Just a little one-shot. Dean thinking about what he wants from the afterlife. Possibly a little too broody and "why me". Damn it, I just want him to be happy, but I can't seem to write him that way. So sorry for that. Anyway, hope you like it.

I own nothing.


Sometimes, in his worst moments, Dean just wishes it would all end. That this sorry, painful, bullet-ridden thing someone was cruel enough to call his life, will be over. He is so, so tired. Has been for years. And the end—death, just looks like peace. He isn't afraid of death. They fight monsters, but this sure as hell isn't a fairytale, and death has become his only happy ending. Dean accepts death. It's inevitable, a reward even. What he worries about is what comes after. When he made his crossroads deal, it wasn't dying that scared him, it was the hell that would follow. He'll never forget the torture and depravity of that side of the afterlife. But he also remembers Jo's side. Hard life, died bloody, but later, when he saw her spirit, she seemed happy, at peace.

He can't even remember a time when he thought he could have that kind of contentment. Maybe back when he was 16 or 26 and saw more than death in his future, but those days seem a lifetime away and too bright to look at. Dean has had too many years of pain and hate and loss. Too many years of worry and fear and aching, bone deep tiredness to hope for anything other than death.

He used to want to be the only casualty. To die alone so his dad could keep fighting or Sam could find his normal life. But now, between their two hells, he's learned that it just won't work. Dean can't live without Sam, and Sam can't be human without Dean, so they have to die together. Go out like Butch and Sundance, so neither one is suffering alone. He and Sam deserve that, after all they've been through. To go down fighting, maybe even winning, and finally find peace. Peace only death can bring. But he doesn't think they'll get what they deserve. Because when do they ever? And that's what worries Dean. He's pretty sure heaven won't have them while all of hell will be begging for their souls.

And he doesn't want to end up in either place. Dean knows the endless horrors of hell. And heaven, well, he had his last chance at a happy afterlife there years ago. Before his dad went to hell. Before he went to hell. Maybe back then Dean could have found peace and joy in heaven, but now he has seen behind the curtain. Heaven just seems lonely and fake. No sign of his parents. Ash with his empty bar and Sam with his memories that don't include Dean. No, he doesn't want heaven either.

Most people take comfort in the afterlife, even his brother, but Dean just wishes there wasn't one. He wants life and death and nothing beyond that. When Dean dies he wants it all to just fade to black, the utter peace of nothingness, of nonexistence. That might be the only way he can ever really have peace. Heaven and hell can't give it to him. He doesn't want to look down and worry or regret and he doesn't want to look up and hate or beg. Dean has spent his whole life loving, trying, worrying. Spent his whole life suffering, wanting, drowning in pain. He doesn't want any of that in his afterlife. He doesn't want an afterlife at all, instead just the end, just emptiness.

Maybe somewhere up there in his box seat to this horror show, God will see all Dean has sacrificed and finally be merciful. He'll give Dean simple death and spare him the biblical encore. That's all Dean wants. Just the quiet, cool darkness of the space between life and the afterlife. Not the shadowed darkness of the dingy motel room he's lying in now. Not the brief darkness that comes before dreams full of people he couldn't save, screaming souls in hell, and Sam dying in his arms. Not the darkness of sleep, the blackness of hell, or the emptiness of heaven—just complete darkness where even Dean doesn't exist anymore.


In the middle of the night, somewhere in Michigan, Dean realizes he'll never get what he wants. There is always an after. After Dad died. After hell. After the apocalypse. After Bobby. Pain, death, sadness, end of the world. Rinse and repeat. No matter how bad it gets, there's always an after, so of course there'll be an afterlife. Not the pure and peaceful darkness Dean dreams of. If it can't just end, if the options are just ruthless demons or heavenly dreamscape, then Dean has found a compromise.

Dean is driving, and tonight is just one instance of the most soothing, peaceful sort of darkness he's ever known. The only sound is the soft purr of his Baby's engine and the static of the road under her wheels. A familiar white noise Dean's known all his life—a quiet admittedly more comforting than the absolute silence of his imagined darkness. They're on a backwoods stretch of highway with nothing but fields, trees, and asphalt as far as he can see. No light but the distant stars and the glow of the Impala's headlights. Dean doesn't have to think or worry. There is nothing to remember or plan or fear. Nothing but quiet endless road and the darkness laid out before him, muffling the world until it seems peaceful and still. Like there's nothing but Dean and Sam blazing a line through the ash.

Sam is curled up next to Dean, facing the window, sleeping like he did when he was 5 or 12 or 24. Sleeping like he always has. And Dean, Dean could be 16 or 26 or 32. This moment is timeless the way heaven seems to be. It is the only kind of peace he's ever known. So maybe if they give him this—a road without end in a night-black world with only stars and Sammy and the steering wheel in his hands—maybe Dean would be happy. This night is a mix of his pure darkness and heaven's empty stage sets, an afterlife Dean can accept. One that doesn't force him to remember or regret, just to feel the gears shifting and his brother sleeping beside him. Just to drive forgetting even the destination.

So in the end, when it's all finally over, if he somehow gets in to heaven and those angel bastards show some compassion, he hopes they'll give him the peace and darkness he wants. Nothing but road stretching before him, road without evil at its end. Nothing but stars and Sammy and the steering wheel in his hands. In heaven, if they give him a night like this one, maybe he could finally find some lasting peace.

But Dean isn't going to hope too hard or care too much. Because higher powers have never done the Winchesters any favors. And it's always hoping and caring that hurt him the most. So instead, Dean covers Sam with his coat, turns on the radio, and takes his peace where he can find it.


My first complete Supernatural fic. Please review. :)