Author's Note: I don't own anything having to do with Supernatural.

This is what happens when ispiltthemilk and I are chatting past midnight. Just a short drabble on how we think the series should end.

We're Winchesters

The bar was surprisingly busy for a random Tuesday night as the music played softly in the background and the patrons drowned their sorrows of their mundane lives. Every once in awhile there would be an eruption of laugher from one corner of the room where a group of people were out celebrating after completing a huge project at work. There was an elderly man at the end of the bar who stared into his empty glass remembering his youth and wanting a second chance at life. The bartender could have been described as a mature woman with her slicked back black hair who kept the bar open because she didn't know what else to do with her life. They all had their own problems, their own stories, and reasons for doing what they were. The patrons didn't know each other by name but that night they were all finding comfort in the same place.

A tall, slender man walked into the joint and up to the bar ordering a beer. The bartender smiled as she popped the top to the glass bottle and set it in front of him before returning to the small group of guys that had waved her over to their table. The man put the bottle to his lips and took a hearty mouthful before exhaling with a sigh. He turned to another shorter man who sat three stools down and shook his head a bit, "You know they think I'm crazy."

"You are," the second man replied with an indifferent shrug as he got off his stool and claimed a closer seat.

He smirked, "Just how many times are you going to die, Dean?"

Dean Winchester frowned as he contemplated the question, his beer hanging precariously between his middle and fore finger before he tipped it back into his mouth. "I'm not here to count 'em, I'm just here to come back from them."

Sam warmly smiled at his brother as he took in the sentiment. There were more emotions in those few moments of silence than words could ever describe. They didn't need to hear the declarations of what they meant to one another or how they could possibly go on without the other because they felt it.

Dean clapped his hand against the back of Sam's shoulder, "So, what'd you find out?"

X-X-X

Bobby Singer stood next to his old friend as they watched through the frost bitten window of the bar. A smile tugging at his lips as Sam went into some deep discussion about their case while Dean tilted his head to the side to get a better look of an attractive woman that had sauntered by. There was no sound made as Castiel appeared behind the two standing out in the cold night.

"We raised some good boys," John commented with a look of longing in his deep brown eyes. If he could only walk through the door and have a beer with his sons but like he had to do for the past decade he watched from the sidelines.

Bobby nodded and stuck his hands in the pockets of his vest, "Yeah, we did."

"It was my pleasure in helping you John Winchester," Castiel spoke up though his eyes never wavered from the human that had him doubting everything he was programmed to do. "Your sons have become of great importance to me. I promise to continue to do my best to protect them for you. You have my word."

"John," Mary called out with an outstretched hand wanting him to take a hold of her, "It's not our story anymore, it's theirs now."

Mary, John, and Bobby whimsically disappeared into the night while the angel cast one more look at the brothers before vanishing himself. The boys none the wiser that they had so many people watching out for them as the two sat and talked about their next case.

It didn't matter what hell or trial they had just gone through they were Winchesters and they had a job to do.