[HAPPY BIRTHDAY, energybar! This is something that she requested, and not binding on any verse unless she says so. This is also not binding on any muses unless she says so as well. Also, TIMELINE: Dean’s trip to Mystic Falls, post-Lucifer is in the summer between S2-3. Then time passed as it normally would between then and now on both shows so that puts Dean in Purgatory two years PAST S4 of TVD.]



Purgatory is … well, Purgatory.

There aren’t really words for it. It’s about survival and blood, and if you take the time to try and find the words to describe it, you’re already dead. You don’t analyze it, you just let it be what it is, and do what you need to do because there’s no other way around it. Dean learns that the hard way in the first couple months, but he manages to keep his head all the same. He’s slow, not stupid. He wasn’t ever really much for analysis anyway.

Mostly, he’s worried about familiar faces that would be inclined to eat his.

Still, he manages to survive. He takes heads and doesn’t bother to stop for their names, but he can’t seem to shake the nagging suspicion that he isn’t supposed to be there. This isn’t a place for humans, and while Dean still has his moments where he feels like a monster, this isn’t a place for him. Every monster there knows it. He’s probably the first fresh food supply that they’ve seen in ages, and he moved himself to the top of the menu simply by existing.

He’s tracking his way across the woods, trying to stay clear of Dick and his cronies, when something slams into him from behind. His head cracks against a tree, and there’s an arm against his throat, and he’s cursing himself for being caught by surprise. He had done so well for so long, but this is the end.

What he isn’t expecting is the familiar voice to be friendly.

“Dean?”

He opens his eyes, and it takes him a minute to focus, but when he does, that face isn’t the one he wanted to see. “Alaric?”

***

Mystic Falls had been on Dean’s greatest hits tour when he first lost Sam, back after the Apocalypse. Alaric was an old friend, and had called him a few weeks earlier asking about the Colt, since as far as the rest of the world knew, Dean was the last one that had it. Dean hadn’t picked up the phone because he was too busy saving the world at the time, but once it was all over, he bothered to check his voicemail.

At that point, he was doing anything to delay the inevitable. The minute he set foot on Lisa’s front porch, it meant that Sam was really gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. He stayed in Mystic Falls for three days, pretending to be fine and doing a lot of drinking, but in the end, he knew he had to give up the ghost. He did leave the Colt in Alaric’s hands, though.

Dean’s guessing if he wound up here, then the man didn’t use it.

Alaric leads him through the trees, dodging the question of what the hell he’s doing here, but Dean knows enough to know something’s up. People don’t just stumble into Purgatory unless something bad happens. Still—he knows enough that he has to let it go for now.

“This is Dean Winchester.”

They reach a clearing within the woods, and he’s addressing two women—one, tall and blond with a presence that he really doesn’t want to examine too closely, and the other older, black with crazy old lady hair. From the look she’s giving him, he almost wants to guess that she’s friends with Missouri Mosely. What Missouri’s doing with a friend in Purgatory—he doesn’t really want to know.

“Dean, this is Esther and Shelia Bennett.”

“Bennett?” His eyes turn to focus on the other woman for a moment, watching her with a critical eye. “Doesn’t good juju usually go elsewhere?”

“You Winchesters really are smarter than you look,” she comments, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “It’s a long story.”

“What is a Winchester, exactly?” Esther cuts in before Dean can respond. “Is that something I should be worried about?”

“Worried? No. But he may be the answer to our problem.” There’s a pause, possibly for dramatic effect. “He’s human.”

Esther’s eyes widened. “How can you tell?”

“I can tell. You made sure of that.”

Dean turns on Esther with renewed interest. He’s never heard Alaric speak to anyone with that much venom, ever, and it makes him wonder just exactly who this woman is.

“If there’s anyone who can take care of your children, it’s a Winchester. Especially if he has the right weapon.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean’s hands come up. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m no babysitter.”

Shelia rolls her eyes. Alaric is giving him the look that Sam used to give him when he said something stupid. “Dean, Esther is the Original Witch. The witch who created the vampire lines?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Right. Not one of your best choices, lady.”

“Do you want to get out of here or not? Because I’m beginning to lose patience.” Esther presses her lips together, and Dean sighs.

“How is that going to work, exactly?”

“When God created the realms—or at least, this is the rumor—he built in a backdoor, in case a human happened to wind up here by mistake. This place isn’t meant for humans, and he wanted to ensure that it was left that way.” Esther pauses. “The portal does exist, and I know how to open it. It’s simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Excuse me?”

“You created vampires. I’m betting you’re not volunteering to do this out of the goodness of your heart, so what’s the catch?” Esther holds his stare for a moment, almost as though she’s refusing to be intimidated by him, but Dean isn’t having it. “Lady, you are one of the easiest things to kill here. Don’t think I won’t.”

And he won’t even feel bad about it either.

“If we do this right, you might be able to take a passenger with you. Possibly more than one.”

“So you basically want to use me as a free ride out of this hell hole.” He pauses, before pointing to his right. “Why didn’t you just use him?”

Probably not the gentlest way to get information on what was going on with Alaric, but it’s at least a way.

“Because before I died, Esther turned me into a vampire in order to try and get rid of her children.”

And there it is. Dean lets that information sink in for a moment, before nodding. “Fair enough.” His tone makes it clear he isn’t happy about it, and he now doesn’t trust Esther as far as he can throw her, but it’s at least a start. “Alright. Before we get started on this magical mystery tour, there’s one more stop we need to make. I’m not leaving without Cas.”

“There are two humans here?” Esther’s eyebrows rose, just an inch.

“No. Cas is an angel, but I’m not leading without him either way. If I’m gonna play 747 outta here, I’m not leaving him behind. Got it?”

The witches don’t seem happy about the prospect, but they must be scared enough of Alaric at this point, and Alaric is willing to back him on every play. That is at least somewhat comforting. He may not trust vampires, but he trusts Alaric.

Which means he’ll just to put aside the vampire part, for now.

***

They find Castiel and then they lose him again. Dean’s not happy, but with what they’re planning to do, it’s probably for the best. If Cas can keep the Leviathan on his tail, then they might just stand a chance of getting out of here. Dean doesn’t like leaving yet another person behind, but it’s what they have to do.

They get to the site where the ritual has to be done, and while Shelia and Esther are preparing the area, Alaric pulls Dean off to the side.

“The Colt should be with the rest of my things. I think it’s about two years since this happened, so whoever took my stuff from my apartment should have it. Start with Jeremy and go from there.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Dean frowns. “You’re coming, right?”

“No, I’m not. Not like this. And Esther isn’t coming either. She deserves to be here, and I … ” He pauses, licking his lips in consideration. “I don’t want to go back like this.”

Dean can’t help but understand that choice. A hunter’s worst fear is becoming the thing they hunt, and if the witches can’t bring him back human, he can understand Alaric not wanting to come back at all.

“What about Elena?”

At that, Alaric’s face falls even more. “Esther tied my life to hers when she turned me. In order for me to be here, Elena had to die.”

If Dean had had any respect for Esther left, he would have lost it. He remembers Elena. She was a sweet kid, and she didn’t deserve to die so that the Originals could save themselves.

“Listen to me: You kill the Originals, they all die. Every vampire in existence. It’ll be like they never existed. You need to take them all out, Dean.”

“Got it. How many are there?”

“Four. Rebekah, Klaus, Elijah and Kol. Take Klaus first—he’s the hybrid, and he’s got all the hybrids sire-bonded to him. After that, the rest of them should be easy.” There’s a pause. “There’s also two kids I used to teach—Caroline Forbes and Tyler Lockwood. They’re … just … warn them, if you can. Make sure they’re prepared.”

It’s always harder when there are kids you care about involved. Especially if they’re just kids. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good.”

“We’re ready.”

Both men turn towards the sound of Esther’s voice, and Dean nods. He follows the instructions that she gives him, and once the portal is open, she gives him the final instructions.

“Once you make it through the portal, you need to go to Mystic Falls and find our bodies. After that, the spell will take care of itself.”

She starts to move through the steps of the spell to bind herself to Dean’s body, and he shakes his head. “Sheila first. You’ve got more power, you can hold the window open longer.”

Esther regards him for a moment, but Dean holds his ground. She sighs, before turning the knife over to Shelia. “Very well.”

Shelia moves closer, dropping her voice low. “What are you up to?”

Dean just flashes the first cocksure Dean Winchester grin that he’s managed since landing in this place. “Trust me.”

The pain is incredible. It’s like someone trying to force their soul inside his body along his—which, in a way, is exactly what it was. Once the lights cleared, and Sheila was a glowing mass on the inside of his arm, Esther reached forward to take the knife.

She doesn’t get the chance to even get close.

The veins just below Alaric’s eyes darken and he moves, faster than Dean’s eye can track. By the time things are anything less than a blur, Alaric has her by the throat and pinned to a nearby tree.

“Dean, go!”

Alaric doesn’t have to tell him twice.

He turns, and without a second thought, he jumps.

***

It takes him three days to hitchhike his way to Mystic falls, and another six hours after that for him to find Sheila’s grave and dig it up without getting caught. Once he’s looking down at a corpse, he rolls up his sleeve and cuts into the mass of glowing energy on his arm that is the current state of Shelia Bennett.

Once the seal of his skin is broken, she pours out of him, and he finally can feel his body relax and not like it was bursting at the seams.

He watches, as the corpse seems to restore itself, and then Shelia sit up with a sharp inhale.

“Easy. Easy, easy.” He crouches down next to her, taking her hand to help her sit up. “Slow inhales. Just take your time.”

Eventually her breathing evens out, and she turns on him with a bit of a look. “You some kind of expert at coming back from the dead?”

He flashes her another grin. “You could say that.”

She continues to give him a look, before starting to push to her feet. “Come on. I think I’ve spent long enough in my own grave.”

He helps her out, before pushing out himself and starting to fill the grave back in again. As he finishes, Shelia speaks up again.

“If you really are going to kill them all, there’s something you should know.”

Dean turns to face her, leaning on the shovel a bit. “What’s that?”

“Elena died, that much is true. But she didn’t stay dead.” There’s a pause. “She turned.”

He blinks, startled. “What?”

“I didn’t tell Alaric because he already had enough guilt on his shoulders. I didn’t need to add more things he couldn’t control to the pile.”

Dean’s quiet for a long time, before swinging the shovel over his shoulder. “I’m still gonna kill ‘em, Shelia. It’s my job. Knowing about Elena doesn’t change that.”

Shelia’s head tips to the side, before falling in step next to him as he leaves the graveyard. “Then what does it change?”

He smirks. “I’m just gonna need some … unconventional help. Think your house still has spell ingredients we can borrow?”

“Oh, I know it does.” There’s another beat. “Do I want to know what crazy Winchester plan you’ve managed to concoct?”

“Probably not.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Glinda,” he grins. “Trust me.”

He continues walking out towards the gate of the cemetery, but Sheila stops, falling a few steps behind him. “I’m really startin’ to hate that phrase.”



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