Dean leaned against his car, looking over the top towards the parking area facing him. Three other black, '67 Chevy Impala cars were parked in a row. The hunter studied them each in turn and smirked in a self-satisfied way when he noticed a car freshener in one, a stuffed teddy bear in another a what looked like party beads hanging in the last. Superficially similar to his own, yet never quite achieving the depressive quality that inevitably accompanied life on the road.

Dean held his keys, rubbing the worn key chain as if it were a worry stone. He knew that somewhere behind him Sam was saying his last goodbyes to Chuck and Becky, their number one Super Fan. Dean chuckled to himself as he remembered the urgency and fear that had flooded through him on the way to the convention - at the time he had thought that Chuck was in mortal danger, perhaps all of them. It had been a great relief, but an even greater annoyance, to find that they had been duped.

He had a brother who would die for him.

He saved the world every single day just by living in it.

It was enough to raise his eyebrows and make him stare over a Chevy roof for several drawn out minutes. It was demoralizing and humiliating experience to see others dress up in a semblance of your life and claim that it is all in good 'fun', but at the end of the day it meant there were people who were trying to understand.

Maybe there was hope after all. Dean bit his lip, smiling gently at the thought of the two 'heroes' that had helped him and Sam out of their mess. Two men, so different and yet so profoundly engaged in something tangible. How could god ever let that completely die? Dean wondered and waited.

Sam would be along and then they would leave, hopefully to someplace less crowded with ambition and rootless pleasure. For a moment he almost thought he would miss it, but that passed quickly and left Dean ready for another good fight. Evil was waiting for them and there really was no rest for the wicked.

THE END