Star Fall / Book One (SPN Fan Fiction)

Chapter Forty-One

Sam edgily traces the room of the hostel in wait. Driven by the gory darkness of the Transylvanian Sky, just outside the widow. Feeling a split between the vastly different waves of concern overriding him. The festering sick inside still presented itself in great strength. There was a bit of wind that brings him around to face the far wall. Seeing Castiel.

"Hello, Sam." He gapes a small mouth with an exhale, viewing his discomforting vibe. "Where is Dean?"

"Out somewhere, drinking himself to death." He says crassly. Cas shows a tinge of concern before fading it to one of dour.

"Kyiah is here." He informs, putting Sam on high alert. "Everything is almost ready." The angel squints his eyes suspiciously, registering the mortals quiet dislike. "I'm going to give you some instructions, and you are to follow them to a T. Step by step. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." He mumbles.

"I'm going to tell you how to get into the Underworld." Sam straightens up. "At precisely five am, the doors to The Cave of Sibyl will open. Thinning the veil to allow for human entry. It is described as the cave of a hundred entrances, leading deep beyond the earth, as far as Hell itself. You are to enter the cave, and start your decent." Castiel orders, walking forward. "Upon your arrival, Charon will be waiting to take you across the Acheron." He offers his hand. "You will need these." Sam accepts the two, thick, silver coins. Taking an uneasy step away.

"What are these for?" He queries.

"Only those who pay the fare with coins are granted passage into The Underworld. Lose these, and you will be permanently trapped between the two worlds." Cas heeds. "Give them to Charon, and he will escort you to the city in a ferry. After you reach the gates, Cerberus will allow you to enter. But not to leave." Sam shifts in skepticism.

"How are we suppose to get out?"

"I will bring you out myself." The Winchester tenses his bold face, unsure if he could trust the flakey angel enough to believe him. "You are to be there precisely five minutes before the stoke of dawn." Cas lowers his head. "Have faith, Sam. This will all be over soon." Sam tightens in uncertainty, but Castiel's was gone. He sighs, looking over the silver change in his hand, turning one over to examine its lifted obverse design. Depicting a humongous stone Victorian palace. He looks over to the clock, seeing it was already 1am. He decided it was time to get Dean.

After a couple of scuzzy strip clubs, and pitiful roadhouses, he managed to find him. Sitting alone in an empty dive-bar. Head hung in misery, staring into the whiskey in front of him. The surly bartender cautiously keeping him in view. Sam sighs, taking a seat beside him. Making Dean sniffle, shifting up in neglect. Avoiding his judgmentally caring eye.

"How'd you find me?" His gruff voice probes through the sorrow. Sam set his elbows to the wood surface as the bartender approaches.

"Pretty remote area. I had to catch up with you eventually." Dean shrugs a brow, staring in a trance at the amber liquid in his hand. The same shot that's been there for hours. That he hasn't been able to bring himself to take. The bulky, horseshoe mustached, man set down a filled second glass while Sam cunningly studies his brothers languid profile. The rims of his eyes and nose were flushed light pink. Cataloguing the depression in the lines of his face. The black shirt under his dark green jacket add depth to his drowning, hazel, eyes. "Dean-"

"I don't wanna talk about it.."

"Alright." Sam shrugs, taking his shot. "Then don't talk. Just listen." His brother keeps his gaze away, focused on his drink. "There are two reasons why people don't talk about things. Its either because it means nothing to them. Or it means everything." Sam starts softly. "And I know Kyiah isn't nothing." Dean's physique tenses at the very sound of her name, clenching the liquor. "You need to pull yourself together. And stand. The hell. Back up." He gradually enforces. "Right now, she's fighting, tearing through hell to save the world, and you're sitting here drinking yourself to smithereens." Another two shots meet the table. "What happened to protecting her?" Sam prods, lowering his voice. "What happened to having her six?" Dean bitterly downs the seasoned booze, concealing an ill groan.