The wind at the hilltop was gentle. Tiny flowers sipped and swayed at the leaking trough under the windmill and the metal spout swayed on its arm and clanged against the metal. He could hear it from inside the car as he waited for them.
:The long and winding road. That leads to your door. Will never disappear. I've seen that road before. It always leads me here...:
One advantage to the life he'd led lately was getting to see behind and ahead and having the chance to change things. Not that he'd ever changed anything. He'd messed up. He knew he didn't have the answer this time, either. All he knew was that he had to be here and he had to try.
It would have been their wedding anniversary today, after all. It would be right... if it was now.
Lucifer appeared in the field below the hill and he watched him cautiously, eyes piercing deep into the heart of the body he wore. Everything he'd worked so hard to protect was standing there, gagging and clawing to get out. He could feel it. Sam was still there. There was still hope, then.
The one he didn't expect -- that he secretly hoped he'd never see again -- was Adam. He'd know Michael anywhere, but Adam being dragged into this was almost too much to bear. He wasn't going to lose them again. Not ever again.
:And he never gives an answer, But the fool on the hill, Sees the sun going down, And the eyes in his head, See the world spinning 'round.:
He threw it into gear and ambled down in first, left it running beside him when he got out.
Dean was there. He knew he'd come. He wouldn't expect any less. He knew he'd do the right thing, too. Dean always seemed to know what the right thing was. He'd never had to tell him the answers, not really.
:Hey Jude begin. You're waiting for someone to perform with. And don't you know that it's just you. Hey Jude you'll do. The movement you need is on your shoulder.:
Raw knuckles sliced into Dean's face and he could feel the insidious pleasure it gave Lucifer to beat this pile of flesh and breath into a bloody pulp. He could feel Dean crumbling beneath the brutal strikes, his words choking on their own blood as his jaw broke and he struggled to reach Sam between blows.
He could feel Sam struggling, too, trapped deep inside his prison with only a porthole to strain through, his sole reward being to see and feel his brother drained and dying under his hands. No dimension that he knew of could contain the rage and the screaming that he heard inside them all: Why have you forsaken us.
John reached up and caught Sam's hand.