Last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading (and extra kudos to those of you that left a comment, you make my world go round ;) I truly did love writing this story, it was a bit therapeutic in a way, and I'm happy with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy!

I own literally nothing.

Donna drives over on the Thursday before the gathering. Jody meets her with a crushing hug, and the girls put in their parts as well. Then Jody takes her over to what remains of Bobby Singer's place. He had left it to Dean should something happen to him, and Dean had transferred it to Jody years later because she was still in the area and less likely to die by unexplained causes.

Jody hasn't been by in a while, so that's probably part of the reason why her heart is in her throat when they pull up. The stacks of cars look the same, gravel pathways crisscrossing the lot. The cars have rusted in the passing years, a graveyard of reddening scrap metal gleaming in the sun.

She stops walking when she catches a glimpse of the charred remains of Bobby's house from nearly a decade prior. There's not much left now, but it still hurts. Donna's supportive hand on her shoulder moves her forward.

They pick out a place where they'll have everyone gather, a bit removed from the cars and closer to the outskirts of the lot, where some of the trees extend shade onto the gravel. It's peaceful. It's what they deserve.

Donna stays with them for the next two nights. They play card games, watch daytime television, and get some things for Saturday. They tell stories, reminisce, and pass around a box of tissues. If there's one constant with losing people, it's that after they're gone, all the stories get retold.

Jody's heard Donna's fat spa story time and time again, but it never really gets old, and Claire and Alex have a fun time hearing it. The first time Donna cut off a vampire's head, Claire traveling across dimensions to save the brothers, Alex finding a home because of Jody and Sam and Dean, everything. Jody throws in a few about Bobby and Cas for good measure, though Claire's face saddens noticeably whenever they mention Cas.

The last connection she has to her father, vanished without a trace, no matter how much she tried to come to terms with it in the passing years. It still hurts, Jody can tell, and she hugs her extra tight on Friday night even though the young adult first attempts a protest.

Claire ends up hugging back just as hard.

When Saturday comes, they're all at the salvage yard bright and early. They bring bottles of water with them, since the shade won't cover everyone, and some bags of snacks just in case. No one knows how long it will last or what they'll talk about, just that they have a purpose in doing so.

They don't dress in all black, it isn't a funeral per se, and Jody had mentioned over the phone that typical funeral attire was fine, if they felt inclined, but definitely not required. That, and after their recent experiences with the end of the world, they're trying to stay as far away from darkness as possible.

The first car pulls up just before eleven in the morning.

Jody's heart beats faster as it comes up the gravel entrance and pulls off to the open side. She talked to these people, invited them, but the full weight of seeing them face to face, the legacy Sam and Dean spent their lives creating, doesn't quite hit her until a young man and his mom step out of the car. They introduce themselves with sad smiles on their faces as Andrea and Lucas.

Jody remembers them just from their names. One of the earliest cases in Sam's journal, and therefor some of the hardest people to track down in the present day. But she had done it, and Andrea had been more than willing to make the drive over from Wisconsin, though they had moved cities since everything happened.

Lucas wouldn't be speaking if it weren't for Dean, wouldn't be alive if it weren't for both of the brothers. He stands close to his mother as she tells Jody the story, eyes far away as if the events happened yesterday. Jody knows the look well.

Cars show up more frequently after that. They pack into the empty space in the yard and line the street outside. People the Winchesters and Castiel saved, some bring their children, who wouldn't have been born if their parents hadn't been rescued in the first place.

Donna hits it off with a retired female cop from Hibbing who Sam and Dean saved from people nearly fifteen years ago. People, not monsters. Donna will tell Jody after that Kathleen's story made her skin crawl, how people could be that evil and inhumane to hunt their own for sport.

A mother and daughter from Indiana detail their experience with the daughter's imaginary friend that turned out to be an actual ghost. Jody laughs when the mother adds in that Sam wasn't a big fan of the antique doll collection.

Garth comes by around twelve and the whole group of women are happy to see a familiar face that met the boys more than once. He's about as torn up over the whole thing, them being gone, no clues as to why, as they are.

Jody leaves Donna and Claire to talk to him as she heads to a man, probably in his mid-twenties, standing apart from the group that has formed by the trees. He introduces himself only as Jesse, states that the brothers protected him, and doesn't say much else. His eyes hold a weight behind them older than his years, she knows that much without him saying anything. Jody, strangely, doesn't remember calling him, but maybe someone else knew him and did it for her. She's just glad to have him there.

Later, she'll realize that she never sees him leave, almost as if he vanished into thin air.

Around one, Jody calls the group more or less together. She stands on the trunk of a tree she once helped Bobby cut down for firewood and looks out at all of them.

Nearly three hundred people answered the call.

Hundreds saved, thousands of lives changed because the Winchesters had done their jobs and given their lives.

Jody knows that the boys knew their impact on the world, but she wishes that they could have seen it personified in front of them. Gotten to talk to the survivors again. Swap stories. Look into their eyes and know that they made a positive difference in the world despite how many times they may have screwed up.

Tears gather in her eyes before she even starts talking.

"I can't thank you all enough for coming." And really, she can't. It's been over a decade for some of these people, and they still dropped everything to make this possible. "The fact is…none of us," she gestures to herself, Donna, Claire, and Alex too, "would be here to come together without the Winchesters and Castiel."

And she catches herself.

How can she sum up a decade and a half of them saving the world on every size scale? How can she correctly eulogize them without going over the top or saying too little than what they deserve?

She can't. Plain and simple.

But she tries her best.

"We wouldn't have been there years ago, and we wouldn't have been here now, if not for them, once again, pulling the world back from the brink. But most of the world will never know."

"They won't know why the earth shook and tsunamis sprang up a decade ago. They won't know why the sun threatened to fail four years ago. And they won't understand why we were all plunged into darkness just days ago, only to be pulled out just as unexplainably."

She looks out over the sea of faces. Young, old, everything in-between, each with their own story to tell.

"But we will, and we'll carry that knowledge with us, that remembrance, that's their legacy. And we're gathered here today as a symbol of that, to try and hope that wherever they are now, they can see and feel the difference that they made in the world. We'll carry that difference with us for the rest of our lives. And that's enough."

People begin to leave around five, just as the sun is beginning to set over the horizon, setting the sky aflame with a multitude of warm colors. Not long ago, Jody doubted she'd ever see another sunset or sunrise. But she would, as would everyone else, thanks to the men that had sacrificed themselves.

By six, it's just the four of them left. At six-thirty, the girls head back to the house, with Alex having a shift at the hospital early the next morning and Claire being emotionally spent. Jody and Donna stay, promising to be back soon.

The scrapyard is quiet around them. Bugs hum in the overgrown grass, every so often an old piece of metal creaks, and the wind shifts in the trees. They lean up against their own car close to the entrance of the yard, not quite willing to say goodbye to the pile of memories and stories that have sunk into the ground amongst the trees and graveyard of broken down cars. They have all the time in the world, it seems, and neither are in a hurry to return to one without the Winchesters and their angel.

"This place was big in its hayday, hm?" Donna asks eventually, just to break the silence. She never met Bobby Singer, but knows he was a good man from the multitude of stories Jody's told over the years.

"Busy or apocalyptic big?" Jody questions further with just a hint of a smile on her face. "More the latter." She casts a glance back towards the remains of Bobby's house and it isn't long before Donna's arm is around her shoulders, pulling her close for a one-sided hug.

It lasts a few seconds before the silence and darkness are broken up by the sounds of a car coming up the gravel and dirt driveway. Donna lets Jody go right as the headlights illuminate the rusted metal around them. Both women raise up a hand to shield their eyes, and it isn't long after that the car shuts off and someone comes out.

"I am so, so, so sorry. I didn't think anyone would still be here. I blew a flat, had to get it fixed, it took all day, but I wanted to come just in case…" The someone turns out to be a young college-age woman with glasses and black hair. She comes around the front of the car, a few feet from Jody and Donna, and smiles sheepishly. "Don't suppose either of you are Jody Mills?"

Jody smiles and holds out her hand. "Glad you could make it." She says it honestly and truly, no matter how long it took the young woman, life has a way of, well, getting in the way of carefully laid plans. Jody knows that better than most, and the Winchesters knew that better than her.

"Marie," she fills in and shakes Donna's hand too.

Jody immediately connects the name with the voice on the phone. Slightly surprised, obviously distressed, and had assured Jody that come literal hell or high water, she'd be there. The case, too, that Sam had written in his journal, was one that stuck in her mind.

"The genius behind the play of the boys' lives." Jody's smile morphs into a sad grin, and Donna does her best to not look confused before she introduces herself.

Marie shrugs her shoulders and shifts her feet. "Seems like a lifetime ago. Then again, you don't really forget your favorite characters coming to life to save your bacon from a monster at your high school play." She speaks quickly and lets it drop off before she actually looks at the scenery around them. It's mostly dark now, but shapes can still be made out.

Jody heard about the books, the Winchester gospel, and may have made a few humorous comments to the brothers a few times about their existence. Stepping into Bobby Singer's former area of residence must be a whole other level of weird for Marie.

"Thank you for calling me. I never…expected anything like this, it's…surreal. But I think they'd be okay with it, going out, saving the world and all."

There are tears shining in her eyes as she says it.

This young woman, consumer and lover of fictional worlds and characters until she found out that some of them were real. She may have only met the brothers once, but Jody can tell how much it meant to her, and how much it probably still does.

They saved her life.

That's one thing everyone that had set foot on the grounds that day had in common. The one thing that brought them all together in the first place.

Marie blinks away the tears and rummages around in her purse. "I brought this, just in case I met you," she says as she looks and pulls out a small, plastic square. When she passes it over, Jody can see that it's a CD case, with a disc inside. "It's a copy of the play. We only did the one day, despite everything, so…if you wanted to see their acting performances, I mean, they're on there."

Jody looks between the disc and the girl, and Donna does the same. She doesn't have many videos of the brothers to begin with, same with pictures. The ones she does have she will treasure forever. But this, it's a gift, something to have and cherish and remember them by, a permanent reminder of the good they did in the world.

"Thank you, Marie. This really means a lot." Tears gather in her eyes too and her hands shake slightly around the case.

Marie assures her that it's the least she can do, and then she pauses, as if contemplating whether or not she should ask something next.

"You knew them well, right, and for a long time?" Jody only nods. "I mean, I read the books, but it's not, you know, the same. Could you—would you mind telling me about them? Sam and Dean and Castiel?"

Donna's hand is back on her shoulder, silent and supportive.

Jody's been telling stories all day. But she doesn't mind sharing a few more, she really doesn't. Especially not about the two men she first saw in awful suits sitting with the town drunk. Little did she know how much they'd change her life.

How they'd become her family.

She smiles at Marie then, sad and nostalgic, and above all else, grateful that she has these stories to share.

And Jody asks Marie where she'd like her to begin.