Big thanks to kwater for her beta help on this!! i hope everyone enjoys it while we all wait patiently for season three. hehe

D: I dont own anything.

AT THE END OF ALL THINGS

Dean blinked slowly in the early morning light, the soft golden hues drifting through the half closed curtains, illuminating the dust that filled the room. It was over, everything was over, but still, the world went on, still the sun rose, the birds called, and life resumed. And suddenly, in the new dawn, everything seemed so trivial. So much of his life had been stolen from him, and even more had been given away during the fight. But now, at the end of it all, it didn't seem to matter. The Yellow Eyed Demon was gone, his brother was finally free, and his parents had moved on. It was everything he wanted, everything he had been trained to fight for since the age of four, but now, well now it didn't seem to matter.

He was going to die in a year anyway. And, even though countless demons were dead, there were hundreds more still roaming the earth. Killing the Yellow Eyed Demon didn't bring his mother back, didn't mend the broken heart he had been harboring for twenty three years. The earth didn't shake when justice had finally been served, angels didn't sing on high when his father finally found peace. No, nothing followed his moment of triumph but cold, hard reality. They were still hunters, still in danger, still freaks, and now he knew that nothing would ever change that.

And so, he laid still and silent, staring up at the empty ceiling, the day growing fresh and new just beyond the dirty window. He had been expecting the demon to fall in a blaze of glory, had expected the heavens to rain down upon him with the triumph, to give him back the family he craved so much. But, when all was said and done, he was left with a Sam that may not be the Sam he had protected all his life, and only one short year left to live. And for no real reason, Dean let a single, sad laugh escape his lips.

"Dean?" Sam's voice broke through the gloom of the pre-dawn air, Dean closing his eyes against the interruption.

Because now, possibly for the first time in his life, Dean didn't want anything other than to be alone.

"Dean? Are you alright?" Sam's voice was full of concern, full of fear, but Dean just didn't have the energy to deal with it. He could still hear the demon's words, so clear he wondered if she was in the room.

"But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, the deal's off, Sam goes back to rotting meat in no time."

Dean knew he couldn't let that happen. No matter what his little brother thought and did, Dean knew that he could never let Sam find a way, never let himself be saved. Because he knew, he wouldn't last more than a few minutes without Sam. After all, everything else had been taken, and he would be damned if he was forced to lose more. The Yellow Eyed Demon was dead, his life's quest was supposed to be over, but instead, it was just beginning, and Dean didn't know if he still had the energy to fight.

"Dean, answer me."

"I'm fine, Sammy. Stop asking."

Dean sighed when he heard the other bed creak. Even without looking, Dean knew Sam was sitting up on the bed, his eyes boring into his big brother's back, piercing even in the dim morning light.

"You know." The younger man began; Dean rolling his eyes. "If you want to talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"I'm just saying."

"I'm not deaf, Sam."

"Come on, Dean, we killed The Demon!"

Dean didn't know what to do or say, his little brother was still reveling in their supposed victory, still adamant that he could save his brother. But Dean knew different, knew that everything he had given, everything he had lost had been for nothing. Because, in the end, there was really nothing to win.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, ignoring his brother as he made his way to the kitchenette, his eyes locked on the window, staring out over the distant horizon. He would never be free, and he had finally accepted that. While on earth he was a hunter, a drifter, a killer, and it was something he knew he would never escape. And soon, in three hundred and sixty three days, he would lose what little semblance of freedom he had forever.

"Yeah, Sam." Dean mumbled at his brother's enthusiastic statement. Yeah, they had killed the demon, now what?

"And we know dad's safe now, too." Sam pressed on, though Dean wished he would stop. "So, I mean, we'll get to see him again someday."

"Yeah, right." Dean mumbled, gripping the edge of the sink tight when Sam began to speak again.

"Come on, Dean. I promise, I'm gonna save you."

"From what?" Dean asked, finally turning to face his brother.

"What do you mean, from what?" Sam asked incredulously, obviously wondering how his brother could have forgotten about the deal.

"Nothing." Dean mumbled, pulling on a clean shirt and jeans.

"You can't nothing me, Dean. Now come on, what's wrong?"

"Nothing other than the fact that I have an annoying mother hen instead of a brother."

"Look, Dean, I know you're scared."

"I'm not scared, Sammy." Dean stated smoothly, almost serenely. It was the honest truth; he wasn't afraid of death. He had killed the demon, made sure his little brother was safe. So really, what more did he have to live for?

"Well then I know you're worried."

"I'm not worried either." And again, Dean spoke the honest truth.

"So what?" Sam began, anger creeping into his voice, though it was evident that he was trying to hide it. "You're just gonna sit back and die?"

"Sam--."

"No." Sam began, his voice straining and breaking under the weight of the emotions Dean could tell were over running the younger man. "No."

"It's just. If you can't find a way. If, in the end, I don't make it. I don't want to have wasted whatever time I do have searching for an answer."

"There's no if--."

"There's always an if, Sammy."

"There never used to be." Sam spoke, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

And Dean knew exactly what he meant. There was never an 'if', never a 'maybe' where Sam was involved. Dean was to keep him happy, keep him safe, no matter what the cost. Dean wouldn't except ifs or maybes when it came to his little brother's well being and he wasn't about to start now. If Dean tried to break the contract, Sam would be dead, end of story. And he knew that he could never let his brother make that sacrifice. After all, his soul wasn't worth nearly as much as Sam's life.

"You're gonna go to hell, Dean. Do you understand that?"

"Rivers of fire, devil with a poker. Yeah, Sam, I get it."

"You'll never see either of them again. Not mom, or dad." Sam began, trying and failing to show his brother the true scope of the decision he had made.

"Who says I was going to see them anyway? There's no such thing as heaven, Sam. My life has been decided for me by demons. There's nothing up there watching out for me, no great plan I'm supposed to be apart of. It's just fear, just anger, just demons. And that's all it ever was." And with that Dean turned from the room, gathering his keys and escaping out across the open road.

Dean didn't know how long he'd been driving; the outside world nothing more than a blur. He was one with the road, the hum of the engine mixing with his slow breaths, music beating in time with his heart. And as he drove, a sudden pang of regret flooded through him, Dean finally allowed himself to think about life; after him. The impala would most likely sit somewhere empty and cold, the music no longer blaring, engine long since silent.

And Sam. Maybe he'd go back to school, maybe he'd continue to hunt, Dean wasn't at all sure, and he wondered if his brother would be alone on whatever path he chose. And, if he wasn't, what stories would he tell? Would he talk about his father, or Jessica? Would he tell tall tales of his big brother? Or would he just sweep it all away, lock it in his mind, hidden and erased from the world.

Suddenly, Dean's thoughts shifted to the countless people he had met throughout his life. Would anyone other than hunters know he was gone? Would they even care if they found out he was dead? Dean's thoughts ran through him as he took in everything that was his car. He gripped the steering wheel, studied every inch of the dash. He let himself sink back into the seat, the leather wrapping around him, holding him, cool and comfortable. Because, in three hundred and sixty three days, it was all going to be gone.

Dean mumbled under his breath when he gazed into the rearview mirror. The same white car had been following him for the past thirty minutes, taking every turn he did, and not even trying to hide it. He had tried to lose it once or twice, but when it still managed to follow him even after he floored it across a grass highway divider, Dean decided to give up. Whoever it was wasn't trying to pull him over, they just seemed content to follow him. And Dean knew why.

With another sigh, Dean pulled into a small parking lot off the side of the mountain road, the sign proclaiming, Mason Peak's scenic lookout.

"You know." Dean began, climbing from the impala and turning towards the white honda accord that was now parked beside him. "The whole purpose of me storming out was to get away from you."

"Whoops." Sam stated evenly, leaning against the hood of his 'borrowed car.'

The brothers stood in silence for a long time, both staring out over the mountains before them. The sunrise sending a warm orange glow over the river that cut it's way through the valley beneath them. Dean took in long, slow, deliberate breaths, tasting the air around him, memorizing the feel of it filling his lungs, the way the cool air bit at his face and arms. Because, in three hundred and sixty three days, this would all be gone.

"Sam." Dean began, thankful that his little brother had decided to give him the space he so desperately needed. "I don't want to waste the rest of my life trying to get me out of this deal."

The rest of his life? Three hundred and sixty three measly days.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd save you."

"I know."

"Dean." Sam began, pausing as he searched for the right words. "I've never taken you for granted. Even when I was at school, I never did."

"Then why didn't you call? Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"Honestly. I was afraid dad would get on the line. I didn't know you two were hunting alone. I would have called--."

"It's in the past, Sam."

"It's just, I want you to know I'm sorry, Dean."

"Thanks, Sam."

They stood there for the better part of the morning, watching silently as the sun rose over the land before them, the sky slowly lightening to a near perfect blue as the sun escaped the horizon. Their problems would never be fixed, no matter how many I'm sorry's they shared. But Sam's words had ignited something inside of Dean, given him a hope he hadn't felt since he watched his father die beneath the doctor's frantic hands. And, if by some miracle, he lived past his allotted three hundred and sixty three days, there would be something other than demons ruling his life.

"So." Dean began, turning to his brother after the sun and fully risen. "How far is it to the Grand Canyon?"