Hey, this is a one-shot about Sam and Dean's inability to stay dead, based on the line by Ash, where he says that the Winchesters died a lot of times but that their memories got wiped each time. I got the idea from another fanfiction. I don't know the name, but I'll add it as soon as I find it. It's about Roy and Walt killing the Winchesters and Dean Winchester coming back to kill them. The song I used is Suicidal Failure by Suicidal Tendencies. English isn't my first language, so I apologise for each mistake I made, and you are welcome to point them out if you're polite. Update: Since I was approached about this, I changed it and now the lyrics aren't in it. Which is why I recommend either listening to it while reading or just reading the lyrics before reading it.
I hope you'll enjoy the One-Shot.
How often had they died now? Sam didn't know, he had lost count. They had finally realized something was wrong when Dean turned forty and still looked like he had with 29 ago. It wasn't even a case of 'I'm used to it, I don't realize him aging'. No, it was a case of 'holy shit, he didn't age'.
If you were to hold a picture of Dean when he was 29 next to him, you wouldn't notice a difference.
Sam and Dean had started researching, asking every ally and frienemy they had, searching for answers.
They doubled their efforts once they noticed that Sam wasn't aging either. After they died and came back again they finally decided to summon angel after angel to find answers. No one had any. It was concerning, especially when they asked Castiel and found out that no one had brought them back. Not the angels, not the demons.
They came back on their own.
It was fine at first. They continued to hunt and managed to banish their … condition to the back of their minds. Other hunters started up the legend of the Winchesters, at least until they saw them looking twenty years younger than what they were supposed to look like. That started the suspicion. They hunted and tried to ignore it, at least until the other hunters started hunting them. They figured that no human being could look like this. Sam and Dean disappeared and managed to evade the other hunters. Sam was the first one to bring it up. "We shouldn't be here, Dean." he said. "Most hunters don't manage to live to their sixties, much less looking like this." After that they didn't speak about it again. A hundred years went by, and it was getting harder to continue living like they did. They got tired of life.
"Why can't you give us rest!" Dean pleaded desperately. "What do you want from us?"
Castiel was getting swarmed with pleads to allow them their rest and to just kill them. They were tired. They had seen so much pain, had been hurt so much, sometimes they were tortured, sometimes they were killed. They just weren't able to do this anymore. So they went to sleep. They got Castiel to put their bodies into a stasis with a spell, just to get some rest. They woke up a few years later after an atomic bomb got dropped onto their heads.
They hesitated to try and kill themselves, though. They prided themselves with not having sunken that much, but it was obvious that that pride was lessening with growing frustration and desperation.
Dean was the one that first pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger. The little brother followed faithfully, only for the both of them to wake up an hour later.
They tried everything they thought off. Beheading - they broke into a museum and used the guillotine, they drank poison, they tried suffocating, they tried drowning, they used angel blades, they slit their throats, they overdosed on sleeping pills, they fell to their temporary death, but nothing worked.
They managed to get themselves under control and stopped trying to kill themselves. Sam was optimistic and tried to see the good and Dean was a cynical asshole that covered everything up with sarcasm. They were broken, oh so broken, but they tried to continue doing what they did best. Saving people, hunting things. The hunters had given up, thinking them dead after they had disappeared for years on end, and so they weren't bothered. By no one. No one was able to warn them when the apocalyptic plan 2.0 started up. Started by the demons they released Croatoans. Humans started dying left and right and Sam and Dean were always on the run, searching for groups of survivors, staying a few years, teaching them, then searching for the next group once their lack of aging became noticable. It was fine until they had to travel for weeks to find the next group. Weeks turned into months, until the only groups they managed to find were groups of corpses and skeletons.
They searched for years to find the perfect spot to sleep. They weren't able to die. No one was able to find the reason. "They probably forgot to swith the automatic resurrection switch off." Dean joked weakly and Sam humored him with smile just as weak. They exchanged their goodbyes and then Dean first stuck the blade through Sam's heart, then he layed himself to rest and did the same to himself.