Play With Fire

82. Dark Side of the Moon

INT. MOTEL

Empty beer cans were all over. Dean was lying on his stomach, hand under the pillow as he searched. Penelope was looking under between the beds.

"Looking for this?" Roy asked before popping the cartridge from a handgun and tossing it to the side.

Dean turned over and Penelope looked up. They looked at Sam, who also had a gun pointed at him.

"Mornin'," Dean greeted.

"Shut up. Hands where I can see 'im."

Dean and Penelope lifted their hands, then lifted themselves up before he said, "Wait a minute. Is that you, Roy? It is, isn't it. Which makes you Walt. Wait. Hiya Walt."

Roy and Walt looked at each other.

Walt removed his mask. "Don't matter."

Roy lifted his mask off his face.

"Well, is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?" Dean asked in a taunting tone.

Walt narrowed his eyes. "You think you can flip the switch on the apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?"

Sam frowned. "Who told you that?"

"We ain't the only hunters after you." He pumped his shotgun. "See you in the next life."

"Hear me out. I can explain, okay? Please."

After a pause, Walt shot Sam. Dean and Penelope jumped to go to Sam.

Roy shifted to follow Dean and Penelope's movements. "Stay the hell down."

"Shoot 'em," Walt demanded.

"Killin' Sam was right but Dean and Penny..."

"He made us and we just snuffed his brother and her boyfriend, you idiot. You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester and Penny Marvin are on your ass, 'cause I don't. Shoot 'em."

Dean, who'd been looking at Sam's body, turned to face Roy. "Go ahead, Roy, do it. But I'm going to warn you, when I come back I'm going to be pissed. C'mon! Let's get this show on the road."

"Come on, already," Walt said.

Walt stepped forward and shot Dean who was staring in horror at Sam before turning to Walt with a murderous look.

Penelope formed fire in her hand and forced Walt and Roy from the motel room. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed, as she cradled Sam's body.

INT. IMPALA

Dean was sitting in the Impala, sleeping. He was wearing his leather jacket over his normal clothes. Thunder sounded and he woke up. He got out of the car and shut the door. The trunk closed. Dean turned towards the sound. 13-year-old Sam was there, holding a crate of fireworks.

"Sammy?" Dean called.

"Come on, let's go," Sam said, walking off.

"Weird dream," Dean commented. "Penny, you here?"

Sam placed the fireworks on the ground and pulled out a few.

"Got your lighter?" Sam asked.

Dean checked his pocket and pulled out an old lighter. "Whoa, I haven't seen this in years."

"Fire 'em up."

Dean lit Sam's firework, then his own. They went off, shooting red sparks into the sky.

Dean smiled. "I remember this! It's Fourth of July, 1996."

The fireworks died out. Dean looked down at Sam, happy.