Author's Note: It took me a really long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Nothing felt right, and after a few months, I gave up entirely, until this finally came to me a year later.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

Cas falls first, a blade through his heart, his body dropping limply to the dry earth. The angel who killed him falls to Dean's silent fury, and then the others are upon them.

They strike Dean down viciously, in burning wrath, their blades driving into him over and over again, into this mere mortal who has been their greatest enemy. He falls in silence, his blood pooling beneath him.

And the stroke that kills the righteous man is the angels' undoing.

For as his blood soaks into the earth, the skies darken, and the wind begins to howl through the deserted streets. The clouds whirl overhead, the earth reels and rocks beneath the feet of the angelic horde, and the wrath of the Father descends in fire and smoke.

Judgment is swift and merciless, as the warring angels are struck down where they stand, burned to ashes by white gouts of flame. They have forgotten their purpose, set themselves up as gods - now they pay the price for their pride.

When the smoke clears, humanity crawls out from the ruins and rebuilds, but they do not forget the men whose deaths brought a new age. Over time, the tale of the heroes who saved mankind spreads from town to town, from nation to nation, until the legend of the righteous man and the faithful angel is told throughout the world.

Thus the final prophecy of the Winchester gospels, the one hastily scrawled in ink on the last page of the manuscript, is fulfilled.

"For so shall be shed the blood of the righteous,
- - and the life of the faithful one be spent,
To cleanse the land of all desecration,
- - and open the heavens once more.
And mankind shall walk free upon the earth,
- - and remember from whence their
- - - - salvation came."

And in some remote corner of heaven, Dean sits on an old wooden dock, fishing pole in his hand, and Cas at his side. The fish are biting, the sky is blue, and he can hear Sammy clomping down the dock to join them. A smile crosses his face, and his eyes sparkle with joy as he calls out.

"Sammy - you remember my pie?"

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
- For the Fallen - Binyon