13

A/N: Hi! I'm an old fanfiction writer, but I didn't know Supernatural until this summer. I have binged 11 seasons in the last two-three months. It's crazy good. I am in a bit of a pickle because I have an unfinished H50 last chapter on a story, and I hated unfinished stories, but I just hate what I'm writing, and so I thought Sam and Dean might jumpstart me to finish that obligation. I've been working this one in my head for at least six weeks, and I know what's supposed to happen. I love both brothers and Castiel. All canon. I created a little space in season 8 for this to happen. I guarantee you don't know where this one is going. I hope you read. Thanks, Sheila

Oh, and dedicated to DNAchemLia who tried to get me to watch this show for like four years.

Epic, Kansas

Chapter 1

Dean turned and gave him another one of his wild grins- one of those balls to the wall, shit eating grins that put all of his wild energy on display. Initially, Sam had tried to ignore him, but Dean was so distracted Sam was worried he was going to wrap Baby around a tree.

"We're getting a hot tub. A big Jacuzzi right in the bunker," Dean said.

"No, we're not."

"Yeah, we are" he said, grinning ear to ear. "A big one. I'm thinking a six or an eight seater. You'll take up three seats all by yourself with those redwoods you call legs."

"I'm not getting into a hot tub with you."

"You and me and a couple of babes. A cooler of beer. Warm jets. You and your babe take off and leave me and my babe to a…well, you know. Don't need to paint you a picture, do I?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Gross, Dean! Seriously. A hot tub is just an enormous petri dish for bacteria."

"What is wrong with you, Dude? This is a gift from the heavens. We won't have to scam credit cards for maybe a year or two if we get a good price on the property."

Sam shrugged and looked out the window.

"Sammy, look at me." Dean prodded his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Sammy. Don't shut down. Tell big daddy Dean what's going on."

Sam sighed. "The whole thing is weird. We don't have this kind of luck. Don't you think this is weird?"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured. "Gift horse. Mouth. Don't look inside. Old man Huddleston remembered what a great kid you were, Sammy, and…you know, maybe he didn't have other family and he thought of you as the son he never had."

Sam shuddered. "I barely remember the guy, Dean."

"Sure you do. You stayed with him twice when Dad and I had a hunt. Damn! You couldn't have been younger than 10 or 11. He had that great spread out in the country with the creek running through it. I remember that. He said it was full of trout. I was so mad that you got to stay there and fish while I had to go off with Dad and troll swamps for Wendigos."

"I stayed with him twice? You sure about that?"

"Yes! First time, it was a few days, and then we brought you again when Dad had that line on a crossroads demon, and he figured it was going to take a few weeks. I remember it because you whined about it the whole ride there. Didn't want to stay with this great guy at his great place. Kept making excuses. Pretended you were sick. I wanted to punch you in the nose. You don't remember that?"

"Well, I remember that you sort of wanted to punch me in the nose like every other day of my entire childhood."

Dean gave him a look. "That didn't stop in childhood, Sammy. Whatever! You made an impression on that old guy, and he put you in the will."

"Dean, the guy disappeared 22 years ago, and they just read a will now?"

"To be fair, they didn't find it until a couple of years ago, and then they called one of Dad's old cells and we didn't find the message for 18 months."

"Dean!"

"Yes!" Dean gripped the wheel. "It's a little weird, but what are we going to do about it!"

Sam chewed his lip. "It doesn't smell like demon. Too much scheming. Can't be Lucifer. Right?"

Dean frowned. "Definitely not."

"It's a trap."

"The monsters we hunt don't do backstory. This is too sophisticated. If it's a vamp or a werewolf, they come out of the bushes with teeth bared. A ghost is tied to an object. They can't go over to a lawyer's office to make up a will to get us to show up."

"It's a trap."

Dean finally let out a huff. "Listen, you whiny little bitch, of course, it's a trap! What's wrong with you? You couldn't let me have five minutes thinking that maybe- just maybe- something decent had happened to the both of us."

Sam shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"Feel like punching you right now in the piehole."

"Well, that must mean it's a Tuesday then."

"We're still going to check it out," Dean said.

"Of course. Why would we go back to the bunker and search the lore? Call our contacts?"

"How many of them are still alive, Sammy?" Dean's glare contained more pain than anger.

Sam flinched and looked away. "There's Cas."

"Oh, right. We'll just ask Mr. Concrete Sequential if he can sniff out a con. Great idea. 'Sides, he's looking for Gadreel."

"Crowley, maybe. This could be him. He's a master manipulator."

"He likes us too much."

"What?" Sam screwed up his face.

"You and I are Crowley's favorite must see TV. He loves watching us and what we'll do next."

"So, he threw us an obstacle."

"He doesn't need to. We find enough trouble on our own. It's not Crowley."

"We're not walking into this old house blind, Dean. We're painting traps, sigils, EMF, the whole nine. You got it?"

"Five minutes. That's all I needed, Sammy, to believe something good happened. Five minutes."

Sam stared out the window a few miles before turning to his brother. "You and I still have a lot of healing to do. Kevin's death…I know you feel responsible, but my hands did the killing. The anger we're carrying aimed at ourselves, the anger we're carrying aimed at each other…"

Dean gripped the steering wheel. "Please don't talk."

"Why? You gonna' hit me in my piehole, Dean?"

"Please! I'm asking. I am begging!"

"People that get close to us die- not just close to you, close to us. We both carry that burden."

Dean wheeled the car off the road onto gravel and hit the brakes hard. Sam grimaced as he slid into the dashboard. "My knees, you asshole!"

Dean turned to him, eyes blazing. "I get it! You're pissed. I stuck an angel in you without permission and he turned out to be a royal dirtbag. I got Kevin killed. I get it! But it was your idea for us to take a minute to breathe before I go after Abbadon. And you promised that we wouldn't dig this up. You promised! I wanted to go alone- leave you time to heal, but you wouldn't let me!"

"I know. I know. But you know that you're hurting too bad to come at this with any kind of a plan!"

Dean jabbed a finger at him. "It's my mess! Plus, Cas says you need more time to heal. The trials should've killed you."

"Yeah," Sam said looking down. "They should've."

Sam's willingness to accept and even welcome his own mortality had always scared Dean, and he turned away for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Sammy, maybe we're just fooling ourselves. I'll take you back to the bunker and you can rest. Only three hours away from here. I'll explore the house and property. I'll take all the precautions, and if it's legit, I'll put it on the market. Then I can get to hunting Abbadon. I just don't think we should be in the same space right now."

"No," Sam said. "I'm here. We do this together. I promised you I wouldn't vomit my feelings. My bad. Sorry, man."

Dean shook his head. "You're apologizing to me?"

"Yeah. Write it down. It's not happening again anytime soon. Let's go check out this piece of land before it gets dark."

…..

"Sammy! We ready to go in?" Dean leaned against Baby's hood and watched the crimson sun slowly begin its descent into the horizon.

"No! Not finished with my devil's traps!" Sam yelled from the back porch.

Dean folded his arms impatiently. The house held a lot of promise. It was a beautiful, old turn of the century farmhouse with a wraparound porch. They'd expected it would be a tear down, but the foundation looked solid, and from the outside, the only glaring issues were a couple of broken windows and peeling paint.

The will stipulated twenty acres from the highway to west of Horner's creek. It was mostly flat land given into prairie grass with thatches of oaks dotted in every direction. He could see a line of trees and tall bushes snaking off about ¼ of a mile behind the house, and he figured that was the creek. He wished he lived the kind of life where he could take a day, grab some of Bobby's fishing equipment, and figure out the trout situation.

"Going to do one more trap on the back porch," Sam called but Dean didn't answer. It was going to be dark by the time his brother was finished, and there would be no way to get a decent look at the interior with only flashlights. Protesting was getting him nowhere and barging past his brother's preparations would probably result with an uppercut to the jaw so he surrendered himself to Sam's preparations.

The cicadas of late summer were in full song and he closed his eyes. He remembered another time when he was here and annoyed with his brother. The house was in good shape back then, but he wasn't at an age where he appreciated it as anything other than a dwelling. As usual, Dad and Sammy were fussing. The kid hadn't hit his growth spurt yet and so he looked even younger than 11 years with his small frame and bushy head of hair. Sammy had a litany of reasons why he couldn't stay with Huddleston, and Dad looked about ready to reach into the backseat and slap him but good. These situations were always hardest on Dean. As angry as he got with Sam for his stubbornness, he also felt fiercely protective, and when Dad got angry like this, all he wanted to do was get Sam out of the way. He didn't remember Dad doing anything more than grabbing Sammy out of the backseat and silently marching him into the house with his backpack.

As he stared at the house, another memory took hold. This kind of fear was different. It wasn't about Dad's anger. It was about the unknown- him sitting in the Impala alone staring at the house and wondering what had gone wrong.

"Everything's in place."

Sam's voice startled him and he blinked. He gestured at the horizon. "Sun's going down. Can't inspect the house with flashlights alone."

"Yeah, I know. There's a town about five miles back. I think it was called Epic. Had a motel and a diner. I think it might've even had a bar. Sounds like your version of paradise."

Dean sighed. "You still don't remember this place?"

Sam grimaced. "Flashes of things. Old man Huddleston seemed nice. I remember that he took me fishing, and I think he made a pretty mean mac n' cheese, but nothing else."

"And you were the wuss that didn't want to stay," Dean said shaking his head. "Do you remember when you stopped answering the phone?"

"What?"

"It was the second time you stayed. Dad and I were working with Bobby on that crossroads demon in Shreveport, and we almost had the thing trapped when you stopped answering your cell phone."

"I don't remember that. I always answered the phone. Both of you always went crazy when I didn't pick up."

"Not this time. You stopped answering the phone. Huddleston did too. Dad was pissed the first day you went dark, but by the second day, he was worried- like bad worried. You know, the kind of worrying where he stopped speaking out loud. We had to let Bobby finish up the case on his own. Dad drove us all night to get back here."

"Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "We got here in the morning, and Dad made me stay in the car. Then he didn't come out after like an hour, and so I went in-"

"Dude," Sam said shaking his head. "This never happened. I would've remembered this."

Dean stared off at the disappearing sun. "It happened, Sammy. I went in, and called out to you and Dad, and Dad appeared at the top of the stairs and told me to get my ass back into the car until he said. He had that tone. I knew he was as serious as a heart attack. I asked him about you and he said you were sick and very contagious."

"I have no memory of this."

"Well, I mean, you were sick."

"With what?"

Dean made a face. "I'm hungry. Didn't you say that Epic had a diner?"

…

"Cincinnati Chili."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "I heard of the stuff, but I'm not into no crazy food. I like my chili best in the states that licensed to make the stuff like Texas and New Mexico."

The waitress was teen-age young with jet black hair that had the blue sheen of a poor dye job. "The burgers are garbage. My dad buys them frozen off the back of a truck and the buns are a week old. Cinncinati chili is the freshest stuff we got. More like spaghetti with a decent meat sauce, loads of cheese, raw onions, oyster crackers, and kidney beans."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "What the hell? What else you got?"

"Breakfast cook don't come in until 4 a.m."

Same sighed. "This could go on all night, people. We'll take two orders."

She turned before Dean could protest and hurried off.

"This better not be crazy food," Dean growled.

"Please. I'm eating it, and you know how I feel about more than 4 oz. of red meat a week."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, why are you always like Miss Florida trying to make weight for the swimsuit competition?"

Sam ignored him. "You seemed lost in thought out at the Huddleston place."

Dean slurped on his straw. "Memories came back to me."

"So, I was contagious with something and Dad made you wait in the car. Couldn't have been much of anything if I don't remember it."

Dean scoffed. "I waited in that hot car for hours. Something on Dad's face scared the piss out of me. I remember that I kept thinking I would barge in, and explain that nobody could handle a sick Sammy like I could. I stole antibiotics for strep at least once a winter for you, but it was clear that Dad wasn't taking prisoners."

Sam leaned forward. "What happened next?"

"Sometime late in the afternoon, Bobby comes rolling in hard and jumps out of the truck. He came at me and threw his keys and a hundred dollar bill into my lap. Told me to take his truck up to his place. I started screaming for answers. He grabbed me by the arm and pushed me at the truck. Repeated the party line. You had pneumonia, maybe, and they didn't want me catching it. Told me to go and wait for a phone call."

"I can't believe you never told me."

"Dude, I think I buried it deep. I get to Bobby's house, and thought screw Dad's rules about no drinking until 16. Found a bottle of Bobby's rotgut, and just kept ordering pizza and drinking cheap whiskey until the money and booze ran out. You all showed up two days later. I was a hungover mess, vomit on the floor, expecting hell and neither Dad nor Bobby said a goddamn thing."

"Was I sick?"

Dean shrugged. "You must've been 'cause you were out of it. Slept for days. I sat with you a lot, and you only woke up long enough to drink broth. Dad, on the other hand, stayed piss drunk for what must have been a month. I don't remember exactly. Bobby got impatient with him, and drove him to a local motel to finish his bender, and then Bobby played daddy with us until you were on your feet."

"I still don't remember it."

"You were sick, idiot."

"It seems fishy."

The girl showed up with heaping plates of spaghetti with brown sauce buried under a mountain of cheddar cheese. They both stared at it for a moment until Dean shrugged and dug in. A couple of bites in, a smile grew. "This crap is solid, man. Who knew?"

Sam showed less enthusiasm, transferring half the cheese onto another plate and brushing the raw onions into a napkin. "Now, it's coming to me. I think I remember something about this. You were really nice to me. Everyone was. Even Dad when he got back."

"What? 'Cause we were usually a bunch of monsters?"

"No," he shook his shaggy head. "It was sort of a kid gloves kind of thing. For a while after that, Dad was always asking me if I was alright and was I having any nightmares?"

"I don't remember that."

"I don't know, man. That's what I remember."

"Pneumonia gives you nightmares?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Who knows what really happened. You know how Dad got after one of his lost weekends. He'd do something cheesy like take us out for pizza and a movie. He'd feel bad for a while. I figured this was one of those times."

Dean shook his head. "How is it that two people who experienced the same childhood can remember things in such different ways?"

"Come on now. I thought we were going to play nice. That was not a dig at Dad," said Sam as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

"I know. My bad," Dean said.

The young waitress grabbed his glass for a refill and he looked up with a smile. "Thanks Sweetie."

She flinched. "I'm not your sweetie. I'm only 16 years old for God's sake!"

Dean threw up his hands as she hurried away. "Can I get nothing right today?"

"I got this." Sam wiped at his mouth and followed her to the drink station. She immediately assumed a defensive posture when she saw him coming. He put up a hand. "Just came to apologize. My brother and I spend a lot of time in diners. He's used to the waitresses who've been doing this for a while, and they have sort of flirty thing they do. It's all part of the back and forth. He didn't mean anything."

She pinched her small mouth together. "I didn't like it."

"We noticed."

She turned away from him and focused on filling the coke.

"Look. We'll probably be back for breakfast. So, just in case you're here, why don't just tell me your name and we won't have any mishaps."

Without turning, she muttered, "I'm June."

He nodded. "Alright. That's a good name, June. My brother is a really good guy and he'd never knowingly show you disrespect."

"Right," she said without conviction. "This mean I don't get a tip?"

"Oh no," he said. "You…uh, gave great service. Good tip coming your way."

She tentatively handed him the drink. "You mind taking this back to him?"

"I got it," Sam said with a smile. He walked it back to the table.

Dean gave him a look. "She's seriously that offended?"

"I don't know. She's sensitive and young…and worried about her tip."

"Just to avoid any future repercussions, she's getting a full 20%."

"That's mighty big of you, Dean."

…..

"You want to watch the game? Red Sox vs. the Twins."

"You watch," Sam said stripping down to his shorts and climbing under the comforter. "I'm exhausted."

Dean nodded. "You still got some healing to do. You mind if I…?"

"Dude, you always watch TV while I'm sleeping. Why would I start caring now?" Sam rolled over and hugged the second pillow like he always did.

….

The old Huddleston place was painted and there was a slide and swings in the front yard. Two little girls were playing on the swings. The older one couldn't have been more than four years old. She had long, golden curls bouncing down her back. The younger one sat in the swing waiting for her sister to push her. She had thick, brown hair that hung over hazel green eyes. She was complaining that the golden haired child wasn't pushing her hard enough. She said she wanted her toes to touch the sky.

Dean sat on the steps to the wraparound porch, his eyes glued to their antics. "Ellen Jo needs a haircut."

A woman came over and holding the railing tightly, lowered her swollen body down next to him. "Ellie's hair is shorter than Mary's. Plus, Mary is the one who wants the haircut."

Dean rested a hand on her pregnant belly. "I love those curls. You sure they gotta go?"

"You wanna start combing her hair in the morning? You've heard the shrieks."

"Okay, then they both get haircuts."

She placed slim fingers over his resting hand. "Yeah. Then Ellie won't look so much like Sam."

She could feel the tension build in his hand but she didn't let go.

"This isn't about Sam."

"Her birthday is next week. You coming?"

"I said I was."

"It's her 3rd, but it'll be the first time you'll be there."

"I'm sorry, Holly. I really am. It's just that…she scares me sometimes."

The blonde woman nodded. "I know. Born on Sam's birthday. Same eyes. Same nose. Same thick hair. But she needs her dad, and she's old enough now that she'll notice if you're not there on her big day."

He swallowed. "I love 'em the same, you know."

"No, you don't. They're different people. You love 'em each just as fierce, but you love 'em different. Mary is the one you don't worry about. You enjoy Mary, but Ellie is the one you watch. You stand in her doorway at night and just stare at her. You know I see you."

"I can't help it."

"I know." She leaned into him and hugged his shoulder. "Just tell me you're happy."

He chuckled. "I slept more when I was a hunter, but I wouldn't trade this for anything."

"Even Sam."

He hesitated and winced. "God no. I gave everything for Sam. I would've died for Sam, but it's still not the same as having your own. I won't let anything happen to my girls. I'll protect all of you with everything in me."

"You miss being a hunter?"

He sighed. "Do we really have to do the same twenty questions every month?"

"It helps me remember that this was the right thing."

"Castiel protects us from all of them, and the truth is that I don't miss the life. I like having a bed and a wife and two and a half little girls. I like being sheriff of the sleepiest county in all of Kansas. I like your mashed potatoes and pot roast and how you make me eat salad with every meal. I like it all, Honey."

"And somehow, without you, the universe is still standing."

He chuckled. "Maybe, the universe is still standing because Sam and I aren't out there anymore. The mistakes we made…it boggles the mind."

She sighed. "Still, I wish he could see his beautiful nieces."

Dean worked his mouth for a moment and his eyes got soft. "I don't, Holly. I really don't. Sam was all heart and good intentions- the way he'd agonize over a decision. You'd think he would've gotten it right more often than he did, but my brother was cursed and that's the truth of it. From the moment Azazel dropped demon blood into his mouth, my brother was cursed to a life of bad outcomes. I mourned his death, but the thing I never expected was the relief. Holly, the relief I feel now that he's gone is huge. A huge cloud lifted when he passed, but I wouldn't have known it if Cas hadn't prevented me from bringing him back. God help me for saying this, but the world is safer without him…and without me putting him before everything else."

"Aw sweetie, I know that's a hard truth for you." She rubbed his middle softly. "I just wish you weren't left with the guilt of it. I know you feel it every time you look at Ellie."

"I'm going to keep her safe. I won't let her be Sam, Holly. I won't let that happen."

She rubbed her huge belly. "You got a name for this little girl yet? She's going to be screaming at us full time in a month."

"Charlie okay for a girl?"

She smiled. "Charlie is a perfect name for a little girl."

Sam sat up in his bed, breathing hard and ragged. He put a hand on his gut to slow himself. Dean was snoring on the bed beside him, still fully dressed and laying on top of the covers as he always did. Sam wiped at sweat on his face before realizing that most of it was coming from his eyes. He covered his mouth to stifle any sounds and got off the bed slowly. There was a table by the window and he sat down at it. A break in the drapes showed a lone streetlight and he focused on it long into the night.

…

TBC