This is a little tough to explain, but I'm going to try... Basically, I'm looking for any fic that takes Sam and Dean and creates a new, unique universe for them to live in. I love how creative authors are, how they come up with these totally original worlds, with their own rules and norms and backstories about how they came to be the way they are. But I'm not talking about AUs in the traditional sense, where (for example) Dean is a cop or Sam is an actor or they're not brothers or something. I'm looking for fics where Sam and Dean are still 100% themselves and canon events are still canon (up to some point in time, determined by the author), but where the author grabs hold of them and their history and then builds a new scenario, a whole new universe, and brings Sam and Dean forward into that space.
Three of my favorite examples of the type of fic I'm looking for:
Last Outpost of All That Is by gekizetsu - Sam and Dean wake up to a quiet world. Every single person (except for the two of them) has vanished. Wincest, eventually.
I Have a Rendezvous With Death by leonidaslion - Far future fic set in a post-apocalyptic world. Sam and Dean were both changed by the events of the apocalypse. Gen.
The Killing Moon by poisontaster - Sam, Dean, and John work together to protect Sam in a quasi-post-apocalyptic world where all the women have died and some of the men happen to have uteruses, so, you know, incestuous mpreg happens.
Does this make any sense at all? If not please leave me a question and I can try to further explain what I'm looking for. Gen or wincest is fine. I like Sam and Dean best, but a fic with just one or the other would be ok too. Including other canon characters or awesome original characters is definitely ok! I don't mind self-recs. Thanks!
ETA: This, from the second part of The Song of the Treadmill by tabaqui (link in the comments), this is what I'm talking about! Gah, I love it already! -- The Impala was on the far side of a rust-bucket pick up and Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach at the first sight of...her. Filthy, faded – a set of scratches from bumper to bumper like claw marks, a dent in the middle of them, in the middle of the driver's side door. Her tires were balding and the inside was a tumbled mess of dirty clothes and blankets, rope and shovels and other gear.
"Jesus...fuck, Dean." The door groaned when he opened it and that, at least, was right. The interior was stained – familiar rust-brown of old blood, crumbled streaks of dried mud. Stained and torn, patched with duct tape. Worn out and not right, not right, and Sam almost shut the door again.