This was written for the SFTCOL(AR)S second Summer Secret Santa challenge.
It's for HopeCalaris, who requested a future fic where the brothers have a family, but still hunt and Sam still has visions. I tried to incorporate everything you mentioned.
Special thanks goes out to Faye Dartmouth and geminigrl11 for really saving my butt on this fic. I was drowning until they threw me ropes.
Edited December 2007, to correct a timeline issue. Thanks to geminigrl11 for helping clean that up!
I own nothing. Reviews craved.
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What Lies Past the End of the Road?
Present Day
Late-Summer, 2015.
Sam Winchester yawned as he dropped onto the back steps of his house. His house. That had taken some getting used to. Some days he'd wake up, and it would still take a few minutes to remember that he wasn't in a motel, and that it wasn't his brother curled up beside him.
Eww... He frowned, disturbed by this disgusting early morning detour his thoughts had taken. Dean never "curled up beside him," even when they had shared a bed two decades earlier. Sam stopped that line of thinking before he could dig a deeper hole, and just focused on getting his first cup of coffee down.
The sun was just now peeking over the tree line beyond his backyard. It was just light enough to see the runes he and Dean had carved into the trunks of the seven largest trees, which secured a safe perimeter around the two houses. He sipped at his hot beverage and just watched as the day grew brighter.
He was so absorbed in the view that he didn't hear the door open behind him. His first clue that he was no longer alone was when two arms snaked their way beneath his and pulled him into a tight embrace. He glanced back and found himself face to face with Sarah.
His wife's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Getting rusty, hunter boy..."
"Nah," he replied, kissing her. "I was just luring you in."
"You're up early...even for you," she said. Sam was still the early riser, even after all these years.
"Had a nightmare to deal with...about four-thirty. He couldn't go back to sleep for a while, and I just stayed up."
"I didn't hear him crying…" She said, frowning.
"You stayed up with him night before last. You needed to sleep, so I took care of it. Besides, it was my turn, anyway."
"Well, aren't you a good husband…?" Sarah teased.
"Why, yes, I am," he retorted easily.
Sam tightened his grip on her hands, and with one move spun her around and pulled her into his lap, then kissed her a second time. "Now...still think I'm rusty?"
"I think you're bad..." she said, laughing as he leaned in for another kiss.
A small voice called out from the kitchen window. "Mom...where're the Fruit Loops?"
Sam sighed, exasperated, and dropped his forehead onto his smiling wife's. "Duty calls?"
"As usual. Little Dean has the worst timing. It's uncanny..." Sarah said, smiling as she reluctantly slid off her husband's lap. Little Dean also had super-hearing.
"It's J.D., mom! I hate 'Little Dean!'" the precocious four-and-a-half year-old cried indignantly. Sam grinned even as Sarah rolled her eyes, but still yelled back despite his amusement.
"Don't correct your mother, John Dean."
A grumble preceded the quiet answer. "Yes, sir. Sorry, Mom."
"He's grumpy this morning," Sarah observed softly, so their son wouldn't hear.
Sam polished off the last of his coffee, and handed Sarah the empty mug as she headed back in. "Yeah. Speaking of little Deans...it's time to wake the neighbor."
As his wife disappeared into the house to take care of Little Dean, Sam stood, stretched, and walked towards the house next door. Using the side of the air conditioner for a boost, he pulled himself up by the window sill, removed the screen, and stuck his head inside the open window.
"Hey, Dean?" he shouted merrily at the lumpy mass under the covers on the bed.
An angry, but otherwise unintelligible, mumble was the only response. He grinned and tried again. "Dean?"
"WHAT?!"
Sam reached down and yanked the covers out from over his older, grumpier brother's head. "Awake yet?"
He froze when the blade of Dean's knife shot up and pressed against his neck. "It's only me."
Dean opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to focus. For an awful moment, there was no hint of recognition in Dean's eyes. But Sam wasn't offended by his brother's skittishness.
Being sent to hell by a crossroads demon will do that to a person, Sam thought sadly. Dean's deal to bring Sam back to life had nearly cost him his soul. He'd spent almost six months in hell, before Sam managed to get him back. In a lot of ways, his brother had never been the same after that experience.
The early morning skittishness was only the tip of the iceberg. Dean still suffered violent mood swings; Sam had gotten quite a few bruises before learning how to predict the dangerous ones. They'd been gradually getting better the past few months, though.
"You trying to get yourself killed, Sammy?" Dean rumbled as he withdrew the knife and placed it on the nightstand.
"I wake you up the same way every day, and we have the same conversation, man."
"You'd think it would sink in by now... What time is it anyway--- Five-thirty?!"
Sam grunted as he pulled himself up, levering himself through the window. "Make room, bro."
Dean sighed with irritation even as he rolled out of the way. Sam pulled himself through, executing a sloppy back-flip and landing on the bed beside Dean. The bouncing mattress almost dumped Dean into the floor. "Aw, man... Sam!"
"Time to get up, dude. You have appointments to keep, people to see."
"Argh...I hate you," Dean mumbled.
"Yeah, I know."
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Present Day
A few hours later
Sam checked his book again to make sure he was done for the day. Thankfully, he was.
Success had its downsides.
His last appointment---a young college coed who'd asked for an interview to discuss his and Dean's work, only to see Sam's wedding band and abruptly end the meeting---had left his office only a few minutes before. She was the latest in a recent line of "supernatural groupies," who had seen them on the local news and started obsessing over them.
Of his seven meetings scheduled for that day, two had been simple poltergeist cleansings---which Sam and Dean usually performed at night during the week, since they didn't take long---three had been missing persons cases which would require a lot of research, and two had been wastes of time. So far, it had been a slow week.
He wondered if Dean's appointments had been any more productive.
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Spring, 2010
The demons lose the war….
The war had taken a toll on everyone, friends and enemies alike. Ellen had been killed while trying to exorcise a demon in Detroit. Bobby had been blinded in one eye, though that hadn't slowed the older man down at all.
Gordon Walker had escaped from prison, and despite the worsening war had once again started hunting Lenore and her den of vampires. They'd ambushed and killed him in self-defense. Sam didn't shed any tears, after all the pain the deranged sociopath had caused.
Jo had become a decent hunter in her own right, and the last they'd heard, she'd teamed up with a few other young hunters in the Pacific Northwest after her mother's death.
Joshua and Jefferson had last been heard from when they were heading into Savannah during the third and final year of the conflict. No trace of them had been found.
Dean and Sam had hunted in virtually every state during the war, being able to count on one hand the number of times they'd stayed in the same state for more than a few days. During the second year, they'd gotten word that the demons were slashing and burning their way through New York State.
They got Sarah out of New Paltz mere moments before the town had burned to the ground. The entire town. She still had burn scars, and a few other less visible, but more haunting, scars to prove it
Her father and her extended family hadn't been so lucky.
Sam had been drawn to her rescue by a vision. The visions had never stopped, the way he'd thought they would after the Yellow-Eyed Demon was dead. They were more sporadic, now, but they were still tied to other psychic kids like him---though they encountered only a few of them---and demonic activity.
Sam and Dean took Sarah to New Jersey to hole up in one of Joshua's safehouses. She spent the rest of the war in Lawrence, under Missouri's protection.
By the time the war was over, they were scarred, exhausted physically and emotionally. So, when Dean---of all people---had suggested that they settle down somewhere and enjoy the peace a bit, Sam had agreed. After making sure Dean wasn't possessed or a shapeshifter, of course. They picked out two side-by-side houses in a picturesque suburb of Topeka---where they'd been when the war finally ended---laid the groundwork for their professional hunting business and settled down.
His brother's life had finally taken a turn for the better, too, following a dark time after his escape from Hell. It had taken Dean a while to reorient himself to life, and the war hadn't helped. They were always on the move, on the hunt. Dean still handled himself like the consummate hunter he'd always been, but there was a darkness in him now---shadows under his eyes and nightmares when he slept and a tenseness that even Sam's presence at his side didn't completely ease.
In the second year of the war, after Sam had rescued him, Dean had saved FBI agent Hendrickson---and his family---from a pack of demons near Washington, D.C. The agent finally accepted what he'd been hearing all along, and let Dean leave. He hadn't been happy about it, but even a cynical government agent like Hendrickson couldn't ignore what he'd seen with his own eyes.
They got an unsigned note a few weeks later, through a contact, telling them that Dean's record had been "lost," and that he was a free man. Sam had no problem figuring out who had sent it. A bag of protection charms and materials with instructions had appeared on Hendrickson's doorstep a few days later.
It had taken a while for them to get used to not hiding when police cars went by. Dean even got a driver's license with his own name on it. Times were definitely changing for them.
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Christmas Day, 2010
Winchester Investigations had taken Sam and Dean less than a year to put together, but was still an enormous undertaking. They offered a range of services, from simple private eye work to bounty-hunting. Since the jobs weren't limited to "normal" missing persons and the like, they also hunted supernatural creatures as they always had. The difference was, now they got paid for their services. Some of their clients had already paid extremely well, as a matter of fact, and the money had helped them lease a store front and build the new office.
Sam shook his head at that thought. When he and Dean were kids, their Dad had drilled it into them that "the family business" was a secret. People---normal people with normal lives---simply didn't understand. Many simply didn't want to understand.
Things were very different now.
The Yellow-Eyed Demon's army, and the three years of war waged on Earth against those evil creatures, had thrust hunting---and hunters---into the public eye. The devastation those demons had wrought on the world was still being cleaned up. Across the Midwestern United States, whole swaths of territory had been destroyed. Tens of thousands of people had died. By the time humanity had the ability, and the understanding, to fight back, it had been almost too late.
The hunting community, until then nomadic and virtually underground, had organized. Combining their talents and numbers, they'd made a stand and managed to halt the demons' advance. Eventually, when the problem became too obvious to ignore---and after several prominent people had witnessed things first-hand---the government had become involved. Sam didn't know all the details of how, or who taught them, but once the Army intervened with troops trained to fight demons, the tide of the war had shifted quickly into humanity's favor.
Afterwards, hunters no longer needed to live off the grid. Saving the world from an apocalypse had thrust them into the mainstream. Their secret was out. The world ended up was far safer that way.
There were still a few demons on the loose, though the army had been largely defeated. Other, lower creatures, like werewolves, vampires, and other cryptids, had grown more audacious after the conflict. Hunters were in the yellow pages now. Certain people still looked down their noses at them, but by and large, hunters were the new heroes.
Winchester Investigations had been one of several businesses that had capitalized on the new hunter status. Sam and Dean had decided to open it together. Years of breaking laws had left Sam's law career a distant and forever unattainable dream, but this was a way he could help the world and put his long-honed hunting skills to good use. This was their legacy, and more importantly, their father's legacy: a place where people could turn for help, when normal channels were unavailable to them, or simply useless.
Dean parked the Impala in front of the newly completed store front, and got out. Sam followed. They settled beside the car, pulling their coats tighter against the bone-chilling Midwestern winter weather.
"Opening day, tomorrow…" Dean said quietly.
"Yeah," Sam replied, eyeing what was soon to be their headquarters. "You nervous?"
"Nah," Dean said automatically. "You?"
"No." Not about this, anyway….
They stood silently for a few minutes, both soaking in the reality of it. This was as close to "normal" as they'd ever be.
Well, except for one more thing….
"Dean?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm gonna ask Sarah to marry me."
Dean eyed him for a moment, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, Sam feared that he wouldn't approve. He needed Dean's blessing…it was the closest he'd ever get to having Dad's.
"About time…" Dean finally said. "You've been living together for six months, already."
"You aren't surprised?" Sam asked, curious as to the blasé reaction.
"When was the last time anything you did surprised me, Sammy?"
"Yesterday."
"That wasn't surprise, I just thought the way you handled that zombie was stupid."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, whatever. I surprised you."
Silence returned for a few moments, before Dean spoke again.
"The ring you picked out is too small. We'll go and find a better one next week."
"Too sm---? How'd you know I picked out a ring already?"
Dean smirked at him. "What did I just say?"
Sam glowered. "Jerk."
"Let's go see if Missouri has any eggnog left. It's freakin' freezing out here."
Sam nodded and stepped back to his door. "Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
A faint smile crossed Dean's face, before the usual smirk returned. "Don't mention it."
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Present Day, 2015
Sam was startled out of his musings when Dean's head popped through the door to the office. "Daydreaming again, Geek Boy?"
Then again, some things about Dean haven't changed at all.
"Yeah. Just...thinking about my last interview," Sam hedged.
"That steamy brunette? She was hot!"
Sam smirked and held up his ring finger. "Yeah, well, she cooled off real fast when she saw this."
"Aw, Sammy...you had a fan," Dean cooed, dropping into the chair next to Sam's desk.
Reclining in his own chair, Sam grinned. "I gave her your number for a follow-up interview before she left."
Dean returned the grin. "You are an awesome brother, dude."
"How'd your meetings go?"
"Eh," Dean waved dismissively. "Suppliers are giving us headaches. Seems there's been a run on rock salt and cartridges for shotguns since that demon was spotted in Wichita. It's different when they put the sightings on the news."
"Yeah," Sam mused, shaking his head. What a brave new world...
He glanced over at the research spread out on the side table. "Any more leads on that missing persons case?"
"Nada. All the calls I made were worthless. No leads."
Sherry Robinson, a 19-year-old from Lawrence, had gone missing almost a week earlier. Her parents had contacted them when the police investigation yielded nothing. Sam and Dean had found nothing that pointed to her whereabouts thus far, or why she had disappeared.
"Well," Sam mused. "We'll look over the material again after dinner, okay? Maybe we missed something. You're still coming over, right?"
"What's for dinner again?" Dean asked, obviously teasing.
"Lasagna."
"Ooh..." Dean whistled, smiling, then frowned. "Wait, who's cooking, you or Sarah?"
"Sarah. You ass."
A dark look flashed across Dean's face for a moment, before returning to his trademark smirk. "Awesome. You burn it."
A hint of sadness entered Sam's thoughts. Dean's moods were swinging again. He just hoped the episode passed before dinner. J.D. was looking forward to having dinner with his uncle. But, he covered his concerns. "Do not."
"Do too."
Sam yawned before he could retort. Dean frowned. "You look tired, Sammy."
Sam covered his mouth as another yawn erupted. "Little Dean had a nightmare this morning. I couldn't go back to sleep after that…."
"What'd he dream about?" Dean asked casually, flipping through pages in Sherry Robinson's missing persons file.
"Don't know, he wouldn't say. Just wanted me to sit with him."
Dean shrugged. "Probably up watching horror movies again."
"Which I told you not to let him watch," Sam teased.
"Blah, blah, blah," Dean griped, standing. "Those movies aren't that bad. I used to stay up watching them all the time."
"Which explains a lot," Sam called after him.
Dean flipped him the bird as he left the office.
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May, 2013
Dean's personal life was a wreck, despite his reprieve from the law and his victorious "war record," as other hunters called it. He'd been engaged for a short time to a beautiful young doctor named Liz, whom he'd met at Sarah's OB-GYN. They tried, really tried, to make it work. But, she couldn't accept that Dean wanted to continue hunting, in any capacity, and Dean's ongoing psychological issues after spending six months in Hell only made things worse.
He'd become more aggressive after returning. As a hunter, he could be terrifying, even to Sam. But the anger that made him such a fierce warrior in the field bled into his life at home. He didn't like being corrected. He didn't like being surprised. He didn't like explaining himself to people that he felt should know how he worked. The resentment, anger, and pain overwhelmed him.
Liz didn't like how hunting seemed to be holding him back. He had buried his emotions during the war, repressing his memories of the time in hell, and continued the practice long after it ended. She feared an explosion if he didn't face those feelings. Hunting only gave him reasons to bury those feelings further.
What had begun as disagreements over Dean's continued hunting had evolved into room-shaking arguments. The harder she tried to pry him away from the dangerous life he led, the harder he'd clung to it. After a few months, it had become too painful for both of them, and Liz called off the engagement. Dean had been devastated. After that experience, it was like he didn't even want to try again.
It depressed Sam that so many things had changed with Dean. Some days, he had to walk on eggshells because his brother's moods would swing erratically. Others, he'd think he'd pissed Dean off, only to have him pop in a few minutes later like nothing had happened. Both he and Sarah had begged Dean to see a psychologist---nowadays telling one you'd been in hell didn't automatically land you in a mental institution---but Dean had adamantly refused.
They sat in a secluded corner of a bar outside Nashville. They'd run down a rawhead in North Carolina, and were heading home. Dean was in a happy mood, so Sam decided to take a chance and reveal the idea he'd been developing.
"Hey, listen…Sarah introduced me to this friend of hers the other day. She's an art dealer. Travels a lot."
Dean took a swig of his beer, looking disinterested. "And?"
Sam swallowed thickly, it was now or never. "And…I think you should meet her."
Dean's gaze hardened. "Stop it, Sam."
"Dean, come on. How long are you going to torture yourself? Liz left three months ago."
"Thanks for the calendar update."
"It wasn't your fault, Dean. She didn't understand what you'd been through."
"And you do?!"
Sam flinched at the rebuke. He didn't lie. "No. I don't. Not much of it, anyway. No one can."
Dean's face softened abruptly. He seemed to deflate before Sam's eyes. "Sammy…I appreciate you trying to help. But…" he thumped his chest. "I lost Liz because I can't control this. And it was awful. I can't put myself through that again right now."
Reluctantly, Sam gave in to the terrible sense of failure that permeated the air around him, and nodded. Nothing he could think of to say would change Dean's mind, he already knew that. The worst part was that his brother was right.
Dean just sat biting his lip for a moment, then got up from the table. "Let's hit the road."
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Present Day
That Night
Putting Dean and Little Dean together was always an adventure. Dinner was no exception. Sam's son was virtually a carbon copy of his brother at that age. Blonde hair, hyperactive, fearless. He had Sam's deep brown eyes, gangly height, and an intellect that was already beginning to show.
But he had Dean's sense of humor and absolute lack of decorum, and putting the two together was a parent's worst nightmare. Dinner had deteriorated into a food fight, much to Sam and Sarah's dismay. So, Dean and his protégé were sentenced to cleaning the dining room, while Sam retired to the kitchen with his wife.
"Nice to see Dean laughing," Sarah said quietly once they were out of earshot. "Even if he is acting J.D.'s age."
She was right. Dean had made a lot of progress, and Sam was glad his brother was finally finding some peace. After more than five years since being rescued from Hell, the worst seemed to be behind him.
Sam laughed. "Well, Little Dean still wants a brother. Maybe Dean's trying to show him the downside of having one…."
Sarah leaned back into him, flashing him a sad smile. "That your way of saying you're up for trying again tonight?"
Sam shot her a devilish grin and pulled her into his arms. "I try every night."
"Doesn't work that way," she replied, laughing. "But I do like your energy."
"Hmm…let's see if you're still saying that in the morning…" he whispered into her hair.
"Ugh, too much information, Sammy!" Dean cried mockingly as he entered the kitchen. He dumped a wad of dirty paper towels in the trash and shot the couple a shit-eating grin.
Sam rolled his eyes, then glanced at the door. He worried that his son might have heard them talking too. "Is, uh, J.D.---?"
Dean pointed behind him. "Running toward the living room last I saw him. He's a pistol, man."
The statement was punctuated by a loud crash from the direction of said living room. Sarah sighed and rested her head against Sam's shoulder for a moment before pushing away. "That's one way to put it. I'll go check the damage…."
She stalked out, calling her son's name. Dean chuckled. "Full head of steam too…. Just like you, Sammy."
Sam smiled at that, then fidgeted with a dishtowel, turning sheepishly to Dean. "You feel like giving the 'full head of steam' a place to sleep tonight?"
Dean blinked at him for a moment, before his eyebrows rose in surprise. "You two trying again? Is it time already?"
"Yeah," Sam muttered, glancing toward the door again. "She wants another so bad, Dean. God, so do I…."
Dean lowered his voice as well, stepping closer and patting Sam's shoulder. "It'll work out, man. Give it time."
Sam grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, using the action to cover wiping his eyes. Dean's expression told him he was unsuccessful. "I dunno, Dean. After what those demons did to her--- The docs said that J.D. was a miracle, and it probably wouldn't happen twice. And we've been trying for so long…."
"You shouldn't give up, Sammy," Dean said, settling against the counter closer to Sam. "Though, I guess maybe we should have kept that rabbit's foot…."
Sam laughed. "Yeah, maybe we should have."
"And, dude, close your curtains this time! Geez…."
"Voyeuristic jerk," Sam shot back, laughing harder.
"Horny bitch!"
Sam was about to shoot back, when pain exploded behind his eyes and everything went black.
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Present Day
A short time later that night
He swam toward consciousness. Something cold and wet was pressing against his forehead, and for a moment, it made him forget the painful pulsations of his skull. But only for a moment. As his awareness grew stronger, so did the debilitating headache.
Sam tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed back down by two sets of hands on his shoulders.
"Whoa, there, tough guy, just rest for a minute," he heard Dean say.
"Dean…we have to get to Wichita," Sam said through a groan.
The wet cloth that had been covering his eyes was removed, and he blinked against the harsh lights of the room. He realized then that he was lying on the sofa. Odd, he remembered being in the kitchen….
Sarah loomed into view. "Relax, baby…let it pass."
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do as they were telling him. He hadn't had a vision this bad in months. It felt like his head was trying to break open. The demon he saw must be a powerful one.
The agony told him that this one was going to be a real bitch.
Of course, it also had to do with another problem they wanted answers to.
"Dean…Sherry Robinson…."
His brother frowned. "The missing chick?"
Sam nodded, but immediately regretted it. "She's possessed. The demon we heard about in Wichita took her. We gotta---"
Dean held up a hand. "Tell me what you saw."
Sam tried to put the erratic jumble of images together long enough to describe them. The headache was making that difficult. "Um…the missing girl Sherry…I saw her chasing these two teenagers. They were in a dark alley, they couldn't get out, the demon was stopping them. It backed them into a corner and killed them. Uh…and there was a paper. The Wichita Eagle…um, I think it said Saturday...uh, yeah, the 14th."
With a satisfied grunt, Dean nodded. "The 14th, huh? That's over a week from now. We can get down there in plenty of time."
Rubbing his temples, Sam finally managed to sit up a little. "We know anybody in the area?"
Dean pursed his lips. "I think Bobby was heading down there. He mentioned it on the phone the other day. I'll see if we can hook up with him."
Sam nodded. Sarah was brushing his damp hair away from his face, and reached down to retrieve the cloth. "I'll get you some more ice."
He muttered his thanks as she rose, then noticed that Dean's eyes were focused on something across the room. Following the stare, he saw what it was. A scared, brown eye surrounded by a mop of unruly blond hair peeked around the corner from the hallway.
"J.D.?"
The boy hesitantly stepped around the corner, looking like he'd been caught in the proverbial cookie jar. Sam called him over to the sofa.
"Are you okay, Daddy?"
Daddy. Occasionally, the title still took Sam by surprise. "Yeah…I'm fine kiddo. It's just a headache."
The four, going on five-year-old glanced from Sam to Dean and back. "Like the ones Uncle Dean gets when he listens to pansy-ass emo music?"
Sam's mouth fell open at that. "John Dean, language."
"But, that's what Uncle Dean said!"
Sam looked to Dean, who had suddenly found the carpet fascinating, and was shooting embarrassed glances through his eyelashes.
With a sigh, Sam pulled his son close, sending a glare his brother's way. "Sometimes, adults say things they shouldn't. It doesn't mean you can repeat bad words, all right?"
J.D. just stared at him, obviously not comprehending what he meant. "But, Uncle Dean said so."
Sam shook his head. J.D. shared Dean's hardheadedness too. "Just…don't say it in front of your mom, okay?"
That, J.D. got, nodding solemnly. "Okay, Daddy."
Dean stepped in at that point, tapping the child's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo…you wanna help your dad get better?"
"Uh-huh!" came the excited reply.
"Well, go into the kitchen and help your mom with the ice and the medicine, okay? We'll get your dad up and better in no time."
With a happy nod of his head, J.D. took off toward the kitchen. That need to help was something else he shared with his Dad and Uncle. Sam watched him bound from the room, and then turned an icy look on his sibling.
"'Pansy-ass emo music?'"
Dean blanched, obviously searching for a good lie. He didn't seem to find one. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam. The kid's crazy, he doesn't know what he's talking about."
Sam tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up in him. "Sarah's gonna kill you…."
They just shared the moment, and the release of tension actually helped Sam's head a little. "So…Wichita…."
Dean gave him a firm nod. "I'll call Bobby; see what he knows. We can hook up with him in a few days and track her down."
"Dean, we should---"
"You said the date was the 14th, right?"
Sam reluctantly agreed. "Yes."
"That gives us plenty of time. We go in now, the demon might get spooked and we'll lose the trail. Just control your OCD and let me take care of things."
"Great…I can hardly wait to see how this turns out."
"I know. I'm sure I'll surprise even myself," Dean smirked. "Now, you lay back down. I'll take J.D. back to my place and call Sherry's parents…tell them we have a lead. You and Sarah take care of business here, and we'll make a plan tomorrow."
"Dean…I can't," he lowered his voice. "I just saw two people get murdered."
"What you saw isn't gonna happen, little brother. We'll stop that thing before the vision comes true."
Sam frowned, unable to share his brother's confidence. Dean noticed.
"Life goes on for us, too, Sammy."
He couldn't argue with that. After so long, after sacrificing so much, the Winchesters had finally found a life of their own…as unconventional as it might have been. When Sam considered the way they were now he couldn't help but feel a little of Dean's confidence spring to life inside him.
Times had changed, and they faced life on their own terms now.
And the small part of him that had longed for a "normal life" all those years ago rejoiced.
END