Wow! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one too! There are only two chapters left in the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural


Chapter Eight


Song: What I've Done - Linkin Park


June 2013-Jackson Hole Airport, Wyoming


"Purgatory?" Sam asks Dean incredulously, pausing to look over the top of the Impala at his older brother. Dean just smirks; shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal, his lips pulling across his tan, freckled face.

Sam had gotten the phone call twelve hours before. The eldest Winchester, who Sam had thought to be dead, called him from a payphone in Louisiana. Sam had demanded Dean face his fear of flying; driving thirty plus hours to see each other was just too long of a drive, even for them.

Sam tosses his brother the keys, Dean's face lighting up like a little kid on Christmas as he slides into the driver's seat. He runs his calloused hands over the leather steering wheel adoringly.

"Miss me, Baby?" Dean's smile doesn't reach across his whole face, but it's there all the same. The brothers pull out of the parking lot, turning the car towards Idaho.

"So," Dean asks a few minutes later, breaking the silence, "What happened to you?" Dean averts his eyes from the road for a moment to look over at Sam, who rings his hands together in his lap. His hair is longer than it was a year ago, hanging well past his ears now. Dean notices the laugh lines on his younger brother's face as well.

"Nothing." Sam says, shrugging his large shoulders.

"Bullshit." Dean calls him out instantly, Sam clenching his jaw, his eyebrows drawing together as he lets out a breath through his nose. "You're still hunting right?" Sam hesitates, unsure of how to answer, and Dean picks up on it instantly. "You quit?"

"No!" Sam tells him, "I mean, I thought about it."

"After you tried to find me?" Dean asks, and Sam doesn't reply. "You did try to find me, right?" Dean glances over at Sam, who refuses to look at his older brother. "Dude, I know we have that rule where if one of us disappears, we don't go looking for the other. But, hell Sammy, we always ignored that one! Did you even try to look for me!?" Dean's voice is rising, and Sam knows he'll pull over soon.

"She did." His voice is soft, and Dean's eyebrows rise. "That's what we got in a fight over."

"You mean, Marah?"

"Who else would I mean, dude?" Sam asks and Dean shakes his head. "But yeah. I didn't have you, or Bobby. And I didn't know what to do. I wanted time, needed time, and she just jumped right into trying to find you."

"You didn't help?"

"You were gone, Dean! I watched you disappear!" Sam's yelling now, "I was completely alone!" with those words, Dean slams on the brakes, the Impala screeching to a stop. Dean's words come out too calmly.

"Don't say you fucking left her."


July 2012 - Imboden, Arkansas


Sam woke up with a jolt, his latest nightmare leaving a layer of sweat covering his whole body. He rubbed his eyes with clenched fists, looking over to see Marah's face illuminated by the light coming from his laptop's screen. Her brown eyes were still glued to the screen, just like they had been when he went to sleep.

Sam glanced over at the clock beside his bed; the blinking numbers telling him it was almost dawn. A look at the motel bed beside his own told Sam that Marah hadn't gone to sleep at all. Hadn't even touched the sheets.

He sighed, pushing himself up, flipping on a lamp, and making his way over to his older brother's wife…now…. his brother's widow.

"Marah," he said gently, "Maybe you should get some sleep." Sam made his way behind her, resting a giant hand on her shoulder. On top of one of Dean's sweatshirts. He narrowed his eyes at the computer screen, his eyes scanning over the article about Dick Roman's sudden disappearance. Sam shook Marah's shoulder. "Come on," he prodded.

"No, Sam." Her voice was tired, and when she looked up at him, dark circles were prominent under her eyes.

"I don't think you'll find anything." Sam closed the laptop.

"You haven't even tried to look for him." She accused, "You're not even trying!"

"We always promised we wouldn't look for each other."

"So what?" She demands, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms over her chest, "We weren't supposed to look for you? We weren't supposed to get your damn soul back for you Sam?"

"I didn't mean it like that." Sam sighs, running a hand over his face as Marah stands up.

"I thought you guys always ignored that rule."

"Well, maybe it's time to live a normal life, like we always talked about." Her eyebrows shot up at him as she scoffed.

"Are you saying quit hunting?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, what are we supposed to do, keep going?"

"Yes! Yes, Sam!" Marah's voice began to rise, "People will die!"

"Not our problem."

"Not our problem! No? And Dean being gone? That's not our damn problem, because you're not putting any fucking effort into it!?"

"Marah, you're running yourself into the ground here! Dean's gone, okay, we don't have any leads, we don't have any freaking clue as to where he could be!" Sam's eyes widened as he spoke, emphasizing his words. He ran another hand through his hair as Marah glared up at him.

"Well, fine." She said simply. "I guess it's just my problem then." She made her way over to her duffle bag, still packed from when they arrived yesterday morning. She slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her pistol - Dean's pistol - off the table and securing it in the waistband of her jeans. "You know, I always thought family stuck together."

She was out the door seconds later, and Sam wouldn't hear anything from her for the next several weeks.


"Where is she now?" Dean demands.

"At the motel." Sam informs him, "She's fine, dude, Kevin has the room right next to hers." Dean visibly relaxes at Sam's words, and he lets out a breath, lifting his foot off the brake.

"Good." He says curtly, biting his lower lip. "How's Kevin?"

For the next hour Sam filled Dean in on all that had been going on. How Kevin escaped from Crowley, met up with Sam and Marah, and had stashed the demon tablet somewhere safe. Sam tells Dean about the hunts he's been on in the past few months. All smaller things. A vampire here. A werewolf there. The occasional salt and burn. Dean notices, but doesn't say anything.

They avoid the topic of Marah. Dean doesn't ask, Sam doesn't say anything of her. He doesn't tell Dean about her new nightmares. Doesn't tell Dean about how far she went to try and find him. Doesn't tell Dean why they met up again.

Dean's too afraid to ask. It's been a year. She may not love him anymore, for all he knows. Hell, he hoped she'd moved on. Everything he cares about gets hurt. He doesn't want her to get hurt; she's been through enough because of him.

But Dean is too selfish to wish that much. To wish her gone, to tell her to leave. He needs her, and he missed her more each day. He's just afraid of her reaction, what she'll think of him. He's not the same man anymore.

That's why he called Sam. He doesn't know what to say to his own wife.

An hour and a half away from the motel, and Dean pulls into a gas station to fill up the Impala. Dean fills her up as Sam goes inside to buy the essentials. "Rhymes with 'lie'" Dean had hollered to Sam on his way inside.

When Sam comes back, his older brother is standing behind the Impala, his hand frozen on the trunk door as he stares down inside.

"Sammy," his voice is a whisper. "What is that?" Sam doesn't need to look to know what Dean is looking at. He had prayed his older brother wouldn't look in the trunk, Sam realized he forgot to take it out halfway to the airport. He couldn't ditch it on the side of the road. Marah would kill him.

Dean's eyes stay locked on the toy. Brown and fuzzy, with gray button eyes, the old teddy bear lies on its side in the trunk.


"What?" Dean's face is white, and Sam wonders if his older brother is going to pass out.

"His name's Carter." Sam tells his brother slowly.

"W-when was, Sam…" Dean can't finish his sentence, and Sam just grins.

"February tenth." Sam pauses, and Dean's eyes never leave his younger brother's face, "Lawrence, Kansas." Dean's eyes widen in disbelief.

"She made us drive all the way there, just so he would be born in the same town as his father."

"I, I have a son." Dean whispers, and Sam claps him on the shoulder.

"Congrats, man."

"The hunting-"

"Stopped as soon as she told me, for her at least." Sam cuts Dean off, and his older brother let's out a sigh of relief. "We stayed together, found Kevin. I took small cases, mostly because she forced me too. She stopped answering calls from other hunters, wanted to keep him a secret." Sam explains. Over the past few years, and more so after Bobby's death, Marah was the one hunter's called if they weren't sure what they were up against.

Either her or Garth, though most preferred to talk to Marah and avoid having to deal with the other exuberant hunter.

"Good." Dean breathes out, "Good."


"Dean!" She's even more beautiful than he remembers. As soon as he closed the door to the Impala, she was racing across the parking lot. Her bare feet pounding against the cool pavement, wearing only shorts and a sleeveless shirt as she sprints towards him. Moonlight glints off of Mary's old ring, still on her left hand, just before Dean scoops her up in his arms, he spins her around in a circle once, smiling as she laughs, before putting her feet back on the ground.

She buries her face in the crook of his neck, and he feels her tears as a few of his own go down his face. He breathes in deeply, taking in the feeling of her in his arms again, the smell of her surrounding him again. Her arms are latched around his neck, his hands gripping to her shoulders as he holds her as close as possible.

He pulls back first, so he can get a good look at her face. She smiles up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. She frowns slightly at the scars on his face, unwinding one arm to run her thumb over his cheek. Dean leans down, kissing her softly.

She responds to him immediately, pressing her lips back against his. It reminds them both of when he came back from Hell, and they shove those thoughts from their brains.

"I found a bear in the trunk." Dean whispers, and Marah's smile grows, and then more tears are running down her face. "Shhhh." Dean soothes, but she shakes her head.

"I thought, I thought you'd never get to meet him." Sam coughs, grabbing their attention, and motions with his head towards the motel room.

"We might wanna go inside." He suggests, and Marah notices her yell has awoken some of the other motel residents. She nods, grabbing Dean's hand and he intertwines their fingers.

"Night Sam." Marah smiles, and he nods back.

"Welcome back, Dean." He says, and Dean nods, though his attention is more at the door he's being led towards.

Sam turns, going into the adjacent motel room, and Dean hears Kevin's voice as it opens. "They've been staying together and giving Carter and I our own room." Marah explains, and Dean nods again.

As soon as they step inside, Dean's gaze finds the crib by the bed. He's frozen in place as Marah's hand slips out of his, and she walks over to the crib, bending down and scooping a buddle into her arms.

"Guess who's here?" she croons, rocking her arms slightly. She glances up at Dean, smiling softly, and then she's next to him, and Dean's looking down at his son's face.

He's asleep, but even with his eyes closed, Dean can see the resemblance. His own mouth, her nose, his blonde hair.

To Dean, he's perfect. He can't believe how tiny Carter is, how fragile he looks in Marah's arms. "You wanna hold him?" She asks in a whisper, the look of total awe on Dean's face makes her heart swell.

Dean shakes his head, unsure of himself to keep the little boy safe. "He'll wake up." He whispers.

"He won't cry, almost never cries, and if he does, then just sing to him." Marah runs a hand over Carter's face gently, then looks up at Dean imploringly. "You won't hurt him." She tells Dean, "In your arms is the safest place he'll ever be." She holds their son out to him, and Dean carefully takes him, nestling the boy into the crook of his arm, making sure he's secure and won't fall.

As if he can sense someone new is holding him, Carter's eyes open, and Dean is taken aback by the brilliant green orbs that stare up at him. It's like looking in the mirror.

"I broke down when I first saw them." Marah whispers, "Reminded me so much of you. They've actually darkened a little bit since he was born." Dean's eyebrows go together, but he doesn't look away from his son, in fear that if he does, the little boy who he already loves will disappear.

"That's hard to believe."

"I know." Marah smiles wider as Carter reaches up with one of his little hands towards Dean's face.

"Hey buddy." Dean whispers, a lump in his throat.

"He recognizes you." Marah tells him, and this gets Dean's attention.

"How?" In response, Marah walks over to the crib, reaching inside and removing two papers from between the bars. Dean follows slowly, sinking down so he sits on the bed. His wife sits beside him, turning the papers over so Dean can see the photographs.

The first one is of them all. Dean, Sam, Marah, Bobby, Castiel, Ellen, and Jo. The picture they had all taken before going in to Carthage years ago. Marah had stayed behind with Bobby, Dean refusing to let her come along. In the picture, his arms are wrapped around her shoulders as he stands behind her. Jo beside Marah, their hands clasped together. It's the first picture, the one before Castiel pointed out they all would probably die the next day. Everyone's laughing, Sam's head tilted back and a shit-eating grin on Bobby's face.

The next photo is one of just Dean. Marah had taken it herself almost three years ago. It shows Dean sitting in front of the Impala, his arms crossed and resting atop his knees as he looks away from the camera. You can't see it in the picture, but he's looking out over Lake Michigan.

It had been one of the few trips they had gone on together, just the two of them. Sam stayed at Bobby's, and Dean drove Marah out to Wisconsin. She had snapped the picture before he had time to look over at her.

"He sees you every day." Marah places the pictures back on the bed, watching Dean stare down at their son, taking Carter's tiny hand in his own.


Dean is woken up only a few hours after he falls asleep. At first, he doesn't know why he's awake, the room is still and there are a few more hours until the sun rises. Marah twitches slightly in his arms, her body going rigid for a moment. Dean's eyebrows come together, his eyes narrowing. He waits, but she doesn't move again.

She screams.

Dean's arms tighten around her instantly, bringing her closer to him. He's been gone for a year, but the reaction is ingrained into his soul.

"Marah." He whispers into her ear, her next scream muffled in his chest. "Marah, wake up." He runs a hand up and down her back, and when her breathing hitches, he knows she's awake.

But she's different now. Marah stays silent in his arms. No clutching him closer, no sobs, not even one tear. No relieved sigh of his name. He can feel her hands flat against his bare chest, one hand still over his heart.

It takes Dean a moment to remember that she's been living with her nightmares alone. He wasn't there to wake her up. He wasn't there to comfort her. He can't even be certain he knows what her nightmare was about. He doesn't know what's happened to her, not all of it at least, in the past year.

"What was it?" he asks.

"Nothing." Is her immediate answer. She doesn't even think about it. Dean barely hears her even, and he lifts her chin up with a finger.

"Don't lie to me." She shakes her head. "Was it the demons?" he guesses, referring back to her torture.

"Not those demons." Dean's eyebrows rise on his forehead, his jaw setting.

"There were more?"

"Not now," she begs him, pleading at him with her eyes, "let's not talk about it now." Dean lets out a grunt in response, promising himself that he'll find out what happened to her later.

"I should've been here." Dean says then, breaking eye contact with her. Marah knows him well enough to know when to make him look her in the eyes, and when to let him pretend she's not listening. Right now, she knows this is the latter. "I should've listened to you. I heard you tell me to get away, but I held on. I should've been here when you found out. When you went through the pregnancy. Hell, when you had our child. I wasn't here. And I should've been. I let you down." Marah's throat tightens up when Dean's jaw trembles. "That's what I do, I let down the people I love. Hell, I never even said it out loud to ya. I regretted that every damn day I was in that fucking forest." He's silent after, and his breathing catches as he holds back tears.

"You wanna know something?" Marah asks him, and Dean looks down at her. "You love too much. It's why you care, why you hurt the way you do. You save lives, you saved the world. And all you're worried about is that I had to be alone for a year." A ghost of a smile passes over her face, one that Dean almost misses in the little light that comes from the nightlight plugged in beside the bed. "I hated it. Hell Dean, when you disappeared, I knew what gun I'd put in my mouth if you never came back. And I almost did it. I had the gun in my hand one night, sitting alone in a motel room in Fairfield. Then I," she pauses when Dean's hand comes up, wiping away a tear she didn't know was on her face, "I thought of how much I've changed. In the past nine years, being with you. How strong you are. How faithful you are. I couldn't pull the trigger. And the next week. I found out I was pregnant."

"You found Sam then." Dean states, and she nods.

"I found Sam. And then we found Kevin. And then I had a beautiful baby boy that looked so much like his father that I cried for days."

"Then I came back." Dean finishes, and she laughs softly, nodding her head and resting it over his heart. Listening to it beating, and hoping that it never stops. "I love you." Dean whispers to her, and all she can do in response is press a kiss to his heart. She doesn't need to say it back, even if she could manage to get the words past the lump in her throat. Dean knows.


Dean's eating breakfast when Sam and Kevin come into his motel room the next morning. Marah's in the shower, the door cracked open slightly in case her son starts crying, or if Dean needs anything.

They don't knock, and Dean's attention is taken off of his son when Kevin envelops him in a hug. "Hey Kev." Dean grins, patting the prophet on the shoulder.

"Welcome back, Dean." Kevin Tran smiles, and Sam makes his way immediately over to Carter, who sits on the floor, his teddy bear in his hands. Dean watches as the little boy's face lights up at the sight of Sam. The younger Winchester bends down, scooping the little boy up and spinning him around.

"Sam!" Dean's panic is drowned out by Carter's laughter, the noise ringing in Dean's ears as he watches how comfortably, almost too comfortably, his little brother handles his son.

Sam and Kevin don't notice Dean's gaze. They're not aware of the void that he feels, once again being reminded of how he hasn't been present in the first six months of his son's life. He feels like the outcast, watching as Sam smiles at Carter, tickling his side to make the little boy laugh again. Dean didn't know his son was ticklish.

Dean didn't even trust himself to have his son next to him while he ate breakfast. Marah had placed Carter on the floor after she fed him, and Dean was too uncertain in his abilities with babies to even carry his own without other people there to make sure he didn't hurt his own son.

"Dean." Dean looks up to see Kevin and Sam both starring at him with questioning expressions on their faces. Kevin looks concerned, and Dean looks to Sam then. Judging by his little brother's expression, it wasn't the first time he called his name. "You okay, dude?"

"I'm great." Dean says with false bravado that Sam sees right through. Dean pushes his breakfast back, standing up and holding his arms out for his son. "Hey, bud." Dean can't keep the smile off his face when Sam hands him Carter. The little boy smiles slightly, his hand coming up again to rest on Dean's jaw.

The smile on Dean's face then is one of the brightest Sam has ever seen. It stretches across his whole face, lighting up his eyes and making his older brother actually look like he's thirty-three.

"Carter Winchester." Dean says, liking the way the name sounds. He sits on the floor, his son between his legs, and reaches for the teddy bear. "Carter." The boy looks up at his father, and when he sees the teddy bear in his hands, he reaches out for it, opening and closing his tiny hands. "Here." Dean smiles, handing it over. He runs a hand over Carter's head, brushing through the mop of blonde hair he already has on his head. "You're never growing this out." Dean tells his son, and then looks up at Sam. "Bullwinkle there has enough hair for everyone."