Notes: Implied Sam/Dean slash. I've cleaned up the title for posting here; it's posted elsewhere as "The Metaphysics of Wincest."


"Soulmates," she said as they passed. She was an aging flower child—long grey hair and chunky wood beads, and Dean rolled his eyes to say, 'That's what we get for coming to California, dude.'

"Brothers and lovers," she added, stopping them short. Her eyes were wise and deep as she reached for their hands.

"Couldn't separate long enough to refind one another…?" she mused. "No, not your choice. You need to be together throughout this lifetime."

She released them, smiling gently. "You'll move on together too," she finished, and Dean's relief was a wave that almost washed Sam away.