he hears an unbelievably loud crash over the phone. "Sammy?"
Dean doesn't get an answer, and spins the car around so fast, he nearly slides off the road.
Dean slams open the door of the abandoned house and brings his arm up to cover his nose. The smell of smoke is overwhelming at first and the air is thick with ashes. The floor looks like it's been shredded -- wood so warped, Dean has to watch every step he takes. In the center of the house, the earth has pushed it's way through. Near the back, the wall between the bathroom and what used to be a bedroom have collapsed. It looks like the aftermath of a miniature earthquake.
He finds Sam huddled in a corner, streaks of ash on his face and hands. Sam is staring at the warped floor, and doesn't seem to notice Dean.
"Hey Sammy." Dean says, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder and sitting down next to him. "You okay?"
Sam doesn't answer for nearly two minutes and then his shoulders twitch and his face snaps up to stare at Dean. "You're here."
"Yeah, I'm back. Sorry, I was just --"
"And..." Sam flicks his fingers out toward the wrecked floor, "is the floor all messed up?"
"It's pretty messed up. What the hell happened?"
Sam scoffs, "I thought Hell happened. I thought it was..." He shakes his head, "I thought I was just seeing things. The boards started breaking, right under my feet, and everything was shaking. There was fire..."
Dean gets up into a crouch, reaches forward and pushes at the soil spilling out through the floorboards. "When I was driving, all yesterday, it was raining non-stop -- like pouring." He turns back to Sam, "When did this happen?"
"Yesterday. Just trembling at first and splintering boards. Then fire...and then a full on quake. It stopped about an hour ago." Sam says, confused.
"Huh. That's when it stopped raining." Dean sits back down again and thumps the back of his head against the wall. "What are we gonna do, Sammy?" he says, clenching his eyes shut.
Sam shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh, "I don't know. I guess we gotta just...keep going."
Dean stands up, reaches his hand down to Sam and pulls him to his feet, saying, "Okay then."