As a hunter, you had always known an early, unglamorous death was in your future. You had no idea, when, where or how. But you had always known it would be before the hair on your head turned gray, and it would be at the end of a knife, gun, or claws of some Supernatural being.

There had been many times you considered what dying would be like. Death was such a ingrained part of your life that you couldn't help but think on it. Would it hurt? You had heard stories that the pain faded, leaving you numb until you faded away. But you had also seen those who cried and fought until the very end, making it seem like it was the most horrific thing that could ever happen. 

Then there was the fact of what happened after you passed. Would you be caught in the void, never moving on? Or had you spilled so much blood that there was a special place for you reserved in hell. You had once believed what you were doing was for the greater good, and that because of it, you had a special spot in heaven. But as time went on, and everything you had dealt with, that thought went farther and farther away.

When you had imagined your death, it was Dean by your side, offering  you words of encouragment and love as tears spilled down his cheeks. His arms would be wrapped around you, as he rocked you back and forth. That's what you had imagined. 

But nothing had prepared you for what was happening right now. Your stomach felt as if it was burning from the inside out. It was as if your insides were molten lava, and they were trying to escape. You had no idea where you were, what was going on. All you could concentrate was on the pain, your arms wrapped around your middle, trying to ease the pain anyway you could. Maybe you were in Hell, and you were already on the torture block. If so, you weren't sure you could handle a lifetime of this. 

In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sounds around you. Sounds of a scuffle surrounded you, voices that sounded as if they were underwater, unintelligible. You tried to concentrate on them, for multiple reasons. The first was to gather a sense of where you were, if you were still alive or not. The second was to concentrate on anything but the pain that was engulfing you.

It helped, for a moment, and you could tell you were laying on the cold hard ground, with a warm, gooey substance collecting underneath your back. Your eyes fluttered open, just in time to see a pair of fern green eyes staring down at you. It was then, memories of what was currently happening came back to you. Memories of you and Sam following Dean to this restaurant, and Death ordering Sam's demise, along with yours. You remembered the fight between the brothers, before Death had taken matters in his hands, slicing your stomach open, leaving you to die, or to be killed later by Dean.

"No, please don't kill me." You begged through blood spattered teeth. Your voice was hoarse, and gurgled as you spoke, from the blood pooling everywhere. If you weren't dead now, you would be soon.

 Your vision fluttered in and out, giving you glimpses of Dean standing above you, his eyes filled with tears and concern. You knew then you must either be in the void between life and death, or in Hell, because the Dean you remembered, he wouldn't care if you were dying. Hell he had promised Death he was going to kill his brother, then you. 

You felt your battered body being picked up, and you cried out in pain, your eyes closing as a red haze covered you. You almost didn't hear the words whispered above your head. "Hold on Y/N. Oh my God, please don't die on me." 

It sounded like Dean, but why would he be praying for you when he had been contemplating your death moments earlier? It didn't make any sense, but maybe this was Hell's way of messing with your mind. "Dean." You muttered.

"Sweetheart, I'm here. I'm going to take care of you." He promised, as he gently placed you down once again. You heard him yelling for his brother, as another shadow came to stand over you, blocking out the glare of the horrible neon lights. Between them, and your never ending pain in your stomach, you knew you were still alive, but barely.

"Sam?" You asked, turning your gaze on him, needing the confirmation from him that everything was okay. He was staring down at you, tears falling from his face as he looked from you to your stomach.

"We did it Y/N! We killed Death, and we saved Dean." He said, tears choking his words. "And now we are going to help you. Just hold on, for us."

You felt a huge pressure lift from your shoulders, taking away some of the pain. Dean was saved, and as he moved you could see the Mark was no longer on his arm. No matter what happened next, you felt like you could die in peace. "Dean, love you." You were able to say, before a coughing fit racked your body.

"Sweetheart, I love you too, but it's too early to be saying our goodbyes. I'll get you fixed up, I promise." He told you, as he moved your arms away from your wound. You saw him wince as he looked at Sam. "Sam, find anything to use for stitches. Quick!" He yelled.

Pulling off his shirt, he placed in on your stomach, trying to staunch your bleeding, and you moaned as a new wave of pain washed over you. "I know it hurts. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating over and over again as Sam came back. You had your eyes tightly closed, tears leaking out of them from the pain.

"Dean, let me." You heard Sam mutter, before you felt your hand being grasped. 

"Come one Y/N, show me those pretty e/c eyes of yours." He begged, and you obeyed. Opening them, you saw Dean bent down over you, trying to act calm and collected, but his jaw was tense, and his eyes were rimmed with red. "Sam's going to stitch you up, good as new." He promised.

"Dean, I..." You started talking, but he placed a finger of your lip, shushing you. 

"Reserve your strength. You're going to need it." He told you, before holding a glass up to your lips. It was amber in color, and you knew they were giving you whiskey to help mask the pain. You hungrily gulped it down, just as you felt the first pull of the needle. Again and again you winced, as you felt Sam sew up your broken skin. Each time you would cry out, squeezing Dean's hand. Each moan you saw him shudder, as if he felt your pain along with you. 

"Done." Sam finally said, standing up. "But she's lost a lot of blood. We should get her to a hospital."

Dean nodded, before standing up. "I'm going to pick you up, it will hurt, but we can't stay here." 

Biting your lip, you couldn't hold back the groan as his arms wrapped underneath you. Closing your eyes, you wished for a moment that you could succumb to unconsciousness, so you wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore. But it didn't come, and you felt each jarring pain as he gently carried you through the doors, before the sunlight hit your face.

"Help me get her in the car Sam." You heard Dean tell his brother, but they both just stood there, Dean's arms tightening on you until you moaned once again.

"Shit, get  in the car now!" Dean yelled, before running to the car. Something horrible must be happening, because he forgot all about your battered body in his haste to get the two of you safely inside Baby's metal and glass walls. "Hold on Y/N." He said breathlessly as he ran, and you could hear the creak of the door as Sam opened it. Dean gently slid you inside before shutting the door and climbing into the driver's seat. "Hold on everyone!" 

You heard the car start, the engine revving as Dean backed her up, then your entire body stiffen in pain as the back tire landed in a pot hole. "Dean, let's go!" Sam yelled, his voice filled with urgency.

Using every last ounce of strength you had, you wrapped your arm around your middle, bracing yourself against the seat as you slowly sat up. What you saw had you wanting to lay back down and pretend you had never seen it. A big black cloud was hurling your way, faster than you had ever seen anything move in your life.

"Hold on!" Dean said, looking at both you and Sam as you could do nothing but watch as it came flying your way.