Two brothers and an angel rode in silence, the only noise was the sound of the engine. They were a road trip. A long trip filled with pain, death, grief, loss, and the betrayal from each other. It was rare for them to feel happiness these days. All three yearned for something they knew they couldn't have.
The angel, the eldest of them all, struggled for power. He needed power, and he would give and do almost anything to gain it. He had to stop a very powerful enemy, but he had no way to do so. The other two men in the vehicle knew nothing about the enemy that wished to undo everything these three had given everything to do.
The driver of the Impala was the older brother. He was the one grieving the most, for the woman he loved the most had just died, her son missing as well. Then the closest thing to a father he had left went on without him. Most people would cry. They'd scream. They'd curse and seek comfort from those around them. But the driver didn't, he merely stared out the front window at the winding road.
The youngest was reading a newspaper as they rode on and on… he was researching the hunt, curious about what monster it was exactly. He looked over at his brother. It was okay to cry, but the elder brother didn't care. Tears are a weakness, one that isn't acceptable.
They came to the campsite, ignoring the bloodstained rocks. They had to destroy the monster, they had to end it.
And they did.
Death watched from the sidelines as the three boys vanquished it. These three, always escaping him. He would have no more of it!
"Hello, boys," he said as he appeared behind them. They all jumped in surprise. Death pretended to be proud. Astonished. Amazed. He promised to grant them all one gift as long as it was within his power.
The angel jumped on this without hesitation.
"Power, I need power and strength to destroy my enemy." So Death produced a scroll, one written on parchment with elder wood dowels. Purgatory was written elegantly across it in enochian.
The next was the elder brother. The driver. He was more aware than the others how Death thought.
"I want my friends, my family."
So Death reached down and grabbed a bloodied stone off the campsite ground. He whispered a few words to it and the blood turned blue, the stone turned black. The elder brother took the stone gingerly.
The third, the youngest, was the most cautious. He knew something would happen with these gifts.
"I want something to hide me. Something that will repel demons, angels, and even you, Death, until the time comes that I am ready to die."
Death's false smile didn't falter, but he was cursing at the brother inside.
"As you wish."
Death took off his own coat and mumbled a few words into the fabric. He handed it over.
"As long as you consider this item you's, you will be free of the supernatural world."
The youngest pulled on the coat, the driver stared at the stone, the angel began reading the scroll. And along they went, excited about their new gifts. But it all ended quickly.
The first was the angel. He had won many glorious battles, but the power became too great. The one enemy he couldn't defeat killed him when he was most vulnerable and ran away with the power.
And so, Death took the angel for good. But he gave him one last gift.
The next was the older brother, who brought back the love of his life. She couldn't stay. Or, she could, but she didn't belong there. She cried, begging him to let her go, but he couldn't. He loved her. But, eventually, she went mad and attacked him. He had to destroy her. In grief again, the brother took his own life.
And so, Death took the older brother's soul.
The younger brother could not be found, however. Death gave up eventually. With a grin, he went back to his usual business.
The grieving younger brother rushed into the vets' one day, a dog in his arms. He had hit a dog with his impala.
He fell in love with the vet and adopted the dog. The pain of losing his brothers never fully disappeared, but the love of his own son overpowered it. He tracked down the child his brother had cared for as well, adopting him into his home, but the boy had left one day, never to return.
Many years later, the younger brother took off the cloak while on his deathbed. He gave it to his son with a smile.
When Death came a-knocking, the brother threw open the door.
"Hello, Death."
"Hello, Sam. Are you ready?"
And so, the youngest brother followed Death into the After, happily joined by the those he had lost.