It was the final night. The night was cold and bitter. Speckled with stars and devoid of promise. It was the night before the big bad show down—before Sam was going to say ‘yes’ to Lucifer. It all seemed to lack purpose, any way you sliced it you and the Winchester boys were screwed.

The nerves were high. Hopes were even higher.

Bobby was by the boys’ side throughout it. Ready to help. Castiel was defying Heaven that these two brothers may defy the prophecy. You all were going down, but better to go down fighting rather than like cowards.

Dean was crossing shit off his bucket list. A similar mentality he had before he was condemned to Hell—making the most of the time he had left. It was hard enough already, going against every fibre of his being that told him not to let Sam do this. These could (and most likely would) be his final moments. His final moments to get you alone, to talk.

He had a lot to say. A lot he wished he could do. Maybe it’d be easier to show you what he was thinking rather than say it. As his best line goes; ‘Last night on Earth. Might as well make the most of it.’

You stand out in Bobby’s car yard, the frigid air biting at your fingertips. Still, your grip tightened on the neck of your beer. Tomorrow morning was the drive out to Detroit. You’re mentally prepping for possibly; Armageddon.

Gravel crunches behind you, and Baby leans as the Winchester rests beside you.

“Hey.” Dean greets, “Just the person I wanted to see…” He murmurs and avoids your gaze, fixated on a nearby car. He just wanted to be happy. Just for a moment, he wanted to forget.