Artemis runs over to pull the arrow from their bodies, but it's too late. She holds both her father's and Prometheus's hands, then looks up at Haley. After a while, she lets go of Prometheus's hand. She disappears with her father, but leaves the Titan behind, leaving him to his survivors.
Somewhere in the night, the Winchesters have constructed a funeral pyre for Prometheus. One of Dean's main jobs has always been to light whatever fires need lighting, and so it is here. As Prometheus's shrouded body burns, Dean goes to stand beside Haley. "I'm sorry," she says, for screwing up their plans. There are a lot of things Dean could say, but doesn't, because he's generally a decent person. Instead, he puts an arm around her shoulder and offers her comfort. This leaves Sam to comfort Oliver, who's sitting in the open back of the minivan. "How about we go get some ice cream sundaes?" Sam asks. Yes, what kid doesn't have a raging appetite after not only watching his father die, but smelling his corpse burn? Oliver, who's been mute until now, finds his voice. "No, I'd like to stay," he says. He looks surprisingly wise and weary for one of such a tender age. The young actor has a very natural delivery, not stilted or overdone at all. Good job, kiddo.
The Winchesters haven't lost their appetites, though, and munch on burgers as they head back to the Lair O' Letters. "How'd you know Artemis had the hots for Prometheus?" Dean asks. "Intuition?" Sam says, but it sounds like a question. "Luck?" he guesses again. Maybe this, along with the trialberculosis, is some side effect of undertaking God's tests? Additionally, Sam is feeling pretty self-reflective. "I'm starting to think maybe I was being naïve," he says, "when I said that could just will myself into coming out of these trials unscathed." Dean tells him to stow the emo crap. "You're not gonna die like Prometheus," he says. "If you die, it's gonna be because of something normal." That gets him a little smile. "Like a heart attack?" Sam asks. "Yeah," Dean says, and tells him to eat his burger. Hee. Also: aww.
But, as usual, Dean's confidence is for Sam's sake. When they get back to the Lair O' Letters, Dean heads for his room and sinks down onto the edge of his bed like a two-ton weight is on his shoulders. He cases his gaze heavenward. "Cass, you got your ears on?" He gets only silence in return, but goes on anyway. "Listen, you know I'm not one for praying, because in my book it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me." Quiet guitar music plays in the background, and even as soft as it is, it feels like an intrusion here. "We are going into this deal blind, and I don't know what's ahead, or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me." Which means we should start steeling ourselves now for the monumental, self-loathing guilt Dean will feel by season's end, even though Sam practically begged to be allowed to do the trials himself. "So for all that we have been through," Dean says to his absent angel, "I'm asking you... keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?" He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks around, hoping to see Castiel standing there behind him, as he often has. But there's no angel there, and perhaps none can hear him through the Lair's walls. It's warded against all evil, and maybe that includes angels who've been under Naomi's control. Dean despairs. "Where the hell are you, man?"