This takes place immediately after the credits roll in Holy Terror, and I’m sure it will be completely AU when we get to see 9.10 Road Trip.
Warning: some language
Finally. Finally, he lifted his aching head. Forcing swollen, red, burning eyes to open, to focus. He had no idea how much time had passed as he lay sobbing on the cold, hard floor, crying as he hadn’t cried since that night, all those years ago. The night his mother died. The night his whole world turned upside down. Reduced to one thing: looking after Sammy. It had never been a burden, not really. Yes, he complained; occasionally resented, but from that night, his love for his brother became his entire reason for being.
Reaching up, he dragged an arm that was a lead weight across his face, wiping snot and tears onto his sleeve. Awareness washed over him, and more tears welled in green eyes, dulled with pain and guilt, as his gaze came to rest on Kevin’s body. Kevin’s fucking dead body. So still and small, eyes burned out, and all because the prophet trusted. Trusted him. Dean-fucking-Winchester. The moron who let love for his baby brother, and the desperate need to keep him alive, override every instinct he possessed. Kevin, dead. The angel tablet and the demon tablet, both stolen. And Sammy. Sammy stolen too, by that double-dealing, dickbag angel, Zeke – no wait – not Zeke. GOD, WHY did I trust an angel? Dean groaned out loud. He had to move. Had to find a way to make his body function so the search for Sam could begin. Yes. Find Sam. Then somehow force that son of a bitch out of his brother.
He’d let Sam down before, hell they’d both let each other down so many times. Done stupid, stupid things. But always out of love. Always. And now this. So terrified of actually, finally, losing Sam forever, that he betrayed his brother’s trust. Tricked him into becoming an angel vessel, because that’s always a good idea. He groaned again, wishing the angel had killed him while he was at it. Wondering why he hadn’t. Then something tweaked his memory – the angel that looked like his brother, but so definitely wasn’t – bending over Kevin’s lifeless body, placing a slip of yellow paper on his chest. What the hell? He crawled over to Kevin. What was left of Kevin. Dean slowly reached out to place trembling fingers on the prophet’s neck, in a moment of faint hope that he’d find a pulse. Nothing. Dead. Cold. Dean realized he must have been lying there, crying, for hours.
He picked up the scrap of yellow paper lying on Kevin’s chest. “Kevin Tran”. Nothing else. Just the name of a young man who’d trusted his life to the Winchesters. Whose last words to Dean had been “I always trust you. And I always end up screwed” More tears welled up, the pain in hs chest almost unbearable. “I’m sorry Kevin. So very….” He couldn’t continue. Sorry wasn’t going to cut it. The bunker should have been safe. And it wasn’t. Because of him. And now this not!Zeke angel knew where it was. What have I done? Another wave of despair rolled through him. Followed quickly by anger. No. For the first time they had a home. A sanctuary. And he needed it to be that again, so if – when – he got his brother back, they could continue their legacy as Men of Letters, as hunters, as brothers. Sam would hate him for what he had done, but Dean was ok with that – he deserved a beat down – would even welcome it at this point. Supposing he could get his brother back.
White hot rage built inside him. He had to put a stop to this. Make it right. And he would. It was too late for Kevin, but Sam needed him. Suck it up Winchester. Dean hauled himself to his feet. Looking down at the body of his friend and adopted brother, he squared his shoulders. “I’ve got work to do.”