Authors Note: This story is based on this amazingly wonderful Tumblr post- .vu/post/96113436217/forever-place-dcbb-2014-coming-soon-november

Reviews/ favorites are always appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Dean watched as his brother packed the trunk of the Impala. Silver, guns, stakes, he was counting everything to make sure it was all there. Pretty soon they'd head out on the road, despite it being two in the morning. The odd job hours didn't both Dean, however. He wasn't sleeping lately. Sam would, right in the passenger seat, exhausted from chasing the vampire they were hunting. In the morning they would grab a greasy breakfast at whatever diner in whatever town they'd end up in.

Currently they were in Savannah, Georgia, after Sam caught a headline proclaiming three people had their throats slit. When they got into town, it turned out to be a newly vamped man that was wreaking havoc on civilians.
Dean took a swig of his beer before rubbing his eyes, pulling away from the motel curtain. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. After losing Cas the job felt more and more like a burden than a heroic duty. The sleepless nights, the nightmares, the constant moving without a direction, it was weighing him down more and more.
He walked out the door and approached his brother, the only other person in the empty parking lot. Sam turned to him as he approached, and he could see what the job was also doing to his brother; disheveled, messy hair, drooping bags under his eyes and pale complexion.
"Ready to go?" Sam asked. Dean gazed at the trunk of the Impala- rosary beads, crosses, Devil's trap, sawed off shotgun, silver bullets- and all he wanted to do was shut the trunk and never open it again.
"I've been thinking... y'know, why don't we take a vacation?" he suggested. Sam looked at him in befuddlement.
"What?"
"This place isn't half bad, and..." Dean struggled to find persuasive words, "I think we earned it."
"Where is this coming from?" Sam wondered. Dean shrugged and turned his eyes to the ground. The older brother didn't want to say it- that Cas' death had made a huge impact on him, that he had nightmares of it over and over, that some nights he would creep to the Impala and hold the angel's trench coat. He felt stupidly sensitive over an angel that betrayed them, but he couldn't help it. Something inside Dean said that even if Cas screwed up big time- which he did- the hunter would still need him.
"Dean, the demons and monsters... they don't take vacations," Sam pointed out.
"C'mon, Sammy, we're human! We need a break every once in a while," Dean cried out, his arms flapping up in total surrender. There was a pause as Sam's will power deteriorated. "Can we at least stay the night? I'm exhausted."
"If we're going to stay longer, we'll have to find somewhere better than this shitty place," Sam replied, turning to give the shoddy motel a judgmental glare. In fairness, Sam was right. The dilapidated building, with its cracked walls and cobwebs, was not a good place to stay, especially at the rates they were charging.
"Fine! In the morning." Dean was enormously relieved that Sam consented. He wasn't sure if he would or not, or even if he wanted him to. Nevertheless, finally Dean could have a break. He walked right back into the motel and collapsed onto his bed, sleeping a full four hours.

When he came to, Sam was sitting at the table, typing away at his laptop. Dean squinted at the light, and rolled out of bed.
"Coffee?" Sam asked, holding up a cup with a local store brand written across it.
"No thanks," Dean remarked, bypassing his brother and going to the questionably stained fridge where a six pack was waiting for him.
"Bet that's going straight to your liver," Sam scoffed, not looking away from his computer screen.
"Let's hope so," he answered off-handedly as he sat across from his brother. The chair creaked in a way that supposed no one should sit on it. "What are you looking at?"
"Sublets in this area."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah, I figured if we found a nice place to crash a couple of months we'd be okay. A lot of these are old couples looking for people to help around the house."
"Did you mention that our only skills are killing monsters?" Sam peered over his laptop to give Dean the stink eye.
"No. I've been chatting with this nice old couple that are looking for someone to help around the house... yardwork, dishes... stuff like that."
"I've never washed a dish in my life, Sammy."
"Well, you're going to have to learn. It was your idea to stay, and even though I didn't really want to, I know that since Cas-"
"Don't."
"Dean-"
"I said don't," Dean cut off. He looked his brother in the eyes, warning him not to go there. Sam sighed.
"I'm just saying, I understand. And if you need time off to just... chill. I get it. And I want to help." Sam gave him a sincere look, the one that made Dean want to laugh in his face and break down at the same time. The look he used all the time to families who had lost loved ones to monsters. And Dean realized, what was the difference between him and them?

"Fine. So about this couple..."

"Their name is Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. They live on Chestnut Lane in a spacey house, white picket fence and everything. Their son just moved out to become a teacher up in Macon."
"So what's the catch?" Dean asked as he turned onto the Fisher's street. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat with the Fisher's ad up on the screen. Dean peaked at it wearily, not sure what to think of this near perfect situation.
"No catch. They still have a sectioned off part of the house where the son used to live. Kitchen, utilities, the works." Dean parked on the side of the road in front of the big white house and shut off the engine.
"One bedroom?"
"Yeah but they have a futon."
"Super."
"Don't be such a baby, Dean."
"I'm not. Let's just go," he grumbled as he swung open the door and got out. He walked up the driveway, Sam not far behind. They were both examining the house in silence. It was pretty big, with a garden full of hydrangeas and blossoming flowers. The shrubbery and trees surrounding the property were in full bloom in the June heat. The windows were wide with white stiles intersecting the glass. And, of course, the cliché white picket fence rising out of the lush green grass. It seemed like the most peaceful place in the world, untouched by the horrors the Winchesters had seen.
Dean knocked on the door, for once not wearing an FBI suit with a fake ID in his hand. He was just Dean, in faded jeans, boots and a plaid shirt rolled up to the sleeves.
A black woman that couldn't even touch Dean's chest opened the door. Her hair was whiter than the house, with eyes brown yet faded by age. She was wearing a long church skirt with a patterned t-shirt. Her face instantly brightened when she saw them.
"Oh, hello! You must be here for the sublet!" Dean glanced at Sam only to see the charming smile that Sam wore when dealing with civilians.
"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean." The older brother raised his hand in a wave. The woman's face was alighted with a smile.
"Harold, Sam and Dean are here!" she called out from behind her. "Please, come in. The heat is just dreadful today."
She stepped aside for them to come in and closed the door behind them. She treaded in front of them, talking about how old the house was, what Confederate general lived there... etc. They walked into the foyer where a dark, old man sat. He stood up when the trio entered. Harold's face lit up just like the old woman's did. He was wearing brown pants held up by suspenders over a dress shirt adorned by a red bow tie.
"Why, hello, my name is Harold and this is my wife Tatiana," he said, bringing his arm around his wife's shoulder. Sam made the introductions again as Dean tried to look as non-threatening as possible. "Please, sit."
The room was compromised as a sitting area, with identical couches facing each other and a coffee table in the middle. The couches had gilded edges with floral, plump cushions. The coffee table was a deep brown with plated glass. Atop the coffee table was a pot filled with some sort of twisting vine that flowed downward.
"We're so glad to meet you, Sam and Dean," Harold grins.
"So about the house..."
"Well, we're willing to let you live here in exchange for your labor. We don't need any money, but we're both too old to do some of the chores, and you boys would be definitely helping us out," Tatiana supplied.
"You'll pay for your own food and groceries, but water, electric and Wi-Fi is for us to worry about," Harold added.
"That sounds great," Dean smiled. He noticed Sam peering at him, and he realized it was the first time he smiled in weeks.
"So what kind of jobs would we be doing?" Sam asked.
"Stuff like mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage and recycling, helping us in the garden if we need it, and if the house needs any special treatment."
"We don't- we don't know how long we'll be staying," Dean said.
"It would mean everything to us if we would supply boys without a family a home, for as long as you need," the old woman said in a motherly voice, "we're empty nesters for the first time in twenty-six years, and it would be nice to have young folk around."
"We'd love it. Can we see the place?"
"Of course." The old couple got up and showed them to the back door. Outside was another door that led to the sublet.
Inside was a small living room with a TV and couch, a kitchen with a dishwasher, and a two person, round table.
"The bedroom is upstairs, as well as the bathroom," Harold told them. The brothers looked around the room. It was quaint, like a motel room except a helluva lot nicer. The couch didn't have weird stains on it and the ceiling didn't have water damage.
After checking out the bedroom upstairs (only one queen sized bed, which Sam won after a brief rock-paper-scissors match) they told the couple they would love to move in as soon as possible.
"We have to get to church, but how about this- you can come back at around four to unpack your things?" Harold asked.
"Sounds great," Sam said. They left the house feeling giddy and hopeful. Georgia seemed like the perfect place to settle for the time being. The brothers hopped into the car and headed for the motel in town.
"Wanna grab a bite before we head back?" Dean offered, seeing an old wooden sign for a 'Southern BBQ'. Sam was leaning against the door, seeming to be dozing off.
"Uh, yeah sure," Sam agreed sleepily. Dean nodded and pulled into the back parking lot behind the restaurant 'Beau's'.
Dean opened the door and went inside, Sam following. The inside of the restaurant was fairly small, with cracked booths and chipped tables, smoke billowing out of the kitchen. There was a bar directly in front of them with the standard eating area to their left.
"Just two?" The hostess asked, picking up two menus. Sam nodded, and they were led to a booth in the back. They sat in silence, only a few people in the whole restaurant. Most of them looked like they hadn't moved in years, with big bellies and even bigger beards. They watched the hunters as if the Winchesters were the hunted. Dean tried to ignore it and perused the menu.
"Dean," his brother started. Dean glanced up. "I think- I think this can be really good for us."
"Yeah," he replied gruffly, before casting his eyes back to the menu. "So what are you getting?"
Sam seemed pissed that he couldn't have a brotherly moment, but Dean ignored it.
"I can't imagine the lettuce here is fresh..." Sam muttered.
"Oh, take that organic, home-grown crap and shove it up a rabbit's ass."
"I'm sure that's what they mean by... 'Beau's Rabbit Stew Surprise.'" Sam grinned. Dean awarded him a small smile. He knew his little brother was always worried about his mental state. He did have a good reason to.
"Hi, my name is Jessica and I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with something to drink?" The waitress said in a mechanical voice that proved she had said this opening line hundreds of times before. She was innocent, a college student with straight, dark hair and a cleft chin that somehow made her cuter. Dean glanced at Sam, his face as emotionless as brick.
"I'll have a beer," Dean spoke up.
"Yeah, me too," Sam said quietly, still not looking at the waitress.
"Okay, and are we ready to order?"
"Yeah, I'll have the 'Beau's BBQ Special' with fries and no coleslaw," Dean replied, then looked cautiously at his brother.
"Uh, I'll have a BLT with fries, thanks," Sam stuttered, glancing at the waitress and then away. The girl had a confused expression on her face before taking their menus and swiveling away. Sam looked slowly up at his brother, then darted his eyes away. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Dean answered, knowing nothing else needed to be said.
They finished their meal, Dean grabbing the receipt and leaving five bucks on the table. They walked around the corner and headed for the front.
Dean glanced up, and his first thought was that this was all a wonderful, fantastic dream. He was so shocked he stopped walking, causing Sam to ask what's wrong.
"Cas," he uttered out. And yes, it was Cas, standing at the cash register with messy hair and a tan he never had before. He looked up and met eyes with Dean's green ones. Dean expected joy or relief in his face but all he got was confusion. He stepped forward until he was touching the countertop that divided them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demanded. Cas looked around, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Excuse me?"
"You're dead. You're supposed to be dead." Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. His words were incased in breathy pants that he couldn't control.
"I'm sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else," Cas replied.
"What the hell are you doing here in Georgia? What the hell happened?" The room felt like it was spinning.
"Dean!" Sam grabbed his arm. He smiled apologetically at the very bewildered cashier. Sam placed their receipt and a twenty on the counter. "Just, keep the rest. Sorry."
Sam pushed Dean out of the restaurant. Dean fought back, making a lunge to the door, only to be stopped by six feet of muscle.
"Dean, stop!" Sam shouted.
"He's in there! He's alive!" Dean yelled, glimpsing at the much confused cashier leaning by the door.
"Dean, shut up! Go get in the car." Dejectedly, Dean walked out back and got into the Impala. Sam ran his fingers through his hair.
"Look, Dean-"
"What the hell are we doing here, Sammy? We need to go get Cas."
"He's fine, alright? We have to think rationally about it."
"The dude was overcome by Leviathans months ago and you want to be rational?!"
"Okay," Sam started, every the pragmatic one, "for whatever reason, Cas is back. He's obviously had his memory wiped like before. What if- what if he's been given a chance?" Dean scowled at his brother.
"What are you talking about?"
"Look, if his memory was really wiped, then maybe that's a good thing. I mean can you imagine how it would feel to not remember all the bad shit in our life?"
"So what? We just leave him?"
"Well..." Sam looked out the window at the back of the restaurant. "We're staying in the area anyway, so as long as we don't expect anything fishy going on, sure, why not?"

"But who would do that?" Dean questioned. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe…God?" Sam said it in a way that he knew what Dean's reaction would be- complete ridicule.

"Yeah, okay."

"Whatever it is, they're probably good, they did him a favor."

"I don't know..."
"If we're going on vacation, Cas deserves one too, right?"
"Yeah..." Dean said faintly. He couldn't believe it. Cas was alive and okay.
"Turn on the car, Dean," Sam ordered. He turned on the car with mechanical movements, still feeling like he was living in a dream.

They settled into their little sublet, which had nice cable and Wi-Fi. Sam went grocery shopping, promising to get Dean pie and microwaveable cheeseburgers. Dean stayed behind and mowed the lawn, getting done around the same time Sam came back with rabbit food and, as promised, Dean's artificial delicacies. They settled into the couch and watched TV late into the night, arguing over watching (another) Chuck Norris film ("It's Chuck Norris, Sammy!") or Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader ("The only reason you don't like it Dean is because you aren't smarter than a fifth grader"). By eleven, belly full of beer and apple pie, Dean felt fully relaxed. He was so tired that as soon as Sam went up to bed, he didn't bother pulling out the couch bed, he just lay on the couch and slept.