A/N: My second 15x13 "Destiny's Child" coda! Sorry, I couldn't resist being comedic and then killing them. It was too hard.
"How do they even get around without a private jet?" Sam asked, turning to Dean, who was trying on a pair of sunglasses he'd found in one aisle.
They had stopped at – ugh – a gas station, of all things. Simply horrid. His brother looked strange in the crude and basic eyewear, yet flashed him an easy and practiced smile. The gentleness stood out from the blocks of black on his face. Something that was only a dollar-ninety-nine didn't belong over his eyes. But he seemed to be enjoying the novelty of them. Sam could only purse his lips at them, and then slightly shake his head in displeasure as he awaited an answer.
"Maybe they don't fly," Dean suggested.
"Don't– Dean, do you realize how ludicrous that sounds?"
"They drink beer, and watch porn. I believe private jets may be beneath them."
Sam put a hand with perfectly manicured nails to his chest, wrist flexing daintily. "Well they're not beneathus. We're… We're theWinchesters. Dad–"
Dean's face grew somber and he put a hand over his heart at the mention of dad. He shook his head, saying, "What a great man."
"What a great man," Sam agreed." Then he went on, "Dad would not approve. And it would do him well not to. We're hunters. We're the best there is, the crème de la crème. We save people, and dad built up Hunter Corp. so we could be recognized for that, and fly above them. And where are we? We're trapped with the likenesses of two hillbillies."
Dean started walking out of the gas station without paying, Sam doing the same. Either the person behind the counter didn't notice, or didn't care. Or… wait, maybe that was him yelling at them.
Oops.
Sam turned to flash his ID at him, but Dean grabbed his arm and they kept walking to the mostly-abandoned parking lot.
"It's us," Dean said. "They're us. We're them."
"He didn't even have a bun," he complained.
Dean put a hand over his mouth as if horrified, and sickened, "I know. Sacrilege."
"Sacrilege," Sam repeated.
That was when a giant asteroid came flying out of what seemed like thin air and crashed into the gas station, setting everything afire in the ruins of what it'd crushed, and killing them both.
God stood before his latest TV – an IMAX movie theater in Providence, Rhode Island – the patrons dead around him, his fingers had just been snapped, and were raised by his head. On the TV was his latest destruction. Just tying up loose ends, really.
God lowered his hand.
"And that… is that. What else is on?"
With a flick of his pointer finger, the real-life channel on the movie theater screen changed, and he saw Sam, Dean, and Castiel in the bunker kitchen.
Ah, his boys.
God smiled. "Only one channel left, one show. This is it, boys."