Summary: Dean Winchester leaves a message for all that survived
Warning: This is a very dark piece of writing.
Dedication: This is dedicated to my good friends SouthernDragon and Aquila Tempestas
The camera zooms in on a figure leaning against a menacing black vehicle. He is wearing a pair of tattered and bloody jeans along with a well-worn leather jacket. A necklace with a strange golden pendant hangs around his neck, the pendant seemingly glowing against the black of his shirt. The car behind him gleams in the late day sunlight, the complete opposite of the man standing in front of it.
"Seriously, dude?" says a weak voice off camera, disbelief hinted in those two words.
"Hell, yeah!" the guy in front of the camera grins, green eyes sparkling through the dried blood coating part of his face. "She's my baby; everyone's gotta know that she helped too..."
With that, the easy-going grin is wiped off his face, a serious and sombre expression replacing it. If you looked hard enough, you would be able to see a wince flitter across the man's face.
"Let's get this over with, 'kay Sammy?"
The camera zooms in a little more and the man's face is suddenly crystal clear. He has what some Hollywood agents would call an 'angel face.' Perfect lips, high, sculpted cheekbones, startling clear green eyes framed by ludicrously long, black lashes. If it weren't for the dark, drying blood covering the left side of his face, or the ragged white scar reaching from just above the outside corner of his right eye, down to the edge of his jaw line, the man would have been almost perfect.
"Alright," the man spoke, clear and with determination. "I don't know who is going to hear this and I don't know if this will even work, but I guess I've got a duty to let everyone know, huh?" A deep breath and then he carries on. "Here we go. My name is Dean Winchester and by tomorrow, I will most probably be dead."
A middle aged man sat at the back of the church hall, watching with watery eyes as the video began to play. It was being streamed all over America for the first time since the end of the world had begun, having only been found a few days before next to a burned and barely recognizable body.
The body of Dean Winchester.
Looking back up at the screen, he let his eyes take in the sight of the very-much-alive man leaning against the black Chevy Impala as he spoke. This would be one of the last times he would have spoken, would have smiled; one of the last times he would have lived.
"As most of you watching this will know, something terrible has happened in the past few days. Earth has literally been turned into Hell on Earth, pun intended." There was a quick jerk of his lips into something resembling a smile. "But before I get into all of that serious stuff, there are some things you need to know."
The camera shakes slightly and a flash of panic flies over Dean's face as he quickly asks if someone was okay. The camera steadies.
"My name is Dean Winchester, and to be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea how I am still standing here. You could say that I've had what people call a 'troubled childhood.' My Mom died when I was four in a house fire and ever since then me, my dad and my little bro Sammy moved around a lot.
I learnt a lot in those first few years after Mom's death. I learnt that ghosts were real, and so were demons and a lot of other creatures of the night. I dedicated my life to hunting them down and killing them. Some of it was revenge for my Mom dying, but in the end, it was all about saving people.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm no hero, and I'm definitely ain't no saint. I like to drink, mingle with the opposite sex..." Another jerk of the lips; suggesting something not suitable for younger viewers. "I lied, I stole and I was even on the FBI's Most Wanted list for multiple counts for murder. It was a shape shifter, if you must know." He winked at the camera.
A cough shakes his body as a hand snakes up to cover his mouth. The fit continues for several seconds as the same weak off-camera voice asks if he is okay. "Yeah, I'm OK," is the reply. He lowers his hand from his mouth and the camera catches a glimpse of something darker coating the skin of his palm.
The camera rocks as a sudden explosion rips apart the land somewhere nearby and Dean stumbles before placing a hand on the car and steadying himself. Dust invades the vision of the camera and all that can be seen is grey.
Voices are still being captured; a conversation of two brothers fighting to find each other; making sure that the other is okay.
"Sammy?" A cough. "You okay?"
There's a slight pause before an answer is spoken in a quiet trembling voice. "I... I don't... think so..." Another pause, this time longer. "Sammy?" The sounds of stumbling and feet scuffling across the dusty and uneven ground reach the camera's microphone. The dust begins to clear and Dean's jacket is visible in the lens. He's reaching behind the camera towards someone, whispering unintelligible words.
Suddenly, the camera is moved, the scene changing from leather and grey dust to focus on a young man of about 26, with dirty dark brown hair and soulful dark eyes. Blood is leaking from the corner of his mouth, a stark contrast from the pallid tone of his skin. "Everyone," Dean was saying, "I'd like you to meet my little bro Sammy Winchester – proud owner of the world's best puppy dog eyes." There was a choked laugh as the younger Winchester heard his brother's words.
"Dude, you can't... let that go... can... you..." His voice was a breathless whisper, barely able to be heard. Something faded in those impossibly dark eyes and the camera was turned away just before those eyes closed forever.
The man at the back of the hall took a deep breath at what he had just witnessed and looked around the room. There was not a dry eye to be seen anywhere. Emotions flooded his brain, messing with his thoughts. What those two had to have gone through in their last moments... It was something he never wanted to think about. Ever.
Head bowed, he prayed for the souls of Sam and Dean Winchester. He knew his prayers would most likely never be answered, but he had to try, right? When he turned back to the screen, the camera was focused back at Dean, tears leaking from his impossibly green eyes.
"I'm all alone now. Huh... Mom is gone, Dad is gone and now... now Sammy's gone..." There is a patch of silence where the grief-stricken man struggles to get his emotions under control. "But," he continues, "There's not much I can do about that now. I'm going to join them sooner or later, most likely sooner. I've got so much to tell you, but I'm running out of time."
The scenery shifted and Dean was no longer in the frame. He was speaking, but as he was speaking, the camera was surveying the damage around him. "Right now I'm in Lawrence, Kansas. I thought it would be fitting for it all to end where it started, all those years ago." There was a house, a white house, with a large tree situated out of the front. However, the tree was now partially inside the house. Flames were licking the side of the house, threatening to destroy everything in their path.
"This is where I was born, along with Sammy too. But this was also where my life ended – the night my Mom was killed by a demon. My Dad, well, he made it his personal vendetta to hunt down the bastard that did it and kill it once and for all. In the end," a slight hitch of his voice signalled rough memories. "In the end, he died before he could."
After filming a few more destroyed houses and the street, which the road had been completely torn apart, the camera swept back to film Dean's face.
"But I'm not filming this today to give you my sad sob story; I'm filming this to help you; to let you know what you're up against and how to fight to survive. I'm not trying to scare you or give you nightmares for life. Whether you believe me or not is up to you."
The video went on to say about demons, holy water, salt and everything the human race would need to protect themselves against the very real threat of the Apocalypse.
"I think I'm out of time now." A cough follows the statement, which he doesn't bother to cover his mouth. Blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth, trailing down, a sure sign of impending death. "But I just wanna say a few more things before my time is up." His voice is breathless, his face paling as he speaks.
"I want to thank each and every person who has helped my family over the years. Hunters, regular folk and even a couple of cops," a breathless laugh follows that particular statement. "So if any of you are out there watching, please, carry on. Don't give up. Because giving up means giving up hope and I think that's the only thing this world's got going for it now. Just because I've lost everyone, doesn't mean that you have to as well - "
He cuts off his last word as a massive explosion rips through the street. The camera is suddenly jerked downwards, filming the concrete as its owner begins to run. The run doesn't last for long, when there is a surprised gasp and then the camera is falling. A loud clang reverberates through the microphone as the device lands on the ground, miraculously still filming.
The camera lies there, eerily placed, filming down the length of the street, capturing the destruction and chaos. A bloodied hand lies in front of the filming range, completely still. On the ring finger there is a solid silver-coloured ring, somewhat tarnished.
The scene stays like that for some minutes, barely a sound being caught except for the odd cackle of flames or pop of something exploding. Then, in the distance, a huge billowing cloud of darkness rushes towards the camera. In seconds, the black smoky cloud has covered the lens and everything goes black.
There is not a dry eye in the church as the last remaining video of the Winchester's finishes. The video is the legacy of Dean and Sam Winchester – Hunters from birth until death.
The middle aged man stands up from his eat and exits the room quietly. Once alone, Bobby Singer cries.
A/N: Um, yes it's very dark. Please tell me your thoughts. I haven't written in this style before, so I would love some feedback as to how it went.
Thanks for reading.