Okay, so this is a bit of a change-up since the last few have been humor pieces. Warning: this IS a deathfic, so if you don't like reading those, I'm sorry. But it is a lighter deathfic with a happy ending, definitely bittersweet and kind of turns downright cheesy. I really don't write deathfics, but this one just kind of came to me when I saw a thing online about Crowley that inspired part of this. So I hope you all enjoy it anyway, even if it's kind of sad.

Characters/ Setting: Sam, Dean, Cas, Crowley / Somewhere in the future

Genre: deathfic, family (feels)

Rating: T (some gore, but not explicit)

There'll Be Peace

Team Free Will finally shuffles off this earthly coil.

It had been a long fight; bloody, hard. The hardest they had ever fought. But it was finished now. The evil had been vanquished and all was well. In fact, Dean realized just how finished it was as he lay slumped on his side, panting in the sudden stillness of a battlefield where the battle had come to a conclusion.

Dean took a deep breath and forced himself into a semi-sitting position, feeling the heaviness of his body. He cleared his throat, something thick and metallic bubbling up into his mouth. He spit and red spattered the ground. Hardly surprising. He was currently bleeding out from the gut, one hand thoroughly occupied with holding his insides in. But for some reason, he just couldn't care right now. He'd had a feeling this would be their last fight and he had made his peace with that. He was just thankful they had all gone together. The three of them. That meant no one sticking around to bring anyone back. It was best this way, and really, they could all use a good, long rest.

He was lying beside the left wheel well of the Impala. Baby had taken her own hits in the fight, protecting her charges through the initial barrage and keeping them alive long enough to finish the baddie off. Dean settled a bloody hand against her once sleek and now crumpled flank and mustered a smile. "You did good, Baby. Glad I had you with me at the end of the line."

But it wasn't the end of the line yet. Not quite. Dean swung his head tiredly around to the other two still figures. His brothers. The two who had been beside him this whole time. Dean mustered the last of his strength to reach their side, feeling slightly alone where he currently was sitting a few feet away. His left knee was screwed to hell, but he managed to drag himself, even if it was a painfully slow process.

Castiel was the one he reached first. The angel, their guardian, had been the first to go, taking a mortal blow for Dean. He lay on the ground, trench coat spattered with blood, and burned wingmarks spread out on either side of him, hand still curled around his angel blade. Dean sighed and gripped that hand, angling it up to place against Cas' chest in the pose of a resting warrior.

"Aw, Cas," he muttered, looking down at the still form of the angel who had become his best friend, and his surrogate brother. He somehow knew that Cas would have a peaceful death this time. No more painful resurrections, no more wondering if he were cursed. Dean just hoped there was a possibility that they would get to meet on the other side. After everything they had been through together, he thought God could at least make an exception in this case, even if angels didn't have heavens like humans did.

He reached up and cupped one side of Cas' face. "I hope you find your peace, brother," he said gently.

A sudden cough from behind startled him and he turned to see Sam shuddering. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he quickly pulled himself the last few feet to his brother. He had mistaken Sam to have already left him, but his little brother was still holding on after all.

"Dean," Sam moaned, eyes fluttering before he choked, blood glossing his lips, his body shuddering, even though Dean was pretty sure with his wound, he couldn't move anything below his waist.

Dean was at his side now though and slumped beside the younger man, taking Sam's bloody hand in his own and squeezing with all the strength he had left. "Hey, Sammy, I'm here, it's okay," he said, smiling through wet eyes.

"De," Sam whispered, eyes finally opening to look up at his brother, but they never focused. "Can'…can't see you."

"It's okay, just close your eyes, little brother," Dean told him, reaching up to smooth the hair from Sam's forehead. "You don't have to see me, I'm not going anywhere."

Sam coughed again and tried to force a wry smile. "Don't think I'm goin' anywhere either, Dean."

Dean gave a watery smile even though Sam couldn't see it. "No, Sammy. Not this time, kiddo. This is the end of the line, little brother."

Sam's eyes fluttered again and he stirred, trying to crane his head to one side. "Cas?"

"He's already gone, Sammy, he's waiting for us." Dean fought to keep his tears at bay, chuckling instead. "Probably getting impatient."

Sam chuckled but ending up choking instead. Dean used his sleeve to wipe the blood from Sam's mouth. His eyes finally managed to open and this time they focused on Dean. "I'm…proud of us."

A tear slid down Dean's cheek finally, as he smiled. He leaned down and kissed his brother on the forehead like he was still a child. "Me too, Sammy."

"Gon—gonna make this a…chick flick…Dean?" Sam wheezed.

"Think we're entitled," Dean told him, and Sam chuckled wetly, tears slipping from his eyes. He squeezed Dean's hand surprisingly hard.

"Don't leave me," he whispered. "Don't…don't wanna go…without you…D'n."

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'm not gonna leave you," Dean assured him. "I'm right behind you. Trust me." Blood was bubbling up in his throat again and his body was feeling increasingly heavy.

"Okay," Sam said faintly.

"Just…just close your eyes, Sammy. You can rest now," Dean told him.

Sam squeezed his hand one more time before his fingers went lax, and his body stilled in a way that normally would have scared Dean, but now only gave him relief. Now he could let go too.

"Right behind you, little brother," he said before he slumped to the ground, his fingers still clenched around Sam's limp hand. He sighed deeply and reached out with his other hand to grip the sleeve of Cas' trench coat. "I'm coming, Cas. Don't get your feathers in a bunch."

And then the hunter finally closed his own eyes and allowed himself to slip away. This time, for good.

The King of Hell found them there, the two brothers, the angel, and their car, and he had to shake his head at the sight. Crowley knew as well as they did that this would be the last time. It almost made him melancholy to think about it—if he was the type to get meloncholy. They had been the best enemies and the best frenemies he had ever had in his long centuries as a demon. He wasn't even truly ashamed to admit that he was kind of sad to see them go. Life would be a lot more boring without them, that was for sure.

"You bastards," he muttered under his breath, then sighed deeply. He supposed the least he could do was give them a proper send-off. If for no better reason than to hope they never came back again. He looked down at the three bodies, Dean between Sam and Castiel, holding on to both of them, and knowing he was probably the last one to shuffle off this mortal coil. Always too stubborn for his own good.

He then turned to the Impala, and saw that she was damaged beyond the help of anyone but Dean. It was really more fitting this way, Crowley decided. It wouldn't be right for anyone else to drive her. Not that he was sentimental or anything, just…it didn't seem right.

With a snap of his fingers, the three warriors were slumped inside the car, Dean in the driver's seat, Sam riding shotgun, and Castiel in the back. If it wasn't for the blood, they may have looked like they were taking a nap. Crowley rooted in the crumpled trunk of the Impala and found some lighter fluid, which he liberally poured over the vehicle, then reached into Dean's jacket pocket for his lighter, which he flicked on and then threw into the seat beside him.

No one else was around to care, or to attend this private hunter's funeral for three heroes who had saved the world countless times, even though so many people had them to thank for everything. There was no one to mourn, no one to write their stories or sing their exploits like in the old days, and soon there would be nothing left of them to find on the physical plane but ashes.

And though the King of Hell did not shed a tear for them, he stayed and watched the fire until it was out, and then he drank a silent toast to their names.

Dean opened his eyes to a stretch of road ahead of him. He blinked, wondering for a moment where he was, and then remembered—he was dead. At least he was pretty sure of it this time.

He was sitting at Baby's wheel, and she looked beautiful, as pristine as the day he had finished rebuilding her the first time. He likewise, was free of blood and wounds, his clothes clean and whole.

But there was still something missing.

And then the passenger door gave a familiar screech as it opened and Sam slid inside, grinning.

"Hey, jerk," he said.

"Hey, bitch," Dean replied, his chest swelling with relief and happiness, but not quite complete yet. He and Sam both looked around, in the back seat, out at the road ahead of them, and as the seconds passed, they became more and more melancholy.

Finally Sam spoke. "It never was a sure thing, Dean."

Dean swallowed hard but nodded admittedly. "I know. I just kinda hoped, ya know…?"

And then the back door opened and another figure slid inside, causing the brothers to turn with surprise and joy to see the third member of their family sitting in his usual place, trench coat and tie and all.

"Cas!" they exclaimed.

The angel smiled broadly. "Sam, Dean."

"We weren't sure you would…you know," Sam said.

"I was offered two choices," Cas told them. "Resurrection or to stay here with you."

Dean's heart swelled at the realization of what Cas had chosen. "Cas, you didn't…"

The angel looked at him, and for the first time, Dean actually realized he was at peace. "My mission is finished. I just want to rest now. It will be….a nice change, I think."

"Agreed," Sam said.

"Hell yeah," Dean added, and reached into his pocket for the keys, holding them up. "Everyone up for a drive?"

"Drive," Sam told him with a grin.

Dean turned the key and Baby's engine rumbled to life, sounding as happy as the rest of them felt. Dean flipped on the radio to the opening lines of "Carry On My Wayward Son" and then he turned to his two brothers with a grin and tore down the road, the three of them finally at peace.

Yeah, the end was cheesy…

So just a note about the Christmas request fics: I will be posting them throughout the month whenever I finish one, and I will be posting them in the same collection as last year: "Christmas One Shots" so that is where you will find them :)