AN: I'm not usually an author that is so inspired by the actors that portray the characters that I dedicate a story to them (nine times out of ten I think that's odd), but Jensen Ackles said something in a recent interview that inspired this piece. So, I suppose you can SAY that this is dedicated to Jensen Ackles. (Not that he will read this or care but well, here goes nothin' folks!)


The apocalypse ended in both Sam and Dean saying yes to Lucifer and Michael, with the promise that Michael would take the son of a bitch down and then everything would be all right again. That both of the brothers would be okay, and that they would be able to live their lives after their time as angel condoms, and that billions of people would be saved and that life on Earth could go on as normal. So, begrudgingly the brothers had agreed, nodded their respects to one another and allowed themselves to be overcome with some of the most aggressive beings in the universe.

The fight had been epic: fire inspiring, all encompassing destruction, and finally, the mutilation of two bodies that had housed the souls of men who tried so desperately to save the world and each other that they had committed the ultimate sacrifice. Michael defeated Lucifer, and he stood proud and tall in his handsome meat suit, bloody and beaten and surveyed the land around him, trees burning, sky dark and looming overhead, and he smiled. He had defeated the brother that had destroyed everything, who had chased their father away, and who had made his family fall completely apart. Satisfaction seeped into every pore of his borrowed body.

He felt the soul of his vessel fighting, the soul could see that his brother's body was on the ground, he could see that it looked like there was no life left in the man he called brother, the man he called son, the man he called friend. And the soul struggled with every ounce of the fight that God had given him. And Michael sighed and remembered his promise, and he healed and relinquished the body.

Dean came to, and ran over to his brother's body, skidded on the dirt and unceremoniously fell beside his brother. "Sammy?" he mewled. "Sammy! Answer Me!" He demanded and did his best to pick up his brother's broken body.

"Michael! You son of a bitch! You said we would be fine! Get down here and fix him!!!" He pulled Sam's body onto his legs. He grabbed Sam's face, looked into his dead eyes and his hands began to shake. "Michael!" he demanded again. He looked back down at his brother and he pushed hair out of his scared wide eyes and began rocking.

"He promised!" He said in a whisper. "He promised!!" He said a little louder. "You promised!" he screamed so loud that his voice cut out in the end.

"I can't help him." Dean turned and the angel stood there, in another vessel.

"What the hell do you mean that you can't help him?!"

"Lucifer did something to his body….did something that, well, it won't allow his soul back in." The weight of devastation locked itself around Dean's throat.

"You son of a bitch. You promised me. You promised. Swore to God." The man shrugged.

'"I guess God didn't see fit to have Sammy live." Dean felt himself begin to hyperventilate, his mind blank except for his bother's weight in his hands.

"Sam deserves to live." He said shakily as tears streamed in a free flow from his wide childlike green eyes.

"I guess not." Michael said and turned away from Dean.

"Wait!" Dean yelled.

"What?"

"Do something."

"It's not in my power."

"But you promised." Dean said in a childlike whisper. Michael gave a small smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"You son of a bitch!!!!" Dean yelled as the angel blinked out of existence

Dean salted and burned his brother's body, went back to Bobby's or rather his house now. Bobby died before the whole show down. The house had been left to the brothers, and Dean rambled through the old house, drinking, and trying to find a purpose. There was none. Yes there were things to hunt and people to save, but the most important people were gone now. There was nothing left for him here.

He packed up some things, threw them in the car and drove, drove and drove some more. Trying to find purpose, trying to find his place, and found none. What he did find was train tracks. He pulled the Impala up on them, and waited. It took only hours before a train came. Dean had a second to recall the math questions that asked about the train and it's speed, was about to turn to Sam and ask when the train came barreling down the track and smashed into the Impala head on, instantly killing the car's sole occupant.

***

"I didn't see it there, and I couldn't get it to move." The train driver said to the police.

"Sir, there is no way I'm going to be able to pull anything salvageable from the car. It looks almost as if the car bled, not that there was a person in here," said the coroner.

"Get what you can for ID. Someone has to know who this person was." The cop said. But he had to admit it. The car did look like it was bleeding. The person inside had been reduced to nothing more than bits of flesh, bone, and blood smeared inside the wreckage of what looked like at one time had been a car. Detective Sampson sighed, this was going to be one of those cases where there was no ending, happy or not, this guy was simply going to disappear, he had a feeling that no one was going to look for the guy who was now indistinguishable from his car.


2/28/10 update: Jensen's idea was that if Dean couldn't be taken out in a blaze of glory then he should be in a head on crash that would wreck Dean and the Impala so their remains were indistinguishsable. The rest of this is all me. Direct quote: "...he added that he felt an appropriate way for Dean to die accidentally (as opposed to going out in a blaze of glory wile fighting evil) would be 'in a head-on car crash, where Dean's remains are indistinguishable from the Impala wreckage" (Knight 14). From Supernatural Magazine March/April edition.