A re-write of the events following Carry On. It is an alternate to the heaven scenes, and will follow what comes next for all of Team Free Will 2.0

This is going to be a long fic.

CW: Character Death


Of course he died. This was the easiest case they'd ever had. Everything was going so well it could only be paving the way for some huge cosmic punchline. God can't kill him but a rusty hook in the wall? Dean wasn't sure why he expected anything else. Now he was looking up at the face of his panicked brother and there was nothing that could be done.

He forced himself to try and focus on what Sam was saying, hearing something about calling for help. Something about a first aid kit.

"Sam… Sam stay with me." He stuttered, trying to stop his brother from leaving. He could feel the pain mounting, and feel the shakiness start as his body caught up to the sudden blood loss. He swallowed against the turning of his stomach, closing his eyes for a second to stop the world spinning. "Stay with me." He repeated, his voice a softer plea. "Can you stay with me please?"

"Okay. Yeah-" Sam said quickly. Dean could hear the mounting note of panic in his voice.

Dean pushed himself to try and tell Sam to get the kids, to get them to safety. He heard Sam insist they would do it together. But he was already losing feeling in his limbs, and he could feel his body growing heavier, leaning more into the rebar supporting him. "It was always going to end this way for me."

"No, Dean." Sam replied firmly. "It wasn't. It isn't-"

Dean barely heard the rest of Sam's denial and bargaining. When he finally was on his last tether, Sam let him go, and he felt himself fade into the darkness.

.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the scene around him hazy. He looked closer, trying to make sense of the faded chaos around him. Almost as if in mist or smoke, there were figures moving just out of sight, like catching something out of the corner of your eye.

Dean walked forward, hand out, trying to get his bearings. This, he was not expecting. Though his memories of prior deaths were somewhat scrambled. He concentrated further, pushing to focus on the movement beyond, and he could make out faint images, and he recognized a few of them. He had lived these memories.

"They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die."

Dean whipped around to see Jack standing still behind him, lit by a backdrop of familiar scenes.

"What-"

"I'm sorry." Jack said softly.

"Jack…" Dean frowned, pausing to try and catch up and make sense of what was happening. He stepped forward slowly, looking him over. "Is that really you?"

"It's me."

Dean felt a flood of relief in spite of everything that just happened and he bridged the gap, pulling his surrogate son into a strong embrace. He smiled gently when the arms wrapped around him in turn. He pulled away, keeping his eyes on Jack, feeling just a touch of fear that if he looked away Jack too may fade into these dimming memories swimming around them.

Jack had pain written across his face. "I wanted to help." He continued.

Dean felt a knee-jerk flash of anger as he considered his words, and the implication that he had the power to stop it and chose not to. He released it, letting himself for once think before he spoke. "It's okay." Dean replied at last. He knew why Jack couldn't interfere. Perhaps he didn't fully understand it, but he knew.

Jack gave a weak smile hearing Dean's reserved forgiveness, but his eyes didn't lose their sorrowful expression.

Dean managed a half grin of his own. "So what, I get the personal god escort to the afterlife?" He shook his head. "I guess there is no Death anymore to take high priority celebrity cases like mine, huh?"

Jack's tentative look of happiness faded immediately.

Dean noticed the sudden change and frowned. "Jack?"

"It's not exactly like that."

"What do you-"

"There's time for that later." Jack cut him off. He forced a smile back on and looked Dean in the eyes. "Let's go somewhere."

"Where?" He had scarcely said the word before the scenery around him was replaced with the bunker walls. "What the…" He muttered, looking around him.

"I come here to think." Jack explained gently. "It is built from my memories… and now yours."

"Your memories?"

"It's complicated." Jack took a seat at one of the chairs in the map room.

Dean hesitated before deciding to sit across from Jack. "So this is-?"

"Heaven."

"And you what, holo-decked yourself the bunker?"

"Heaven is complicated." He repeated. "I am rebuilding its structure, but it takes time. Right now physical constructs within heaven's bounds need building blocks and these come from those inside."

The hunter just stared at him, not quite sure what he was talking about.

Jack stopped and took a second to look embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't know how to explain it better."

Dean shook it off, his head starting to clear a little. He felt himself relaxing a bit and feeling a bit more himself. Which surprised him given his recent death. "Are you… good?" He tried to check in.

Jack considered the question for a moment. "Yes... Mostly."

"Well, that's a start I guess."

"And you?"

Dean gave a brief laugh. "Well, I died today so… been better." He thought about it for a moment. "Been worse too though…"

"I did not expect to see you so soon."

"Thought you were supposed to sort of see everything."

Jack gave another sad smile. "That is complicated too. I did look in on you when I could. You two seemed... alright."

"So you've been busy with, what did you say? Rebuilding heaven?"

"That and other things." The new God looked away, somewhat lost in thought. "Chuck had tangled many threads across reality and it is taking time to sort through them and return order to all corners." He shook his head. "But yes, I am also trying to improve upon his design for heaven itself."

Dean nodded, feeling a strange mixture of emotion. Jack somehow seemed both the gawky awkward kid he knew and something old and powerful. He certainly wasn't quite the same. But as he watched Jack he noticed more of his human traits. He kept looking at Dean with such guilty relief. He could tell Jack felt bad for how relieved he was to see Dean, to have him here.

"I prayed to you. Me and Sam, we both did." There was no accusation in his voice.

"I know. I can not listen to all prayers, but you… Sam… I could always hear you two." He let a more sincere smile cross his face. "I'm glad you kept Mira."

Dean laughed, thinking of the dog they first dubbed Miracle. "She'd have loved you." He stood, feeling just a bit more at home with the ease of conversation. He walked over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, pleased to find it fully stocked. He pulled out a couple beers, setting one in front of Jack before returning to his seat. He uncapped it and took a sip before nodding his approval.

Jack absently opened his own bottle, but didn't make any moves to drink it.

Dean took a deep breath. "And Sam?"

"He will heal." Jack said firmly.

"Can't you tell him I'm alright?"

"He knows." He put his bottle down. "It will not bring him closure."

Dean was silent for another moment. His mind was starting to turn over everything happening. "So this is heaven. What now? I just slip back into my memories? Will I still be aware of where I am or-?"

"Heaven is more than that now. It's not complete… but… that's not important right now."

"Jack… I have to ask. Cas-"

"He is still in the Empty." Jack finished for him. He watched Dean flinch at the news. "That is something I need to discuss with you."

"You can't just… bring him back?" Dean prompted. "Chuck-"

"Chuck got Cas before the empty awoke, by treading carefully enough to pluck him out. He managed to reach through and grab Lilith and Lucifer when she was distracted. I haven't had luck like that."

"Oh."

Jack paused for a moment before letting out his breath in a hiss. "She was almost asleep." He furrowed his brow in frustration. "I messed up."

Dean remained silent, letting him continue. He watched Jack's hands clench into fists on his knees.

"If I had just let her go to sleep, perhaps I could have slipped through and pulled him out. I called out for him. I didn't mean to, I just thought of him and I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

"He heard me." The new God tensed, remembering the moment. "I could feel him wake up, and then so did she. Now she is alert again… I cannot reach him."

"So he's awake in there?"

"With her." Jack confirmed darkly.

Dean swallowed, turning this information over in his head. Whatever the Empty was doing to him couldn't be good. "We have to be able to do something."

"We will."

"But?"

"There are things we must settle first."

The hunter didn't like the sound of that, but he fought to contain his unease for the moment.

Jack paused, debating how to say everything he needed to. He had been reluctant to bring this up, but he didn't think delaying further would help anything. He took a deep breath, jumping in. "I am not as powerful as Chuck. I think I will be, but right now…"

"You're still new to this." Dean finished, catching up.

"Yes. There are many rules to how the universe works. I can bend some, but many are beyond my control right now. Amara is working elsewhere, but being locked up for eternity… she doesn't have any more experience than me." He paused. "Our powers to influence change are limited."

"Okay…and?"

"The living world has been tipping towards chaos." He looked directly at Dean. "The reapers are doing their best, but Death's mere existence helped to keep the balance."

Dean looked around, confused. "Alright, so why don't you go stab a reaper? Problem solved."

The distressed look returned, and Dean knew Jack was holding back. "Three reapers have died since Betty, but none have risen as Death."

"What happened?"

"I am not quite sure. I think it had something to do with the exchange of power..."

"Between you and Chuck."

"Chuck had such an influence over the universe. When his hold of it released, it sort of rebounded. Things that used to be certain have changed, and I'm still trying to make sense of everything that is different."

"And now when a reaper dies, they don't rise as Death." The hunter nodded, taking in this information. He watched Jack's troubled face, misinterpreting it. Dean clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Alright then, let' problem solve. How to we get Death back on the board?"

"He already is." Jack said softly.

"I'm not following."

"I didn't know until I felt you cross over."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry." Jack met his eyes again. "I wasn't expecting it, really I wasn't." He watched Dean's questioning expression deepen. "It is you Dean."

"It is… what is me?" Dean asked, his tone stiffening as he shut himself off from comprehending what Jack was telling him.

"I am not sure why. Maybe because you killed two incarnations of Death… maybe it was just because of your lineage, or your role in Chuck's original plan but…"

Dean let out a forced half laugh. "No that's not… that's impossible."

"Dean-"

"No." Dean stood abruptly, walking away from the table, moving towards the library before stopping abruptly and turning to face Jack. "So change it."

"I can't."

"Bull."

"I can't." Jack looked at him imploringly. "I told you Dean. I am new to this. And that thread is one I cannot untangle."

"That doesn't make any sense." Dean hissed. "You've gotta be wrong about that."

"I'm not."

The hunter's expression was caught between anger and disbelief. "So… what does that even mean?"

Jack sighed. "I don't know." He watched Dean start to say something but cut him off. "I really don't. But just you being here… you being Death… the world has stabilized somewhat. I can feel it almost like a breath of relief."

Dean's head was still spinning with this new information. He crossed his arms, trying to tap into some sort of defense in the face of this new revelation. "Jack… I was done. I went out fighting. I'm supposed to be at peace. I've got a beach and a bottle of whiskey waiting for me somewhere up here."

That guilt was back. "I know. I'm so sorry Dean."

"Stop saying you're sorry." Dean snapped. "What if I refuse?"

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Well, I refuse anyway." Dean asserted.

Jack gave a pained half smile at the conviction in Dean's defiance.

Dean stood still, letting the silence stretch for another couple minutes. Jack sat, unmoving and quiet, letting the hunter choose when to break it. He finally heaved a sigh and sank back into his seat.

"You've lost so much." The new God muttered. "I am sorry there is more."

"Yeah." Dean snorted. His shoulders dropped, and he pushed his distress behind one of his carefully crafted walls. He forced his voice to sound a bit more convicted and facetious. "So where is it?" He rolled his eyes at the questioning look he got. "I get a class ring and a weapon, don't I?"

"Oh… yes." Jack reached down below his seat and pulled the large scythe from thin air and placed it on the table. He then opened his palm showing the simple and familiar silver ring.

Dean put up his hands and Jack tossed it over. The hunter examined it with a frown, hesitating a moment before shrugging. "What the hell." He slipped the ring on his finger and sat for a moment, waiting for something to happen. "I don't feel any different."

Jack shrugged. "I don't have any idea how this works."

"Great." Dean put his hand on the scythe, studying it's design. It looked different than every Death's scythe before. It seemed to redesign itself each time Death was born anew. "I'm not reading all those books."

"Noted."

The hunter fell silent again, letting himself try to think through the events. So much had happened in the last… he wasn't sure how long it had been since he died, but not that long. It was too much, and he was pretty sure it'd be another decade or two before he had fully processed everything. He almost laughed at the absurdity. It wasn't like he wouldn't have the time.

"Eventually you will need to fill the role in a more literal sense."

"And until then?"

"I need your help." Jack's expression set. "With rescuing Cas."

Dean felt a stab of some unidentified emotion in his chest. "You said you couldn't get past the Empty."

"I can't just walk in there, no. But maybe together we can find a way." He paused. "We have to find a way."

Dean felt the tiniest flicker of hope, but he trampled it immediately. He couldn't afford to hope. If it didn't work he knew it would break him if he didn't distance himself. "You said he was awake."

"It's at least the first step."

"Well I have no idea how to get him out."

"If anyone can save him, it's you."

The hunter was surprised by the sincere trust in Jack's voice. Here he was, literal God, and he still looked up at Dean with the sort of awe and confidence a son has in his parent. "Yeah…"

Jack looked away again. "He's only there because of me."

"Jack-"

"No. He is! He made that deal to save me."

Dean winced, the memory of Cas getting pulled into the darkness still as painful as the day it happened. He thought with time the sting would ease, but it had been months and he didn't feel even the slightest bit better.

Jack was oblivious to Dean's distress, lost in his own. "He promised me it wouldn't come for him. He told me his happiness… that he wouldn't… He promised it wouldn't happen."

Dean closed his eyes.

"What was it?" Jack asked softly. When Dean didn't answer he repeated his question, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "What was his true happiness?"

Dean couldn't meet his gaze. The silence stretched on for a moment before he finally managed to compose himself enough to answer. "Me."

Jack stared at the hunter for a moment before the realization slowly settled. "Oh." He said softly. He felt his chest clench, his human emotions cancelling out any calm his new position afforded him.

"It isn't your fault." Dean started. "He loved you. He would have done anything to save you. He's only there because he chose to summon the empty." he swallowed. "To save me."

Jack felt solidarity in their shared guilt. He watched the hunter carefully. "Do you…?"

Dean closed his eyes, hesitating for a minute. "Yeah." He breathed.

"We'll get him out."

"Mmh."

Jack stood, feeling a new wave of determination. "Let's get some help with this problem."

Dean just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"There are some people who will be happy to see you."

.

Sam had gotten his brother down before he reluctantly turned and headed after the kids. He wasn't sure how long it took to find them and return them to the authorities and their mother but it was daylight by the time he pulled back in front of the abandoned barn.

He didn't remember reaching out to Eileen, but he was too distraught to be surprised when she showed up. She knelt beside where he sat in his quiet vigil over Dean's body. He felt the supportive squeeze of his shoulder. He looked up and met her eyes as she signed a "sorry" and he broke.

Sam allowed Eileen to help him cover his brother with a cloth sheet, tying off the shroud, readying him for the pyre. He considered briefly if anyone else should be there for this, but he couldn't bring himself yet to even think of reaching out to anyone.

Eileen was the one to pour the gasoline over the gathered wood pile. After Sam reluctantly threw the match down, she took his hand, and he used that as an anchor, the only thing keeping him sane. He watched, unmoving, until the fire had burned down to embers. Only then did he allow himself to be led away and towards the car.

Sam slid into the back seat, laying across it, unable to stomach the idea of sitting in the passenger seat without Dean behind the wheel. Eileen just gave his arm one last reassuring squeeze before turning them onto the road and heading back the few hours towards the bunker.

By the time Sam found himself sitting on the floor in Dean's room, he was entirely spent. His body was almost numb, though he wasn't sure if it was the shock, or just the physical toll of standing to watch the funeral to its completion.

It was almost twenty-six hours after his brother had faded in his arms before he passed out.