A pair of figures stumble through the darkness. Not quite as stealthy as they used to be. Sam has his trusty cane to help him with his bum leg. Dean is bent over a walker, trying not to trip over tree roots scattered across the forest floor. The creature they were in pursuit of hears the twig Sam snapped as he hissed out a curse word. Moonlight shines through the treetops to show the werewolf running to escape the elderly hunters leaving it's prey behind. Dean picks up the pace, going as fast as his swollen knees will carry him.

They reach the body of a young woman already dead from blood loss. Her chest halfway open, the Werewolf hadn't finished their dinner. Sam turns to Dean who is trying to catch his breath.

"I really think we need to retire Dean."

"No! Retire is just a fancy word for giving up. Would Dad want us to give up?!"

"At this point, probably. Dean neither of us are as young as we used to be."

"Cas still hasn't given up on this. On me."

"Cas is immortal. We're not. Saved from death more than a few times but not immortal."

"We have to keep going Sammy."

"We have to let the younger generation take over Dean. It's time to pass the torch."

Dean didn't reply, he started to walk away. Sam sighed and reluctantly followed his older brother deeper into the trees.

They found a trail of blood spots to another grisly scene. Dean wasn't wasting any time. He hit a switch on the top of his walker and picked it up so the legs were facing the werewolf. Only the legs weren't just legs. The front two legs are shot gun barrels. With a pull of the two triggers on the underside of the handles two shotgun shells filled with silver fly out. Both manage to find their target. Sam unsheathes his silver sword from his cane and runs toward the monster while it's wailing in pain. He sinks the blade into it's heart and successfully kills it.

Sam sat down in front of the dead werewolf to catch his breath. Dean stumbled his way over to his side, arm sockets still vibrating from the shotgun blast that had put him on his ass.

"You alright Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'll live for now. You?"

"Yeah. Let's get back to the car. I need a Gatorade."

Dean puts out his hand to somewhat help Sam up. They're on their way to the car when Dean stops suddenly.

"Dean? Are you ok? It's not another heart attack is it?" Panic fills Sam's voice and eyes.

"No, the boys just fell out of place."

Dean put his hand down his pants to adjust his twins.

"Oh gross. I told you to wear briefs."

"But the ladies love boxers."

"What ladies? The women at the nursing home?"

A scream woke Dean up as he jumped out of bed realizing it was his scream. He ran to his dresser to make sure he was just dreaming. When he saw his young face in the dresser he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Sam opened the door without knocking, pistol at the ready.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I had a dream we were geezers. It was awful."

Sam let out a big laugh then left the room. Dean could hear his laughs echoing down the hall. He ran his hand down his face one last time just to make sure it was still smooth.