Thirteen Years

by Rasiaa

Mary's deal comes back to haunt her when she finds out she's having another baby. To keep Dean and John safe, she makes herself scarce, vanishing from their lives. Thirteen years later, she has to face the fallout of her decision when a mutual case reunites the Winchesters.

Okay. I swear I hadn't meant for this to be so long. I couldn't help it.

---

Twelve weeks ago, Dean walked in on his parents under the covers. He thought nothing of it and tugged on his mother's blonde hair, whining, "'M hungry, Mommy."

It was two in the morning. John groaned, leaning back and Mary smiled shakily at her son. "Alright, sweetie. I'll be just a minute, okay? You go wait outside."

Dean smiled, turned, and wandered out. He left the door wide open, of course, but he was three, and Mary wasn't going to fault him for that. Still, she let out a huge breath and slid away from John, much to both of their disappointment. She ran her fingers through her husband's sweaty hair and kissed him quickly, before sliding out of bed and running for her nightgown.

That had been the last time she and John had had sex, and he hadn't even finished. Still, she was a grown woman and knew the consequences of unprotected sex- hell, Dean was one such consequence, though she wouldn't trade him for the world.

That didn't mean she wanted another child. She remembered her deal, and it was almost due.

The positive test in front of her flaunted the demon's promise in her face, and her heart was frozen in fear. Fear for Dean, for John, and for the unborn baby inside her.

And, of course, for herself. She knew what was waiting for her.

She wasn't ashamed to start crying. Dean knocked on the bathroom door and she sniffed as he called for her. She tugged her panties up and flushed the toilet, burying the test in the trash under the sink, wrapped in toilet paper. She tugged her dress down and washed her hands, checking in the mirror for any signs of her tears. Aside from the redness around her eyes, she looked fine. Her make-up was still in place and her mascara hadn't started to run, which she was glad of.

"Mommy?"

She opened the door and smiled automatically at the sight of her little boy, his face peering up at her from behind his stuffed bear. "Mommy, can we go to the park tomorrow?" His big green eyes shined hopefully, and she couldn't bear to say no when just the sight of him made her heart swell. "Please?"

She knelt down and pulled him close. He dropped the toy and hugged her back, unquestioning, unaware. His fingers clenched the back of her dress. She took a deep breath and kissed his temple.

Mary knew she would die for this little boy. She just wasn't ready yet. She didn't want to give him a sibling-

And then it came to her.

…

The next day, John worked late at the car shop and Dean was asleep from the park visit. It had been a big day. Morning sickness was a bitch and hiding made it worse. Her stress levels rose with every minute.

She opened Dean's door and stood in the doorway, her bags- full of knives, guns, holy water, and her journal, among other necessary things- behind her. She took in the blue walls, the pictures of safari animals and the three of them hung on the walls. The plain green bedspread covered her baby, so only his face and his dark blond hair were visible.

She walked into the room, and left her letter on his bedside table. It was written in Latin.

She kissed his forehead and made him a promise.

We'll see each other someday, baby.

…

A year and some months passed.

Mary's picture was on every MISSING sign in town and in every newspaper, every week. But nothing changed.

Dean knew how to take care of himself. His father drank himself into a stupor every night.

But knowing how to cook spaghetti didn't equate to dealing with a fire.

"Dean! Dean, wake up!"

He jolted awake when his father scooped him out of the bed. He took Mary's letter and Dean's teddy bear and ran from the house.

Then the fire stopped. A yellow eyed man stood just outside, pinned to the wall by a child around Dean's age, with dark hair and blue eyes. "Just because Mary Winchester has eluded you, doesn't mean you can hurt her oldest son instead," the boy said, and drew a gleaming silver blade from his shirt and stabbed the man. A choking, stuttering record-like sound came from the man as his skin lit up bronze, and the man dropped like a stone.

The boy turned. "Dean," he said.

…

Thirteen Years Later

…

Dean dropped out of high school one day during his junior year. He just… stopped going. He didn't tell anyone- not his teachers, not his school counselor, not his father.

That was last week.

Dean runs his fingers on the rag at his belt and sighs, leaning down for the beer at his feet. He pops the bottle and takes a long drag, then sets the liquor on the edge of the car battery.

"How's it looking, son?" John asks, walking through the dirt to stand behind him, and Dean grunts.

"Like brand new, sir," Dean says, using the wrench to tighten the last bolt on the edge of the engine.

John runs his gaze over Dean's work then nods his approval. "You've done well, son," he says, patting down the inside of the car, testing the strength of the bolts and the new chain Dean just installed to the 1967 Chevrolet Impala. "Really well," John concludes. He turns and throws an arm around Dean, patting his shoulder. "Congratulations, you're a proper mechanic."

Dean beams, exhilarated. Such praise from John Winchester is rare. "Thanks, dad," he says, and John squeezes his shoulder once more before stepping away.

"Tell Cas, he'll be pleased. Then, I found us a hunt. California, I think we've got a windigo on our hands," John says, taking a beer from the cooler and then wandering back to the hotel door. They're in Wyoming right now, having just finished with a demon gathering, with Cas' help.

Cas is an angel, absolutely committed to Dean and while it took a long time for John to trust Castiel and all he had to say, now, the three of them hunt together on and off. Dean is starting to branch out on his own, taking on simple salt-and-burns by himself. Cas comes sometimes, but he never helps John when he hunts alone. He only deals with Dean's father when he has to.

"Cas!" Dean calls, brushing his thoughts aside as he looks back at the car.

The angel, whose vessel grows with Dean, appears next to him in a second, blue eyes peering at him curiously. "Hello, Dean," he says, his voice a lot deeper than Dean's.

Dean looks around quickly before planting a kiss to Cas' mouth. Cas kisses back briefly before they pull apart and Dean gestures at the car. "Fixed her myself, Cas, what do you think?"

Cas nods encouragingly, but even after all these years, Cas doesn't understand the reason that John and Dean still have a car when they have him. "Excellent," he says, and Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him again.

"You're just trying to get into my good graces," Dean says, shoving the angel lightly with his shoulder.

"Shamelessly," Cas agrees, and Dean laughs.

"I'm already in love with you, Cas." The words don't choke him like they used to.

…

As a rule, his mom hunts alone.

Sam helps sometimes, but since he's in school, the most he does is help dig a grave, and research. Lots and lots of research. He wonders if his teachers think he's crazy, that he reads so much but never what he's actually assigned.

Mary stumbles into their small apartment in Nebraska late at night, coming home from a hunt that took two days across the state. "Mom," Sam says, standing hurriedly to help her in. "You're hurt." He takes her bags and sets them down by the door while she drops her keys into the bowl on the bookshelf.

"I'll be okay, Sam," Mary replies, smiling warmly at him as she winces while stepping lightly on her injured leg. "I just got thrown a little too hard."

She sits on the couch, and Sam hovers, uncertain. Mary waves him off. "Let's see your homework," she changes the subject like she breathes, and Sam sighs inwardly but brings the math over for her to see anyway. He sucks at math and she knows it.

And once they've puzzled through factoring, Sam throws a CD into the boom box and they eat take-out Chinese to Led Zeppelin, laughing over the flirty cop Mary had to deal with for the duration of this case.

"Hey Mom?" Sam calls later, as his mom grabs the blanket from the back of the chair, no longer limping as badly. He has a newspaper, and maybe, maybe…

"Yeah, sweetie?" she asks, wrapping the fluffy fabric over his shoulders and kissing his head. He ducks away because she's his mom and he's nearly fourteen, but she just laughs. "You're never too old for me to love you, baby," and she sounds a bit wistful.

"I think we have a case in California," Sam says. "It's spring break after school tomorrow, do we want to go on a road trip?" It's not like he was planning on anything anyway.

Mary doesn't like leaving the Midwest for cases. She wants Sam in the same school, so he doesn't have to be moved around. But Sam has also always wanted to see the San Francisco zoo. And, the case is right in the area, so she sighs and Sam cheers, knowing he's won.

"I'll tell Andy tomorrow that I do have plans, after all," Sam says, grinning from ear to ear. Mary ruffles his hair and he tries to duck that, too, laughing in delight.

…

Dean drives all night while John sleeps in the back, drunk. Cas sits up front with him, hand on Dean's knee and their thighs pressed together.

In the morning, they check into a run-down generic motel with questionable origins, but the food is fresh and so is the bedding, and the television actually works, so John considers this one a success. He slams his duffle bag on the floor next to the bed closest to the door and then vanishes into the bathroom.

"Okay, so," Dean mutters, as Cas sits down on the other bed, tugging Dean onto his lap, "Remind me again- what did you find out about your sister Anna?"

Cas sighs and rests his chin on Dean's shoulder as the bathroom door swings open. "She's finally Fallen."

"And you- you're not gonna Fall, right? I've heard whispers about it…" Dean murmurs, weary of his dad hearing this particular conversation.

"I'm not Falling at all, Dean," Cas replies, clearly surprised. "Who told you that?"

Dean opens his mouth but his father cuts in, "I'm going to teach you more poker, Dean," as he gets the cards out. "You too, Cas. And no cheating by letting Dean win again, you're smarter than you play, Cas," John adds sternly, flicking his eyes over them with raised eyebrows.

"We're not going to start on the case?" Dean asks, surprised. John shakes his head.

"You need to be able to hustle money by yourself, boy," John says, "because in this life-"

"Any day could be your last," Dean finishes, suddenly exhausted. "Yes, sir."

John nods approvingly. "Come on," he gestures to the table and deals the cards once Dean and Cas have made themselves comfortable.

They play for chips, but when Dean plays next, John says he'll be playing for money at a bar. Or hustling pool. Dean has known since he was thirteen the perfect angle needed to break the balls and have all of them fall into the holes. He's perfect at it.

…

Two days later finds Sam and Mary pulling into San Diego in their beat-up truck.

They check into a generic motel just outside of town, and Sam bounds up to the front desk, as excitable as a puppy. Mary laughs, ruffling his hair as she orders a single room with two twins. The man behind the counter smiles at them and hands her a key, "Room 309," he says with a wink, and she grins back and shows him her wedding ring.

"Taken," she says simply, and he sighs.

"Always the gorgeous women," he says mournfully, but his eyes shine in playfulness. "Good luck, ma'am, and have a good stay."

"Thank you," Mary says, walking out of the reception building, and Sam follows after her as they make their way down the sidewalk.

"Why don't you ever take guys up on their offers?" Sam asks.

Mary sighs, thinking of her John and her oldest son Dean, who would be about seventeen now. How much she's missed them, and of them. Her baby is almost grown. She misses him so much. "I am still in love with your father," she says to Sam, her youngest son. Her son who doesn't know about his older brother.

Sam opens his mouth to reply but then pauses, and she follows his line of sight.

A young gay couple is kissing just in front of their room. Mary says, "Excuse me," and they jump apart, looking panicked.

"Sorry, ma'am," the one with blue eyes says. "We don't mean any harm."

Mary waves it away. "You're in front of my room, is all," she says, holding up the key, and the blond ducks his head guiltily.

"Sorry again," she hears, but all she can see are his green eyes, the long lashes and the dark blond hair, and she's abruptly reminded of a similar face with similar features, staring up at her, begging to go to the park- "Ma'am?"

The blue eyed teen touches her arm gently, and his fingers are ice cold. She whips her head around to stare at him, and she can see a wisdom beyond his years behind the concern. His eyes widen and his expression shutters like a prison.

He pulls away sharply. "It's not safe here," he says, and the blond snaps to attention.

"What do you mean, Cas?" he asks.

"Stay away from this woman and her son," the teen- Cas- orders, and the blond nods his assent as they stumble away. Cas glances back first, his eyes cold and stern, a warning. Sam stares after them in shock.

Then the other teen turns. The three of them exchange glances, the teen's eyes full of confusion and weariness, also older beyond his years, and Mary and Sam's eyes in similar states. Cas reaches around his boyfriend and tugs his head around, and the blond ducks and together, they disappear around a corner.

"What the hell?" Sam asks, barely a whisper. "We're not-"

"I know, baby," Mary says, and unlocks the door with shaking fingers. She knows she will have nightmares tonight.

…

Dean can't calm down.

He's never been caught before, and he knows they could've had a lot worse of a reaction. Cas sits in front of him, rubbing soothing circles onto his back and whispering in Enochian. "They're just people, Dean. But not good ones. I'll keep you and John safe, don't worry, sweetheart…"

Dean learned the language of the angels when it became apparent that Cas wasn't just going to leave. He responds in kind. "I love you, I love you," he whispers, and Cas just makes soft hushing sounds.

"I love you, too," he responds in English, and Dean sighs, pressing his forehead to his knees.

John stumbles in, in the late hours of the morning, drunk, but with an extra thousand pocketed and Dean grins at his father. "Thank you," Dean says, meaning it, and taking a twenty. "I'll get breakfast."

"Thanks, Dean," John slurs, and then face-plants onto the bed, one foot on the ground and Dean still sighs. His father is out cold as Dean rolls him onto his side.

Then he leaves, Cas having been recalled to heaven for a monthly check-in, as guarding the "Righteous Man" meant keeping him from descending into hell and was a fairly important job, apparently. Dean doesn't much care, since he doesn't plan on going to hell.

Though he figures he might end up there on principle.

His head is down, and he walks into the reception room, where a full buffet is lined up. "Kiddo," the man behind the counter recognizes him when he walks up. "Buffet is free," he says, when Dean tries to hand him the twenty.

Dean furrows his brows. "Seriously?" he asks, shocked.

"Yeah. Least we can do, but since you're not booked in one of the higher level rooms, you get the tables on the left, not the right," the receptionist says. Dean glances over and knows that it's better than what he expected. Lots of fruit and toast and a menu that says eggs are available on order.

"Thanks," Dean says. "Can we take it back to our rooms?" he asks, and the receptionist nods.

"Trays next to the table. Take what you want."

Dean hits the counter in appreciation and grins at the man, winking. "Thanks, man," he says, and turns.

Runs right into someone.

"Oh, god," the kid says, "I'm so sorry-"

"Naw," Dean says, taking a step back. "My f-"

He stops, closes his mouth, and walks away. The kid yelps, "Hey!" and races after him, catching him by the arm. Dean rips his limb away and the kid actually looks hurt.

"What did we ever do to you? We weren't mean to you and your friend yesterday," the kid demands, sounding furious. "He just lashed out for no reason!"

"He has a reason," Dean snarls quietly, and gets in the kid's face. Damn boy is his height, but Dean's older, and he uses that to his advantage and leans in. The fear on the kid's face appears quickly. "And while I don't know the reason, what I do know is that I've known him for thirteen years and he's never been wrong. Never, not about these things. So stay away from me. Or else."

Dean turns and walks away, grabbing a tray and piling it with food. He pulls his flask out and downs about half the beer inside it before he takes off, back to his father, who hopefully hasn't thrown up all over the sheets. He hates asking room service for new ones and changing them himself.

…

Sam stares after the older teenager, feeling strangely betrayed. The kid dresses like he's from the punk-rock wild west sixties, with a leather jacket clearly older than he is, flannel, jeans with holes and cowboy boots. Sam shakes his head and swallows heavily. He takes a deep breath and then Mary appears, rubbing his back soothingly. "Hungry?" she asks cheerfully, having been absent for the whole ordeal.

Sam smiles at her, strained. She notices, of course she does, and her happiness drains, to be replaced with motherly concern. "Sam?" she checks, running her hand through his hair.

"That blond teenager we ran into yesterday?" he checks, and she nods slowly, looking sad, "He threatened me. Told me to stay away. That his friend hasn't been wrong about feelings like that in thirteen years."

Mary shakes her head. "No, sweetie. He's wrong this time. That boy was wrong."

"But… what if he's right, that somehow we pose some sort of threat unintentionally?" Sam asks, and he shouldn't care this much. But there was something about the way the teen's voice had shaken when he threatened Sam, how he seemed as lost as a broken compass. It twists in his heart and he can't bear the thought that he might hurt someone who isn't a monster.

His mom shakes her head. "Then we do," she mutters, sounding just as broken up about it as he is. "But baby, it isn't our fault. Those boys are different in an unsupportive, cruel world, and they seemed so much older than they should be for their age. They couldn't have been older than eighteen, baby. Every day is a risk for them, likely. That isn't to say it's their fault, either, because that sort of thing is no one's fault, but it makes me sad to see those people, because I know how much they hurt."

Sam swallows. "I'm not really hungry," he says, and Mary nods slowly.

"Okay, baby. Want to go and rest?"

"Yeah, mom. I think. I think that I will be okay in the hotel while you look around and talk to locals," he says. She thins her lips but nods anyway.

…

"Three disappearances, and according to the families, they all went to the mountains before they disappeared," John says, and they peer at the map together, and then Dean points.

"There's a cavern here," he says, and John hums in approval, nodding. "Think that's where he is, sir?"

"Probably," John agrees, and then moves away from the table and map and Dean to the bed, reaching under to find the weapons bag.

"Blow torch?" Dean checks, and John nods again.

"You're on a roll, boy," John says, pulling out said item and tossing a flashlight to Dean. He catches it easily and then, they head out of the hotel room, guns in the back of their belts, flashlights in their jackets, and knives- angel blades- on their arms.

Hunting will do him good, Dean knows. He's been on edge ever since he was caught with Cas, and without his angel, nerves are getting the best of him. But hunting is easy. He's done it his whole life, and he knows the drill.

Demons are more up his alley, but this will do, too.

It's sundown when the pull up to the cavern and wander inside. Dean takes out his flashlight and then hears the growling, after he and his father split up at a fork.

He hears a yelp of pain and takes off in that direction, John nowhere to be found.

…

Sam is with his mom and plays the part of the grieving brother beautifully. Mary talks to all the victims' families, and what they hear is all the same: They went camping in the mountains, and then they didn't come home on time. They stopped calling.

Mary nods along, crying constantly, and repeats, "My baby is gone, too. I just. I have to know what happened to him."

Sam thinks it's a little too real to be acting, since he's right here. He doesn't know why she's so distraught.

But he comforts her in the car, and it seems that now she's started, she can't stop. She keeps crying, and crying, and crying. Sam doesn't know what to do. "Mom," he says, "What's wrong? Please, mom, there's nothing wrong, I'm right here… Mom?"

She hiccups and then sighs. "I'm so, so, so-rry, Sam. But you can't know. This is my cross to bear, not yours, sweetheart."

She swallows and wipes her eyes, then shakes her head roughly and takes a deep breath. "Let's go get the windigo. But first, I think I promised you the zoo."

Sam smiles at her, relieved and saddened by her behavior.

…

"Where to first, baby?" Mary asks early the next morning.

"Let's just follow the map?" Sam asks. "We'll see as much as possible before sundown?"

"I think I'll take you back to the hotel before sundown so that I can go on that hunt," Mary says, her eyebrows raised.

"What?" Sam asks. "I thought I would come with you?"

Mary shakes her head and directs Sam to a small collection of peacocks, roaming on a field of grass. "I wish we had a camera," she sighs, and Sam gives her a flat look. She shakes her head with a laugh. "You're persistent. And untrained. You'll get hurt, baby."

"You just hit them with fire," Sam points out. "How hard can it be?"

…

Sam yelps in pain when the monster lunges at him, catching his shirt, but thankfully not piercing skin. Mary gives a cry of alarm, but the thing has her almost unconscious, and she can barely stand, never mind help Sam. The only boy she has left. Her heart breaks. She wishes he hadn't followed her.

Then.

"Come here, you son of bitch!" a boy shouts, coming out of nowhere with a gleaming silver blade and a blowtorch. He jumps in front of Sam as the monster's claws come down, and the teenager she recognizes as the blond who was with Cas snarls in defiance. "You'll pay for that," he snarls, holding his side heavily. "Let's dance."

Mary watches in awe as the teen moves with lethal grace, matching the windigo blow for blow. As he catches the thing in the head with the torch, he leaps back and then knocks the beast's head up with his foot and as the boy lands, he drags the blade up from the thing's hip to shoulder in one deep cut.

The beast howls and Sam takes a startled step back, sitting on his haunches next to Mary and helping her sit up.

The blond wields the torch like a dagger, and the silver blade like it's just an extension of his arm. Whoever trained him, did a great job at it. Her heart beats faster, however, as the beast catches the boy on the head and his neck snaps to the side with the force of the blow. He spits out blood, then turns back to the windigo, and says quietly, "I'm done with you," before grabbing the monster's arm and swinging himself onto its back, his thighs around its neck. He snaps the fragile bones in the neck then torches the beast and hops away as it falls.

"Dean!"

A man stumbles into the room, eyes wide and the teen turns, along with Mary and Sam to stare at the newcomer. "Dean," he breathes, and catches the teen in a hug. "I heard screaming, and I thought- I ran into the victims, you got everyone out?"

"I didn't, but I did torch the bastard." The teen- Dean, and oh, how that hurts- nods at them. "They got the victims, sir."

The man swings his head around to stare at them, and then loses all the color in his face. He sways. Dean's eyes grow wide in alarm and he reaches out to steady the man, says, "Dad?" in shock, and Mary feels everything fall away.

John. "Mary?" he whispers, and she swallows.

"John."

…

John drives them back to the hotel in the Impala, since Mary and Sam caught the bus up here. It's suffocating and silent. Dean stews in the backseat, as far from the kid as possible. He doesn't trust them, regardless of their status. He doesn't care that they're his mother and his kid brother. His arms are crossed across his chest and he's staring out the window, but actually looking at the reflection of Samuel in the light. He grits his teeth.

He folds his arms tighter around himself and then the crinkling of paper- his mother's letter- catches all their attention. "What's that?" Sam asks, and damn, the kid is ballsy. Dean glares.

"It's something called none of your goddamn business, kid," he says sternly, and when Sam flinches, Mary speaks up.

"Don't talk to him like that, Dean-"

"Oh, like I'd take orders from you," he snaps, turning his glare to her. "You abandoned me. You are nothing to me."

She winces, and tears fill her eyes, but Dean watches impassively as they fall. "John?" she appeals, and he shakes his head.

"Dean has every right to feel that way," is all he says, and Mary sobs.

She cries all the way back. Sam rubs her arm and looks like he's going to cry, too, and Dean has had enough. He doesn't do crying. He fucking hates it when people cry.

…

Cas is waiting when they get back, and he stands immediately when Dean storms in. "Dean," he calls, and the teen's head snaps up, and Cas is visibly alarmed at the tears in his eyes. "Dean," he says, softer, and the teen folds, collapsing into his arms as Mary, Sam, and John wander in. John is the only one without recent tears on his face, and Cas sighs, pressing a kiss to Dean's head.

Sam doesn't know what to do, what to think. He always knew that his father was still alive, but he never guessed that it was his mother who walked away. She called his name in her sleep. She loved him. Talked little, but Sam always knew there was something missing.

It was Dean.

Sam watches, and as Cas holds Dean, his brother's- brother! What a concept, and Sam is so, so, hurt that he is dead set against him and his mom- wounds begin to close. His clothes mend and when he's finished, Dean sighs. He speaks in a melodic language that Sam has never heard, and Cas replies in the same tones.

John looks wholly unconcerned with this development, and when he walks past them to the mini bar, Cas reaches out and grabs John's forearm for a brief second before releasing him. John reaches the bar and forgoes the glass, just downs half a bottle of whiskey before handing the other half to Dean, who drinks the rest. Sam's eyes are huge.

"You let him drink?" Mary demands, sounding furious, and John snaps at her.

"You don't get a say. Dean is eighteen in a week. He can handle whiskey like a grown up."

Dean raises the empty bottle in a mocking toast. "Damn right," he agrees.

Mary is absolutely hysterical. "John!" she yells. "What have you done? I trusted you to raise him-"

"You didn't exactly leave a manual; what was I supposed to do? I spent that first year frantic, searching, desperate to find you, I was convinced that you would never leave him. Never leave me. But I was wrong. When Dean was five, a yellow-eyed demon tried to kill him, and Cas saved us. He taught us to hunt. Taught us to read Latin, and when we did, I found out the truth. I knew you had another kid. But you- you didn't trust me to take care of you. Of the baby," John's voice cracks, and he collapses. His chest heaves as he stares at her, and she stares back, shocked.

"John," she breathes, and he shakes his head.

"Don't. You're thirteen years too late," Dean snaps. "Go. We might meet again tomorrow, but I don't want to see you right now. We're too hurt. Go, and tell Sam who you used to be."

Mary stutters in her steps, hand outstretched. "Dean, baby-"

"GO!" he screams, and his voice breaks on the word, and Mary grabs Sam and rushes out of the hotel room. She bursts into tears again. Sam is lost. He doesn't know what to think.

…

Sam knocks on the door early the next morning. For a long time, there's no answer. Then Cas swings the door open and stares at him for several seconds. He steps outside and closes the door shut behind him, arms crossed. "Yes?" he asks.

"I. Um. We just- wanted to talk to Dean and D-dad, again," Sam stutters, unspeakably nervous in front of this thing that clearly isn't human, based on his healing trick last night.

Cas doesn't say anything for a long time. "You know what-" Sam starts, and turns, but Cas speaks then.

"Do you know why I told Dean you were a threat?"

Sam stops in his tracks. "What?" he asks, turning. His mom comes around the corner at the question but the blue eyed teenager- possibly- doesn't look at her. "No," Sam responds.

Cas blinks slowly and then explains. "I said that because Dean is emotionally stunted and very fragile. Learning your identity has broken him. It will take months, if not years, to get him back to the way he was yesterday morning. I stay my hand against you because, you, Sam, are a child and therefore innocent in this mess, but Mary-" he looks to her, and she bites her lip nervously- "I stay my hand as per Dean's request."

"He asked you not to hurt me?" Mary asks, and Sam runs his hand through his hair. "I'm a grown hunter- you couldn't-" Cas raises a hand and her voice cuts, much to her immediate alarm.

"I could kill a human like you without a thought. You threaten my charge. As it stands, he will be reckless, and he has not yet earned his place in heaven. As it stands, if, because of your emotional upset, Dean gets himself killed, all of the world will be doomed. You should have heeded my warning. You should have left. Now," Cas grits his teeth. "Come back later, around two this afternoon. They are both asleep, and hung-over, and they will not appreciate your presence. They must work things out for themselves."

"Wait," Sam says as Cas turns away. The teen pauses and looks over his shoulder, face impassive. "What- what are you, exactly?" Sam asks, timid, but Cas merely sighs.

"I am an Angel of the Lord," he says.

…

Mary jerks and stares at the door when the banging starts. Sam sighs and guesses it's probably his brother or his father, and opens the door. Sure enough, Dean stands on the other side, his face an impassive mask and his eyes cold and distant. Sam feels his heart break. Mary clears her throat. "We were going to stop by about two…" she says, and Dean snorts.

"I know. Cas told me. But truthfully, talk to dad at two. I am so not interested in hearing that funfest so I came by now," he says, and walks in and drops himself into the seat Sam had been sitting in. Sam sighs and pulls out another one. "Now," Dean says. "Spill. I want the whole truth. Don't spare the details. You owe me that much. And spill it for this one, too, since I can tell he doesn't know shit," Dean adds, pointing at Sam.

And Dean is right, of course he is. Mary licks her lips, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. "For the love of god," Dean interrupts before she starts, "Please, please, please, try not to cry."

Mary clenches her jaw but starts anyway.

She tells the whole story, from the positive pregnancy test to her deal to her choice. How she left to save them. But it wound up being in vain, she says, because you nearly died anyway and she says everything about raising Sam by herself, of how she's thought of Dean every single day, every single time she saw a boy with blond hair and green eyes she was reminded of the little boy she left behind. And eventually, she runs out of air. She hasn't cried so much in years, she says, and she had never imagined their reunion to be so broken and violent. And she hates herself for it.

Dean shakes his head and takes a deep breath by the end of it. They sit in silence for a long time. He shakes his head again and lets out a sigh. "I can't say I forgive you because I don't," Dean says, and Mary nods frantically, opening her mouth but Dean holds up a hand, and she leans back, "But I think I could, someday. I think it will take time. And this will never heal, not really, but I see why you did what you did. I don't trust you. You have to earn that, too. But I guess you're family and you're stuck with me now."

Mary sobs and Dean takes that as his cue to stand. Right on that note, there's another knock at the door and this time Dean answers, and John walks in. "Right," Dean says. "I'm taking Sam here, and you can bitch it out together," he nods to John, who nods back. "I'll be back by nine, sir."

"Make some money if you can," John says as a goodbye.

…

Dean tries not to look at the kid in the front seat of the Impala. Sam sits in silence, head bowed and hair covering his face. After nearly an hour in the car, driving to nowhere, he sighs and pulls into the nearest café. "You want food?" he asks gruffly, shaking his head and licking his lips when Sam doesn't respond.

He leans back and says, "I always wanted a little brother."

Sam jerks, and peers at Dean through his hair. "What?"

"Yeah," Dean says. "Dad's kind of an asshole. Always drinking, always expecting nothing less than perfection. That's why I'm so good at my job. He pushes and doesn't know when to stop. You got the better end of the deal, I guess. I heard Cas this morning with the "emotionally stunted and fragile" crap, and I guess it's somewhat true since I'm a soldier, not a son. I guess, when I was younger, some part of me knew you were out there. I pictured a kid just like you, to help me deal with the brunt of it."

Sam gapes like a fish and Dean snorts in laughter. "Come on, kid. Let's eat."

He gets out of the car and Sam scrambles to follow. "Are we okay, then?" Sam asks breathlessly, and Dean eyes him while they wait to be seated.

"What do you mean?" he asks, winking at the waitress when she comes to seat them. She blushes pink, grabs menus and leads them into the main dining area.

"What can I get you?" she inquires, twiddling her pen, once they're seating in a booth with red seats and a yellow table top. There's ketchup and salt and pepper on the table, but that's all.

Dean points at the menu and says, "The special looks fine, and coffee."

She turns to Sam, who mutters, "Same, but with coke instead of coffee."

"Okay," she says, glancing at Dean, who grins at her. She blushes again and hurries away.

"Does Cas know you do that?" Sam asks, and Dean hums.

"Of course. We don't have much of a choice."

Sam grits his teeth and looks down again, picking his nails. Dean sighs and prods Sam's foot with his own. "Spill, kid," he mutters.

"Are we okay?" Sam repeats, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," is the response, and Sam sucks in a breath.

"I, ah. I. I want to be family. I always knew there was something missing, because I had mom, and knew about dad, but never about you, and I guess- it makes sense, now, and-"

"Whoa, Sam, slow down," Dean says, and reaches across the table and tugs Sam's hands free. Sam looks at him as Dean squeezes his wrists once before releasing him. "My problem isn't with you, kid. It's with mom. 'S not like you told her to leave- you weren't even born. So relax, already. I don't know that I trust you- we met less than a week ago- but we'll get there, okay? You and I, we're gonna be fine."

Sam feels something unknot in his chest, and relief floods him so thoroughly that he feels blinded by it. He nods and smiles tempestuously at his brother- his brother- who smiles slightly back. "Just as long as you can forgive me for threatening you, kid. If I had-"

"Neither of us knew," Sam says dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

…

Sam now knows how to play pool.

He says as much to a red-faced Mary once he and Dean wander into the hotel room at 8:59. John glowers at Dean, and Dean seems to realize he did something because he makes himself look smaller and doesn't say a word.

He doesn't for the rest of the night. After so many hours of laughing with him over stupid crap, Sam kind of misses seeing his liveliness. "We're leaving in the morning, Dean," John states firmly, and Dean hesitates. John raises his eyebrows and Sam knows immediately this isn't going to be good. Sure enough, when Dean backs up as John takes a step forward, Sam reaches out and takes a hold of John's arm.

"Sammy don't!" Dean shouts, and Sam gets out of the way before he can get hit, but the damage is done.

Mary yanks Sam to her and reaches for Dean, who once again hesitates, but eventually stands a little closer to her than John, who scowls.

"Have your bags packed by morning, Dean. I will drag you out of here by your hair if you aren't ready. There's a serious case in northern Arizona and people are dying. I can practically smell the sulfur."

Dean straightens to attention at that. "Yes, sir!" he says.

"Sulfur? Demons? You're going to deal with demons?" Mary demands, worry leaking into her voice. "You didn't tell me that's what that was!"

Dean looks at her. "They're kind of my thing, mom. I specialize in knife work, making things like demons and vampires easy for me to deal with."

"Dean," Sam mutters, and the teen looks over. "Demons are- big. Forces of hell. They can't be killed."

Dean flicks his wrist and the silver, odd shaped blade appears in his hand. He flips it and catches the blade before handing it to Sam. "That's an angel blade. I'll see if Cas can't get one for each of you. Basically, they are the catch-all. It can kill anything; demons, and angels. The metal is farmed in what used to be the garden of Eden, according to Cas, but I don't know if I believe that one."

"Well," Mary says, running her hands through Sam's hair absently, and he only lets her because he knows Dean won't let her get close yet- "It'll be a family hunt," she declares, and Dean sighs.

"Of course," he says bitterly. "I'm gonna find Cas." Dean leaves, and Mary sends a warning look to John, who once again scowls before also taking his leave. They can hear the roar of the engine of the Impala a minute later, and squealing tires that signify burning rubber.

Mary presses her nose to Sam's hair and whispers, "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you, too, mom."

…

Cas opens his arms as soon as Dean slams the door behind him, and Dean falls into him, pressing desperate kisses to his mouth. "Help me forget, Cas, please…"

"Mm," Cas hums, tilting his head to allow Dean access to his neck. Dean bites and licks at the wounds, tasting blood, but Cas doesn't care. "Okay, Dean."

Cas reaches for his belt and Dean allows it, helping by taking his shirt off and pulling at Cas', shoving his stupid trench coat off, too. "We've got to get you a better coat, man," Dean whispers, seeking Cas' lips once more, and Cas' protest is swallowed by a groan.

Cas backs Dean to the wall and runs his hands down Dean's bare chest, then back up and over his shoulders. Cas is the one to tilt Dean's head to the side as he sucks a hickey to his neck, where his family is sure to see it, and Dean moans. "Cas," he pants. "Let's speed this up."

The angel shakes his head and kisses Dean's jaw. "You need slow right now. It'll last longer."

Dean hates it when Cas is right. Which is always. "Let me," Cas whispers, moving his hands to Dean's belt and unbuckling it. Dean's heart rate picks up, because they've never gone this far.

He isn't sure he wants to, suddenly, and he stops Cas with a hand to his wrist. "Don't," he whispers. "Not ready." Dean gets kissed again, and Cas hums into his mouth.

"Alright, Dean," Cas whispers, and moves his hands to Dean's thighs, and Dean takes the hint and wraps his legs around Cas' waist. He catches him easily, holding him with angelic strength that never fails to get Dean all wound up.

Cas carries him to Dean's bed and lays him down, and with a few quick kisses and some grinding, Dean comes and Cas snaps, cleaning the mess before it can get uncomfortable. "Cas, come here," Dean says, and of course Cas falls to Dean easily. Dean palms at Cas until Cas comes as well, a whisper of Dean's name on his lips. "Good god," Dean groans, and lays down again, with Cas snapping again and then pulling Dean into his arms.

"Talk to me," Cas says. "Tell me everything. And no running away."

Dean swallows and sighs, playing with the hair at Cas' nape. "I grieved for her."

Cas says nothing, just holds him tighter and gives him a quick kiss for encouragement. Dean murmurs, "I thought- after all these years… I thought she died. God, it was so much easier when she was dead."

"I could have told you where she was, if you asked."

Dean shakes his head. "It was easier to say she was dead. That way I didn't have to-" he chokes off and has to swallow down another wave of tears. When he speaks next, he can only say, "She left me, because Sam was more important."

Cas closes his eyes and wishes he could say that wasn't the truth. But nothing he could say would take that from Dean's mind. "You know she never meant it that way. She wanted to keep you safe and this was the only way she knew how," he tries, and Dean shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter because that's what it sounds like. Intentions are nothing in the face of actions," Dean buries his face into the crevice of Cas' neck and shoulder and takes a shuddering breath. It doesn't stop the few tears that do escape, but it helps with the majority.

"I wish we had never met. I wish she…"

Dean doesn't have to finish for Cas to understand. "Dean," Cas sighs, sounding sad.

"Sorry. Sorry, that was cruel. I can't help it."

Cas presses a kiss to Dean's head and leans his cheek on his hair. "If you can't tell me these things, who can you say them to? I'm going to listen, Dean, not judge. You're not the first human to go through this, I just wish it never happened. I love you, so, so much, and I hate that you're hurting and I get it. Family issues are pretty universal."

Dean chokes on a laugh. "Yeah. 'M sorry, Cas."

Cas hums. "Anna will be okay," he says. "She has lost all memory of being an angel. She's human."

"That sucks though," Dean mutters, unable to fathom the same thing happening to Cas.

"Indeed," Cas says dryly. "I am not Falling, Dean. My power is fully charged."

Dean has long since stopped questioning whether Cas says "I love you" because it's his job. When Dean finally said it back about six months ago, Cas had looked to elated that it wiped all doubt from his mind. It just baffles him still that Heaven is okay with Cas being in love with his charge.

It worries him.

Cas pulls away slightly to give Dean a kiss. "Did I ever tell you about the archangels?"

"What? No," Dean replies, somewhat surprised that Cas knows them at all. Cas smiles.

"Don't get me wrong, Dean, Lucifer was only in Heaven for about a century after I was created before he was cast down. I knew very little of him. Michael paid me no mind and neither did Raphael, but Gabriel… I was his favorite."

Cas sounds very proud. Then, he sobers and says, "Gabriel is gone. He isn't dead- the whole Host would know- but he left, millennia ago. But he raised me, taught me everything I know." Cas gives Dean another quick kiss and then says, "That is why they are okay with me loving you. If they cast me down, Gabriel and I still share a strong enough bond that he would know, and likely all of Heaven would face the wrath of the Archangel of Justice." Cas grins, wicked. "He answers my prayers, sometimes. With little things. I can feel his grace in my mind." Cas nuzzles Dean's face then whispers, "So stop worrying."

Dean flushes and he can feel Cas' laughter. "Can't help it," Dean mutters, and Cas grins and kisses all along Dean's face while Dean squeezes his eyes shut to allow it, smiling and laughing.

…

"Are you alright?"

Sam looks up. Smiles at his mom, genuine, and nods. She isn't convinced. "I know it's a lot to take in…"

"Understatement of the century, mom," Sam points out, and turns to face her fully. "Just wait until I tell my friends at school that I found my dad and my older full-blooded brother in California, while they were here for work."

Mary huffs a laugh. "It will be quite a story," she agrees, smiling absently. Her eyes dim.

"I'm not mad, mom. I promise." She meets his eyes, guarded, and he feels his own enthusiasm dim a little. "I mean, I would've liked to know that I had a sibling- you know I always wanted one- and Dean, man, he's great. Seriously. He taught me how to play pool, told me that he was sorry for threatening me, and he just- he loves, mom. He loves and cares so much. I'm kind of blown away by it. Because when I got him to talk about Cas, it was like Cas is the sun, and he is just the lucky star next door. He actually said that. He already has me under his wing."

Sam reaches forward and places his hand on her knee, trying to drive his point home. "It'll take time, like Dean said. But we'll be okay. I dunno about dad, but… the three of us are gonna be fine."

"I just don't want you to think that I'm going to abandon you, like I did Dean," Mary confesses. Sam winces. "I want to mend my relationship with Dean, Sam, and I don't want you to be left on the sidelines. That would be wrong."

"Mom," Sam says, and moves closer, ducking under her arm and wrapping his arms around her. "It's been thirteen years. You have his whole life to catch up on. It'll be a while, but remember, Dean and dad also have to catch up on us, too. It'll be a family endeavor."

…

There's knocking on the door, and it's four in the morning. Mary sits up while Sam rubs his eyes tiredly, blearily staring at the door while his mom wraps herself in her robe and opens the door. "What the hell-"

Dean's standing there, with Cas. "Told dad I'd be ready by morning," he greets, brushing past Mary to sit on her bed. Cas follows and doesn't seem at all bothered that he's looking at his boyfriend's mother and she's in a nightgown. Dean doesn't seem to care either. "He'll be banging down the doors in an hour, so I figured I'd give you fair warning. Five am, every morning we're due to leave. No exceptions."

"What, are you military?" Mary gripes, and Dean shrugs.

"Yes, ma'am," he agrees, and she balks.

"I have got more bones to pick with your father every time I see you," she mutters angrily, and Sam can see it instantly- Dean curls in on himself and Cas lights up in a righteous fury.

"You mean to say there's something wrong with Dean?" he snaps, and Mary's eyes widen in shock and alarm. She shakes her head vehemently.

"Of course not," she snaps back. "It's not Dean's fault that John is a hard-ass," she finishes. Cas leans back and the anger evaporates like steam, and he regards her coldly.

"It will take a very long time for me to like you, Mary Winchester," he says. "But since Dean wants, also, to mend your relationship I will try. But stop with the degrading comments. One day, I will not be so restrained."

Dean sighs. "She's my mother, Cas. Cool it."

"It is exactly for that reason that I will not "cool it", Dean. I will not see you emotionally abused again."

It's Enochian. Dean just shakes his head at Cas' response and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Then go, you feathered hen," he whispers, and Sam grins. Cas huffs.

"I am not a hen," he says indignantly. "I will see you in Arizona."

"Get me one of those pins with a cactus on it, babe," Dean says. "And one for Sammy."

Cas bows his head and disappears, the faint sound of wings following his departure.

"It's Sam," Sam says, "Not Sammy."

Dean turns and grins at him. "You're my little brother. You get a nickname. Even better if you don't like it," he says, eyes light.

When Sam splutters in indignation, Mary smiles warmly. "You too already get along so well," she says, mostly to herself. Dean turns his blinding smile to her and her face lights up in response.

"I suggest showering," Dean says next, "One of you can take the shower in my room."

"You and John don't share a room?" Mary asks, gathering her things from the bag at Dean's feet.

He makes a face at everything she pulls out. "Sam can't hustle money and you afford all that?" he whispers, and she opens her mouth to respond before he answers her question. "We usually do, but he crashed in an alley way last night and I'll check us out as soon as you guys are done showering!"

He raises his voice on that last part, not loud enough to be yelling or malicious, but enough to make his point- John wouldn't be happy if they weren't ready.

Sam says, "I'll take your shower," so that Mary doesn't have to walk across two sidewalks with all her things and in a nightgown. Mary smiles at him and Dean nods while Sam grabs clothes.

"Okay, Sammy. Let's go," he says, pulling Sam into a side hug and then shoving him to the door. Sam stumbles and Dean laughs. "Dude. Get some balance. How do you survive?"

"By the grace of god," Mary jokes, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Not gonna dignify that one with a response," he says. Sam grumbles about already-irritating older brothers and Dean grins wildly, following Sam out the door.

…

Five in the morning, almost to the second, John bangs on Mary's door once with, "Mary? Sam?"

Mary opens the door with her hairbrush in hand, but otherwise ready to go. John swallows at the sight of her, and she rolls her eyes. "Mary. I'm so sorry, for everything," he says, and she nods.

"I know you are. And every time I speak with Dean I see something else to be mad at your for. He addresses you like you're his superior officer in the military, John. He tried to do the same to me. It isn't right," Mary says. "I just. I was so wrong to leave, leave you and leave Dean and I'm so sorry. But please. Talk to him. Tell him that you love him, because he needs it."

John makes a face but agrees. "I do love him. I love you, too, Mary, despite it all. I ought to be furious but I went out last night and realized- every dream I've had these past thirteen years has come true. You're back. You've come back to me somehow and I just need to move past the anger and get back to you."

Mary swallows. "Me too," she whispers. "God, John, I've missed you so much and I agree. We have to talk about so many things but if you're willing, we'll do it without anger."

"Agreed," John says quickly. "Now, where's Sam?"

"With Dean in your room. He should be showered already, too," Mary says. "Oh, John, they get along wonderfully. I have no doubt they will make everything so much easier, with their agreements."

John clears his throat. "Excellent," he says. "That's- that's wonderful, Mary. Dean's a good kid. I think, despite my errors, you'll be proud of him. He'll take good care of Sam."

Mary smiles, finishes her hair, and then gets her bags. "I'm ready," she murmurs, and John leans down.

Kissing John feels like coming home.

"I'll do better," John whispers when they pull apart, and her heart is racing a mile a minute and she just nods at him.

"Okay," she breathes, and he looks relieved.

"Let's go get the boys," John suggests, and holds out his hand. She links their fingers together and gives one more cursorily glance at the room before locking it behind her, her stuff and Sam's in her arms.

"Can we drop this in the car?" she asks, nodding to her truck, which he eyes dubiously before nodding.

She leaves his side and drops her stuff in the truck and then rushes back, linking their hands again and he guides her to his room. He knocks. "Dean? Sam?" he calls, and the door swings open immediately.

Dean has a guitar strung over his shoulders and he has a fading grin on his face. He nods respectfully. "We're heading out, sir?" he checks, beckoning Sam when John nods.

Mary nudges John, who winces. "Okay, son," John starts awkwardly, and Dean just shakes his head.

"Don't. No chick flicks, not even at the request of your wife," Dean begs, and John snorts in amusement.

"Agreed," he says, laughing. "Come on, you two. Where's Cas?"

"Meeting us in Arizona," Dean shrugs, looking vaguely upset before he wipes the look off his face.

John narrows his eyes in question but before he can say anything, Sam says, "So who's riding with who?"

That gives everyone pause. Mary takes in a breath and hardly lets herself hope that Dean will ride with her, but- "Dammit, Sammy," he mutters, then smiles, strained. "Family effort, right?"

John snorts. "Come on then, Sam," he says, and pulls away from Mary and Dean to the Impala.

"The worst part?" Dean says, and Mary looks at her oldest, heart sinking- "He's taking my car."

…

Mary glances at Dean out of the corner of her eyes again, and Dean sighs inwardly. He ducks further into his flannel, trying to hide the marks on his throat, courtesy of Cas. He hadn't noticed them until about an hour ago and wonders if Sam noticed. He thinks he might combust of embarrassment even as he gets warm thinking about it.

The ride from mid California to Nevada has been silent. Ahead of them, the Impala pulls off the next exit and Mary follows suit. It's late; about eleven pm and Dean's hungry and tired. Mary has tried to force herself to say something the whole ride and each time, Dean is met with a faint flush of shame or embarrassment or fear or whatever and then she returns to her thoughts.

He's irritated, too. Can't forget that.

John pulls up to a Waffle House and parks the car. Mary parks in the next spot over and Dean's irritation only climbs when he gets out of the car and is met with the intense conversation that John and Sam are having about hunting. He sighs aloud this time and John pauses to say, "Alright, Dean?"

"Yes, sir, just peachy," he says, and John eyes him for a moment before he lets it go.

"Now, Sam, the thing you have to watch out for the most with werewolves is their humanity- it makes for high chances of sympathy, and that is what makes them really hard to kill…"

Sam is riveted.

They take seats in a booth near the kitchen and a waitress comes over. Dean and John order their usual, but Dean is promptly horrified to know that Sam has never been to a Waffle House. "Dude," he says, scandalized. "You have not lived, like, shit…"

Sam shakes his head. "Sorry," he says, and Dean shakes his head.

"Guess I have a lot to teach you, kid," Dean says, inwardly excited about the prospect. That morning had revealed that Sam couldn't play guitar, or clean guns, or exorcize demons. He didn't know how to play poker and could barely play pool. "Hey, dad," Dean says.

"Yes, son?" John asks, turning his attention from Mary to Dean after a baited second.

"After Arizona, let's take the next two days and drive back to Nebraska with mom and Sam so we can introduce them to Ellen, Jo, and Billy. They live nearby and Sam says he's never heard of the Roadhouse…"

John's eyebrows climb to his hairline. "You're a hunter and you've never been to the central hotspot of hunting activity in your own state?" he asks Mary, who shrugs.

"Guess not," she says. "I've never heard of them."

"Good grief," Dean mutters. "You live under a rock."

Sam snorts with laughter.

The doorbell chimes and Dean glances over, then his whole face lights up. "Cas!" he calls.

Cas focuses and then smiles, just slightly. "I wasn't sure I had the right place," he says, "But then I saw your car." He tugs up a chair and sits next to Dean, holding his hand under the table. "Since you're stopping I thought I would join you."

"Of course," John says, "You're always welcome, Cas."

The angel smiles faintly. "Thank you." John rolls his eyes and ruffles Cas' hair, much to the angel's irritation. He ducks and John smiles.

…

"One room with two full beds and another with a queen," John says, pulling out a giant wad of cash. They're the only ones in the hotel check in area- an actual hotel, this time, with room service and everything, much to Dean's shock- and so John is a bit less guarded than usual.

That turns out to be a mistake. The receptionist's eyes shutter, and then she grins malevolently with her new black eyes. Dean lets out a shout and shoves Sam out of the way of her blade, getting himself cut in the process. John is quick with his angel blade, stabbing her through the eye and watching as she dies. Mary is at Dean's side in the next second, already fussing and pulling a bandana out, but Cas presses his fingers to Dean's forehead and the cut heals before her eyes.

"Let's get out of here," John says hurriedly. "Where there's one, there's usually more."

"Was that a demon?" Sam gasps, sitting up and wincing, clutching his head. Cas kneels next to Sam and pauses with his hand outstretched.

"Yes, Sam," he mutters. "May I?" he asks.

Sam furrows his eyebrows. "May you what?"

"Heal you," Dean cuts in. "Angels are big on consent. They can't do anything without first checking to see if they're allowed. Say yes, Sam."

"I- okay," Sam stutters, and Cas leans forward and presses two fingers to Sam's head. It's cold, but not at the same time, and Cas' eyes flare blue with the healing.

"There you go, Sam. Thank you," Cas says, standing.

"Cas!" John says loudly, and Cas turns. Three more black-eyed people are heading for them, eyes wide with delight. Cas swears and steps forward. The demons halt, and one curses loudly.

"Bloody angels!" it shouts, and tries to smoke away.

"Close your eyes," Cas warns. John reaches out and pushes Mary and Sam's heads down while Dean moves forward to clutch Cas' hand.

The light is blinding. "Dean," Cas sighs, sounding fondly annoyed after the light dims. "Just because you can perceive my true form doesn't mean you should."

"It's safe," Dean says instead of responding. Mary glances over and sucks in a sharp breath. There's blood on Dean's face, coming from his eye sockets, but Dean just grins at her. "I'm okay, mom."

"It's all the grace you've absorbed, you reckless human," Cas mutters, cupping Dean's face and rubbing the blood away with his thumbs. "Be careful," he scolds. "I could burn your eyes out."

Dean snorts. "And the archangel Gabriel would heal me," he says. "Because you would beg him to, and don't try to deny it," he laughs when Cas opens his mouth, ready to cut in.

Cas just sighs. "Just because he would doesn't mean I should have to ask in the first place," he says. Dean glances around and then plants a kiss to Cas' mouth.

"I'm fine, Cas."

…

Mary glances at Dean, who is fast asleep next to her in the truck, wrapped around Castiel like a limpet. She can see the bright red bruises on his neck and thinks that the angel has selective healing abilities and a possessive streak. Cas is rubbing his thumb over Dean's shoulder, staring out the window, but he must sense that she's looking at him because he looks over.

"Yes?" he asks.

"How long?" she asks. Cas peers at her with a blank expression and then answers the question.

"Dean and I got together when he was fifteen, so three years ago, but I have known him since his conception. Heaven has known him, as a soul, since before Lucifer was cast out. The archangels- any angels, really- can recognize both of your children on sight. If you're asking how long I've loved Dean, I would say since he was six years old, and the light had caught his hair- Mary Winchester, your son is beautiful. His soul burns so brightly. And for that, I thank you."

…

John is an interesting man, Sam decides. And just because he's interesting doesn't mean that Sam likes him very much. He's seen the subtle signs of abuse in Dean and it makes Sam weary.

But John- the one beside him- seems lively and joyful, unlike the mistrustful Dean, and Sam supposes that it must be through Dean that John's true parenting skills shine through.

"Hey, dad?" Sam asks, as they pull off the highway. Behind them, Mary's familiar truck follows and Sam is calmed slightly by the sight of it.

"Yes, Sam?" John responds, pulling up to the red light then leaning back and glancing over.

Sam licks his lips and thinks of all the things he wants to ask- the best hunts he's ever been on, who is friends are, if he has had family formed through strong relationships, what will happen when this weeks is over and they go back to Nebraska and finish at the Roadhouse- but instead, he asks, "How did Dean learn to play guitar?"

John smiles, a fond, reminiscent look in his eyes. "Ellen taught him. Every time we go to the Roadhouse, Dean brings in a lot of money by singing and playing on the stage." John takes in a deep breath. "It's one of the only times Dean seems free."

"Free?" It seems like an odd word to use.

John shrugs and urges the car forward with the green light. The hotel is another mile away. "I've done wrong by Dean and it will haunt me for the rest of my life," he confesses quietly. "I hope things will be different with you, and with your mother's help, Dean will become less reckless and less violent."

Sam's shocked. "Dean doesn't seem all that violent," he says, and then wonders if that's actually true. He remembers, suddenly, seeing him on the windigo's back, how he snapped its neck without thinking about how that wouldn't help to kill it- he did it because he was there and the opportunity presented itself.

John glances at him knowingly as if he can read his mind. "Never mind about Dean's problems, now, Sam," John says. "Don't try to help him; let your mother and I deal with it. He will react poorly if you pry. Tell me more about you; for all your chattering, you seem to like avoiding talking about yourself," John says with a teasing smile, and Sam flushes.

"Alright, sir," Sam agrees, and John sighs loudly.

"Mary is already mad enough that Dean calls me sir, so don't you start," he says. "I'm going to try and break Dean of the habit soon."

Sam opens his mouth to ask how Dean got that habit in the first place but then remembers that John asked about Sam, not Dean. So instead he says, "My best friend is named Andy; I've known him since we were in second grade. We'll be going to the same high school next year."

"Do you plan on graduating?" John asks, pulling into the hotel parking lot.

"Um, yes?" Sam checks, confused. "Why?"

"Dean dropped out, but don't tell your mother that. I'll let Dean spill that fact," John says. "I didn't even realize he stopped going until I got a phone call from the local school asking where he was."

"Do you remember what school he went to? He could go to my high school next year," Sam suggests, and John shakes his head in amusement.

"Son, Dean and I moved around so often that I never bothered to remember what the name of the schools were. He must have attended hundreds of schools over the years. I highly doubt he wants to go back, and I won't force him to."

John opens the door when Dean knocks on the window. "Come on, chatty Kathy, let's check in. Cas has scanned the place and we're clear."

"Awesome," Sam says, looking at Cas, admitting to himself that he's somewhat in awe of his brother's boyfriend. An angel, Sam thinks, it's a bit surreal.

…

What is also a bit surreal is that he has a hotel room in northern Arizona, near the Grand Canyon, and he's alone. The receptionist said to fill the quota for the month, she needed to fill three rooms, not two, so Sam got one for himself while Mary and John share, and Cas and Dean share. (This does not go over well with Mary, despite the fact that Dean is of the age of consent and Cas couldn't do anything without express permission anyway.)

John has installed all sorts of protective sigils on the walls and the windows and the door, and Mary is very anxious about it despite the fact that all three hotel rooms share a wall. Sam is even in between the two couples and she still checks and rechecks that Sam's okay, that yes, he will get them if he needs them, and yes, he will be fine, and no, he won't answer the door unless it's for one of them, not for anything, and he'll make them drink holy water before he lets them in, and yes, he has Dean's angel blade. (Cas has yet to procure two additional blades from Heaven, though he says they are working on it as fast as possible since those blades aren't handed out regularly- apparently the Winchester family is the exception to everything, and wow, isn't that neat?)

Sam face plants onto the bed with the blade in hand and sighs loudly. It's nearing two in the morning and he feels like he could sleep for a year.

…

Dean wakes up, and he only hears one person breathing, not two, and he thinks he could get used to that.

He and Cas are tangled together under the sheets, still dressed, though Dean is wearing Cas' shirt, and Dean thinks he could get used to this, too. He rolls over to face Cas and Cas mutters a bit, tightening his hold on Dean as if, in his sleep, he thinks Dean is running away. He smiles, still half asleep, and runs his hands through Cas' dark hair. This wakes the angel, who has none of the sleep-clinging experience that Dean gets.

Cas grins wickedly as soon as he wakes up, and swings his legs over Dean's hips, leaning down to kiss him. Dean groans in appreciation and loops his arms around Cas' waist. "Mm," Cas hums, pulling away only to kiss all the way down to the hollow of Dean's throat, then he sucks another mark there and Dean can feel himself start to blush. Cas pulls back only after he renews his previous marks and adds a few new ones, mostly on Dean's collarbone and his chest where they can be hidden.

"You sure like marking your territory," Dean murmurs, pulling Cas back to his mouth.

The angel pulls back after a second to frame Dean's face with his hands and say sternly, "You're mine."

Then they go back to kissing and Dean pulls back to breathe and say, "Yes, Cas, yours, only yours."

"Good," Cas breathes, and then does something absolutely wonderful with his hips that has Dean seeing stars and then-

There's a knock on the door. Cas looks over and then sighs loudly. "Your mother is a cock tease," he whispers, and Dean bursts out in laughter as he shoves Cas off him. "Dean!" Cas whines, but Dean just shakes his head and tugs the stupid trench coat on as Cas wraps himself in sheets to open the door.

"Yeah, mom?" Dean asks, and she looks surprised.

"How did-" Then she spots the angel on the bed and shakes her head. "Never mind. John is going to take us to a nearby buffet for breakfast in an hour and a half."

Dean feels his mouth drop open in shock. "What?" he asks, "Seriously?"

She nods. "Damn," Dean says. "Wish you came around sooner. I've never been to a buffet before."

Mary looks both happy and sad with his words, and Dean marvels at her range of emotion. He would never understand women.

"We will be ready," Cas calls, and she looks at him, then at Dean, and she flushes in embarrassment.

"Oh, I interrupted something…" She says, flustered and unhappy. "I thought you said you wouldn't-"

Dean sighs. "I still have boxers on, mom," he whispers. She looks relieved.

"Good. You're too young-" Dean reaches out with the hand that isn't holding the coat closed and closes his hand around her wrist.

"Mom. Please don't. If I wanted to go that far with Cas, I would. It's not your business. We'll see you in an hour or so."

She nods. "Okay. You're right. I can't help it."

"Protecting my virtue from an angel seems pretty redundant," Dean points out, and that startles a laugh out of her.

"True. I forget that he's not… well. He seems so human."

"I am glad," Cas says, coming up behind Dean and wrapping his arm around his waist. "People are less likely to look at us funny."

Mary smiles, shaking her head again. "Okay, you two. I'll see you soon."

Dean nods. "Okay." He shuts the door and doesn't care that it might've been rude, Cas is exerting a lot of strength on Dean's hip and he's certain it will be a hand-shaped bruise in an hour. "Dude," he says once her footsteps fade away. "What's going on with you? You're not usually so- ugh-"

"Possessive?" Cas suggests, leaning in close as Dean nods. "You're wearing my coat."

Oh. Oh, Dean knows what this is about now. "Shower with me," he says. "We're not getting anything done unless you do."

Cas smiles.

…

They're on the road as soon as breakfast is over, and this time Dean drives the Impala with Sam and Cas while Mary and John took the truck.

"How old are you? Thirteen, fourteen?"

"Thirteen, but I'll be fourteen on May 2."

Dean whistles softly. "You're young. I guess I forgot that four years is a long time."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm not that much younger than you."

"No," Dean agrees. "But I just didn't realize. So, what. You in high school yet?"

"I will be in August."

Dean's eyebrows go up. "Damn. Okay. Talk about a little brother."

"Dude," Sam says, unsure whether to be insulted or not. "I've been told I'm mature for my age."

Dean laughs. "Yeah, I know that much. Which is why I'm surprised you're not in high school yet."

"You dropped out, didn't you?"

A glance, and Dean's got his guard up again. Sam inwardly sighs. "Yeah," Dean says slowly. "Who told you that?"

"Dad," Sam says. "He didn't mean any harm."

Dean sighs. "I know," he says. "I just don't want mom finding out. She'll lose her mind. Bad enough that I don't live up to the rest of her standards," he says, and Sam is shocked at the bitterness in the words.

"Her opinion doesn't matter," Cas speaks up. "I've told you that."

"She's my mom, Cas. It kind of does," Dean says, and Sam can tell they've exhausted this argument.

"She's hardly your mother," Cas says, and Sam feels his eyes widen. Dean just shakes his head and runs his fingers over his hair. "You know what I think of her."

"And you were so polite this morning," Dean sighs, a teasing light to his eyes. Cas scoffs.

"Because-"

"Sammy's here," Dean reminds him, and Cas sulks. Dean smiles at him, glancing at Sam in the rearview mirror.

"Please tell me you weren't having sex in the room next door to where I was sleeping," Sam pleads.

"We didn't, no thanks to-"

"Cas!"

…

"I noticed you and Sam get along well," Mary says lightly, glancing in the rearview at the Impala, where she can see both her sons and Dean's tag-along angel.

John nods. "I think so. But I don't know that he likes me much. He's very perceptive."

"He is," Mary agrees. "Is there something to perceive?"

Her husband shrugs, looking a little lost. "I think he's already very protective over Dean. I think he dislikes me because he can tell Dean's not…"

"Happy?" Mary suggests.

"I wouldn't say that," John protests. "Cas keeps him smiling. But that I don't is what keeps the rift between Dean and I."

Mary shakes her head. "I barely know him and I can already tell he needs work where Sam doesn't."

"I'm hoping we can do that with Cas' help. He's come a long way, but all of this has done some damage."

"Why does he rely so heavily on that angel? If he dies-"

"Oh, Cas isn't going anywhere. He's died before and the archangels ensure that he gets revived."

Mary's struck silent. John looks at her and nods. "Shocked everyone. He was weak like a newborn, but he got his strength back rather quickly in the presence of other angels in Heaven. Dean- he had been destroyed and then put together again in a day and I never want to see that again. Sam, he doesn't have attachments like that, does he?"

"Not so much. He has his best friend Andy and a girl named Jess and the three of them are pretty inseparable, but nothing like the co-dependence Dean exhibits. Do you think that's partly my fault?"

John says nothing, and his silence says everything. Mary sighs. "At least Sam is okay. He seems enraptured with what you have to say about hunting, John, so that's a good thing. I don't have that kind of experience to tell him."

"Where did you pick up hunting, anyway?"

"I come from a family of hunters. I don't speak to them."

"Who? Just so that we can avoid them," John asks.

"The Campbells," Mary reveals. "Do you know them?"

John looks up to remember. "Not. Not really. I know of them, but they keep to themselves and tend not to branch out. Some of the worst hunters with trust issues."

"Sounds like them," Mary sighs. "What exit do I get off of?"

"Central," John says, looking at the map. "Then turn right."

She does just that, the Impala following behind her, and it doesn't take long to find a hotel. A little more pricey than what John would prefer, but Mary pays this time.

"Can you call to wake us up at six tomorrow?" John requests the receptionist, who looks at the books, makes a note, and nods, smiling thinly. "Thanks."

The five of them pile into the room with two beds for now, just so that John can work on the sigils while everyone else discusses the plans.

"Eight people are dead, and six are missing. No bite marks, no missing organs, but demonic ritual symbols carved into their chests. Could be a witch, but I don't think so just because one witness reported sudden strange behavior in her neighbor before the neighbor vanished off the map yesterday morning," Dean reads, adding his thoughts to the report given in the newspaper. He snaps it closed and says, "Who wants to go to the morgue to look at bodies and who wants to talk to people?" He directs this question to John and Mary, since he and Sam couldn't pull off being federal agents or anything similar yet.

"And you'll be researching," John says, much to Dean's displeasure.

"Researching what?" he demands, then leans back, going pale. John sighs as Mary's eyes darken.

"Those marks," he says tersely, "To make sure we're not dealing with a huge amount of demons, summoning something or another."

Dean sighs and says nothing else.

…

Dean has a journal open on his lap when Mary and John get back. He's writing, looking at the books beside him, and then writing some more.

"Well?" John asks, not bothering with a greeting.

Sam glances up from the book on his lap, smiling. "Hi," he chirps, then hands over the book, pointing at one of the sigils. "They don't appear to be summoning sigils," he says. "Just ones that disable limbs and slow heart rates. Essentially, these demons are killing their victims slowly."

"Can't figure out why," Dean mutters, still scribbling away.

"Where's Cas?" John asks instead, pulling off his coat and tugging at his tie to hang over the back of the chair. "He was here earlier, wasn't he?"

"Went to get us food," Sam says. "He wanted pizza so that's what he's getting."

"How nice," Mary says, running her fingers through Sam's hair. He ducks out of the way and she smiles faintly, toeing off her shoes. She takes them over to her bag and, after a second, runs her fingers over Dean's hair, too. He looks up in confusion, and she smiles at him. "Hi," she says quietly.

"Um. Hi, mom," Dean replies.

"Hunter's journal?" she asks, nodding to the book. He looks at it and nods.

"Cas bought it for me for my fourteenth birthday."

"He's good to you," Mary muses, her voice low. Dean smiles.

"I love him very much."

…

Cas shimmers into existence behind the demon and burns the foul being out of the human without a sound. Dean takes the other one, sliding up behind and slitting its throat, right over the faint scar that proves that the human is long gone. Together, they slip inside.

Sam waits with John and Mary, who are both tense until Dean's hand waves at them from the inside of the building. John moves forward first, steps fluid and silent, and after a second, Mary and Sam follow.

This isn't Mary's type of gig, Sam knows. She's been on edge for hours.

John, Sam, and Mary catch up with Dean and Cas after a long hallway full of bodies with burnt eyes and pools of blood. Sam feels slightly ill, but Mary runs her hand through his hair and nods to Dean, who then looks to John. His father nods, face grim, and then Cas waves his hands, burning wards from the walls. Dean kicks open the doors and a single demon waves at them from the center of the room.

"Oops," she says, dropping lit matches to her feet. The room erupts in coordinated flames, and Cas is standing with wide, fearful eyes in the center of a perfectly lit square. "My bad," the demon continues.

Dean tries to move and then pulls back with a hiss, eyes wide. "The hell?"

"My grace," Cas breathes. He sounds… broken. "Dean, I'm so sorry. Don't try to cross that line; you have too much angelic grace inside you."

"You son of a bitch," Dean snarls at the demon, eyes alight and teeth bared. She laughs.

"Oh, hon. It's not so bad. You've still got the rest of your family you can… utilize. Come and get me," she says, laughing. Seven more demons emerge from the other entrances of the room, all with matching smirks. They fall in behind the central demon. "See, Dean Winchester, we knew you were coming since you killed my agents in Nevada. We can't have you interrupting, so. It seems like you and your meddlesome angel have to die. Everyone knows you're the demon hunter in the family, after all."

Her eyes turn dark. "It's time to finish what Azazel started thirty years ago. Now that your mother has come out of hiding, we're going to collect on our deal."

"You can't take my sons," Mary spits, shoving Sam behind her and stepping close to Dean. John takes Dean's angel blade when the teen hands it to him, and then twists it. It imbeds into the side of another demon that was attempting to sneak up behind them. The demon gasps, choking, and collapses.

Right onto the fire blocking Dean's way.

Dean takes the blade back from John and runs, Mary close on his heels. John hears a scream and glances at Sam, before he ducks into a side room, finding many of the missing victims inside. He gets to work.

Mary was the one who gave Dean the skill with knives, not John. She takes two out as soon as she gets over to them, impaling one through the top of the head and then turning to gut the second. She's covered in blood in seconds, as is Dean.

A demon gets the upper hand on Dean for all of ten seconds before Sam's startled yelp registers in Dean's brain. He glances over and it's a mistake. The demon slashes at Dean's throat, just barely missing the depth required to kill him. Dean twists around and slides his blade between his side and his arm to cut at the demon's ribs. Another demon stands in front of Dean, teeth revealed in a mocking smile. He lunges and Dean turns, allowing the demon behind him to be impaled instead of Dean himself.

"Stamp out that fire, Sam!" Dean screams, just as he watches Mary take her blade to another demon's neck. It falls and reveals the two demons unaccounted for, aside from the leader, who is standing next to an empty chair in the back of the room. She's whispering something.

Sam shakes himself from his reverie and runs over to where Cas is standing, sweat pouring down his face. "Hello, Sam," Cas says, strained, and Sam hesitates before he puts his foot over the fire and drags the edge toward himself. He glances up and Cas is gone, at Mary's side. He smites the two demons snarling at her. Dean pulls his blade from the final demon's heart and turns to the leader, blood dripping onto the floor.

"Well," she says. "That was certainly over faster than I expected, but no matter. It worked perfectly."

"What?" Cas asks, just as she throws a single match into the small bowl beside her.

…

The thing Dean hates most about demons is their arrogance.

And the thing Dean likes most about his newfound little brother is his agility.

The demon chokes and falls forward, revealing Sam, clutching Cas' angel blade with both hands with a sick look on his face. Sam kicks over the bowl, scattering the contents and then he turns to the wall and throws up.

Yeah. Dean remembers that feeling. The first kill is the worst.

"Go, go," John says, ushering the six missing people out of the building with a grimace. "What the hell were they trying to do?"

Cas peers at the broken table with a quizzical look on his face. Then, "I think they were summoning something that could resurrect the demon Azazel; one of higher rank."

"What could that be?" John asks, and when Dean glances over, his father is pale, putting out the rest of the fire.

Cas frowns more heavily. "Probably a Knight, but they were all killed centuries ago. So truthfully, I don't know. I will be sure to notify the Host."

"Right, okay," Dean says loudly, clapping his hands together. "I need a shower and this place makes me antsy so why don't we get out of here?"

…

It's the last day of spring break for Sam.

The thought of it is making him depressed.

If John and Dean pick up on it, they don't say anything, which he's thankful for.

He and his family are in Nebraska, pulling into a parking lot to a bar. The Roadhouse.

It's dark and loud inside, with lots of patrons and they're all laughing, many of them completely drunk. There's one man on a table, shouting a story of a vampire hunt, about how he barely got out alive and his friends ought to be thanking him instead of laughing at him. A blonde woman vacates her station behind the cash register, saying, "Okay, Tommy, that's enough. Enough. Get down," loudly.

She reaches for his hand and guides him off the table. Once he's on the ground, he leans over and tries to kiss her with an exclamation of, "Ellen!" to which the woman- Ellen, Sam supposes, shoves him into his friends. They start laughing even louder, patting him on the shoulders and congratulating him for getting close to the elusive Ellen Harvelle.

"You boys know I'm married, you lunatics," she shouts, playful. She looks over at the door once it closes behind Mary. She smiles wildly, abandoning the men to weave her way through her tables and customers. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," she cries, arms outstretched. "My Winchester boys!"

She, John, and Dean meet in the middle, exchanging hugs. "Hey, Ellen," Dean says, smiling at her.

She grabs his ear and points in his face, dragging him down to look into his eyes. "You, young man, need to stop getting bigger every time I see you. I coulda sworn you were just six years old the other day."

"Yes, I think you're right, Ellen," Dean says, beaming. "But I don't think I'm done yet."

"Why not? Jo is," Ellen argues, pointing to a young girl washing shot glasses. The girl waves enthusiastically when Dean looks over.

"She's a girl," Dean says, and Ellen cuffs him over the head.

"Your observational skills astound me as always, boy." Now, Ellen turns to John and gives him another hug, "You need to keep your boy from getting too old to start believing that he has to leave me. Jo has this idea in her head; she thinks the only way of life is hunting and she thinks she's gonna up and go one day soon and I won't see her again," she says, casting a stern eye on the girl in question when she wanders over.

"We provide drinks and beds for the lousy guys, why can't I help by killing their monsters, too?" Jo objects, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck and kissing his cheek. She turns back to her mother. "I'm nearly sixteen, momma, I don't see why I can't join daddy on hunts like Dean joins John."

"Look what you did!" Ellen shouts, throwing up her arms. "You're driving my baby away."

"Momma!" Jo cries. "I'll come back, always."

"Jo," John says. "Stay with your mother. Dean and I aren't exactly good role models."

"Thank you, John," Ellen says. She looks over Mary and Sam, a calculating gleam in her eyes. "Okay, now," she says. "Who are these folks?"

John twitches slightly then says, "My wife, Mary, and my younger son, Sam," he introduces, and Ellen stares at him in shock.

"I thought your wife was dead," she says accusingly to Mary.

Mary shrugs, looking sheepish. "I had to keep them safe," is all she says, and Ellen huffs.

"Well. Looks like you're back, and I think it's high time we get to drinking."

Dean whoops in approval.

"I expect you'll be performing again, Dean?" Jo asks, and he ruffles her hair.

"Maybe," he agrees. Jo grins. Sam follows them to a large table in a corner, taking a seat next to Dean and his mom. John sits across from him and Ellen frowns, then shakes it off and pulls out a pen and wad of paper.

"What can I get you?" she asks. "It's on the house, as always."

"Ellen," John objects. "You have to-"

"I don't want to hear a damn thing about taking your money, Winchester," she snaps. "You saved my girl; the least I can do is provide drinks and food."

Dean shakes his head. "How do you even keep this place running?"

She laughs, "Not every sad, lonely thing that wanders through my establishment gets the free treatment," she says. "Now, orders."

"Burgers and beers," John says, not even looking at the menu.

"Hear, hear," Dean mutters, and Ellen rolls her eyes.

"You might be growing, but you never change, do you?" She doesn't wait for answer and turns to Mary and Sam with raised eyebrows.

"You have salad?" Sam asks tentatively.

"This is a steak house, boy. Of course we do."

Ellen marks a few things down on her notepad. "Drink?"

"Just coke is fine," Mary says. "I'll take whatever you recommend."

"You got it," Ellen says with a click of the pen.

…

"And there you are, Cas," Ellen says when the angel slides into the empty seat between Dean and John. "I was wondering where you'd run off to."

"Talking with some contacts," Cas says evasively. Ellen nods, knowing that means he was in Heaven.

"At any rate," she continues, "I heard some whispers of a malicious trickster god in Florida, if you guys are interested."

"Malicious?" Dean asks, confused. "Tricksters are usually tame enough that hunters don't bother with them- what's it doing?"

"Killing," Ellen states, and Dean's lip curls.

"Lovely. We'll check it out."

Sam's mood plummets. Dean doesn't plan on staying.

"Only after we drop Mary and Sam off at their apartment," John says, and then checks his phone for the time. He swears. "You've got school tomorrow and it's nearly two," he says to Sam, ushering them up. "We'll see you around, Ellen," he calls.

"Take care," she yells back, as they leave.

…

"Heya, Sam!" A familiar voice yells. Sam turns, books in hand, already grinning.

"Andy," he says in relief. "Jess."

"Where've you been all week?" Jess demands, coming to a stop next to Sam while Andy walks at a slower pace.

"Went to California and you guys are never going to believe what happened to me there," Sam says, just as the bell rings and the trio hurry into the eighth grade classroom.

"Ooh, do tell," Jess says, sliding into her desk.

"Met my dad and my older brother," Sam reveals.

The teacher calls for the students to take their seats and Jess and Andy gape at him. "Seriously?" Andy breathes, eyes wide. Sam nods.

"It was pretty awesome," he says over his shoulder, slipping into his seat as the teacher gives him a stern glance- eyebrows raised and everything.

He grins sheepishly and she just rolls her eyes. "I hope you all remember math," she says loudly.

…

Dean is passed out on the couch next to Cas when Sam gets home from school. Sam does a double take at the sight. Cas waves at him and then returns his gaze to the television, watching some documentary with interest. Mary emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and wearing an apron. "Dean made cookies," she says, waving Sam over. "I've been cleaning up. He baked for like six hours."

"What?" Sam laughs slightly in disbelief. "Six hours?" Mary smiles fondly and pulls Sam into their little kitchen by the hand.

The kitchen has turned into a cookie wonderland. Sam gapes at the scene- there are like eight trays full of various cookies and there's something still in the oven. Sam doesn't think the kitchen has ever been used before. Mary certainly doesn't cook. "What?" Sam breathes.

"Dean loves to cook," Cas murmurs; Sam jumps. "He doesn't get to very often. He saw your kitchen and said he'll stay here while John deals with the case in Florida."

"Whoa," Sam breathes. "So Dean's staying?"

"Not permanently," Mary says, sadly. "He has wanderlust like you wouldn't believe. He's going to stop in often though. John might stay longer."

Sam is both saddened and overjoyed by this news. Some part of him had believed that Dean and John would leave and not come back- irrational, he told himself, but he doesn't know his brother or his father well enough to know for sure. But it's still hard to believe he's only known them less than a week.

"So, I'm a little afraid to ask but-" Mary glances over, an expectant look on her face- "what's in the oven?" Sam finishes, pointing. The timer still has two hours.

"Some ribs," Mary says. "Barbeque, I think. Dean made those, too. They take longer to cook because he likes them to fall off the bone and we don't have a slow cooker."

"Guess we need one," Sam muses, and Mary grins at him.

"I guess so," she agrees.