Thank god for Merisha, and Goddesslaughs. I love you two dearly, thank you for the help with this story. Their edits made it read a lot smoother, and a lot less choppy. I would like to address that I am not a Sammy-girl, and that's why I don't care what happens to him after season 5. So, for all of you who suddenly decided to hate me, or not read this, that's your problem. 3 This is more than likely an epic AU of short proportions. This is my (and my roommate's) take on how the season should end. I debated ending it before the "Five years later" but as you can see, I didn't, and gave you a little more. I just couldn't resist. Happy reviewing, er reading.

No Telling

He leaned over the seats to grab his crutch before opening the door, wincing against the pain that ran from ankle to knee as he stood. Shifting the crutch under his arm as he stood in a singular jerky motion. The pain didn't matter; all he had to do was get up those stairs. There were a lot of them, and he wasn't sure he could, before shifting the crutch to a different angle and starting his way up. What felt to him like hours later he was gasping and reaching one hand out to use the knocker on the door, why not the doorbell he had no clue, but all the same. Not knowing what to expect, another man, maybe, or some dark-haired children, he stood there.

When the door opened he looked at her and froze, breath caught at the beauty of her, and then she smiled. Feeling an answering smile raise the corners of his lips, he felt the stretch of new scars, one across his cheek, and the other along the line of his jaw behind the bone.

Then she looked at him, really looked, noticing the crutch and the way his body trembled. "C'mon inside," she told him with a concerned look, her smile fading as she gently reached out for him, before realizing she couldn't help. He awkwardly hobbled into the living room, mindful of dragging the crutch across wood floors. "Just sit down on the couch," she said, when she saw him looking around in confusion. The instant relief that swept over him was nearly palpable as he sunk down.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I want to talk to you," he told her earnestly, "But I'm so tired," his voice quavered with exhaustion, and he bit down on his lip.

"Of course," she smiled, leaning over to gently kiss his forehead. Cupping his cheek gently in her palm, he closed his eyes and let her kiss him again, barely able to stay awake any longer. He'd made it. That was all that mattered.

When she got back with a blanket and pillow, he had fallen asleep sitting up, leaned against the back of the couch, head tipped sideways on top of the cushions. Feeling worried, she settled a pillow on the arm rest behind him, and then crouched down to undo the laces of his boots and slide them off his feet. She couldn't help but notice how swollen his right ankle was, because of how he'd laced up his shoes. No wonder he was limping, she thought. Standing up again she gently eased him down onto the pillow, startling him for just a few seconds before his body relaxed back into sleep. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he was tired. No more excuses. Tucking the blanket around him, she kissed his forehead one last time before returning to her own bed. Staying and watching him sleep would do him no good and hurt her in the process. He looked haggard, and she just hoped that the sleep would do him some good.

5 years later…

He sat out in the yard in the sun watching the light glint off his wedding ring before shifting the weight off his bad leg and listening to the creak of the plastic. The sun kept him warm and his joints loose but he still felt like an old man. He wasn't, not really. Mid-thirties. Not so old at all.

"Daddy, Daddy! Come look! Come watch me!"

"Alright, I'm comin', I'm comin'," he told his eldest, a little girl with his hair and eyes but her mother's curls and skin. Getting his weight under him on his good leg, he put weight down on the cane and hobbled his way over to where his two children were playing. Watching them do cartwheels, he hooked the cane under his arm so he could clap, warning, "Be careful!" when he felt he needed to. Then he turned around hearing the door open, relaxing his face into a smile when she poked her head out the door, and a little of her stomach, too, a third one on the way. Another girl. He was already outnumbered, him and his son.

"Dean, honey, would you round the kids up, it's time for dinner," Cassie said with a smile, smoothing some stray hairs back from her face.

"'Bout time," he told her, "C'mon you two," he called, "Time for dinner, go wash up!" before making his way to the door. Dean didn't move quickly anymore, he didn't move well, but he thanked god he could still move, after all that had happened. After all he'd been through; he could still use his leg. Cassie held the door for him, making his life just that little bit easier, like she always did. When he leaned in to kiss her, he settled a hand on her stomach, "not kicking yet," he told her.

"Soon enough, and then you'll have three girls telling you what to do," she laughed.

"My god, the first one's bossy enough," he told her, rolling his eyes with a smile. He slid an arm around her shoulders, switching the cane to his other side to hold, and let her help him into the dining room.

"I made your favorite," she told him with a smile, and he kissed her upturned face.

Maybe it wasn't the life he'd imagined, for one he hadn't died fighting, and maybe it wasn't the life he'd dreamed of, where he'd been hale and whole. But there was no telling how things would end up. And it was a life, a good life. And it was his.

pretty pretty pretty please review. If nothing else, do it for my beta's so that they know their time was well spent helping me out.

Side note to this: If you can, google the lyrics to "No Telling" by Tom Russell. It was my inspiration for this song (no it's not on youtube, sadly.)