Epilogue

Carter Winchester stood at the edge of the empty field that was hidden from the road, leaning against the shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala. The same field he'd

celebrated in all those years ago. The sun was just setting, and in the last of the daylight, he saw himself at five years old playing "Keep Away from John" with a soccer

ball. As the sun disappeared, Carter still stood, staring into the field. He reached into his leather jacket, the one that had belonged to John, and pulled out the journal

that had also belonged to the late John Winchester. He flipped through it. As he did so, a piece of paper fell from the back. Carter leaned down and picked it up, unfolding

it. It turned out to be two pieces of paper.

It was two pictures from a coloring book. A dinosaur standing on a big patch of pink grass and a hand drawn picture of the black Impala, Dad and Sam holding a small

Carter's hand. A smile tugged at the edge of Carter's mouth, he was just as tall as Sam now. Dad had kept these two pictures all these years.

He grabbed a beer from the six pack on the ground, and a roman candle from the cardboard box of fireworks next to the beer. Carter cracked open the beer with the

silver ring on his finger and drank half of it. Lighting the roman candle, he held it above his head and watched the multi-colored balls, and heard the whistling.

He dropped it to the ground when it was spent and drank the rest of the beer. It was a clear night and Carter gazed at the stars and listened to the wind, he would never

take for granted the ability to hear things. A twig snapping, those classic rock tapes Dad had insisted they play wherever they went, the deep baritone of his voice.

Grabbing another beer, he lost himself in those memories. The two brothers taking in a deaf kid, protecting him from demons. He remembered the time he'd asked Dad

if he was an angel, remembered how he and Sam both laughed at him. Carter knew that angels existed. Not in the way his real dad had said, but they did exist and

there were three kinds. There were the real ones, the good ones, like that trench-coated man who had saved him from a hellhound and given him the gift of sound.

There were the fake ones, the ones who had killed so many "for the greater good." Then, finally, there were the angels that didn't know they were angels, like Dad and

Sam. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. Taking in a wayward orphan, and protecting him from all the evil in the world.

Having been so lost, he failed to register the sound of another car, pulling behind the sleek black Chevrolet.

"Hey, now! Don't drink all of the beer. Party just started!" Carter turned and was enveloped into a hug by Dad.

"There's more in the trunk!" He laughed back, and gave Sam a sidelong hug.

"How'd it go with that vampire's nest?" Carter asked.

"You could say they lost their heads a bit," Dad grinned, cracking open a beer for himself, with a ring that nearly matched the one Carter had on.

"How'd it go for you? The haunted house in So-Cal?" Sam asked.

"Rubbish. Cursed mirror is all," Carter replied. "Thanks for letting me take the Impala, Dad."

"Sure. Just don't expect it too often," Dad said, taking another beer for Sam and switching car keys with Carter. Carter also handed him the journal, having tucked those

two pieces of paper back in their place.

Dad opened a bottle of beer for Carter.

"To John?" Carter said, raising his bottle.

"To Dad," Sam and Dad said together.

They tapped their bottles together and drank them in silence.

"Let's get this celebration going," Carter said, grabbing the box of fireworks, and heading away from the two cars.

They sat together and watched the fireworks explode in showers of multi-colored lights, as they had so many years ago and once every year since then. After the last

one died away, the trio began to clean up their mess. They stood near their cars, none leaving, but none admitting they didn't particularly want to leave yet. "Until

Christmas, right?"

Sam and Dad nodded.

"Where are you headed next?" Sam asked, because he knew Dad wouldn't.

"Tennessee. I think there's a witch hunt," Carter replied. "You?"

"Maine," Dad replied.

"Well, see you soon, then," Carter said, stepping forward to give one last hug to each of the men. "Be careful."

"Yep," Dad said. "Always are, Son."

"Of course," Sam said. "You do the same, kiddo."

Dean and Sam got into the black Impala and roared away.

Carter reached into his pocket, and pulled out the coin of twins. A grim reminder of everything they had lost, and everything they had gained in return. He turned it in

his hand a few times, gazing at the small token. Then, with finality, Carter placed the coin back in his pocket, and got into the 1967 Ford Mustang that had orange

stripes. The car wasn't as homely as the Impala, and it never would be, but the open highways welcomed him back with open arms.

Thanks for reading this story. Please let me know how you liked it! It was a lot of fun to write and I'm really proud of it as my first fanfic. Thank you again for reading. Much love, all.