Epilogue

The first thing I realize is that I'm not in any pain. I don't feel the sharp claws tearing into my body nor do I feel the awful breath suffocating me. It has to be over. I have to be dead.

I'm not sure what to expect. What does Heaven look like, anyway?

But I'm not going to Heaven; I'm going to Hell. Crowley is sending me down to Hell with him.

Maybe I don't want to open my eyes. Maybe when I open them, I'll be feet underground, with Hellfire and deathly hot temperatures. Maybe I'll be locked in a cage without food or water. I've glimpsed Hell before, so I kind of know what to expect.

I force my eyes open, and I'm met with a dark ceiling. Rain patters above my head. I slowly sit up, regulate my breathing. This can't be Hell, there's just no way. I'm lying in the middle of a hallway. Like I'm in some creepy mansion. Wait...

A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. This might just be Hell. Crowley must want me to watch my death a thousand times over. Me dying in my...my old home. But he had to have been wrong about that. He had to have.

I get to my feet and see that I'm scratch-free. No blood, no guts hanging out from my stomach, no torn clothing. It's like I was never harmed to begin with. My hands begin to shake, and I tuck them under my arms. I'm not cold, just frightened. What's my next step?

"Max?"

I spin around and instead feel dread rather than joy. Flashlight and gun in hand, Dean is sauntering down the hall. But his eyes aren't focused on me. He's looking everywhere else but at me.

"Dean." His name barely gets out of my mouth. I'm waiting for the flashlight to don on me, for Dean to see me. Maybe he and Sam can see ghosts, if that's what I am. I know I'm not alive; nobody can survive Hellhounds.

I'm rattled when Dean passes right through me. I let out a sob. My hands fall to my sides, and I'm watching him disappear down the hall. This is real time, I realize. I'm not in Hell, or maybe I am. Maybe I am in Hell, I don't know. Nobody gave me directions.

I bring my legs to follow Dean down the hall. Where's Sam? Dean breaks open the doors, briefly disappearing into each until he comes back out, looking more desperate and upset with every empty room. I follow him until I spot the door that's wide open.

My heart sinks. I stop, and Dean stops not long after. He's seeing it. I see the gun and flashlight lower, and I see him change.

"Damn it," he hisses before barreling through the entranceway. I bring myself into the threshold and see the bloody aftermath from afar.

Dean slowly moves in on my mangled body. I want to vomit, I really do. Can ghosts vomit? I feel the tears down my cheeks as Dean drops to his knees beside me—my body, I mean. He doesn't say anything, his mouth is slightly agape and he just stares.

I don't want to watch, yet I do, for some sick reason.

"Are you happy, now?" I shout to no one. "You got me, Crowley! You won! Just get me to Hell already!"

"Oh, now you're eager to leave?" comes the English voice.

I sidestep, my eyes wide. He's right here. I should beat the shit out of him for keeping me here in real time. "W-why?" I sputter, feeling my chest tighten. "Why am I not in Hell?"

"I may be the King of Hell, but I'm not soulless."

I scoff. I'd think the whole point of being a demon would be that you don't have a soul.

"Since you didn't say goodbye, I'm giving you a chance to. I'm sure you already figured out he can't see you or hear you. But don't make it too long, we've got to get you moved in."

I feel like I want to say "thank you" to Crowley, but knowing he landed me here, I can't bring myself to say the words. Instead, I turn back to Dean and walk through molasses to get to him.

The sight grows more pitiful through my walk. He's taken me into his arms, bloodying himself in the process. My eyes twitch at seeing how blank and staring my body's eyes are. It's weird. This isn't like looking in a mirror, it's so much different.

Dean shakes, bent over my broken body. I sit on my knees across from him. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he won't know. He doesn't know that I'm here. He doesn't know that I'm watching. He'll never know unless Crowley tells him, but I doubt the King of Hell ever will.

"Oh, Dean," I whisper mournfully as I see his vulnerability break him. He closes my eyes, which makes it a little more comfortable for me.

"You didn't deserve it," he mumbles. "You deserved so much better. You didn't deserve this. You never did. You didn't deserve me, either, Max."

"That's not true," I say softly. "Your life doesn't define you, you do." I look down at my knees. "You have a side to you that most don't see. You have the biggest heart that I've ever known anyone to have. If anything, you don't deserve this. You deserve something great." I reach over my head to touch his shoulder. Not that he'll feel it. "I hope you get out of this someday. You and your brother both."

"I'll kill that son of a bitch," he snarls. "I'll make sure he doesn't get away with this again, Max. I...If I could pull you out, I would. But I'm not an angel."

"But you are special." My voice is trembling. "And don't let anyone ever tell you different. I saw how special you are, Dean. I see it. I just wish you could see it too." I bite my lip.

"Dean!"

My head turns to see Sam has made his way onto the scene. From the corner of my eye, I see Dean look up, his face flushed and wet from tears. Sam braces himself against one of the doors, the shock registering on his face. He doesn't go to his brother, he keeps his distance.

I want to hold Dean, tell him in some way that I'm okay, as okay as I can be as a dead girl ready to go to Hell. All I can do is watch helplessly as the eldest Winchester mourns over my corpse while the youngest watches his older brother show his heart on his sleeve.

"Dean," Sam tries awkwardly. "He was...he was right. This...this is where her family used to live." He clears his throat awkwardly.

I feel an anvil suffocate me. This is where her family used to live.

"We were close, Sammy. This fucking close. And...and..." Dean shakes violently. "And it wouldn't have mattered. They left. She would have come back to an empty house. We would have left her here, on her own, again."

I flinch when I feel the hand on my shoulder.

"Time to go, Max." It's the first time Crowley has addressed me by my nickname, the one I actually like and respond to without disdain.

Sniffling, I stand up slowly. My eyes remain on Dean. I don't want to leave him like this. I half turn to Crowley, who's got a rather sinister smile on his face. He has a hand extended for me, reaching. I put my hand to be level with his, but I hesitate. My face quivers in anger as I meet Crowley's dark eyes. I really do hope that Dean or Sam kills him one day. I know it won't bring me back, but I'll feel better.

I place my hand in Crowley's, and his fingers curl around it.

"Welcome home, Max."

**[holds readers dying of feels] I know, you guys, I know. It wasn't easy to write off Max like I had, and it especially wasn't easy to write this ending. I mean, to have Max killed in her own home...And the Winchesters would've dropped her off to an empty home...

It's just heartbreaking. *wipes tear from eye* Yes, I feel emotion too. I can only be soulless for so long when I write.

I always knew Max's story was going to end this way, from the time I knew she was going to have made a crossroads deal with Crowley. I just knew...

And, now as I write this, I realize Dean and Max never got to the "I love you" point in their relationship...**