Carry On my Wayward Sons

The year is 2038. Humanity has evolved a lot since the time of Sam and Dean Winchester. There are flying cars, energy weapons, a war's breaking out between the colonies on Mars, and giraffes are on the extinct species list. But for hunters, life hasn't changed much at all.

On a dusty, forgotten highway somewhere in the southwest, in one of the few places in America that's still wild, a lonely bar called the Roadhouse stands guard. The original Roadhouse stood on that very spot. Legend has it, it was burned down by demons in the End Times, some forty years ago.

In the parking lot sits a dusty old Chevrolet Impala, almost a hundred years old by now but kept in peak condition, just like its owner would have wanted. If you turn the heat on, you can still hear Legos rattle around in the vents, there's still a little plastic army man wedged in one of the ash trays, and there's still a hidden compartment in the trunk.

Open the doors, and you're greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke, guns, and whiskey, as well as the gruff chatter of hunters. Next to the door is an old wooden coat rack with a tired old trench coat hung from one of its posts. Over the bar hangs a sign that reads 'Singer Salvage,' in faded white paint. Next to it, a sawed-off shotgun with the initials 'D.W.' engraved into the handle watches over the bar's patrons.

Behind the counter, you can usually find a middle-aged Korean man by the name of Kevin, who always has more than a few stories to be told about the famous Sam and Dean Winchester. Every now and then the owner of the trench coat by the door will appear, looking just as tired. His deep blue eyes saying he could tell a story or two as well, if they weren't so closely guarded.

On a door by the bar hangs a sign that reads 'Keep Out!' in harsh red, but this is generally ignored. Inside, a row of modern computers hum, their hard drives filled with every page from every book in Bobby Singer's library. The originals are there, too. Kept safe deep beneath the Roadhouse in a room made of solid iron. Above the computers is a long wooden shelf, weighed down by the entire book series 'Supernatural.' However, to all of the bar's patrons, it's known better as 'The Gospel of Sam and Dean Winchester.'

One of the bar's most common patrons is a man in his thirties who goes by the name Ben Winchester, though those that matter know that isn't his real name. He drives a black 2017 Chevvy Impala, AC/DC blaring out of the stereo, and a demon-killing knife at his hip.

No, life hasn't changed much at all for hunters. Monsters are made, hunters are raised, monsters are slain, and these few wayward sons carry on.


AN: Yea, I dunno what this is. Just an idea that popped into my head and I couldn't shake it, so here you go. I suppose it's something like Chuck's monologue about the Impala in Swan Song. Please review and tell me what you think.