A Winchesters' Work is Never Done (Book Three of SPN New Legacy Series)

The Weight

"Death?" Sam spluttered as he recovered, "What did he want?" 

"Me." 

"Why? Forget that, why are we leaving the Bunker which is where all the spells and things are to keep you alive?"  

He shook his head, "Wow that really is ingrained in us isn't. You don't even want to know why, just how to stop it."

Sam's face was still shocked but that was rather quickly melting into confusion, "Um yeah, that's sort of what we do." 

"Sammy," he sighed, "Back up, this isn't about some weird, supernatural threat to us; no convoluted plot to come up with new and exciting ways to make our lives hell. It's Death doing his job. He gave me a heads up because he knows how we are. He did make mention of the fact that we usually go all out to screw his reaping up. I think he's getting a bit insulted by it. I'd rather not have Death bear anymore grudges against me, or you," he paused as it still hadn't completely settled into his mind that Death respected him and saw honor in helping him pass over. "And apparently he sees it as some great honor to help me move on. He said he told you something similar all those years ago." 

That finished wiping the shock off Sam's face, "Oh, yes he did. How about you tell me what actually happened all at one time instead of in bits?" 

He nodded and relayed the conversation in it's entirety to his brother, who silently took it all in and looked out the window for several minutes before he spoke.

"So, that's what the diner breakfast and the mini road trip are about. Dean Winchester's fondest memories tour?" 

"I wouldn't say fondest," he shrugged. "I just thought the breakfast thing would be kind of funny actually, and it was." 

"For you!" Sam snapped then took a deep breath. "You're really ready to go? Be done? Move on?" 

"Yeah, I am. Like I told Death, I got to live normal these last twenty years, normal people raise their kids and eventually die. Well, I raised my daughter, time for the next part. It's not like I haven't died before, you should be used to this idea by now. You've always handled it before." 

"Not well," Sam muttered.

They'd come to a stoplight that was red, he turned and saw the shame and guilt that still lingered in Sam after all this time, "This will be different, there's no hellhounds on my ass for you to feel guilty about not stopping in time. I'm not in Purgatory and there's no cursed blade to turn me evil. This is death the right way for once. I want this Sam, you have to understand that." The light turned green and he pulled out onto the freeway. "Look, when I wore Death's ring I saw what happened when the natural order got screwed with. I don't even want to think of how many people died early when we got pulled back over and over. How many families we destroyed because we didn't let each other go, but it happened and there's no point dwelling on that. Fact is, it's my time, I've had a feeling it was coming up for a few years now anyway." 

"Is that why you didn't want Cas's help?" 

"In part. In part because I just got tired of cheating, using Cas for my own reasons. He's not here to make us immortal, he would just keep healing me if I let him, but that's not his job. We're human, we die. Just because we happen to have an angel as an adopted brother which gives us access to the fountain of youth doesn't mean we should use it." 

Sam shifted in his seat, "Is this about some sort of guilt? I mean, it's your decision, I'm the last person that will stand in your way if this is what you want, I just want to understand why." 

"No, no guilt, shockingly. We've lived longer then pretty much any hunter we've ever known or read about in the archives. They all died bloody. I always thought we would too. Here we are in our sixties, still kicking, rambling about the Bunker in relative peace. It's been a good life Sam, all of it. I'm thankful, more than that, but I'm not going to be greedy about it. I did what I needed to, saved the world a few times and saved some people along the way. Mary-Jo just turned twenty-one. Why not end it on a good note?"