This story was written for a contest on what will happen at the end of the Supernatural series. This is my guess, though only if Supernaatural is not renewed for a fourth season, which better not happen! Or else...

Nothing Ends

"Oh please, Dean," she sneered, looking down at the Winchester with a merciless smile plastered on her human face. "There was nothing in our contract that stated your death had to be quick and painless."

"You bitch." Dean couldn't help but let the insult slip between his snarling lips before he bit his tongue. The demon laughed in response, eyes shimmering red, as she hoisted the gas can from the concrete floor and strolled towards him. He tried to rise from his knees but it was a useless struggle against the demon's strength. She had him in a mental vice and he was powerless, unable to move.

"You knew perfectly well what you were getting yourself into when you sold your soul for your brother's pathetic life," the demon stated as she jerked the can, gasoline splashing against the Winchester's left shoulder. "I held true to my word, though I have to say sometimes I found it quite difficult." Another jolt and the front of the Winchester's grey shirt was drenched in the strong smelling substance.

Dean clenched his eyes shut as he tried to stop the swarming in his head caused by the sickening odour of the gasoline. Deep, possessive anger was brewing within the older Winchester but the dread he felt was preventing him from unleashing it. "Oh yah?" he asked in a surprisingly calm voice, opening his eyes to glare at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing before him. "Why is that?"

The demon smirked. "You and little Sammy were proving quite the challenge for us demons," she admitted as she began to circle the Winchester, clumsily sloshing gasoline over him as she continued to gracefully walk and speak. "You two were really a pain in the ass for a while there, sending demons back wherever you went and whenever you pleased. I mean, I'm the one who brought Sam back from the dead. He was supposed to lead our army, but instead he resisted. He decided to use his powers for good. Who knew he'd be smart enough to discover he was powerful enough? Certainly not me."

Dean heard the demon laugh behind him and then felt a harsh whisper in his ear. "But do you know what gave me ease?" The Winchester grimaced as he felt a slender hand on his shoulder and soft lips tickling his ear. "The fact that in only a year I would finally have you all to myself."

The stench of gasoline was almost overpowering as the remainder of the liquid was poured over Dean's head, dripping down his face as he sputtered. "Me and you Dean," the demon called out, once again standing a few feet before him. "We're going to have one hell of a time!" With these last words she retrieved a match from her pocket and struck it, a dancing flame appearing at its end.

Dean could only watch in horror as the woman casually flicked her hand, the ignited match slipping from her fingertips and twisting towards him. The small flame sent a fierce awe through the Winchester as the stench of gasoline consumed his senses and he kneeled unmoving, frozen as he watched death approach him. He had been somehow waiting for this moment practically all his life, and now that is was finally here, he was lost within it. For it was strangely beautiful, this one flickering flame and the promise that it held. The promise of death.

His eyelids sliding shut, Dean waited for the flame to grow, to consume him until there was nothing left but ashes; Dust that would be picked up by the wind and forgotten over time. He prepared himself for the pain - for the agony that would numb his body - and told himself not to scream. He would not give the demon that satisfaction.

Just as he felt the faint heat of the flame against his cold skin, could feel the uncontrollable energy hidden within it, the feeling was gone. Dean wondered if he was already dead and had simply skipped the painful experience of burning alive, but as he opened his eyes he saw death receding. The match was floating through the air, away from him, where it was immediately extinguished and fell to the ground harmlessly.

Dean only felt confusion as he looked up at the woman still standing before him, but where once sinister mockery had been etched into her feminine features there was now contorted anger. She was glaring at something or someone behind him, and still unable to move, Dean could only listen to the demon's screaming rampage.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shouted, eyes flaming red and voice donning a peculiar deeper note. "You're breaking the deal! He must die!" Her anger suddenly subsided as a realization hit her. She smiled. "Unless you want to die instead. That was the deal, Sammy."

Dean's heart almost stopped at the mention of his brother's name. He had left Sam in Missouri. He had gone off to fulfill his part of the deal alone, not wanting Sam to try to sacrifice himself in return. Dean was furious that the younger Winchester had somehow unknowingly followed him, and true fear gripped him as he heard his brother speak.

"That was the deal."

The demon's eyes flashed red once more as she walked around Dean and out of his sight, but not before sending him a cruel glance. "Don't do it Sam!" Dean shouted, his voice almost catching on the lump growing in his throat. "Don't you dare do it!" The two seemed to ignore him and the older Winchester was helpless as he was forced to face away from them, listening to their strangely calm exchange.

"You Winchester brothers just can't seem to make up your mind, can you?" the demon asked with a chuckle. "All you have to do is decide who's going to die and who's going to live, but instead you want to play this annoying guessing game with me."

"I've decided." Sam's voice answered, low and serious. Dean could picture his brother standing there, tall frame silhouetted by shadows as he looked down at the woman with a fierce determination burning in his eyes. His little brother. Sammy. Sacrificing his life. For him.

Dean couldn't stand the thought and tried once more to break free of the demon's grip, but only gained a small laugh from the woman concerning his pathetic attempt. "Don't strain yourself Dean."

Tears were surging to the older Winchester's eyes as he continued to struggle. "Don't do it Sam! Damn it Sammy, don't do it! Please don't do it. Don't…"

"All right, this is getting all a little bit too emotional for me," the demon announced, impatience clear in her tone. "Are you breaking the deal Sam?"

Dean was silent as he waited for his brother's response, chest heaving in and out. He wordlessly begged his brother to let him die, to declare that he would rather spend eternity in hell than to live a life knowing that both his father and brother had sacrificed their souls for him. However, he knew none of his pleading would be able to reach Sam, and as his brother's answer echoed through the cold room, he felt his soul escape him although he knew he would live to see another day.

"Yes."

There was a small choking noise and then the sound of a body slumping to the ground. Then there was screaming. It took Dean only a few second to realize it was him making the awful sound, shouting his brother's name. He felt the demon's grip slacken and he caught himself, shoulders shaking as he wept on his hands and knees, not daring to look behind him at his brother's lifeless body. He had seen it once before, and he knew that the pain he would feel to set eyes on it a second time would be far too great for him to handle. Instead, he simply remained, tears falling to the concrete floor below him.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and flinched at the touch, but then felt his breathing begin to slow. The tears stopped as he lifted himself from the floor and stood, the hand still positioned on his shoulder as he turned around. Then his breathing stopped altogether.

"Sammy."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was almost a day before he could talk about it. The car trip to the motel had been completely silent, Dean riding shotgun and casting frequent glances at his brother to ensure himself that he was truly there. Alive. The shock at realizing that his brother had not been killed had sent a whole new surge of tears to Dean's eyes, a fact he was embarrassed to admit but also knew his brother would never mention.

He had hugged Sam so tightly that he felt he might suffocate him, and then he could not help but let a large grin consume his face as his eyes found the limp body of the demon lying on the concrete behind his brother. He felt sorrow for the poor woman who had once occupied that carcass before being possessed, but did not dwell on the matter for long. His brother was alive, the demon was somehow dead, and nothing else mattered.

The questions had come the next day, after Dean had taken a long shower to rid himself of the stench of gasoline, although the smell remained days afterwards, reminding him of the moment in which he had almost lost everything. Dean was curious as to how his brother had killed the demon and broken the deal without paying the price. When Sam had been asked to explain, he simply smiled. "These powers I have aren't completely useless."

Dean was stricken by the thought that Sam had overpowered and destroyed a demon simply by using his mind, but his brother's abilities had grown tremendously in control and strength over the past year. It scared Dean sometimes to think about what his brother could easily do simply by thinking it, but then he remembered who his brother was and the fear immediately vanished.

It was night and they were preparing to leave the motel now, both loading the trunk of the black Impala with their few belongings. They had gained wind of another shape shifter two states away, and Dean prayed it would not lead to any further entanglement with the police. He was no longer one of the most wanted men alive, but he didn't want to push his luck with Agent Hendrickson. The agent may have witnessed the supernatural that one time, but he was still a stickler for the law.

"That's it," Sam stated as he shut the trunk and tossed the car keys to his brother, each rounding the Impala to their opposite sides. "I think we can make it by nightfall if we only make one stop, but maybe-" Sam ceased talking as he noticed the expression on his brother's face. Dean had stopped at the driver's door and seemed to be contemplating something, a distressed look gripping him.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked in a soft voice, understanding that it would be a long time – if never - before Dean had fully recovered from the events of the previous day.

The older Winchester's head was hung low, his eyes searching the ground but not really seeing the gravel beneath his boots. "So much has happened," he said, his voice almost a whisper, slightly edgy with anger. "I mean, with mom and dad, the yellow eyed demon, the other hunters… I was just thinking." He looked up at his brother now, eyes open and slightly anxious, his voice softer. "If we saw less, if we knew less, we wouldn't need to be what we are."

Sam remained silent for a moment as he thought about his older brother's words. Finally, he spoke. "If we saw less, if we knew less, than we would be less."

The two brothers stared at each other for a moment before the anxiousness in Dean's eyes lessened, not completely receding but holding a tinge of purpose. He smiled slightly, the edges of his lips turning faintly upwards, and then opened the car door and slid in. Sam followed his actions and waited in silence as Dean started the car, the machine rumbling to life beneath them like it had so many times before.

Dean breathed inwards, a long heave, and then cast a sideways glance at his brother. "We've got work to do." With these familiar words and a small smile from Sam, the Impala shot out of the driveway and onto the open road, disappearing into the night.

Into the shadows where nothing ends.