Two days after Dean learns he's the Michaelsword, he puts a bullet in his head.
It seems, to him, the obvious solution: if he dies, one life among billions, Michael has no vessel. And if Michael has no vessel, there will be no epic battle. If he dies, no one else will have to.
He has little to live for these days anyway. Sam betrayed him for Ruby. His own brother, the one on whom Dean could always rely, chose a demon. Sam listened to evil instead of listening to Dean. Dean is not sure how to face his brother anymore. And without Sam, he has nothing.
Bobby is still hospitalized. Castiel is… God, Dean doesn't even know where Cas is anymore. Alive, thankfully, but doing his own thing. If Dean goes to Heaven when he dies, he prays Castiel will be there to welcome him.
Dean just doesn't want it anymore. Life. He's tired of hunting, tired of always having to be the savior. He's tired of motel rooms and cheeseburgers and one night stands. But more than that, he's tired of the responsibility. Life was hard enough when Dean spent his days fighting evil. But now, with the fate of the world resting on his shoulders? He can't do it. He can't host Michael, but he can't keep saying no either. He can't do this anymore.
So one night, while Sam is sleeping, Dean drives the Impala one last time, far out of town to an empty cornfield. Then he puts a gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.
Dean wakes in the same cornfield, with the gun still in his hand. This can't be Heaven, can it? And it definitely isn't hell. He can pick up the gun, so he's no ghost either. What happened?
He has no idea how much time has passed, but the moon is still high in the sky.
Dean rises, turns around, and is startled by Castiel's sudden presence.
"Jesus, Cas!"
Castiel flinches at the interjection, but continues to stare.
"What's, uh, what's going on? Last I saw you, with Zachariah…"
"That is a story for another time," says Castiel. "The concern here is you, considering you are no longer dead either."
Dean blinks, slowly, and lifts his hands. The glow from the moon illuminates the outlines of his fingers.
"You have been brought back to life," Castiel continues. "Did you honestly think heaven would allow you, Michael's vessel, to die?"
Dean curses under his breath.
"You have a destiny, Dean. One bullet does not change that."
"Now you sound like Zachariah! I thought you were on my side, Cas."
"I am. But Heaven sent me to give you this message, and I feel obliged to deliver."
"Since when do you work for Heaven?"
"You killed yourself, Dean." The look that flashes through Castiel's eyes is injured, almost scared.
It passes through Dean's mind that he didn't consider the repercussions of his suicide. He didn't consider how Castiel would feel. Angels aren't supposed to have emotion, but Castiel is covering his poorly.
"Somebody had to explain the situation to you," Castiel continues. "I may not agree with my brothers and sisters, nor with the commands of Heaven, but I volunteered to come to you. I assumed you would listen more to me than Zachariah."
"Right, right. My angel and all that, raised me from perdition." Dean starts walking towards his car. When he opens the door to get in, Castiel is already in the passenger seat.
"Shit, Castiel, don't do that! Just walk places, like a normal person."
"Dean, you must go back to Sam. Heaven will not let you die so easily. Nor will Sam. Your brother needs you."
More responsibilities.
"Please, just, um." He clears his throat, ducks his chin. "Just leave me alone for a bit."
When he looks up again, Castiel is gone.
What the hell does this mean? It's cruel and unnatural for the archangels to defy death this way. Dean had come to terms with his suicide. He knew it was the right choice. But now death is off the board?
This will not end well. In the end, he may have to say yes to Michael. The alternative is what – refusing for eternity? Immortality? Now there is no way to escape his fate, no way to end it all. Dean cannot avoid the Apocalypse.
Dean cannot stay dead.
He wonders, for a moment, how long he stayed dead this time. A minute, an hour, a day? He remembers ever moment of hell, but this time, Dean remembers nothing past the gunshot. Does that mean he went to Heaven?
For a moment, he's pleased with the idea. After all the evils he's done in his life, all the people who've died for him, it's nice to know he's still en route to the attic. If he ever manages to stay there permanently.
Hell, he just feels so tired. Dean would never tell Sam this, but he was almost looking forward to death, all these years. A release from the responsibilities on his shoulders. Maybe that was why he embraced danger, because Dean has never been enamored with safety. He's afraid of dying, sure, everyone is, but sometimes it sure as hell beats the alternative. There's always been a mysterious draw, for him. Death is the other side of a coin. A state of non-being. Death is a constant future for everyone, something to anticipate. Now Dean doesn't even have that luxury. His life is no longer in his hands.
Was it ever?
That, that scares him the most. All those years fighting demons, even then Heaven knew he was Michael's vessel. So often Dean was in a situation where he was sure he was going to die, but each time he miraculously made it out. He always chalked it up to luck and skill, but maybe it was divine intervention. Heaven would not let him die.
But if that was the case, why did Sam die in South Dakota? Heaven would have brought him back unless… Unless they knew that Dean could not live without his brother. Unless they knew Dean would make a deal.
Put simply, did that mean he spent forty years in Hell, all because the angels were feeling lazy? All because of some divine plan?
He's going to have a talk with Castiel. But not right now. Dean just plugged a bullet in his brain and came out without a scratch. Right now, he needs to be alone with his thoughts.
Maybe it's not so bad. It sure has hell makes hunting easier, without that nagging fear of dying. Now Dean can trust himself completely and go charging into battle unafraid. Take away the risks of his job and he can save a lot more lives. Dean Winchester, Michaelsword and immortal demon hunter. It has a nice ring to it.
Is he immortal though, really? When this is all over, if there's still a Heaven and Earth left, Dean hopes he'll be allowed to die. That sounds silly, but now, faced with the possibility of eternal life, Dean is terrified. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be forced to continue like this. He feels dead already. He's died so many times, this doesn't feel natural anymore. Sex, food, laughter. Life is worthless without death.
Hell and damnation.
Something falls into his mind, an old song by Kansas.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
But for Dean, this will never be over. He will never be done fighting, and now he knows there is no final peace for him.
If death is peace, then Dean is stuck in an endless war.