Hi everyone. This story is set in the episode The End. It follows my character Miriana from my other fic Still Unbroken and It's Not the End of the World Baby, so I'm not sure if you have to read the other fics to understand it. I don't think so, but some bits might be confusing if you haven't read the others. I loved the episode so much I decided to do a mini fic based around it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter, and I'll try to update regularly, but my other fic takes precedence. :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I don't supernatural or its characters (wails in the corner). Lyrics belong to Stephenie Bentley.

23rd September, 2012

I will survive; I will endure, when the goings rough, you can't be sure,

I'll tough it out, I won't cave in, If I'm knocked down I'll get up again,

As long as my dreams alive, I will survive

The world is officially in the shit.

This thought was in Miriana Westchild's head as she drove the battered Chevy truck down the deserted highway, eyes scanning back and forth across the empty road for any sign of demons or croats. She hated the stupid bastard truck; it was too loud and guzzled way too much petrol, which was virtually impossible to come by nowadays. She missed her Mercedes with its quiet purr and superior engine, but that was long gone now, destroyed by a petrol bomb thrown when there was a riot about the distribution of antidotes to the virus in Chicago. Of course the antidote proved useless. The virus was of demonic origin, cooked up by Lucifer and Pestilence in the fires of Hell, and as such human medicine was useless. But they hadn't known that back then.

She glanced across at her cousin Nate, who was fast asleep in the seat, his head resting against the window, a book open in his lap. Since the world ended, Nate had read more than ever, ensuring that Miriana had loaded a considerable amount of books from their aunt's library after they had fled the house when she had come down with the virus. Miriana could still hear the sharp crack of the gun as she had shot her Aunt Eve right in the forehead at point blank range, still see the blood pooling across Eve's prized cream carpet, remember the crazed look in her aunt's eyes as she'd lunged at her with the knife. She shook her head forcibly to remove the disturbing memories and returned her eyes to her cousin. He had turned twenty two a few days ago, but it hadn't been a happy affair. Miriana had broken into an old supermarket to try and find some alcohol and maybe a few bars of chocolate to give to him as a present but had run into a huge nest of Croats and had ended up being chased by a screaming horde of the infected until she eventually managed to throw them off by running into a thick copse of trees on the edge of the town. She had had to return to the truck empty handed and exhausted.

She was more than a little impressed by the maturity and strength that her cousin had shown in the past twelve months. She had half expected him to break down like the rest of the world, but he just got his head down and carried on, resilient in the face of adversity. He never complained, and he helped Miriana constantly, even on some of her more reckless missions to get food, water and clothes. She knew he cried often; more than a few times she had heard his muffled sobs in the dead of night when he thought she was fast asleep, but he never cried in front of her. More often than not it had been him holding her whilst she sobbed her heart out, an unexpected and very sad role reversal.

Miriana fiddled with the radio, but she was met with a wall of static. She didn't really expect anything else. Very few radio stations operated anymore, except those in the safe zones and the occasional government or military station, but the reception was usually so bad she couldn't hear anything anyway. Most of the time, Miriana would put on one of the CD's from the huge collection she had taken from the house on to fill the silence, but Nate was exhausted and she didn't want to wake him up. Instead she had the silence and her own anxious thoughts for company. She continued to scan the road, noting a fire burning in the next field, but there was no sign of any activity. There were fires everywhere these days, and most of them would burn for days or weeks, now they were no fire fighters. The rain would put it out when it came, which it nearly always did. It seemed that along with humanity, the sun had been chased away.

She knew that most sensible people would get themselves to the nearest safe zone and stay there for as long as they could, but Miriana found she and Nate were far better alone. She no longer trusted other human beings, not after everything she had been though. The world was a now a cut throat place; there was little trust or compassion anymore. At least that was the answer she always gave Nate on the rare occasion he questioned her actions, and it was the answer she always gave herself. Deep down though, she knew there was a completely different reason. Since she had left Dean and the others in Detroit, she was almost terrified to see them again, especially after what had happened in Detroit and before, when she had been travelling with them. The real reason for her reluctance to stay in a safe zone was that she risked running into and Dean and...Him. She fingered the silver pentagram charm around her neck, remembering the day he had given it to her, handing it to her with fingers shaking from anticipation. Without thinking, she reached into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, her fingers closing over the cool, silky material of the midnight blue tie in her pocket.

At that moment Nate jerked suddenly awake, and she hastily stuffed the tie back into her pocket, not wanting him to see her still pining over him.

He rubbed his eyes, and Miriana noticed his hands were shaking. "You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Fine. Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Michigan," she answered, "All the road signs have been destroyed, so I'm not too sure, but I think we're just outside of Fairview."

"Any activity?" he asked, glancing out of the window.

"Nothing," she said, "It's dead round here."

"Yeah, that's what we thought about that town in Minnesota, but we soon found out otherwise," he said dryly. Miriana remembered that city well. It had seemed completely deserted by croats, demons or survivors, so she and Nate had decided it was the perfect place to park the truck and sleep for the night. It was only when the croats had been banging on the windows of the car that they had discovered the town was most certainly not deserted. It had been the most terrifying drive of Miriana's life trying to shake them off.

"Well we're not stopping," she said, reflexively glancing in the mirror for anything on the road behind them, "I'll keep driving."

"Miriana," Nate said, his tone disapproving, "You need some rest."

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed, "We've had this discussion."

"You're not sleeping," he said, with the tone of a concerned parent, "It's not healthy."

"I try to sleep, Nate honestly, I do," she said, voice pleading, "But I just...can't."

"I know you have nightmares," Nate said softly, "But you need to sleep. Let me drive for a bit."

"No."

"Look honestly, I'm not really bothered about you, I just don't want you falling asleep on me and crashing the car. I'm too precious," he joked, punching her arm lightly.

His humour won her over, "Fine. Just be careful."

She braked gently, climbing out of the driver's seat and dashing around to the passenger's seat. She always felt oddly exposed out of the car, as if there were hostile eyes on her. She slumped down into the seat, flicking through the glove box, looking for the canister of sleeping pills. Now she wasn't focused on driving, she found she was actually quite tired. She shook a few pills out onto her hand and swallowed them without water, ignoring Nate's disapproving look.

"Wake me up if something bad happens, will you?"

"Sure thing," Nate replied, focusing his attention on the road.

After a few minutes Miriana felt the sleeping pills begin to take hold, dulling her senses and making her eyelids feel like there were lead weights tied to them. Medication was the only way she could ensure she actually got to sleep, and usually she would be woken up by nightmares. At least she would get some rest; it was better than nothing.

She closed her eyes, succumbing to dreams of hellfire and the end of the world.