Disclaimer: Only own my OCs.

Revised 30 November 2014.

Chapter Seven
Revelations

"What?"

Dean and Paige were smiling at him. "You asked me why I had a tan line on my left ring finger, Sammy," Dean reminded his little brother. "Guess I should have remembered how observant you are. It's because I'm married."

"Married?"

"Married," Paige confirmed, leaning into Dean's side when he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Married," Sam mumbled.

"I think he's having a hard time grasping the whole marriage concept," Dean whispered in his wife's ear, and she grinned in return.

"Well, maybe you should have told him," she whispered back. "That way he wouldn't look like a deer in the headlights in the middle of my kitchen."

"I believe it's our kitchen."

"Uh-huh," she drawled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "When do you ever cook?"

"Hey, I can barbeque!" Dean protested with a crooked grin and a wink.

Sam straightened, his hands coming out of his pockets and balling into fists. "You got married and didn't tell me?" he nearly shouted, interrupting their playful banter. The couple regarded him with twin expressions of surprise, and Paige also with muted amusement.

Dean was unimpressed by his brother's sudden temper. "I did tell you. Or at least I tried to. Too bad for you that every time I called, you hung up, or just didn't pick up the phone at all," he replied coldly.

Jared suddenly stood, easily picking up on the mounting tensions in the room. "Well, I have cows to drive in the morning. Talk to you both tomorrow. Sam, nice to meet you. Night, y'all," he said, striding quickly out of the kitchen. Paige and Dean's farewells echoed after him. It was obvious he couldn't get out of the house fast enough.

Sam would worry about the other man later. Right then, the realization hit him like a freight train, and guilt shot through him like a knife. Dean had been talking about this when he'd come to Stanford to enlist his help in finding their dad. And he'd completely ignored him.

Twice I called you, Sammy. With the most important news of my life – and my own family can't even be bothered to pick up the damn phone.

Twice. He'd said twice. Their marriage was obviously the first…but the second? He frowned in thought, trying to…oh my God.

Dean, as if reading his brother's thoughts, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope he'd tried to give Sam after their fight, the very one he had refused to see. Sam snatched it out of his hands and ripped open the envelope, staring down in shock at a photograph.

Of a baby.

Sam felt his eyes widen as he grabbed it and held it up in front of his eyes, carefully reading the words through tear-fogged eyes. Dean and Paige Winchester proudly announce the newest member of the Winchester family...

He looked at his brother with incredulous eyes. "You…you had a baby?"

Before Dean could reply, a little boy appeared in the doorway. He paused for a second, thumb in his mouth, one hand clutching a blue blanket. As soon as he noticed the people in the room, he toddled a little unsteadily for Dean, arms outstretched. Dean swept him up into his arms and hugged him, kissing him on his soft blonde hair. "Hey, you," he greeted him, his voice rough with suppressed emotion, rubbing his back soothingly. "Sammy, this is your Uncle Sam."

All Sam could do was stare with his mouth agape. The boy looked to be about two, with honey blonde hair and Dean's vivid green eyes. He was the most beautiful little boy Sam could ever have imagined ever belonged to Dean. His big brother was a father…which was quite possibly the weirdest thing he'd ever thought.

"Sammy?" he repeated, regaining his voice and accepting he was certainly not dreaming. "Please tell me you didn't name him that."

"Samuel Dean Winchester," Dean said clearly, smiling proudly at his son. "Paige picked the middle name, and we agreed on the first." He slung his arm over his wife's shoulders and pulled her into his side to kiss her temple.

Sammy rested his head on his dad's shoulder, one arm wrapped around his father's neck, the other hanging limply over Dean's arm. He fixed his gaze on Sam almost solemnly. Dean kissed his hair. "Somebody's tired today, huh?"

Sammy didn't respond and kept his eyes locked on his uncle curiously. The gaze was almost unnerving to Sam. The kid had apparently inherited Dean's exact look whenever he was intense or focused.

Dean grabbed a cup out of the fridge, not letting go of one of the four most precious people in his world. Sammy leaned back and grinned, sucking eagerly at the lip of the sippy cup, downing the orange juice in a matter of moments. The entire time he gazed up at his father, who gazed back with a loving smile, while Sam stared at Dean and tried to figure out who he was and what he'd done with his brother.

Paige shook her head. "One month is too long, Dean. He's trying to figure out who you are," she laughed. "He knows he's just not quite sure." She kissed her son's arm, and Sammy giggled.

"Mommy," he crooned, holding out the empty sippy cup. "Mowh!"

"You've had enough, munchkin," Dean told him, kissing his cheek, easily translating the baby speech for 'more'. "Too close to bedtime."

Sammy smiled at him radiantly, the dimple fully visible. He'd be a heartbreaker when he grew up, that was for sure. He pointed at Dean and said simply, "Daddy."

Dean's expression froze and then split into a wonderful, wide smile. He tapped his son lightly on the chest. "Sammy," he told him softly, kissing his forehead. All at once Sammy slumped back onto his father's shoulder with a yawn, one little arm wrapping trustingly around Dean's neck, slipping his thumb in his mouth. His gaze on Sam was almost questioning.

Then he sat up and held out his arms to Sam. Not knowing what else to do, Sam obliged and lifted the child into his arms, looking down at him. Then the baby grinned.

Sam grinned back, the ice melting abruptly all at once. The child was angelic, with his honey blonde hair and eyes the exact shade of his Dean's, and the little cleft in his chin and dimple in his cheek that flashed every time he grinned. The boy's delight at being alive thawed the ice around Sam's heart a little bit more every minute, and it warmed him to know that Paige and Dean had named the gorgeous baby lovingly after him.

"Hi, Sammy," he said softly, settling him awkwardly in his arms. Sammy just stared up at him, thumb in his mouth. And then he pulled his thumb out of his mouth and placed a kiss on Sam's cheek, making him start in surprise and stare down at him in shock. The boy just grinned and stuck his arms back out for his mommy this time.

"Come on, monkey boy, bath time," Paige said, taking her son from Sam.

Sammy was shaking his head vigorously, thumb in his mouth again, though he was grinning.

"Oh, yes," she said, pulling his shirt up and blowing raspberries on his stomach. He screeched in delight as she disappeared out the doorway and off somewhere Sam couldn't see.

Without Sammy in the room, Sam became hollow again, and sat down at the table. "Talk," he ordered Dean, voice not angry, but tired.

Dean sat across from him. "After you left for college, I came to stay out here for a while," he began, folding his arms on the table, staring down at the back of his hand. "I took a break from hunting for a while. Even got a part-time job at the fire department. Jared and Elliot Knox became two of my best friends, as did Chris, Noah, Kyle. There's a big group of them and it's just like a giant family. And…I liked it. I liked having some normal aspects of my life.

"Paige and I started out as just really good friends. But we started to grow closer, and before I knew it, Sammy, man, was I in love with her. I was in love with her, with this lifestyle, with Wyoming, with the peace and tranquility of this place. We got married almost three years ago. I was going to ask you to be my best man, but you didn't answer, so Chris was my best man instead. We moved here right after the honeymoon, and I helped her run the ranch.

"Sammy was born on May 12, 2004. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, right up there with when you were born and when I married Paige. I worked odd jobs every now and then at dad's suggestion, mostly with Chris, sometimes with Jared or Elliot, and sometimes Mike. Being in one place for so long was kind of weird at first, but that faded after a while and I got used to it. I didn't even realize I'd settled down until after I was married, and by then, I didn't really care. Every day I watched my son grow bigger, watched his first steps, heard his first word. It seemed every day I was falling more in love with my wife and with my son, too. And then dad turned up, demanding I do a hunt down in New Orleans for him.

"So I did, because as much as I loathe admitting it, I love the dude. And then he went missing, and I came to get you." Dean looked up at his brother, no shame in his eyes from his confession. "And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, Sammy. But dad didn't even know. He never asked. So I never told. I guess I figured that if you guys didn't have the decency to pick up the damn phone, you didn't deserve to have that little boy in your life. Maybe it was selfish. I don't know. All I know is that I love the both of them more than my own life."

"So the Knox's and Newbern's go hunting with you?"

"Sometimes. It's kind of a family business, I guess you could say."

Sam didn't fell like pressing for elaboration, and would save that explanation for another time. "Why'd you name him after me, Dean?" he asked instead.

Dean looked at him steadily, his green eyes completely serious. "Because, Sam, you're my brother," he said quietly. "And I love you more than I think even you know." He cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable with the touchy-feely crap, and stood. "Come on. I'll show you what room you can sleep in."

Sam followed. He grabbed the back of Dean's jacket halfway up the stairs to stop him. "Dean," he said, waiting for his brother to look at him. "I'm happy for you. Really. And…thank you. For being there for me my entire life."

A ghost of a smile passed his brother's face. "Anytime, Sammy," he said. "After all, what's a big brother for?"

The room Dean showed him was simple guest room – queen bed, empty closet, warm and inviting colors and plush pillows that looked really comfortable. He went down to the Impala and got his stuff, carrying it back up to his room. He could hear his brother's voice — a soft mumble he recognized all too well — from the living room. Moving forward, he paused in the shadowed hallway, looking into the family room.

Dean was sitting on the couch with one arm around his wife and the other around his son. Sammy was curled trustingly and very comfortably into Dean's side, thumb in his mouth and eyes wide as The Lion King came onto the TV screen.

"Your favorite, Sammy," Dean said, kissing the top of his son's head.

"More like your favorite," Paige countered. "And if you start quoting it again, I'm going to smack you."

Dean laughed at that, and Sam, not wanting to intrude on their family time, crept back upstairs and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he rolled over, staring at the opposite wall instead. He would never see ceilings in the same light again, not after seeing Jess…don't think about it. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at a picture of Dean and Paige's wedding. Reaching out, he gently tipped the frame downward as a wave of depression washed over him.

He regretted leaving Dean more than anything in his life…the hurt he'd seen in Dean's eyes when he'd walked away without a glance still echoed across the years. He'd thought Dean would stay the same cocky smartass, know it all, bad boy jerk he'd been for Sam's entire childhood and adolescence. But the man downstairs wasn't really the Dean he knew. This Dean openly loved his family, was married to a beautiful woman and the father of a little boy. He was the owner of this house and three dogs. To be quite honest, he never could have imagined that Dean would ever have a "normal apple-pie life".

Sam had just assumed that, well, he had been the only one to want a normal life. It had never even occurred to him to ask his brother if he wanted the same thing, if he even liked living as a hunter, doing jobs and following dad's orders, whether he complained about it or not. The thought made him feel guilty because obviously Dean had wanted a normal life or he wouldn't be half-living it right now.

And he'd never even had the decency to ask him, his own big brother, who had put his life on the line over and over again throughout their time hunting together, who was really more of a father to him than his own father was.

In all the years he'd known Dean, he'd never felt more isolated from him.

His big brother had changed, but for better or for worse, Sam wasn't sure. And on that unsteady thought, he dropped into sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Jess.

/

Sam groggily opened his eyes and groaned, lifting his head slightly to look at the clock. It read nine fifty-four in the morning, and soft light was filtering through the curtains over his window. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, grumbling as he stretched his stiff muscles, his joints popping loudly as he forced them to move. He'd slept better this time, not as plagued as memories of Jess, though the part of him that had once been so deeply connected to hers was an empty chasm.

At least he'd managed to squeeze in a few solid hours.

The floor was slightly cold, and he hopped for a minute, cursing and tucking his arms close to his chest. With a huge yawn, he walked into the long hallway, heading for the stairs. He made no sound going down them, and headed straight for the kitchen, having already memorized that part of the floor plan.

The kitchen was empty, but there was a half-full pot of coffee and a note on the fridge.

Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Paige promised to make us breakfast when we get back around ten. She's out running errands with Sammy and her friend Ally.
-Dean

Sam vaguely wondered just what exactly Dean would be doing awake this early in the morning, which was very unlike the Dean remembered. He shrugged it off and picked up the coffee cup he suspected his brother had left out for him, pouring himself a cup and dumping in generous amounts of sugar and milk, leaning against the counter and sipping it idly.

The kitchen was open, bright, and friendly – tall windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling and offered a one hundred and eighty degree view of the ranch. There was a giant building behind and off to the left of the main house that was obviously a barn. The paddocks he'd seen on the way in last night were now filled with grazing horses, their tails flicking lazily in the morning sun.

He moved to stand in front of the sink, looking out the wide window thrown open to let in the breeze. The flowers in the box gave off a sweet scent that he sniffed appreciatively. The land stretched on for miles, and far off to the left of the barn, there were wide open fields being plowed by a giant tractor moving methodically in rows, and far in the distance, great wide fields with little specks he assumed were cattle. Assuming all the land belonged to this ranch, there was a hell of a lot of it.

A porch wrapped around the back half of the house, he noted. There was a swing on the porch and it looked pretty comfortable. So Sam headed outside and sat down in it, unsurprised to find it well-used and extremely comfortable with its plump pillows. He pushed off the ground with one foot and the swing swayed gently back and forth. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. He could perfectly picture Dean and Paige sitting here in their eighties telling stories to their oodles of grandkids.

It was peaceful, he noticed. He understood what Dean had meant by that. There was no roar of cars, no helicopters, no chatter of people. Out here there was just the soft breeze blowing through the grass and the occasional soft snort and whinny of one of the horses grazing in the paddocks. When the breeze blew just right he could hear the hum of the tractor in the distance if. At the same time, though, it was kind of isolated. He wasn't used to the blatant lack of noise.

He heard pounding hoof beats and stood, walking down the porch steps, his toes tingling when they came into contact with the cool grass beneath his feet. It was all he could do not to drop his coffee cup when a horse came cantering up. Seated in the saddle on the massive beast's back was none other than Dean Winchester.

The horse skidded to a halt, snorting, throwing its head up slightly. A quick glance confirmed Sam's suspicions that it was a stallion. He was a tall horse – nearly six feet at the withers, the junction between a horse's neck and back – and had a shining brown-black coat, called a seal bay if he remembered correctly from his limited equine knowledge. The stallion fixed an eye on him, the sienna iris twinkling with what appeared to be a bit of the devil. He took a quick step back, remembering that stallions were often hard to control.

"Whoa, Sergeant," Dean soothed, patting the stallion's neck. He was dressed in blue jeans, ropers, brown chaps, and a white collared button-up shirt that was tucked into his belt. Over that he wore his usual leather jacket. On his head rested a white Stetson, and there were two thick work gloves sticking out of a pouch on the stallion's western-style saddle. There was a considerable length of coiled rope around the saddle horn, and the reins were held loosely in Dean's right hand, his left elbow propped on the saddle horn while he grinned down at his brother.

"You can ride a horse?" Sam questioned. His eyes were wide in astonishment as he stared up at the brother he currently barely recognized.

Dean laughed and shifted his weight slightly, the saddle creaking with his movement. "Sure can," he agreed, grinning. "You sort of have to learn when you marry the granddaughter of the richest cattle baron this side of the Mississippi." He patted the stallion again, who shifted and stamped a foot into the dirt, his ears flicking back and forth at the sound of Dean's voice. "This here's Sergeant. He was a present from Paige for my birthday two years ago."

"What kind of horse is it?" Sam couldn't deny the horse was beautiful, and muscular, too. He looked like he could go a few rounds with a bull and make it out unscathed.

"Quarter Horse, Sammy, though he's kind of a giant they usually don't get this big," Dean said, removing his hat and whacking it against his leg a few times to loosen any dirt on his chaps. "Most horses in this state are Quarter Horses, though we've got a few Appendix Horses here – that's a cross between a Quarter and a Thoroughbred, the one's used for racing. Paige keeps a few horses for her English riding style. She's got two Dutch Warmbloods, a Hanoverian, a Friesian, a couple of Holsteiners, and a Thoroughbred." He sighed. "Not that it matters, because you don't have any idea what I'm talking about. Sarge here is my roping horse, and he's good at cutting, too. I use him out in the fields with the cows."

Sam sipped his coffee and tried to connect his smartass cocky brother with this easy-going cowboy. Curiously, he wondered, "Where were you?"

"Out with the cattle," Dean said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I was nice and let you sleep in. I've been up since four helping Jared, Michael, Ty, and Chuck drive the herd into our west pasture."

"Ty and Chuck?"

"Our ranch hands," Dean explained, setting the Stetson back on his head. "You'll get to meet them for breakfast. Paige is out with her friend Ally running errands, in case you didn't get my note. She'll be joining us for breakfast. We'll all be back by ten-thirty at the latest. I just have to wrap up the cattle situation, take care of this big fella here," he slapped Sergeant's neck affectionately, "and then I'll be in to wash up and join you."

With that, Dean tipped his hat, spun the stallion, and rode off back into the pasture, closing the giant gate behind him from the back of his horse.

Sam suddenly couldn't hold back his grin.

His brother was a goddamn cowboy.

It was a good look on him.