Summary: Dean always knew it would end in fire.

Disclaimer: I may or may not own the boys… and use them for my own personal gain.

AN: This is an future AU fic. A little dark, but sunshine is quite overrated. Not a song fic but definitely inspired by Grapevine Fires – DeathCab

Dean always knew it would end in fire.

He can still recount the laugh shining in his mother's eyes after he blew out the four clown shaped candles, and he can still taste the acrid scent of his mother's flesh burning and dripping from the ceiling. Dean knows the crackling sound of a fire as he and Sammy listened to their father retell war stories and the epic of his first werewolf kill. He can vividly recall the feel of the heat as the flames licked his heels while he pulled his brother from the flames for a second time.

Lastly, Dean remembers the taste of the tears trickling down his face as he stood beside his brother as Sam blew out his candle signaling he was no longer his own man, two become one.

Yes, fire was an intricate part of the Winchesters' lives.

Dean somberly looked over at his brother. "Do you remember this place, Sammy?"

Slowly, Sam turned away from the scene in front of them and with tears springing up in his eyes he sadly smirked and nodded.

Dean had snuck Sam out of school once and oddly 7 year old Sam's only comment to Dean was to not forget his lunch.

Brown bag in hand they made the mile trek to the edge of town where their family was located. Eventually, the teachers had taken note of the two scraggly Winchesters' absences and a search had ensued. By the time the authorities located them a golden sunset was illuminating their "family picnic." A cop found the slumbering boys with their half eaten lunch divided among the two graves.

Dean glanced at his father's cracked and weathered stone.

As invincible as John Winchester was against fire he was no match for the ice of the frozen lake.

Sam turned back to the fiery carnage all the while raising his paper cup and taking a sip of his wine.

"I'm glad Clara isn't here," Sam stated brokenly as he looked down past the rows to watch his daughter dance through the field of graves. She twirled kicking up fresh dirt into the sky and it rained onto her hair as she laughed continuing to swirl.

Dean looked past his parents' stones to Clara's head stone. The ground there was fresh giving testimony that the war for her life had been recently lost. Dean heard a blood-curdling cry that brought him out of his reverie and drew his attention back to the death and the flames.

"We never had a chance to win this, did we?" Sam choked out "We could have destroyed 20 demons a day, still this-" he waved his hand to the view of their home being destroyed. "-woulda happened."

Dean had no response to that. Strangely, as the world fell apart around him he had a sense of peace. As the firemen futilely attempted to the fight the flames Dean realized, it was no longer his responsibility to save everyone. Dean lay back and watched the plumes paint the sky gray, feeling the heat as the end drew nearer.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be to watch it all burn away."

The tears welling up in Sam's eyes finally spilled over, and Sam raised his cup in cheers and he drank the last of the summer wine. He balled up his cup and threw it at his brother with a quiet "Jerk" and turned to memorize the last soft movements of his daughter.

Dean turned his head to the sky and closed his eyes as the soft snow of ash fell more increasingly steady. "Bitch."

Dean always knew it would end in fire.

~Fin~