InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "let my people go."

Dean Winchester hugs baby trees (withgunsdrawn) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2010-11-05 03:42:00

Entry tags:

azazel, dean winchester, john winchester, mary winchester, sam winchester

Who? Winchesters & Azazel
What? DEPERILIZATION of Mary Winchester. Possibly a mild smackdown on Az.
Where? Some weird doorless/windowless building the creepy demon found.
When? DARKTIME.
Rating? I WOULD SAY PRETTY HIGH.

Dean parked the Impala almost a block away from the address Sam had given him. The engine was loud - he didn’t want Azazel to get suspicious, if he was in there. If they had any kind of advantage, he wasn’t going to be the one to cause it to be blown out the window. He could see the building from here, though, even though it was dark it was lit enough by the orange streetlights for him to see there was no sign of his brother or his father - he’d gotten here first.

There was a tremor in his hands that didn’t seem to want to go away, the kind that made him nervous for more than the reasons that were causing the shaking to begin with - how was he supposed to be any use like this? He was glad no one was here with him to see this, to see him falling apart like this. He clenched his hands into fists in his lap, letting his head fall back, and then forward to rest on the steering wheel, trying to breathe through the ice in his lungs, trying to banish the cold sweat on his skin.

He pulled himself out of the car, if not together, and moved to the trunk. It took a few tries to get it unlocked, keys slipping and missing the hole and he swore under his breath in a voice that sounded like it was stretched thin, like it was going to break and disappear. Finally getting it open, he started rummaging around inside - he had a couple of axes in there, and he pulled them out, busied himself checking them for damage, for dulled edges, anything that would keep them from getting in to Mom in time...

...she could be dying right now.

The axe fell out of his hand, into the trunk, and he ran both hands across his face, leaned against the car and tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t do this if he was freaking out, he’d just end up getting someone hurt, getting Mom killed ~~if she was even alive now~~. He didn’t want to wait any longer, but he couldn’t go in by himself, and he just, he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do (and he knew exactly what he wanted to do, knew exactly what would calm him down or at least amp everything other than the panic up so that he wouldn’t even notice it, blood on his hands again but he couldn’t do that here, not now not yet, soon).

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-11-05 09:29 am UTC (link)

Sam was already there when the Impala peeled down the street. He, too, knew better than to lurk too closely to the address that he had sent off to his family. It was risky. If Azazel so much as took a peek at his surroundings and saw the taller Winchester brother standing outside, they'd all be screwed. That was why, rather than marching toward the building to take on the yellow-eyed son of a bitch himself, Sam had taken to hiding among the brush at the end of the block. It wasn't too close to the building, but it was close enough so that Sam could remain hidden while keeping tabs on any and all activity as he waited for the others to arrive. That had been the hard part. The waiting. Crouching in some bushes, lurking uselessly while Azazel did God only knew what to Mom. Right there. She was just right there and all Sam could do was sit and wait. Oz had long gone and he had walked over on foot, so it wasn't like Sam had the right supplies to go tearing through the walls of that stupid door-less building. If he had, he would have been inside by now. Rescuing Mom. Fighting off Azazel, if he was there. Possibly getting himself killed, but Sam didn't really want to think about that. The important thing was that he got Mom out of there, no matter what the cost. Even if that came down to himself.

Annoyingly, being willing to risk himself like that meant that he was also willing to do stupid, sacrificial things that ultimately came back to selfish desires. Sam honestly didn't know if his demands for demon blood earlier were because he so desperately believed that it was the only way to save his mother or if it was because he was just using the aforementioned rescue as an excuse to get his hands on another taste of power. He didn't know. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Right now, his head was filled with conflict, whereas his heart was bearing the weight of emotion so intensely overwhelming that Sam found he was legitimately surprised that he had actually managed to keep himself pinned in hiding for as long as he had. If this went on much longer, he'd charge. Axe handy or not, Sam would tear at that wall with whatever he had. Rocks, sticks, his fists - it didn't matter. If Dad and Dean didn't get their asses on the scene soon, he'd do it himself. Lacking in power, lacking in weaponry (aside from the gun he had strapped to his side), Sam would fight Azazel to his last breath.

You wouldn't have to if you had the demon blood, that annoyingly dark voice in the back of his head taunted. Sam closed his eyes, fingers rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration. Don't think about it, he urged himself, teeth grinding together tightly. He couldn't relapse now. That was important. He'd gone all this way. If he went back to the demon blood...it just, it wasn't easy being like this. Sam Winchester was simply one man. He had no special gifts, he couldn't exorcise a demon with his mind, he couldn't reach in and make even the most powerful of monsters writhe in agony with a thought. Sam couldn't kill. Not like he used to.

Useless. He was useless. This was useless. Mom was in there. He was out here. If he waited any longer, Azazel would pull some kind of -

There. Sam knew the sound; the rumble of the Impala's engine, humming in the distance. Standing up, still hidden in shadow and bush alike, Sam turned his attention back to the door free building. Still no change. He knew that Mom was alive. Chuck had verified that. The condition in which they were about to find her, though...it made Sam impatient. More importantly, it terrified him. What if she was in a coma? What if she had been cut up and bled out and...and...dammit. Sam bit down on his lip - hard - and moved for the Impala as Dean pulled it off the road. It was a safe distance away. Just like he was. Good.

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-11-05 09:33 am UTC (link)

When Sam found Dean, he didn't see his brother hurriedly digging through the trunk for supplies. Yeah, the trunk was open, but Dean didn't seem too bothered by it. His head was bowed, face hidden by his hands. Surprised (though he shouldn't have been, all things considered), Sam fell to an abrupt halt a little ways behind him. It was obvious that Sam wasn't the only one feeling useless right now. He knew his brother too well. Dean had a serious attachment to their mom. It wasn't because he loved her more, it was because he could actually remember her in ways that Sam couldn't. Dean didn't talk about it much - he never had - but that didn't mean that Sam didn't know. Losing her when he was so young, having all those warm memories yanked away...only to be here, facing the same damned thing that had dragged her away from Dean to begin with. Sam understood. Dean couldn't lose her again. He would never be able to live with himself if he did.

Sam ran a hand over his shadowed jaw, uncertainty finding him. What was he supposed to say? That they were gonna be fine? That Mom was going to be fine? Sam didn't even know if they were all going to walk out of this alive. Mom, sure (though how alive and for how long?), but all of them? Dad? Dean? Quietly, Sam stepped in closer, a hand finding it's way to his older brother's shoulder. "We're gonna get her out of here, Dean," Sam said gently, forcing himself to keep a level head in Dean's presence. Dean was always the strong one. For as long as he could remember, that was how things had been. The going got tough and Dean just dealt with it. He kept up the morale, he made sure that Sam was all right, and he kept on going right to the bitter end. For both their sakes. It was Sam's turn to return the favor. He had to if they were gonna go at this thing strong. "We're gonna find her, we're gonna get her out, and then we're gonna deal with that son of a bitch. Okay?"

[ooc: OKAY, HE WAS VERY EXPRESSIVE. I CAN'T HELP IT.]

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withgunsdrawn
2010-11-05 10:08 am UTC (link)

He didn’t hear Sam coming. He didn’t hear anything except the rush of his blood and his heartbeat, the ragged edge to his breathing, and his entire body tensed at the contact. It could have gone horribly wrong - if this hadn’t been Sam, it probably would have, because Azazel wouldn’t have given him time to go for the holy water, he’d have just ripped him apart (or knocked him out and brought him to where he was keeping Mom, ‘cause if anything would hurt Dean worse than dying it would be watching a demon hurt his family, first-hand watching him tear her open and burn her alive).

>"We're gonna get her out of here, Dean."

But it wasn’t Azazel, it was Sam, and Dean relaxed, letting out a rush of air that sounded somewhere between a sigh and an uneasy laugh, swallowing back the uncertain words that tried to claw their way out of him, you don’t know that, she might not even be alive, what if we’re too late, what the hell do we do if... He wasn’t going to say any of that, not to Sam. Not to anyone in the family, anyone close to this - anyone at all, because outside of family who the hell could he trust enough with something like this?

>"We're gonna find her, we're gonna get her out, and then we're gonna deal with that son of a bitch. Okay?"

He nodded, one hand scrubbing across his face, up through his hair, while the other pressed against the Impala’s cool metal, fingerprints on shiny black paint, as much a part of the family as the rest of them, almost as much a comfort at Sam’s hand on his shoulder, his brother’s presence working like magic to help him focus.

It was probably less to do with believing Sam’s words, and more to do with the fact that Sam being here meant it was time to pull himself together, fit back into the big-brother mindset, instead of the scared kid who missed his mom. Still, either way, it helped, and he looked over at Sam with a thin smile. His quiet “’Kay,” was part agreement and part an unspoken thanks, and the deep breath after while he turned to look back into the trunk was preparation, pushing everything else down, away, aside, and focusing on what they were here to do.

He picked up the axes again, offered one to Sam with a smile, pushing for back to normal and almost making it. But, whatever. It was dark, and this was Sam; if anyone knew when Dean was and wasn't okay, lies or forced smiles aside, it was Sam.

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spendsitonammo
2010-11-06 03:03 am UTC (link)

John was focused. Borderline obsessed about things since Mary had been taken from him again. For half a second he felt a familiar pain trying to engulf him at the fact that not only had he lost his wife once to that yellow eyed son of a bitch, but now twice. Twice his family was torn apart and thrown into a downward mobility. If she died, John didn't know if he could pick up the pieces again. If she was already dead, heads were going to roll. Sure he tried to lean on the positive, but it wasn't often there was enough support from that side of the silver lining for his family to lean on to begin with so he was realistic. Almost robotic.

His truck could have gotten closer to the address, but John was cautious. He didn't have a plan yet. He was going over them in his head, but he could come up with nothing solid without the colt as he put the truck in park behind Dean's. The look on his face when he arrived wasn't promising, but would anyone expect anything different from him? He had always been a hunter first. The job always came before everything else, and that demon with his wife had been the reason for everything bad. That thing took Mary. John for a minute just sat in the driver seat distantly watching his boys with Dean's arsenal and wondered if this was the last time they'd be together.

He couldn't have thoughts like that. No self pity. There wasn't time, and so he coldly jerked a lever to yank open his trunk and forced his door open as if it almost took effort just to move. It was almost like the air itself was different when John got out of the truck and made a silent trek to the back of his car to sort through his weaponry.

Axes were handy. Dean had axes. Probably many of them since he had one for Sam too. John didn't need an axe. A gun with silver bullets could do some minimal damage. He grabbed a few items of choice and began to load them into his jacket despite the warm temperature. Only when he had his weapons did he look up to his boys again. When this was over, maybe things would be different. Maybe they could try again.

He shot Ruby. Sam wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. He knew it, because if their situations were reversed he wouldn't either. He left his keys in the ignition incase they needed a fast getaway and he locked down his trunk again. "We're not going in without a plan." He finally said once he joined Sam and Dean.

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-11-06 07:47 pm UTC (link)

Sam was no foreigner to that false smile that Dean immediately slapped onto his lips. Other folks might have bought it, sure, but not him. He knew Dean too well to believe that he was just fine and dandy - not now, he couldn't be. Neither of them were. Half of him wanted to reach out and confirm that Mom was still in there alive (for now) according to Chuck and his visions, but Sam didn't want to screw this up. If they did find Mom alive and she didn't make it out the door, what use was telling Dean anyway? He would have gotten his hopes up, only to have them crash back down at his feet. Dean didn't deserve to have his emotions toyed with more than they already were, so Sam didn't mention it. Instead, he carefully took the axe that Dean passed over and looked down at it quietly. They were going to have to hack their way into that building. There were no entrances. No windows. It was just one giant box, which made Sam wonder: could Mom even breathe in there? Sam squeezed at the axe handle, decidedly turning for the building. They had to move.

Couldn't move without Dad though and he was only just turning into the scene. Sam tried not to glare too hard at the sight of him - the last thing either of them needed was to get into another argument when they had more important things to deliver on. Still, Sam couldn't help the sarcasm that bled through when he decided to speak to the man. There really was only but so much that he could hold back. "I thought breaking our way in, getting Mom out, and beating Azazel down sounded like a pretty good idea," Sam said shortly, fingers twisting against the axe handle as he spoke. They really needed to move. "Look, if he's there - just, focus on getting Mom out. I'll distract him." Sam didn't want to give either of them the chance to protest his suggestion. It made sense to Sam. Azazel always did have that twisted fascination with him. If Sam pretended to be awestruck by his blood or if he even went at him and attacked him alone, that'd give them enough time to get Mom out the door. Sam didn't have much of an escape plan for himself set into motion yet, but he'd figure something out when the time came along. Hopefully.

Turning, Sam reached into the back of the Impala and pulled up some holy water. It wasn't one of the big containers that they had buried back there, but it was enough so that Sam could effectively use it against Azazel or any other demons that were waiting for them when they got inside. He tucked it into his jacket, then looked at the duo standing beside him. They were still wasting time. Sam knew that being reckless wasn't the way to go about things, but this was their Mom that they were leaving at risk. For all he knew, Azazel could be in there right now. Hurting her. Making her suffer. Making her - "Can we go? Now?"

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withgunsdrawn
2010-11-07 06:39 am UTC (link)

Dad’s arrival only served to solidify the mask Dean had put in place at his brother’s approach - he wasn’t going to show this weakness around his father. Jaw set, chin up, eyes bouncing from Dad to Sam to the building to the axe in his hand and then dropping to skitter on the ground, his father’s feet, listening to his brother’s sarcasm and remembering years of the same tone, years of these little jabs between the fights. It was like no time had passed at all, if he didn’t look, because if he didn’t look he couldn’t see all the differences, for just a second, and it was pretty bad that he was thinking of that time and remembering it as simple, uncomplicated in comparison to today, tonight.

> "Look, if he's there - just, focus on getting Mom out. I'll distract him."

“Sam,” his tone quiet - not quiet enough that John wouldn’t hear, but it was close - and it was still clearly a warning. The last thing he needed right now was to think of what Sam meant by using himself as a distraction, what would happen if they went in to rescue Mom and lost Sam instead. He wasn’t going to think about that, but the seed was planted, now, and he knew it wasn’t going to just go away; he wasn’t going to just let Sam throw himself at Azazel.

He was, however, as willing as his brother was to get in there and get Mom out. He didn’t want to stand around planning, he didn’t want to feel like he was supposed to be doing as he was told, waiting for an order. This was about getting Mom back, this wasn’t some hunt where he needed to fall in line behind his father’s words, and though he didn’t actually say as much, didn’t shoot any looks, he shifted in place enough that it was clear he wanted to get a move-on, too...

...and then turned and headed for the building. He wasn’t going to follow, this time.

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spendsitonammo
2010-11-07 07:47 pm UTC (link)

Sam's sarcasm brought a deadly glare to John's face. His expression hardened at his youngest and he stared him down like a viper going in for the kill. "I hadn't thought of that. "His own tone icy and cold, but his focus switched quickly from Sam to the building where Mary was held hostage. "Pay attention." He started when his son brought up using himself as bait and his brows furrowed. He and Sam had never seen eye to eye, but that didn't mean he wanted to use him against YED and risk losing him ontop of possibly losing Mary.

"You get five minutes when we get to Mary, if you're longer Dean, I want you to leave your mother to me and get to Sammy. " His tone held that strictly no arguments tone he often used on the boys when he was younger and going away for hunts. Where they had zero choice in the matter. He knew Sam wasn't going to like it, but frankly he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. His family's safety was what he cared about. Not what Sam wanted at that time. He knew later there was going to be an argument. He could feel the tension spiking between them.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they had things to talk about, especially considering he shot Sam's girlfriend the last time they were together. But John glared at his kids instead of bringing up other issues. "Just keep your head straight in there." They weren't amateurs, but they were still his kids.

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-11-08 01:09 am UTC (link)

Dean didn't like it. Sam knew that he wouldn't. Fortunately, Dad seemed to find it a sound tactic. Five minutes was all he needed to distract Azazel. Dad and Dean only needed but a few seconds to untie and/or unlock whatever was holding Mom, so Sam wasn't worried about that. He'd give them time to escape, then Sam would work at doing the same. If Dean showed up to back him, then fine. Sam didn't like the idea of Dean being the one in harms way, but he'd deal with it. He'd make sure they both got out, because if he didn't...Sam turned, watching as Dean took the lead and started for the building. He wouldn't lose him. Dean would make it out, Mom would make it out, Dad would make it out - they'd all make it out. Sam might have been making the stupid, sacrificial move here, but he'd be damned if he let Azazel have his way with him or anyone else in his family. They were all getting out. Sam was very set on that much, at least.

Shouldering his axe, Sam shot Dad a smug look at Dean's retreating figure. A tiny smirk was quick to follow before Sam turned and followed his brother. Dean rebelling against Dad's orders, ignoring everything that the man had to say, and taking off on his own without a single word. Sam had to admit, that kind of made him feel all warm and tingly inside.

Keeping an eye on their surroundings, Sam chose to move quickly. Azazel had hidden all entrances and exits to the building Mom was trapped in, which meant that the sound of their hacking at the walls was going to alert him pretty damn quick of their presence if he was nearby. They'd have to be quick and precise if they wanted to get this done, otherwise Sam was going to have to play decoy for much longer than even he wanted to.

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withgunsdrawn
2010-11-08 03:01 am UTC (link)

...As usual, it didn’t seem to enter into their minds that maybe it didn’t have to be that complicated. Using Sam as bait was a horrible idea. If it sounded like a plan, they called it a plan, and he was supposed to just tag along and do as he was told, but this time he wasn’t going to, striding ahead of both of them with his jaw clenched tight and his head down, eyes moving to make sure he wasn’t about to be ambushed or something, and his grip on the axe in his hand shifted to something more ready to chop down a wall with.

He didn’t need to be told to make sure Sam got out of there okay - that was probably the part that chafed the most, because it reminded him of every other job they’d done together, every time his father had left them behind for a job they weren’t good enough (or old enough) to help with. Look after Sammy, which had been twisted around and turned into If you can’t save him, you’ll have to kill him, and ruined everything.

That had been the start of their downfall, hadn’t it? If Dad had never said that, things would have been fine - because it didn’t matter what Dad said, he was never going to be able to hurt Sam.

The impact of the blade of his axe with the outside of the building was satisfying ~~but not quite what he wanted, it didn’t sound right and there was no blood, it wasn’t quite~~ - and it looked like they’d be able to get through it, thankfully. He hadn’t even though about what if it’s brick, until the first splinters of wood were falling around him and he felt like he could breathe again, because they were going to get in and they were going to get her out of there and then everything was going to be fine, damnit, because he wasn’t going to let it be anything else.

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spendsitonammo
2010-11-08 03:15 am UTC (link)

John wanted nothing more then to kick both of their asses currently, but they had more pressing matters ahead. Mary needed to be rescued and that was first priority and should have been the only thing on his mind. Both of his boys were defying him, he didn't know if he could reign them in the way he used too ever again either. It was a little depressing really. He watched Sam give him that look, and his own expression darkened.

If only you were a teenager again I'd- His thought process stopped short. He'd do what? Ruin them all over again like he had in the past? Instead of internally fighting himself he followed them toward the building and stood back to make sure nothing went wrong. He would always have their back no matter how things were going in the family. That's what they were. That was how family operated.

Just because they fought didn't mean much, besides lately that was all John, Sam, and Dean did. Fight and bicker. Deep, deep down they were still connected, and John didn't want to lose that again. He pulled one of his guns out of his jacket and watched Dean's back. Just incase Yellow Eyes had a few surprises waiting for them.

He double checked his weapon, and then looked back over his shoulder watching Dean chip away at the wood for a second. It could have been the last time they were all standing there together. John knew that. Yellow Eyes was what tore his family apart the first round, if it happened a second time he didn't know if he could deal with it.

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_takeasadsong
2010-11-08 04:43 am UTC (link)

Mary had grown up a hunter but she'd never really been hurt, at least not the way she could guess John had been from the scars that had appeared along with the years (blink and your husband is twenty years older than you, she'd thought half bitter and half awed at the chance to think it at all, blink and there's skin puckering on his side and a line on his calf) not the way she tried not to think about Sam and Dean being hurt. She'd always hunted under her parents' watchful eyes, had been expertly trained by someone who had generations of experience behind them. There had been no trial and error, she'd been given hunts that matched her skill level and, for a hunter, she'd emerged relatively unscathed until the night of her death. That meant broken bones and sprains, pulled muscles, abrasions, and shallow cuts as opposed to guts hanging out, massive blood loss, the loss of a limb, a crippling injury. Still, she'd been confident of her ability to stand up to pain and fear and hopelessness, had thought her former life would inoculate her against panic like the weak strains of a vaccine against disease.

She'd been partially right: she hadn't lost herself in the past few days. She hadn't stopped looking for a way out, hadn't given in or begged, hadn't forgotten her husband or children, her worry for them, just because she was being hurt. But she would never again be so blithely confident, so stupid, as to say 'I'm not hurt' if she couldn't see blood. She'd learned that the anticipation of pain was almost (but not quite) as bad as the moments when Azazel would come back and she'd feel a crushing in her chest or a sawing on her nerves, senseless and terrible, until (for those few moments) she'd forgotten everything but that pain. If, while it was happening, you'd asked her name, the names of her children, in that moment she couldn't have said, everything about herself lost in what was happening in the nerves and other more subtle intricacies of her body. That was far more terrifying than an injury after all, a leg could be severed, a bone broken, but you were still whole, still yourself. The kind of sanitized,bloodless pain Azazel was using was different, it went after your mind and that was what it would eventually break.

Aside from some minor bruises and contusions she wasn't outwardly injured. She'd done most of the damage to her hands herself actually, yanking the bed apart to make a weapon, hacking at the walls with the springs from the mattress. It hadn't done any good of course, Azazel had knocked aside the slat she'd wielded like a club and the walls had stood up ably to the springs. Still, she knew if she hadn't at least tried, if she didn't keep trying, she would give in after all.

So when the ax-blows on the wall began she dragged herself to her feet, pushing off against the wall opposite to where the strikes were coming from and steadied herself. Have to face it standing, she thought, curling her hands into fists. Then, slowly, it occurred to her that Azazel had no reason to hack at the walls (unless he was playing a game wanting her to think she was being rescued only to pull the rug out from under her, but if that was it, it wasn't as if there was anything she could do about it anyway...) and that she could hear noises of exertion as the wood began to crumble in front of her.

She took a careful step forward and, making her voice steady out of sheer force of will, called out “Who's there?”

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-11-08 05:25 am UTC (link)

The thud of Sam's axe hitting the wall joined Dean's own, doubling their efforts at tearing into the closed off building. Taking advantage of his largely built figure, Sam swung at the wall hard and quick, desperate to tear away each and every bit of plaster and wood that separated himself and his mother. Even though things were very much tense between the Winchester men lately, Sam had to give his brother and father credit where it was due: they still knew how to work together, even without having to come up with an actual game plan before striding into the fight. Dad knew to keep guard; scan the perimeter, make sure nothing was coming at them from behind, above, or even right in front of them. Dean knew to work hard and fast, too; attacking the wall with the same level of ferocity as Sam, knowing that there wasn't a single moment to waste. They may not have particularly liked each other a terribly large amount right now, but they were still a team and they knew damn well how to act like one.

It seemed like Sam and Dean were finally making a little progress at tearing through the wall - a hole was finally beginning to break into sight - when Sam heard it. Not it - her. His muscles tensed, axe pausing mid-swing. Who's there?

"Sam," he immediately started. Sam shot Dean a pointed look, putting a hand out to indicate that he needed to stop swinging for a second. At that, Sam pressed in closer to the wall. He tried to peer through the hole that they'd created, but it wasn't big enough for Sam to see through yet. There was just black - bits and pieces of wall still blocking off the way to the other side, probably. That didn't mean that they hadn't done enough damage for Sam to hear and speak through the wall though, so he pushed his ear to the surface and immediately began to speak in a hurried tone. "It's Sam," he repeated, a little more loudly. "I'm here with Dad and Dean." His heart tugged in his chest anxiously, every bit of his being demanding that Sam ask if she was okay. Was she hurt? What had Azazel done to her? Was he in there with her? No, Sam realized. He couldn't have been, he wouldn't have let her speak, let alone approach the wall...unless he was trying to screw with them? It wouldn't have been the first time. Maybe he was really talking to Azazel right now. Sam didn't know. Fortunately, Dad was still standing behind them with his gun trained upward, ready for anything unpleasant that might break out of that wall. Sam trusted that he knew to keep it that way too, even in spite of the voice that they were facing now. They'd just have to keep working and hope that it really was Mary Winchester on the other side of that wall.

Sam hadn't prayed in a long time. Once Uriel and Zachariah had touched down to show the world what angels really were like, Sam had stopped. Discovering that he had spent his entire life praying to a bunch of douchebags with wings had been the end of the line for him. No more prayers, no more questions of guidance from God - nothing. But now...

If there really is someone out there looking out for the little guys like me down here, Sam thought in a panic, please. Let this be her. Let her be safe.

"Get away from the wall," he said sharply. "We're breaking through." Then, with a strong sense of determination glinting in his eyes, Sam dragged his axe over his shoulder and swung at the wall even harder.

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