(Author's Note: So sorry to hear that Supernatural is ending next season! Let's just hope they end it well. Looking forward to one last ride with these guys!)

Sam found Dean in the garage, sitting on the hood of the Impala. He was clutching something in his hand, but it wasn't a bottle. As Sam came closer, he realized that it was a book. A book with a plain black cover.

"This is all different, now," Dean said, not looking in Sam's direction. "I don't know how different, cause I haven't opened it yet. But we know for sure that I don't end up on the bottom of the ocean."

"Yeah, knowing the ending kind of spoils the story."

Dean nodded, setting the book down beside him. "You ever thought about how it's gonna end for us?"

"Feeling morbid now that you're middle-aged?"

"No way!" Dean scoffed. "Just . . . thinkin' about it."

Sam shrugged. "I guess . . . the way most hunters do. Something gets the better of us."

"Going down fighting is a good way to die."

"As long as we're together at the end. Don't leave me alone, man."

"Course not! Our personal Heaven'd better be big enough for both of us."

"And who says we're going to Heaven?" Sam teased. "We've been through and done so much crap that the only place we're definitely not going is the Empty, because we're no angels."

"We ain't demons, either. Not anymore." Dean slowly slid down off the hood and grabbed the book before it hit the floor. "Doesn't matter, does it? Wherever we go, we're bound to meet someone we know."

"That's not always a good thing."

"Come on, what can they do to us after we're already dead?"

Jack poked his head in the garage. "Dinner's ready."

"Didn't hear the smoke alarm go off," said Dean.

Sam gave him a sour look. "It's his first time cooking," he said. "Considering that he doesn't even eat that much anymore, I think that's something to celebrate."

"I made cherry-apple pie, too," Jack proclaimed. "It wasn't that hard. All I had to do was follow the recipe."

"You got any ice cream for that pie?" Dean asked.

"We do. Vanilla. I got it from the store. They had French Vanilla, Golden Vanilla, and Vanilla Supreme, but I didn't know what the difference was between them and I didn't want to bring home the wrong one so I just got plain vanilla. Is that okay?"

Dean grinned at the boy. "It's more than okay. It's fan-freakin'-tastic. Let's go."

"What were you talking about before I came to get you?"

Dean and Sam looked at one another, not sure what to tell him. It occurred to Dean that now that Jack had his powers back, he might very well be immortal. He was still, technically, only a baby, and didn't really understand death. "Nothing. It's not important."

"Oh. Okay. Um, is Cas coming home soon?"

"Last time I talked to him, he said he might be a while. Why?"

"There's something I need to talk to him about."

"Angel stuff?"

The boy nodded. "Angel stuff, yeah."

"Okay," said Sam. "We'll go ahead and eat, and if he shows up, you can talk. What's for dinner?"

"Baked stuffed chicken. Don't forget your book," Jack said to Dean. The book had slipped out of his hand and rested on the concrete floor by his left boot.

"Thanks, kid."

"What's it about?"

Dean picked it up and tucked it under one arm. "Don't know yet. But I'm looking forward to finding out."