Supernatural - Chapter 44 [Bonus Chapter]: The Last Day (Patreon)

With roughly thirty hours to go before midnight on May 2, Dean dreamed of hellhounds.

He'd been sitting against the headboard with a book in his hand, though his thoughts had wandered a long way from the pages.

Lately he kept thinking about the changes between himself and Murphy. That night they'd gone driving, the hugs that now happened every day without question, and the occasional kiss stolen when no one else was looking.

Even Dean was a little surprised they'd stopped where they had.

In the past, a kiss like that would probably have led straight to bed the same night. He rarely saw any point in overthinking it. If he wanted someone, and they wanted him too, there was nothing wrong with enjoying what came next.

With Murphy, though, he found himself hesitating.

It certainly wasn't because he didn't want her. Quite the opposite.

Dean had been having more than his share of thoughts he couldn't exactly entertain in front of Sam or Bobby. Yet whenever he had the chance to take things further, he was the one who stopped.

Murphy had only recently realized that he was genuinely pursuing her, and she'd barely begun adjusting to this new side of their relationship. He didn't want to rush her. More importantly, he didn't want what they had to resemble any of his short-lived affairs.

And then there was May 2. That one date complicated things that should have been simple.

If he only had days left to live, dragging her into bed now would feel wrong. Like he was trying to get something more from her before he died.

He hated the thought. If they really had a future past May, they could afford to wait a few days.

Dean almost laughed at himself.

Who would ever have imagined that he'd want to take this sort of thing slowly?

Somewhere in the middle of those thoughts, his eyes drifted shut.

In the dream, darkness surrounded him so completely he couldn't see where he was going. He didn't even know which way he was running. He just kept moving, driven by instinct.

Something followed behind him.

At first it sounded distant, then closer and closer. Claws struck the muddy ground. Bushes cracked as something forced its way through them. Harsh, heavy breathing followed every step. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn't escape it.

Dean ran until his chest hurt and he could barely draw breath.

He knew exactly what was pursuing him, and he knew he couldn't outrun it.

Then, without warning, the sounds behind him stopped.

The silence was even more terrifying.

Dean tried to look over his shoulder, but an immense weight struck his back.

He was slammed face-first into the ground.

Dean jolted awake with a hand pressed to his chest. His clothes were intact. He was still in the room at Bobby's house, with the book lying where it had fallen beside the bed. Cold sweat soaked his back.

Sam came in at that moment and immediately noticed something was wrong. He approached the bed and picked up the fallen book.

“What's up?”

Dean sat a little straighter and rubbed his face. His voice was still rough with sleep. “Dozed off.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Sam glanced at the book. Naturally, it was one of the volumes they'd been consulting most often about hellhounds.

He had a good idea what had happened. “Dreamed about them?”

Dean didn't try to deny it. “Yeah.”

With little more than a day left on his contract, it was difficult to dismiss a dream about hellhounds as an ordinary nightmare.

Sam frowned, remembering what Bela had experienced before her deadline. “Bela had the same...”

“I know. I know.” Dean had no desire to hear him work through every possible disaster. He took the book back. “I'm fine. Just a dream.”

Sam plainly didn't believe him, but pressing the matter wouldn't help.

He gathered the loose papers around the bed, trying to sound reassuring. “The ritual worked once already. We've prepared even more this time. It'll be okay.”

Dean meant to give him an easy smile, if only to make him stop looking so worried. But when he raised his eyes, the smile wouldn't come.

Sam changed before him.

It was as if something had shredded his familiar face from within. His skin turned gray, his eyes sank deep into their sockets, and his features twisted horribly. The vision lasted only a moment. Before Dean could even rise, Sam looked normal again.

Sam shifted uncomfortably beneath his stare. “Dean?”

Dean watched him for another couple of seconds. “...Right.”

“What?”

“Guess it's not just a dream.”

The other two learned about it soon afterward.

Murphy wasn't surprised by the news, but her spirits sank all the same.

She remembered how it had happened in the original timeline. Once the deadline drew near, the strange visions only grew worse.

Of course she'd known they were coming.

Knowing a television plot and sitting here listening to Dean describe something he was actually seeing were entirely different experiences.

Bobby took the practical approach. He asked Dean exactly what he'd experienced and told him to speak up immediately if anything else appeared.

Bela had suffered hallucinations before her deadline too. At least they had some idea what to expect, and panicking wouldn't accomplish anything.

Dean himself seemed to accept it quickly enough. After a few quiet moments on the couch, he gave a crooked smile. “Those bastards can't even leave me alone on my last day.”

Murphy was already upset. Hearing him make a joke of his situation only made her frown. “Could you stop acting like this is no big deal?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Dean looked at her. “Being scared won't make them show up any later.”

His expression wasn't nearly as carefree as his voice. Murphy saw that clearly, and it made her dislike his habit of swallowing every difficult feeling on his own even more.

“You don't have to be the one cheering everybody up, either.”

“Maybe I've got a future in stand-up comedy.”

When she still didn't smile, Dean reached out and pulled her close. Murphy collided with his chest, and the hug trapped her irritation somewhere between wanting to stay angry and wanting to hold on. She gave his back a couple of pats.

“Don't think one hug means I'm not mad anymore.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

He answered at once, without loosening his arms around her waist.

Murphy waited two seconds.

“Then let go.”

“Can't do that.”

Clearly, he hadn't taken her protest very seriously. Murphy decided she couldn't be bothered to argue.

...

Early on May 1, all four returned to the house where they'd broken Bela's contract three weeks earlier.

Everything they needed was already prepared, but Murphy still made her customary circuit of the entire building.

As she returned, Sam approached from the opposite direction with his notes in hand. They met in the living room, exchanged a look, and simultaneously turned toward the doors and windows without saying a word.

Bobby knew exactly what they were thinking.

“Enough already,” he told them, still inspecting the last protective measure beside a window.

They knew he was right. The problem was that there was almost nothing left to inspect.

They'd read the research over and over, reinforced every weak point days before, and planned where everyone would stand once night fell. They even had routes worked out for retreating if any layer of protection failed.

And now they had nothing to do. That was almost worse.

Dean apparently couldn't stand watching everyone take turns staring at the clock. He dug up an old deck of cards and shuffled it twice.

The corners were worn nearly white. He waved the deck toward the room. “Anyone want to help me enjoy my last hours of freedom?”

Sam buried his nose in his notes again. Bobby turned toward another window without a word.

Murphy ignored him too.

Dean waited for someone to volunteer. When no one did, he clicked his tongue. “Some team we've got.”

Murphy lasted five rigid minutes on the couch. After catching herself looking at the clock for the third time, she gave up.

She rose, walked to the table, and snatched half the deck from Dean's hands. “Deal.”

Dean grinned immediately. “Knew you were the only decent one around here.”

“I'm just bored out of my mind.”

“Same difference.”

They hadn't been playing for long when Sam's page-turning grew slower. Murphy peeked over at him several times. Sure enough, within ten minutes he'd closed his notes and come to join them.

Dean shuffled the deck and glanced pointedly at the papers Sam had abandoned. “Find something new?”

“No.” Sam pulled out a chair, utterly composed. “Finished reading.”

Dean and Murphy traded a look, but neither called him out on his excuse.

The three played together for more than half an hour.

Dean shuffled and dealt five cards to each player. It was an ordinary game of five-card draw. Murphy knew how to play, but her skill was nowhere near Dean's.

She took it seriously at first. After losing several hands in a row, however, she began to look distinctly irritated.

Dean really was the better player. When money had been tight in the past, he'd often earned a little extra at the card table. He could read other players quickly and make a good guess at what they were holding.

Murphy had tried to work out the odds against him. After a few defeats, she realized he was already guessing her cards from the way she reacted when she picked them up.

Worse, he couldn't resist gloating each time he won.

“Another one for me.”

He tossed down his last card and swept the winnings toward himself.

Murphy glared at him. “Again.”

Sam could tell she'd taken it personally. He hid a smile and kept quiet.

Dean was just as relaxed during the next hand. Murphy was studying her cards, trying to decide what to do, when she noticed his hand move beneath the table.

Her attention sharpened immediately.

Dean sat there looking innocent, but when Murphy raised her head, he had somehow acquired an extra card.

“You're cheating.”

He paused, then slipped the card into the rest of his hand without a trace of embarrassment. “Prove it.”

“I just watched you do it.” Murphy slapped her cards face down and held out her hand. “Give it here.”

“Watching isn't proof.” Dean leaned back, deliberately hiding his hand farther behind him. “You have to catch me doing it.”

He might as well have confessed.

Murphy laughed in disbelief and stood up to wrestle the card away. “You can already beat me without cheating. Why are you doing this?”

“Adds a little excitement.”

“Hand over the card.”

Dean took full advantage of his longer reach and held it beyond her grasp. Murphy seized his arm and pulled, leaning so far forward that her knee nearly struck the corner of the table. Dean instinctively steadied her by the waist with his other hand.

Murphy barely noticed. All she cared about was the card. “Give it to me.”

“Want it that badly?”

“Obviously!”

She managed to drag his arm down a little and reached for his fingers. At that exact moment, Dean leaned over and kissed her.

Murphy froze.

In those two seconds, he transferred the hidden card to his other hand.

When she realized what he'd done, she stared at him in outrage. “You used a kiss to cheat?”

Dean suppressed a laugh, his hand still resting at her waist. “It worked, didn't it?”

“Dean!”

This time she really did launch herself at the card.

Dean laughed and ducked away, but he was afraid she'd hit the table, so he kept one arm around her while moving the card even farther out of reach with the other. Soon they were tangled up in a ridiculous scuffle beside the table.

Sam was about to warn them to keep away from the nearby ritual circle. He opened his mouth, decided neither of them would listen, and prepared to help Murphy instead. Then he noticed another card pinned beneath Dean's free hand.

He hesitated for two seconds. While Dean was distracted by Murphy, Sam simply pulled it out.

“Sammy!”

Dean finally released Murphy and turned on his beloved little brother.

Sam laid the confiscated card on the table, counted the cards Dean still held, and burst out laughing. “You've got six cards now.”

Murphy whipped around.

Caught red-handed.

Dean remained astonishingly calm. He even counted his cards again. “I'm winning, so I've decided the winner gets to hold six cards.”

Still leaning against him, Murphy laughed in sheer exasperation. “You've won practically every hand. Why even bother cheating?”

Dean looked at her and answered without the slightest shame. “Wanted to see how long it'd take you to notice.”

Murphy stared for two seconds, then picked up a discarded card and threw it at him.

“You've got a screw loose,” she blurted in Chinese before she could stop herself.

Dean dodged it. He hadn't understood a word, but the look on her face told him it wasn't a compliment. He was about to ask what she'd said when she made another grab for his cards. The struggle rocked the table.

Bobby finally looked up, at the end of his patience.

“All three of you. Go play somewhere else.”

Even Sam was being thrown out this time.

Dean started to protest, then noticed how close they'd moved the table to the ritual circle. He wisely closed his mouth.

Murphy scooped up the deck and headed toward the next room, still laughing as she passed Dean. He gave her a light shove at the small of her back to hurry her along.

Sam followed, collecting the remaining cards. He clearly wasn't about to defend his brother.

The game didn't last much longer. None of them had the heart to play all day, but after their little uproar, the hours were at least easier to bear.

Later, Sam pulled out the ritual notes again, only for Dean to snatch them away as he passed. Murphy lay down on the couch intending to rest her eyes for a moment and promptly fell asleep.

When she woke, she immediately looked at the clock.

Only three in the afternoon.

She stared at the hands that had barely moved and wondered how a single day could possibly last so long.

...

Before evening, they decided to pick up a few more groceries and medical supplies.

Bobby didn't want to leave the house unattended, and Dean wasn't in any condition to wander around town. In the end, Murphy and Sam drove out together.

They packed their purchases into several bags and shoved them onto the back seat. Murphy had just fastened her seat belt when she remembered something in her bag and immediately unbuckled again.

“Hang on.”

Sam had already put the key in the ignition. He stopped. “Forget something?”

“No.”

Murphy hauled her bag forward from the back seat and rummaged inside. At last she found a small box and held it out to him.

The wrapping looked unmistakably homemade. The paper lay flat enough, but the corners were uneven, and bits of tape were plainly visible.

Murphy was quite proud of it. She'd spent ages the day before trying to make it look that good.

Sam looked down at the box, then at her. “For me?”

“Who else?”

“Why now?”

Murphy thought that was a strange question. “Because it's your birthday in a few hours.”

Sam went still.

For weeks, May 2 had meant nothing to any of them except Dean's contract. Sam had almost forgotten it was his birthday as well.

Murphy pushed the gift closer. “Once midnight comes, I doubt anyone's going to be in the mood to sit around singing ‘Happy Birthday.’ So I'm giving it to you now.”

Her reasoning was so practical that Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh.

“You really don't sugarcoat things.”

“Would you rather I pretended we'd planned a surprise party?”

“That'd be even more terrifying.”

Before starting the car, Sam carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was a fountain pen. He recognized the brand almost immediately, and his smile turned into a look of helpless disbelief.

“Why'd you buy one this expensive?”

Murphy had expected that to be his first question. “Because I have money,” she declared.

Sam looked up at her.

“And you write things down all the time. You'll actually use it.”

“I know what a fountain pen is for.”

“Then why'd you ask why I bought it?”

Sam couldn't think of a comeback. He looked at the pen again. He really did like it, but spending that much money on something like this still seemed unnecessary.

In the end, he didn't ask her to return it. He simply placed it back in its box with great care.

“Thank you.”

Murphy smiled. “Happy birthday. A little early.”

Sam put the box safely away. He did feel a little lighter now. He started the car and drove for a while before another thought occurred to him.

“Oh, right.”

Murphy turned toward him. “Hmm?”

“Does that secret you've got planned for May 3 count as part of my birthday celebration?”

She hadn't expected him to remember that. Laughing, she shook her head. “No. That's something separate.”

He'd only been fishing for clues, but since she still wasn't giving anything away, he tried again. “So what is it?”

“You've managed to wait this long.” Murphy leaned back in her seat. “Just two more days.”

Sam glanced at her and decided not to push.

“Fine.”

...

After dark, Dean's condition began to worsen noticeably.

The brief hallucinations returned several times. At least he could still tell what was real and what wasn't.

At first, Sam insisted on asking what he'd seen every time. Eventually he realized that all the questioning accomplished was upsetting everyone. As long as Dean still seemed in control, he left it alone.

After eleven, the house slowly grew quiet. The preparations were finished, and they checked everything one final time.

Dean stayed inside the innermost ritual circle. Sam and Murphy arranged the ancient books so either could pick up the incantation when needed, while Bobby kept watch over the perimeter and its most important defenses.

By 11:40, Murphy couldn't bear sitting still. She got up and fetched several bottles of water from their supplies.

She gave one each to Sam and Bobby, then carried the last to Dean. He drank a little, set it down, and silently held his arms out to her.

Murphy glanced at the clock, then stepped closer anyway.

They'd hugged almost every day lately, but this embrace lasted far longer than usual. Dean wrapped her in his arms and slowly patted her back twice. Murphy stayed where she was.

With her face tucked against his shoulder, she breathed in the familiar smell of his clothes and suddenly didn't want to be the first to let go.

In the end, Dean eased back a little on his own.

He bent to give her a short kiss, keeping one hand at her waist. Murphy was about to lean into him again when he murmured, “When it starts, stay away from the doors and windows.”

Whatever tender feeling had been rising inside her vanished at once.

Murphy looked up and glared at him. “Don't start giving me orders right now.”

Dean read her expression and wisely swallowed the rest of his warning. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze. “Okay. I'm done.”

“Then shut up.”

Dean smiled and left it there.

Murphy slipped out of his arms and returned to her place beside Sam.

After 11:59, no one spoke at all.

The second hand crept around the clock. Murphy stared until her eyes stung. The last few seconds passed, and the hand finally reached twelve.

May 2 had begun.

Almost at the instant midnight passed, a deep growl came from outside the house.

Murphy went rigid and turned toward the window.

Three of them again.

As on Bela's night, one hellhound was already near the front door while the other two prowled the sides of the house, probing the perimeter for a way through.

“They're here,” Murphy whispered, keeping her eyes on the darkness.

Dean suddenly shifted beside her.

When Murphy turned, she found him staring at exactly the same spot. His face had gone pale.

“I can see them too,” Dean said quietly.

Sam couldn't see the hounds. All he heard were claws getting closer outside. He glanced at Dean, then lowered his eyes to the ancient book. There was no time to examine what that meant.

Murphy returned to her place as well.

After midnight, she and Sam began reciting the final portion of the incantation together. Their familiar voices filled the room, and the blood mark on the parchment began its slow advance along the lines.

Almost at once, something slammed into the front door.

The impact rattled the door and sent a tremor through the nearby table. Bobby checked the perimeter defenses and, finding them intact for the moment, motioned for the others to keep going.

It was all terribly familiar.

Three hellhounds. The endless pounding at the walls. The blood creeping along precisely the same path it had taken three weeks earlier.

That was how they'd waited for Bela's parchment to break.

Murphy watched the lengthening bloodstain and could already picture the paper tearing as it had that night.

Just a little farther.

Sam drew in a sharp breath beside her, so quietly that the pounding outside nearly drowned it out.

At first Murphy thought he'd simply been startled. She finished her own lines and waited for his reply. None came. Dean had already looked up. He'd been watching the two of them from the inner circle, and he hadn't missed Sam's reaction.

“Sammy?”

Sam didn't answer. He bent over the book and resumed chanting. His voice was noticeably strained now, and he had pressed a hand against his lower back.

Murphy finally saw something was wrong. “Sam?”

“Keep going.”

Dean was frowning hard. Looking at the place where Sam held his back, he felt a terrible premonition. “What's happening to you?”

Sam couldn't have explained it himself.

At first it had been a sharp stab of pain at the site of an old injury. Within moments the pain had deepened into something horribly familiar.

It was where Jake had stabbed him on May 2 of the previous year.

Before Murphy could finish the next line, she saw blood spreading through the cloth at Sam's lower back.

She stopped immediately.

“Wait.”

Dean had seen it too.

His unease turned instantly to dread. He knew exactly what that wound meant. Taking a step toward the edge of the inner circle, he said, “Sam. Stop.”

Bobby hurried over at the commotion, took one look at Sam's back, and went pale.

The interrupted incantation fell silent, and the blood mark stopped moving across the parchment.

“Hold still.” Bobby crouched to inspect the wound.

Murphy had forgotten the circle entirely. That injury had healed long ago. Now it was bleeding again for no apparent reason, at the very moment they were trying to break Dean's deal.

A terrible suspicion formed in her mind.

Judging by his face, Dean had reached the same conclusion.

“That's enough.” His voice hardened inside the circle. “Don't say another word.”

Sam raised his head to look at him.

He knew why Dean was frightened. He knew what Murphy and Bobby were afraid to say.

But precisely because they were all thinking of the same possibility, he was desperate to know for certain.

The ritual had saved Bela. Dean had only hours left. If the bleeding was a coincidence and they abandoned the ritual now, none of them would ever forgive themselves.

While Murphy examined the wound and Bobby hesitated to draw a conclusion, Sam lowered his head and resumed the next line of the incantation.

Dean's face changed. “Sam!”

The blood mark began moving again.

At almost the same moment, pain ripped through Sam's lower back. It felt as though his long-healed wound was tearing open from within. His vision went black, and he swayed on his feet.

Now everyone understood.

“Stop!” Dean roared. “Sam, stop!”

Murphy reached for the book. “That's enough! Don't finish it!”

Bobby stretched out a hand to support him, but Sam forced himself to speak the remaining half-line. His face was bloodless with pain, yet he needed to be certain there was no chance they were mistaken.

Then the strength simply left his body.

Sam's knees buckled and he fell sideways.

“Sammy!”

The ritual, the contract, the few hours remaining: Dean forgot all of it. He stepped straight out of the inner circle and hurried to catch his brother before he hit the floor.

The ritual stopped with him.

The blood mark froze halfway along the pattern. The crushing pain in Sam's lower back slowly began to ease.

Sam stayed in Dean's arms for a long time, struggling to catch his breath. His face was frighteningly pale. The wound had reopened, but it wasn't getting worse now, and he no longer felt as though something was draining the life out of him.

They didn't need another test.

Murphy knelt beside Bobby to help dress Sam's wound. She already understood what it meant, and the hope in her eyes was fading.

Bobby tossed a bloodied piece of gauze aside. He was silent for a moment before speaking. “There's nothing wrong with the ritual.”

Dean understood at once.

If the ritual itself worked, the difference had to lie in the contract.

“You traded for Sam's life,” Bobby said heavily. “Now that your contract is coming apart, the deal you made is being undone too.”

The room fell silent.

That single sentence explained everything.

Dean looked down at the brother still leaning against him. He scarcely had to think. “We're not doing this.”

Sam, still catching his breath, grabbed Dean's shirt. “Go back.”

“Did you not get enough of that just now?”

“We know what it is now.” Sam's voice was weak but his resolve wasn't. “At least we can try something else.”

Dean felt his temper flare. Something else? If they'd let the ritual run only a little longer, Sam might have died!

“Nothing else to discuss. This method is off the table.” His tone allowed no argument.

Sam began to get angry too. He hated when Dean acted as though he'd made the decision for everybody. They'd already fought over this same thing more times than he could count the year before.

“It's my life, Dean.”

“So?”

“So you could let me make the choice for once.” Sam's eyes were red. “You brought me back last year without asking. Now you're going to decide for me all over again?”

Dean couldn't yield on this.

“Yes.”

The answer made Sam's breath catch.

He should have expected it.

Yet Dean had changed so much lately. He talked about life after May, made plans for vacations, and had even started seriously pursuing Murphy.

Sam had never seen his brother want to stay alive so badly. That made it all the harder to accept him throwing his own life away again.

“Don't you want to live?” Sam struggled to hold back his tears, but they spilled over. “Haven't you been talking about everything we'll do after May?”

It felt as though a heavy stone had settled on Dean's chest.

Of course he wanted to live.

Once, he could have convinced himself that one year was enough and dying afterward didn't matter. He couldn't believe that lie anymore.

“I want to live,” Dean admitted at last.

Sam looked at him through tear-reddened eyes. “Then go back.”

But Dean shook his head.

“No. Wanting to live doesn't mean I'll trade your life for mine.”

Sam had no answer.

He bowed his head, and the tears came harder. After a long while he managed to whisper, “I don't want it to be like this.”

Neither did Dean.

But there was no answer that could make them both happy.

Dean drew him close. Sam didn't argue this time. He simply gripped his brother's shirt and cried against him. Dean's own eyes reddened as he patted Sam's back, unable to find a word to say.

Murphy had stayed crouched nearby, her head lowered.

She was still trying to think of something they might do when she felt tears cooling on her cheeks. She wiped them away, only for more to fall. Eventually she stopped bothering.

Every worst-case plan she'd made had been designed to keep Dean from ending up in Hell. She'd never imagined that May 2 would barely have begun when they themselves were forced to abandon the ritual.

Her hatred of Hell rose slowly, relentlessly, from somewhere deep inside her.

Only when Sam had recovered a little did Murphy sniff and speak. “There is another way.”

Dean looked at her, and she immediately waved him off. “Don't try to comfort me. I can't take it right now.”

She wiped her face again and finally told them what she'd done in secret a few days earlier. “I summoned an angel.”

The news hit harder than she'd expected. Bobby, who was wrapping Sam's wound again, actually paused mid-motion. “When the hell did you do that?”

“A few days ago. You can yell at me later.”

Bobby certainly wanted to, but the hellhounds were still battering the house. He held his tongue.

Murphy wasn't ready to explain everything about Gabriel. She stuck to what mattered. “I've confirmed that angels can bring a soul out of Hell. If the worst happens, I'll make sure they bring Dean back as early as I can.”

Dean looked distinctly unconvinced. “And they'd listen to you?”

“No,” Murphy said without hesitation. “That's why I said I've got a plan.”

She wasn't about to explain the seals and Heaven's intentions yet. If she ever needed to put that plan into motion, she'd tell them. Right now, with three hellhounds trying to break in, was hardly the time.

Another tremendous crash shook the door, almost as if the hounds were demanding that they pay attention to the immediate problem.

Bobby checked the defenses again. When he returned, his expression was darker. The outer protections were holding, but the house itself couldn't endure three hellhounds ramming it forever.

They couldn't resume the ritual. All they could do now was buy time.

Sam's lower back had been bandaged again, and he'd recovered some strength while resting. He used the table to pull himself upright. Once the dizziness passed, he reached for his gun.

Dean took one look at him and felt his anger flare again. “Can't you sit still for five minutes?”

“I'm not planning to chant anything else.” Sam checked his weapon.

He knew how weak he was and that he couldn't move the way he normally would. But staying inside and waiting for the hounds to break through wasn't an option either. “The perimeter will hold for a while. Murphy and I can defend the outside.”

Murphy was already collecting her equipment.

There wasn't much to debate. The hellhounds wanted Dean. Keeping him in the deepest protected room would give those outside a better chance to maneuver.

Dean obviously disagreed.

He'd just watched Sam nearly collapse in his arms. Now they expected him to stand by while the two people he loved went out to face three hellhounds. The idea was absurd.

“Are you two taking turns trying to drive me crazy today?”

Murphy finished checking her gun and raised her head. “The best thing you can do to help us right now is stay in the protected room.”

Dean liked that answer even less.

But Bobby had inspected the innermost defenses and agreed. He would stay with Dean, while Sam and Murphy guarded the perimeter. If they couldn't hold it, they were to retreat immediately.

Dean refused to move.

Sam had no patience left. He'd already suffered enough and cried enough for one day. He couldn't bear another argument with his brother. “If you won't go in, I'll stand here and wait with you.”

Murphy nodded. “So will I.”

Dean was furious, but he knew perfectly well they meant it.

Bobby finally stopped arguing and gave Dean a shove. “Get inside.”

This time Dean didn't actually fight them. He stopped in the protected room's doorway, though it was obvious he still had plenty to say.

Murphy didn't give him the chance. She pushed the door shut. “You can yell at us when we get back.”

“Murphy...”

The door was already closed.

Murphy secured the latch. Dean immediately began pounding on the door from the other side. She ignored him and checked her equipment again.

Beside her, Sam moved more slowly than usual. His lower back must still have hurt, but at least he could walk normally again.

When both were ready, they headed toward the perimeter together.

The low growls outside hadn't stopped. May 2 had only just begun.