Chapter 1

The Winchesters have long since been surrounded by a suffocating veil of death, infecting everything that was consumed by its never ending darkness. Newest on this seemingly endless list was their young prophet companion, advanced placement student from Michigan, Kevin Tran. The young man lay crumpled onto the wooden floors of the Men of Letters' library, his eyes nothing but coal lumps, lying where his sockets once were.

Not a foot away from the remains was eldest Winchester watching the sight in horror. With a shaking hand hovering over his mouth he bit into his thumb to keep from crying out Kevin's name yet again. His muscular legs barely keeping him up forcing him to use one of the large, marble pillars for support. A mantra of 'Kevin', 'Cas' and 'Sammy' were all that passed his trembling lips. In one sudden moment it was as if Dean had lost everything.

On the opposite side of the grand room, was the familiar reaper, Tessa. Next to her, standing tall, wearing a solemn frown was Death himself. They observed as a warm, blue light emitted from Kevin's corpse, transforming into an apparition of the former prophet.

"What happened?" Kevin stuttered, staring at Tessa with a confused and worried look. She looked over to Death who only gave a slight nod, signaling to talk, before disappearing out of sight.

"You're dead," Tess begins with a deep breath. The aching feeling she was getting that Kevin was not supposed to be dead making it harder to explain his newfound predicament, "The angel inside Sam, Gadreel, killed you."

Kevin looked distraught from the new information but masked that emotion with one of fury, "Very funny but joke's over. Who the fuck are you and where are Sam and Dean?"

Wordlessly, Tessa motioned to the other side of the room, to where his body lay. The room was still, only the sound of Dean's raspy voice pleading for help echoed through the space. Kevin walked over slowly in trepidation of what he now saw. He looked at the gruesome sight for only a second before turning away in disgust.

"Nonono" Kevin whispered, then with a stronger voice exclaimed to the reaper, "I can't be dead, Dean and Sam still need help."

He was right, Tessa thought bitterly, he was supposed to have been alive for many more years, hunting with the Winchester boys. Hell, half of the people who defended the Winchesters died an untimely death, but now was not the time for that. She took in a deep breath, pushing back the other thoughts, and responded, "You may be right, but either way it is your time to rest. Your mother and your girlfriend are waiting for you."

"But-," Kevin was cut off.

"Kevin, there's no way to come back, I'm sorry but you need to move on," Tessa declared. She refused to have a good kid like Kevin become a goddamn super-martyr like Dean and Bobby, "You deserve peace."

Kevin's cast his eyes downward, hiding his unshed tears of cruel acceptance, "Okay. Okay I'll go."

Tessa reached out and pulled the former prophet forward, bringing him into a warm hug and with a bright flash of light Kevin was gone.

Elsewhere, in parts unknown to almost every being in the world, sat Chuck. Bottles of whiskey littered the floor, far too many bottles for any human to drink and still be alive let alone conscious. His head was collapsed on the keyboard of his dingy computer.

"How is your story going old friend?" Death asked suddenly appearing in the seat beside Chuck. The only being in the universe that seemed to find him no matter where he was.

Chuck lifted his head just enough to glare at Death himself, "Your reaper just took my prophet, Sam Winchester is almost completely lost from me, my creations are massacring each other. It's going fucking swell. How do you think it is?"

Death nodded, grabbing one of the half empty bottles from nearby and pouring them two glasses.

"I don't know what to do," Chuck took a large swig of whiskey, "I can't intervene because they won't learn, but if I don't…"

Chuck trailed off, looking down at the deep brown liquid, wondering what had gone wrong. Death sighed, it pained him to see his friend like this though his mask of neutrality remained firmly in place.

"You know," Death began, setting down his glass, his brown eyes boring into Chuck's crystal blue ones, "I do believe I may still owe you a favor."

Chuck's head popped up, his eyes full of hope, "Really?"

Death rolled his eyes, "Yes, but this is the last revival you get."

Chuck chuckled cracking his knuckles, ideas of where the story would go now bursting the seams of his brain, "That's what you said when I brought back Dean the first time."

"Have fun with that story of yours. Don't kill of any more of your characters." Death's lip twitched upward before disappearing from the room.

"Now who to write in?" Chuck muttered, drumming his thumbs against the mahogany table before snapping, coming up with the perfect ending for the long Chronicles of the Winchesters.

And in that one moment, when everything seemed to be for naught, Chuck's hands moved hastily across the keyboard, writing faster than he had in ages, a small ray of hope came crashing to the ground in the form of a five foot eight former trickster.

Beta is firefly124