Hi guys.
I know, I said I retired. And I did. I am. But I feel like I need to write this, because my Supernatural addiction is kicking up, and I want to get my theory for Season Ten out there for a wider audience. This fic is basically the finale of Supernatural, of Season Ten, and of the show completely. Because honestly, it needs to end. It's been dragging on, the actors have given up massive roles for the show(Jensen Ackles said no to playing Hawkeye in Avengers. Let that sink in for a moment). It's time to end it. So this is basically how it should end.
This is a one-shot, and I will not be posting any more to it.
Disclaimer: This is a one-shot fan fiction. I make no claims to the ownership of the characters of Supernatural, nor to the show itself. Everything belongs to the CW.
War descended.
Like a dark cloud, the forces of Heaven and the hordes of Hell met in pitched battle that made the coming Apocalypse seem mild in comparison. Hell, already on the brink of violence after the power play between Crowley and Abaddon, was pushed over the edge when Crowley, the victorious King of Hell, sacrificed himself to save the life of Dean Winchester. The move guaranteed that no demon would be brought into line again.
Meanwhile, the angel Castiel, try as he might, could not find a cure for his burning out grace. A broken angel, he realized his duty to Heaven and his duty to Earth compelled him to find a successor, someone who the angels would follow. Like Crowley did for Dean, Castiel died while saving Sam Winchester's life from an attack... by his brother. Dean, having succumbed to the rage of the Mark of Cain, was set on a warpath. The act of killing Castiel, the only angel who ever truly loved him, only made his grief and anger worse. He set his eyes to Heaven, determined to exact his revenge on every living angel.
Sam could only watch in horror as Dean began to lay waste to Heaven, with resulting consequences on Earth. Demons ran rampant through the streets, hundreds were being killed or possessed. And then, the worst news of all occurred.
The Cage had been broken.
Containing the dual life forces of Michael and Lucifer, Adam Winchester sought out Sam, seeking that which even he did not know. The time spent in the Cage had decimated his soul completely, his personality and consciousness preserved only by the power of Michael. Within a few days, however, Michael was destroyed, leaving Lucifer in complete control over Adam's body. Dean tried to fight Lucifer, but the first Archangel ordered Dean's obedience to him, as was his worth as a Knight of Hell. Sam, desperate and alone, sat in the Impala, the only thing left from the Winchester legacy, when he realized that he didn't sit alone.
Chuck was in the seat next to him. But it wasn't Chuck. Chuck Shurley was merely a facade that was created to mask the being who created the known universe. He was God.
God made Sam an offer. The reason He didn't interfere in the Apocalypse was because He knew the Winchesters would stop it. But now, with the Second Coming, as it was being referred to, God knew it was time to act. But not for Him. So He made Sam the offer. He would kill Lucifer once and for all. In exchange, he would make Sam a new Archangel, one more powerful than any before. Essentially, he would make Sam the new God. His Holy Plan, the power, the glory, and the majesty would be given to him. His first task would be to stop Dean... permanently. Knowing the hopelessness of the situation, Sam agreed.
Lucifer was destroyed utterly. Sam and Dean met on the potter's field where so long ago, they met to stop the first Apocalypse. They fought, and it was clear that while Dean is the most powerful demon in existence, Sam was in complete control of the battle. But then they were interrupted by the coming Demon and Angel armies. The angels were vastly outnumbered, but Sam saw their willingness to fight for him. Dean summoned the demons to his side, putting them under his control. The decimation would have been total. But Sam stared into Dean's eyes, searching for some remnant of the brother that had taken care of him, for all of his life. And Dean's eyes lost their blackness, and he ordered his army to hold.
Two weeks later, the world is still reeling from the war. But those wounded, even those who were dead, are beginning to heal, and walk again. Some are calling it the Age of Miracles. And in that potter's field, a lone demon waits, leaning up against a beat up, black, '67 Chevy Impala.
Dean scuffed his boot against the ground, idly making a furrow in the ground. He was early, he knew, but still, Sam should have realized he was waiting by now.
The weirdest part of being who they were now was the teleporting. Dean was still not used to vanishing in one place and reappearing miles, even continents away. He preferred driving, but since he now bore the strength to pick up his car and carry it anywhere, it seemed pointless.
Then again, many things that were pointless were the most important.
"Dean."
Dean looked up. Sam was standing before him, clad in his hunter's clothing, a full beard matching his long hair. Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Sam," he growled back in acknowledgment. "Rocking the Jesus look." Sam grinned, letting out a small exhalation.
"A lot of places need my attention," he said. "And surprisingly, I still need to shave. What about you?"
Dean shrugged.
"I just think, and it doesn't grow," he said. "Just like I don't need to sleep, or eat, or bang... I don't need any of that anymore. You?" Sam shook his head.
"No. And you know what? I miss it. I really do."
They settled into silence for a long while. Finally, Dean spoke.
"So what's the deal?" he asked, before realizing his choice of words. "I mean, no deal, but what's the situation?"
"With us?" Sam clarified. "Or with the world?"
"Sammy, our situation is way past help," Dean breathed. "I meant what are we going to do about being the head honchos of Heaven and Hell?"
Sam's eyes darkened as he heard Dean's words. When he next spoke, it was more stiff, more formal, as though he were addressing a business partner rather than his brother.
"Well, the angels are doing what I say," Sam said. "They're following the Plan. Which, when it's laid out for them, is pretty easy to follow. So no worries there."
"Do I get to know the Plan?" Dean asked. Sam scoffed.
"You're a demon, Dean," he responded. "Not just that, you're the King of Hell. The only thing you should be concerned about is how the Plan ends. And luckily for you, I've been able to change it a bit." He bit his lip. "What about the demons?"
"You mean the other bottom-feeding scum of the earth?" Dean asked sardonically. "Oh, they're fine. They're all huddled downstairs, waiting and fearing God's wrath upon them. I'm surprised you haven't marched to the Gates of Hell yet and done a Death Star on them."
"We have an agreement, Dean," Sam argued. "Which is why we're here. To expound on that agreement."
"Yep," Dean said, staring at the ground. "So what? I take all the scumbags and you get all the good people?"
"There has to be punishment," Sam explained. "Just like... there has to be redemption."
"Oh yeah, redemption," Dean chuckled, although there was no humor in his voice. "Redemption for all, except, y'know, me."
"Dean, come on," Sam sighed.
"Yeah, come on, my ass!" Dean exclaimed. "I've made some big-ass mistakes, I know that! But if Crowley can find the light at the end of that tunnel, why the hell can't I?!"
"Because you're looking for it," Sam said. "Dean, listen..."
"No, you listen, Sam," Dean interrupted. "I get that we have our jobs. I understand what I have to do in order to maintain this 'peace.' But it stinks, Sam. It stinks, and it sucks."
"I've given you your redemption," Sam said quietly. Dean froze, his mouth open.
"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"All of the people who died because of you?" He took a deep breath. "Because of us? Ellen, Jo, Ash, Kevin, Bobby, Mom, Dad... they're alive. They got a second chance."
Dean stared at Sam, his stomach churning. Sam waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, he went on.
"That was the thing that damned you, Dean. Your guilt over their deaths. But if they're alive... you get a clean slate. Even demons can get second chances, you're right. You have yours. You just have to see your job through to the end."
"Wait, wait, wait," Dean spluttered, waving his hands. "Alive? How? And... and..."
"I resurrected them" Sam explained. "I can do that. I've been doing that like crazy, actually. I understand the cycle of life and death... but I've been going over the Plan with, well, Death, and he agreed to certain changes in the cycle."
While Dean was still struggling over the news, Sam explained further.
"They have no memory of us, Dean," Sam said. "Mom, Dad, everyone... it's like we never existed. It's better that way. Only two people remember, and that's Bobby and Cas."
"Cas is alive?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Huh... wow..."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I'm still not used to it. I don't think I ever will be."
They stood in further silence, the broken bond between them seeming to lessen in its harshness.
"Sam," Dean croaked, his voice hoarse. "Thank you."
Sam nodded.
"So, what are you going to do now?" Sam asked. Dean wiped his eyes with the edge of his sleeve, gesturing to the car.
"I think... I guess I'll take baby back to Bobby's," he said, clearing his throat. "He'll look after her. Give her back to Dad, maybe. You?"
"Go back to healing the world," Sam answered, shrugging. "There's still a lot to be done." His countenance darkened. "There's also some smiting to do, so be aware, I'll be sending some business your way."
"Awesome," Dean said. They fell silent yet again, realizing that this was goodbye. None of them said anything, not wanting to be the first to leave. But in the end, Dean's resolve broke.
"Get in the damn car," he muttered, opening the driver's side door, and sliding in. He looked over, and Sam was already there, closing his door, a wide grin on his face.
"Thought you'd never ask," he replied. Dean popped a tape into the player, and Kansas began to sing for the last time as they made their way to South Dakota.
"Carry on My Wayward Son."
"There'll be peace when you are done."
"Lay your weary head to rest."
"Don't you cry no more."
Thank you, and good night.