Epilogue: Death to Life

Everyone dies. This is a simple fact of the universe. Human life is so short, so fleeting. And the good die young. Relatively.

Crowley is the first to go. He takes on a pack of werewolves solo and gets torn to shreds. Dean and Cas track the wolves down and put them down with a few well placed silver bullets. Cas' aim has improved greatly. He kills them with a cool precision that Dean notices because it's the way he gets when he's angry. Things were never exactly friendly between Cas and Crowley, but they'd saved each other's lives enough that they had a kind of loyalty to each other even Dean didn't really understand.

Kevin doesn't take it well either. He doesn't help with decommissioning Crowley's car, and he almost doesn't come to help bury him beside Sam at the old church.

"You knew he would die first," Kevin says, staring at the fresh dirt with red eyes.

"Yeah," Dean says. He can't really explain why, but it's true.

They have to find a new pattern. There's more work for Dean and Cas to do and less for Kevin because he only has to research one case at a time.

They store Crowley's things with Sam's since they could never really get rid of anything. It's strange to have an empty room in the bunker, to feel the absence of someone none of them thought they would like. But there is a hole, and it's not just the workload. It's the expectation that they will hear that stuck up British accent complaining about something new every ten minutes. All of Dean's bluster isn't enough to fill the silence. Cas and Kevin don't even try.

It's quiet like that for a long time. No one really tries to make conversation other than about work. They don't slow down on that. Eventually, they get used to it. Dean stops thinking about how Kevin is still a kid. They all become harder because they have to.

Three years later, Kevin is hit by a car. It's the most absolutely mundane way to go aside from dying of old age which none of them were ever going to do anyway. There's a period after that when Dean and Cas don't hunt. They bury Kevin by the old church, and Dean has to wonder which one of them will have to bury the next, and who will be there when the last one goes. The break doesn't last long though, because Cas soon finds another case and he and Dean hit the road. It's almost like it used to be with Sam, just the two of them with no one else to rely on.

In dark motel rooms at three AM, Dean listens to the sound of Cas' breathing to remind himself that they're still alive. That Cas hasn't left him yet. That Cas will never leave him. He promised.

Sometimes, Cas wakes in the middle of the night shouting at nothing. Dean knows it's the angels. They haunt him every moment, and they never leave. It's gotten worse since Kevin died. When they're out on a case, Cas never sleeps a full night through, and Dean has a feeling he doesn't sleep well at home either. The bunker is too quiet. The noise used to help Cas sleep, but Dean can't fill the gap Crowley and Kevin have left on his own.

They go on like this because they have no choice. They hunt every evil thing they can find. They go through the motions. Dean tries to remember things like sunrises and snow angels, but he can't seem to make the leap from the life they have to the life they should have had.

Sometimes, Dean makes the mistake of thinking about Sam. He thinks of how easy it would be to drive off a bridge and end it for both of them. But he doesn't because he's still fighting. Not because he wants to, but because it's what he does. Dean fights. Dean never gives up.

But a time comes when he feels like it. Cas gets careless. It's a wonder it didn't happen sooner with what little sleep he gets. He reacts too slowly when a very angry spirit knocks the rock salt gun out of his hands. Dean doesn't see it happen. He's busy searching the upstairs of the run down house where the ghost likes to kill people by cutting them into little pieces.

Dean hears Cas' screams from downstairs and runs toward the sound. He shoots the ghost, and it dissipates, but Cas is already on the floor bleeding from several cuts across his torso.

Dean drops the shotgun and sinks to his knees beside Cas. He tries to find the source of the blood, but it seems to be coming from everywhere. Cas is staring at the ceiling, choking and flailing with his hands. He's trying to say something, but Dean can't deal with that right now. He's trying to stop his friend—his reason for living—from bleeding to death.

"Dean..." Cas manages to say.

"Don't try to talk," Dean replies. "You're gonna be fine. Just hang on."

"Dean... it's... going to be... okay."

"No. No, don't you dare give up on me now!"

But it's already over. Cas has lost too much blood. He's dying right now, and Dean is wasting time in denial.

"Cas..." Suddenly, Dean can't breathe. It's too soon. He's not ready for this.

"I'll see you... soon," Cas says. "Just a... little while."

"Don't—" Dean's vision blurs, and he can't speak through the lump in his throat. He doesn't want it to end like this. He doesn't want it to end at all. He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he'll see Cas again, but right now, he's about to be all alone in the world.

"I'm sorry." Cas' voice quivers. "I... did my best."

"Yeah." Dean tries to put on a brave face, even though he's failing miserably. "You did good, Cas."

"Dean... you were... the best. I—" Cas chokes on his own blood, and Dean wishes he could close his eyes and pretend this isn't happening. "I'll miss you." Cas starts to close his eyes, but Dean can't let him go just yet.

"Hey," he says. "You tell Sam—tell everybody I'll be there, all right. You tell him—"

"I will." Cas' voice is now a whisper. He's almost gone.

"Cas." Dean has so many things he wants to say, but only one comes to mind. "Don't leave me. Cas, please... don't leave me."

Dean's fingers dig into Cas' bloody coat. The one Dean bought in Oregon. It's been destroyed now too. Cas is gone, but Dean hangs on a little longer. He leans forward with his face against Cas' chest. There's no more heartbeat, no pulse, no warmth in the empty body.

Cas is really dead.

Dean thinks of all the things he could do to bring his friend back, and he knows that none of it will give him what he wants. Dean wants to die too. He wants to be with the people he loves. Not here, fighting day after day in an endless war against evil. There will always be evil, and Dean just wishes he could leave it behind.

After a long time, Dean sits up and leans against the wall. His hands and face are covered in Cas' blood, and he doesn't have any more tears left.

Dean finishes the case on his own. He doesn't feel anything when he lights the ghost's corpse on fire. He used to like this part, but it's not the same knowing he's sending Cas' killer to Hell. That should give him some comfort, but it doesn't. There's only a cold numbness in the place of any of the usual emotions.

Dean remembers this feeling, the complete emptiness he felt years ago when Sam died. It's the same thing, and Dean knows how it's going to go. He buries Cas alongside the others, knowing that he's finally alone.

Every morning he wakes up wondering how the world can keep spinning when he's lost everything, wondering if this will be his last day. But life goes on, seemingly forever. Dean loses track. He hunts alone. The radio seems to become louder every day just to fill the silence that threatens to crush his resolve. He's not going to give up. Not because he wants to live, but because he's too damn stubborn to go easy. That impulse to drive into oncoming traffic is still there. But it's just a feeling. Dean knows how to deny what he wants. Years of sacrifice have prepared him for this. It's a long haul, not like dying for someone. It's not Hell though. There's still hope. That's all Dean has to keep himself from complete despair.

Eventually, he closes up the bunker and leaves the key in Charlie's mailbox. He lives out of the Impala again. All of Sam's journals lay on the floor of the backseat. Dean sleeps on the front seat and wakes up thinking he might see Sam beside him. Maybe he'll just die because he doesn't have a reason to live.

But he lives. He eats and sleeps and hunts. He doesn't get involved. He doesn't make friends.

He remembers with bitterness the time he told Cas that he would die alone. He hadn't said it because that was what he wanted. He'd said it because it's true. When he dies, Dean is alone in every sense of the word. There's no one coming to save him, no one to miss him, no one he will miss.

He's locked in an empty room of an abandoned cabin, destined to be the midnight snack of a Wendigo. Dean refuses to go that way. He's got nothing to fight with, though. There's only one option. He realizes this as he stares at the one useful item he still possesses: his lighter. He's going to burn the house down, with himself and the monster inside it. It's better than letting it eat him.

As he gathers up what little fuel he can find, Dean thinks it's a little ironic that he's going to die by his own hands after all. It's not as if he has much of a choice, and at least he's accomplishing something good by his death.

With a pile of rotting rags, scraps of paper, and pieces of the floorboards at his feet, Dean hesitates. There will be no going back from this, no chance at being rescued. He's going to die, and for the first time in a long time, he is afraid. It's a fleeting emotion, but it's there. He felt it. And he's ashamed of it. After everything Sam promised him, what right does Dean have to be afraid? Maybe he deserves to be a monster's lunch.

He shakes it off. He tells himself to be happy that he's going to see Sam very soon. But somehow, he can't be. Dying like this was never really an option as much as Dean felt like it was. It seems like a coward's way out. He doesn't have a choice; he knows this.

Dean kneels down beside his improvised kindling. He holds his lighter in front of him and takes a shaky breath. He doesn't relish being burned alive, and he's hoping to pass out from smoke inhalation before that happens.

"I'm coming, Sammy," Dean says. He hadn't realized when he started crying, but he can hear it in his own voice. "I'm sorry... Don't hate me for this."

Dean ignites the lighter and drops it into the floor. Even without an accelerant, the dry materials burn quickly. Dean has placed them by the corner of the room, closest to where he believes the Wendigo to be. Hopefully, the fire will get into the walls before the creature has a chance to escape.

Dean stands back and watches the fire grow. With no ventilation, it soon becomes difficult to breathe. The heat radiates more and more. Dean moves to the far corner of the room to find some relief. He knows he could get down on the floor to avoid the smoke, but that won't last long. It's probably better if he breathes as much of it as he can.

The fire spreads quicker than Dean thought it would. The opposite wall is soon engulfed, and the flames continue moving outward. Dean has no way of knowing if the Wendigo is still in the building or not. He doesn't know if his death will really mean anything, but it's too late to go back now. He tries to take a deep breath and ends up choking violently. He falls to his knees and tries to breathe, but there's barely any oxygen left. He inhales the toxic air and coughs it back up until he's dizzy and seeing spots. The heat is getting closer, and Dean sinks the rest of the way to the floor, his face resting against the rough wooden planks. He closes his eyes and there's nothing. No lifetime flashing before him, no vision of Heaven or white light to follow. There's only darkness as he lets himself slip into oblivion.

~oOo~

It must be hours, days, weeks later when Dean returns to awareness, feeling a warm light on his face. He smells old leather and motor oil. He doesn't want to open his eyes or think about where he is. If he just stays like this, he can imagine he's fallen asleep in the Impala on the side of the road somewhere. He doesn't have to remember that he's dead.

Dean's not sure why he's putting this off—except that deep down inside, maybe he doesn't really believe that Sam will be here. The real Sam, as opposed to just a memory. Dean can't seem to shake the years of nightmares taking the form of his little brother. It's the only version of Sam he's had since his near death vision. And he holds on to that like a lifeline, but sometimes, he's not sure it's enough.

But Dean has never been one to shy away from the unknown, so he opens his eyes and finds himself sitting in his car on the side of a dirt road surrounded by pine trees. Through the open windows, he hears water running in the distance.

Dean gets out of the car and looks around. It seems to be spring, and there's a cool breeze whistling through the trees. There are no signs of life anywhere, but the road turns off about a quarter of a mile down, so Dean gets back in the car and decides to see what he can find.

It's actually kind of nice, the wind in his hair and a good song on the radio. But there's still that conspicuous absence in the passenger seat. He drives for what may be a minute or an hour (time doesn't seem to make much difference here) when he sees a lone building standing in the distance. From this far, he can't tell what it is, but he has the strongest sense that he needs to go there. And almost as if the world were reading his thoughts, he finds himself much closer than he had been a second ago. That's when he sees the sign that reads "Harvelle's Roadhouse."

Dean stops in the middle of the road and stares. He's really here.

He almost doesn't register when the door opens and someone walks outside and into the road. Dean has to refocus his eyes to see that the figure standing there waiting for him is in fact Sam.

Dean doesn't notice when he gets out of the car and starts running. Before he realizes what's happening, he's got his arms wrapped in a death grip around Sam's neck, and he can't breathe.

"Sam?" he gasps.

"Yeah." Sam's deep voice reverberates in Dean's chest. "It's me. You made it, Dean."

He wants to let go. He wants to look Sam in the eye and know that this is real, but he can't make his arms cooperate. He's afraid that if he lets go, it might all just be a dream.

But Sam doesn't seem to mind. He holds on just as tightly, and that's how Dean knows that he's not a vision or a nightmare. Because Sam has been waiting too. He knows how it feels to be separated from his family.

Dean has to let go because he needs to breathe. And he's surprised to find that he can. His life was full of suffocation; it was only fitting it ended that way. But now, he can really breathe. Sam is standing in front of him, smiling and crying all at once. They're alive. More alive than they've ever been. This is reality. Whatever they had before was some long, terrible dream. They belong here.

"There's a lot of people waiting to see you," Sam says.

It's at that moment Dean realizes what must be coming next. He's not sure he can handle all this. He doesn't even have a name for what he's feeling now. It's something he's never experienced in his life. It just might be happiness.

Inside the Roadhouse, Dean sees what Sam meant. Everyone is there. Ellen, behind the counter serving drinks. Ash, perched atop the pool table with his computer while Jo plays a song on the jukebox. Crowley and Kevin sit at the bar talking animatedly. Bobby, at a corner table with a beer and a book.

Dean doesn't see where Cas comes from, but he's suddenly enveloped in a hug.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean," that familiar gravelly voice says. "Even though..."

Dean takes Cas by the shoulders and looks him in the eye. "This is it, Cas," he says. "This is what we were fighting for. We made it."

Cas smiles in a way Dean has never seen before, and he knows he's right. They fought for each other. They fought for Sam. And they made it.

This is the other side.

The rest of the day passes in a blur for Dean. He knows that he greets everyone and there's lots of hugging and crying and laughing. It's late, and people have started leaving when Dean realizes that he's exhausted. In a good way.

Sam notices and tell Dean to come with him. They step outside into the night, but there seems to be enough light to see by. Sam starts down the road, and Dean follows. Before long, they come to a place that looks incredibly familiar. The flat landscape around the Roadhouse turns to the trees and hills just outside Lebanon, Kansas. The bunker looks just the way Dean had left it, but he's surprised to see it here. For some reason, he'd never imagined Heaven like this. But it's fitting.

Inside, all those who had lived at the bunker in life have arrived. It is as if Dean has gone back in time, only this is better. But there do seem to be small differences in this place. The most obvious is that the door to Dean's room is now further away from the others than it used to be. When Sam opens it, Dean sees why. It's no longer his room from the bunker, but a much bigger space with two beds and a bathroom and tacky wallpaper. Dean immediately knows what it is. It's home. The only home he and Sam ever knew in life. It's the sort of place they always felt they belonged, even after settling in the bunker.

Dean almost laughs at the thought that he's going to be sharing a room with his brother for eternity. He doesn't mind.

When the lights are out, and all is quiet, Dean finds it within himself to ask a question. One that he's been trying not to think about ever since his arrival. But it can't hurt.

"Hey Sam?" he says.

"Yeah?" Sam replies.

"Did you ever find out... what happened to Mom and Dad?"

Sam is silent for a moment, and Dean begins to dread the answer. "I'm still looking," Sam finally says.

Dean turns that over in his mind. That's not so bad. It means they could still be out there somewhere. They have to be somewhere. And he and Sam have forever to find them.

With that thought, Dean falls into sweet, dreamless sleep.

The end.

There you have it. I can't believe it's over. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and added this story to your favorites and alerts. I'm so grateful to all of you for going on this adventure with me. I didn't always know where I was going, but I knew this would be my final destination. I'm a sucker for happy endings, and this was the only one I could envision for Dean. I'm sure his adventures will continue as he and Sam search for their parents and discover all the possibilities of this new world they're in. You have to know they're not just going to sit around telling stories and drinking beer.

For those of you who haven't already, feel free to check out my other Supernatural story "Family of Blood." It's updated every Friday, and I've still got a long way to go on that one. Feel free to check out my Facebook and/or Twitter page for updates on stories. There are links on my profile.

Until next time...