The drive to Disneyland took two days. Not wanting to waste excess time, Dean decided that Sam and him should sleep in the Impala instead of getting a motel room somewhere. Sam was not too happy about this but ultimately didn't complain. His brother's mood was lifting slightly and that was enough for him to keep his mouth shut about having to try and sleep in the backseat of Baby.
"I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable," Sam grunted, trying to shimmy himself into a position that didn't make his back or legs cry out in pain. "This vehicle was not meant for tall people, Dean!" he hissed.
"'Don't know what you're talking about, this car is more comfortable than some mattresses I've slept on," Dean argued, his voice sounding partially muffled from being squished against the leather seat.
Sam would've come up with some snarky reply if he weren't so tired. They drove all day and were about half-way to Disneyland now. What Sam wanted more than sleep was a shower, but of course that wasn't going to happen until the two were in California. As a result, the younger Winchester was determined to get them there as fast as possible.
Sadly, the need for sleep out-won the need for a shower.
Sam drifted off thinking about a warm sun and horrifying tan lines. Neither he nor his brother—also slumbering—heard the soft whisper barely spoken above the noise of crickets outside the car.
It floated away into the night-scape on a breeze. The word stretching and pulling and dipping between Earth and another plane of existence.
"Dean..." the whisper sounded. "Dean..." it repeated. "Dean..." it pleaded.
But Dean was now snoring and Sam soon followed suit.
The whisper faded fast, long before the two woke up, leaving in its wake a new kind of emptiness.
Dean drove the rest of the way. He kept stealing glances at his brother, who alternated between playing games on his phone and reading some old novel. Dean wasn't sure what Sam would think after he told him about what Cas said, but his younger brother didn't seem too surprised.
Was it that obvious, Dean wondered to himself.
It had only been a week since the incident and the weight still laid heavy on Dean's shoulders. Even with Chuck gone and Jack restoring balance to the world, there was still a piece missing that Dean just couldn't replace or ignore.
For the past three nights he'd been having nightmares. Nightmares of Cas dying, over and over. Last night Dean hardly slept at all. He got three hours at most. It was becoming unbearable.
"Do you think we should stop for food soon?" Sam asked, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "It's almost lunchtime."
"Uh... sure, yeah. I think I saw on the map that there's a little place up ahead a few miles. Plus I should probably get some more gas. We'll hit Nevada soon and it's all desert from there. We should stock up before we hit the state line."
And so Dean pulled into a worn-looking gas station with a quaint little diner plopped right next to it. Sam offered to go inside the adjoining gas station store to stock up on snacks while Dean refueled the car. Afterward the two would hit up the diner for lunch.
"Excuse me," a female voice said from somewhere behind Dean. "Are you... Dean Winchester?"
"Who's asking?" Dean grunted out, turning around to face the stranger.
"I have a message for you," the woman replied pleasantly, undeterred by Dean's behavior. "It's from Death."
That statement gave Dean pause. "What?" he asked, blanching. "I thought—who's the new Death?"
"You'll find out when it's your time to leave this world," the woman answered cryptically. "What's important now is this."
The woman then handed Dean a small slip of paper.
"I don't understand. Who are you?"
The woman smiled kindly, "A reaper. I was in the area for work and I thought I recognized you."
"I still don't understand. Doesn't Death, like, hate me? Death wanted me dead the last time I saw her," Dean said, a little angry. "She—she got my best friend killed."
"Oh, I'm sorry," the reaper frowned. "To answer your question, though, Death is... different now. When your friend, Jack, restored this world, he also made some changes to the Afterlife. There are new rules, I guess you could say. What happened in the era of Chuck is to be forgotten. Everyone has the right to make their own choices and choose their own destiny. What you did to Death... Well, it will no longer be held against you," the reaper explained.
"So... if the era of Chuck, as you called it, is over... does that mean you can bring Cas back? He only died as a result of what Chuck originally caused."
Dean knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. If there was any chance of getting Cas back, he'd take it in a heartbeat.
"I'm afraid not," the reaper frowned again. "Rules for humans are different than those for angels, as I'm sure you're aware. Heaven and Hell are one thing, but The Empty is completely separate. Death has no power there. I'm afraid your friend is stuck."
Dean nodded, "I figured as much, but..." he trailed off and shook his head. "Well anyways, what's this message about?"
Dean unfolded the small slip of paper and read through its contents. They didn't make sense, though.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's a code," the reaper replied. "For a special box."
"Um... okay. Where is this special box?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the reaper.
"No one knows. Which is why Death needs you and your brother to find it and open it."
"What's in it?"
"Something important," the woman answered vaguely. "When you find it, call for me. My name is Adrian."
"Wait, why should we help you? What's in it for us?"
"Treasure, maybe?" the reaper shrugged. "I don't actually know. Only Death knows what's in the box. We wouldn't have asked at all, but we know you two are good at finding hidden things. And we'll owe you one, okay?"
"You'll owe us?" Dean repeated, skeptical of the reaper's intentions.
"New God, new rules," the woman answered with a small smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Before Dean could say anything more, the woman suddenly vanished.
"Freakin' reapers, man," Dean grumbled to himself as he finally filled up the gas tank for his car.
"Hey," Sam said, announcing his presence. "I got lots of snacks. Chips and cookies and those little cake things you like. All the good stuff. Well, technically it's not good for you, but—" Sam cut himself off abruptly when he noticed Dean's expression. "What's up?" he asked, walking over to Dean's side of the car. "Everything okay?"
"Uh... yeah," Dean replied, forcing a smile. "Ready for lunch?"
Sam frowned, "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the slip of paper still in Dean's hand.
"I'll explain later. Let's just get some food, okay?"
As much as Dean was looking for cases to work during his so-called vacation, he wasn't quite ready to be thrust back into the world of reapers and Death. Surely whatever was in the box could wait a few days to be found.
"All right," Sam conceded, though he still looked a bit suspicious.
Dean moved the Impala to a parking space in front of the diner while Sam got them a seat inside. Lunch would make things better, the eldest Winchester told himself. Some quality brain food would surely help wash away the unpleasant thoughts threatening to spill over.
