AFTERMATH - Peter & Livvy
He didn't have so much as a scratch on him now. His clothes were still shredded and bloodsoaked, red smearing his pale skin, but any trace of actual injury had been healed, thanks to Rose. Rose, who'd been shining gold, power still rolling off her when she... He knew what the Bad Wolf looked like; he'd seen the stupid show. She'd saved him. And she was gone.
All quiet on the battlefield now, and the survivors were limping their way back into Lawrence, to the Roadhouse, or the Inn, or any number of other places. Slow and steady, he made his way to the Roadhouse. He needed to find the others, needed to tell them what happened.
His ears were still ringing from screams and the rush of the Cage as it snapped shut, many of their own inside. His body might have been healed but he was tearing apart inside, silent and agonized. They were trapped in hell. Rose, one of the people who least deserved such a fate, one of his dearest friends, who had stood by him through his worst. Wes. Sam and Dean. Amy, oh god, Amy, his Amy. She was the little sister he'd never had a chance to have growing up, and she was in Hell. Literal, actual hell. Fire and torture and the bloody fucking rack they kept hearing so many horror stories about were waiting for them there, and he couldn't do a fucking thing to help them.
Shattered and in shock from the losses they'd taken, the terrible fate of some of his dearest friends lingering at the forefront of his mind, Peter didn't even realize he'd come to a stop in front of the Roadhouse. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep shuddering breath. Swaying on his feet, his hand came up instinctively to steady himself against the wall of the building.