Dean sold the Impala, no longer needing a passenger seat.

His brother was done, dead. Castiel had killed him, Dean had

desperately tried to save his brother. Only to fail and be left

alone. Both where dead.

    Dean was alone, no one to watch over him like Castiel did,

no one to talk him out of things like Sam did. He was alone.

    The impala had just become a sad reminder of his past. Of

his brother. Of what use to be. He no longer needed Baby, he

had no need for passenger, and no need for extra room for

guns and knives. So he got a motorcycle.

    He spent so long after the two had died trying​ get them

back. Only to fail in the end. He was done. Tired of searching.

    Dean headed out. Riding down the long narrow road away

from the bunker one last time. Gun tucked in to his old worn

leather jacket. Musical full volume as he headed on to a main

road.

    Speeding through the crowded streets out of the town. He

didn't look back.

    Dean stopped a mile out from the town line. Nothing

around, only trees and the road. He leaned against the

motorcycle, twirling his gun around.

   Tears started to flow down his face as he thought of his

brother, and how he killed Castiel.

    A song he had only heard once before started to play.

«Carry on my way ward son, there will be peace when you're

done,» He flipped the gun open and loaded it.

    Tears still flowing from his bright green eyes he held the

gun up. «Lay your weary head to rest,»

    He mouthed the words as he pulled the trigger. «Don't you

cry no more...»

    BANG!