Disclaimer: Supernatural's not mine.
Author's Notes: This is based off of the final episode of Angel, called Not Fade Away. I don't know why, but I ALWAYS imagined Sam and Dean going out just like the end of that episode. (You can see it if you go to YouTube and type in "Not Fade Away Final Scene". It's powerful, dude.) Anyway so here's my interpretation of that into a Supernatural fanfic, credit to Joss Whedon for some of the dialogue, etc. Hope you enjoy.
By the way: It's supposed to be sort of abstract and vague--it's a oneshot. You're not really supposed to know how they got into this situation, or why exactly everything is the way it is, so no, I didn't leave that out just because I'm lazy. Haha.
Fight The Good Fight
"Are we heroes, Dean?" The question came out so suddenly and so unexpectedly that Dean almost swerved the Impala into a tree. After the squeal of rubber on pavement, a string of curse words, and some heavy breathing, Dean turned to look at his brother.
"What the hell, Sam?" Sam's eyes widened as he looked from the tree that had nearly been the death of them to Dean. He coughed.
"I, uh, asked if we were heroes."
"The hell kinda question is that?" Sam shrugged.
"What we do. Does it classify us as heroes?"
"What, you mean like fighting evil and saving people? Yeah, I'd say that makes us heroes. Dude, you nearly got us killed."
"I'm sorry. I was just wondering."
"You pick the worst freakin' times to wonder." It was silent again, and the air was still. Sam drew in a deep breath.
"It's just…not fair."
" 'Course it's not fair, Sam, that's the way life is," Dean said, that matter-of-fact tone in his voice.
"We gotta help all those helpless types and then fight the apocalypse as well?" asked Sam. Dean shrugged.
"It's all the same, Sammy. You gotta fight the good fight. Whichever way you can."
"I don't know if I can, Dean."
"Course you can, don't be an idiot. You never know your strength until you've been tested."
The good fight. And as the rain beat down and the thunder and lightning cracked overhead, glinting off the weapons of the armies that stood in front of him, Sam realized what it meant. He was overcome with a sudden feeling of excitement, of anticipation. He knew what he was about to face, and he wasn't scared. Not one bit. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Dean to show up. A few minutes later, he appeared out of the blinding rain, bruised and broken.
"Took you long enough, didn't it?" Sam fired. "Been waiting forever."
"Not forever, Sammy," Dean said, offering a trademark grin. "But I'd say we're about to find out what forever means." Sam glanced over his brother, taking in his injuries. He walked with a limp, his stomach was slashed, and his arm was bloody, but the fiery glint in his eyes wasn't gone. Far from it. It was burning bright, ready for anything.
He looked out over the advancing armies of hell, the demons, the monsters, the creatures stomping and begging for blood, for violence, for vengeance.
"Okay. I'll take the thirty thousand on the left…"
"You're fading," Sam observed.
"Yeah," Dean groaned, straightening himself up.
"You'll last ten minutes at best," was Sam's comment.
"Oh yeah?" Dean looked up at his little brother's face. "Let's make it memorable, then."
"And in terms of a plan?" Sam queried, ever the resourceful one.
"The good fight, yeah?" Dean nodded. "You never know until you've been tested," Sam said, echoing Dean's words from all those years ago. "I get that now," he added.
"Good." Dean smiled.
"Let's go to work?" asked Sam.
"Let's go to work." And they charged forward, entering the battle against thousands of soldiers, scores of demons, of monsters, of every hell beast imaginable. Two brothers, humans, boys, against all that.
They knew they weren't going to survive, it was impossible to.
But nonetheless, they felt more invincible than ever.