"Grazed Knees"

"Chapter Ten: Carpe Diem"

Shoving the key into the lock, Dean pushed the front door opened slowly. He peered into the living room to see his little brother sprawled out on the couch - his legs hanging off the armrest and onto the end table. Sometimes, Dean wondered how the kid got to be so freakin' gigantic. With his memory fully intact, it seemed like just yesterday when Sammy barely reached his hip, when he had to stand on his tiptoes to hug his big brother. He didn't exactly remember, however, when the kid sprouted like a bean. All he knew was one day him and Dad left him with Joshua Harper to go on a hunt and when they got back the kid was taller than both of them. Closing the door behind him, Dean walked towards the couch quietly.

"Hey, Sam, wake up!"

"Sam?"

The kid stirred on the couch, his sleepy-glazed eyes fluttering open. He stared up at his brother, no idea that Dean was Dean again. One look at Sammy, and Dean sighed in relief. The look on the kid's face was readable - knew exactly what was going through his mind. Sam got so used being called Sammy since coming to Lawrence that hearing himself being called his usual name was just plain awkward.

"Yeah, Princess, I called you Sam. That's your name." A beat passed before he added, "Bitch."

"Jer-" A smile crossed the kid's face before suddenly falling as quickly as it came. "Wait… do you have your memory back?"

That woke him up completely. He bolted up on the couch, his foot only barely missing the lamp. A low chuckle caught in Dean's throat, a smile crossing his features. It felt so good to remember Sam for who he was, to remember everything about him. Part of him, on the other hand, missed his amnesia self. Believe it or not, it was easier to start fresh with a new outlook on life than to have the weight of the world situated on his shoulders.

"No, I'm just up at two in the morning wearing my boots for no reason."

"You went alone? I told you not to go alone!"

A groan escaped his lips before he could stop himself. Sammy and his damn over protectiveness - as though Dean couldn't take care of some measly little memory-swiping demon. He'd faced the demon and come out alive, but some half-assed demon was different in Sam's eyes for some insane reason.

"Dude, I'm twenty-eight. I can take care of a demon by myself."

"Yeah, Dean, normal you but not amnesia you."

Dean thought back to his hunting skills with amnesia intact. They weren't that bad. Sure, he'd gotten scuffed up a bit and generally found himself on the ground, but that wasn't any indication that he didn't have the instincts of a hunter.

He tried not to think about the amnesia and how his life got screwed up yet again. The whole thing confused him, made his head start to pound. He could remember the hunt in Kentucky, the fight with Sam, meeting the demon in some shithole bar after the case. He couldn't, however, connect A to C. He didn't understand how a little more than a month changed his life so drastically.

"I still have ten fingers and toes and the family jewels. I guess I can hunt on my own after all," he bit back with a full force of sarcasm as he tried to keep his confusion at bay. "Hey, listen, Sam, it's her. Her."

"Who?"

"Carmen."

"Carmen's a demon?"

More than anything, Dean wanted to reach out and hit the kid across the head but refrained himself. Sam's eyes were wide, his mouth opened, as he contemplated Carmen being a freakin' demon.

"No, Asshat, Carmen's… the girl."

"Dean, you're not making a whole lot of sense right now."

"The girl from that funky Djinn universe. The girl."

"Why would the demons put you here with her?" he questioned as a look of clarity mixed with relief crossed his features.

The whole car ride home, he pondered that same question. Why the hell would this new demon leader, yellow-eyed freak want to allow him to be happy with the girl of his dreams? What would be the point of separating him from Sam? If they really wanted the kid, they could easily take him right under Dean's nose. They'd done it before. Taken him, killed a whole diner full of people just to make Sam play a game of life and death with some other crazy kids with freaky powers.

"I don't know," he whispered.

His gaze traveled from his brother to the stairs that led upstairs. Carmen was up there sleeping without any knowledge that he wasn't the same Dean she'd gotten to know and love. He knew he couldn't keep up the charade of his new life, the life he so desperately wanted since he could remember. There was a job to do. His happiness for the lives of others? His happiness for what could possibly be Sam's demise? No contest.

Perhaps, if it was just leaving Carmen it would be easier. He could convince his mind that she was just another girl in another town. He'd gotten over Cassie. He could get over Carmen. The fact of the matter was that he had a child on the way. A little boy or girl who needed a father. He knew he wouldn't be able to take his child to school, help with the homework, teach how to drive, give the facts of life lesson when it come to sex, watch graduation, watch a marriage ceremony, meet his grandkids. He would only have a few days with the kid at most before he had to kick the bucket down to hell.

"Dean?"

Snapping his eyes to his little brother, Dean didn't even notice when the tears started to pour down his face. He ran a hand down his face, wiping away any evidence that he'd shown such weakness. The funny thing was, before amnesia he didn't really care about dying. He'd saved Sammy and that's all that mattered. His life would mean something. When he heard about the deal during his amnesia, he sort of hoped it was some sick joke and he was having false memories about the deal. Now, the reality of the situation was crashing into him - suffocating him with grief. A child. A stupid, freakin' child was making him break down. He didn't even like kids to begin with.

"So, um, I was thinking on the ride back here that maybe we could… have Lawrence be our headquarters. You know, when we were little Pastor Jim was always our headquarters."

"Dean, if you want to stay, we can stay."

"These demons are after you, Sammy, we gotta kill them before they get to you."

"How? Dean, we don't have bullets for the Colt."

"Then we'll figure out a way! I don't know!"

He was certain that his yelling woke up the rest of the house, but he could really care less. There was a huge chunk of him that just wished he'd die already so that he wouldn't have to deal with everything. He wanted the guilt, the sadness, everything to just disappear. He didn't want to think about how he was leaving Sammy, Carmen, and his unborn child. He didn't even want to consider how he was happy, truly happy since his mother died in the fire.

"You said it yourself once. You're sick of the job. We don't get paid or thanked. We can just finish up two more things and be done with the whole thing."

"What two jobs are those, Sam?"

"First, we get you out of the deal with the demon. Then, we prove to these demons we're not a force to be reckoned with."

"No."

"No?"

"The demon said you drop dead if I try to weasel my way out of my deal," he replied. "I'd rather die than you. You know, that big brother hero complex and all."

That's when the look came - the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that used to make their dad and Dean buckle to Sam's will. There was the rare occasion that the look still worked, still made him feel guilty as hell. It was the times when Sam didn't even mean to plaster the look on his face that got Dean just like this moment.

"I'll get you out of it. You'll have nothing to do with it."

"I really don't think that matters."

The stairs creaked causing Dean to turn around to see Carmen descending while hastily tying her robe around her waist. He couldn't look at her without thinking it was all a dream - that he was tied up in some warehouse having the life drained out of him. After he retrieved his memory, on the car ride back, there was a fleeting moment where he thought that perhaps he was still in his Djinn hell. It took all of his self-control not to jerk the Impala into on coming traffic just to wake up.

"Dean? What's going on?"

Her voice was soft, delicate as it wafted into his ears. He could picture himself sitting at the restaurant just like earlier that evening but with his mom and Jessica sitting across from him and not her parents. The whole situation confused him, made his head feel like it was going to explode. He hated being so unsure of himself, hated not being in control. His two different lives blurred together, and he couldn't pick them apart.

"I'm fine," he said quickly.

He couldn't picture them like they were in this lifetime. He could only picture them in his fake universe. Images of them on the couch, at dinner with his mom, everything that wasn't true floated through his mind. He could barely remember how they were in reality, because his mind was that screwed up.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off.

"We need to talk." Dean ignored his brother as he grabbed Carmen by the elbow.

She had to know that she was his soul mate. She had to know he was going to die. She had to know everything. The couple left the living room and headed towards the kitchen. Dean shot his little brother a look to tell him not to interrupt or else. Waving his arm, he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs.

"I'm Dean Winchester."

"I know…"

"No, you don't. I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm wanted for the FBI for a dozen and a half crimes. Some of them I did commit like credit card theft, grave desecration, impersonating government and law enforcement personal."

"You're not making any sense."

Pausing, he looked down at Carmen. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, tears brimming in the corners. Hands clenched the armrests - knuckles as white as a piece of paper. A lump formed in his throat, one that wouldn't go down even after he swallowed. She was the girl, and he couldn't just lie to her for the rest of his life. He had to be honest and if she ran…

"I have my memory back," he whispered. "I remember everything."

"And you're a… a felon?"

"All in the name of ghostbusting, supernatural hunter extraordinaire." Sitting down in the chair next to her, he grabbed her shaking hand into his. "Carmen, I can't lie to you."

"Okay."

"You remember in the hospital, after I was first admitted, how I thought I knew you?" She nodded slowly. "I did know you. You were… my dream girl. The perfect girl for me."

"Dean, we've never met before that day in the hospital."

He felt himself nod and thought back to the time he told Cassie the truth about him. As clear as day, he could hear her screaming at him. She even threw something at his head. The last thing he wanted was for Carmen to react the same way. He couldn't lose her yet.

"Sam and I hunted a Djinn once."

"A… what?"

"Djinn - a genie. Genies don't grant wishes, they just make you think they have. They feed off you while you're having this dream that most people think is the real deal, like their wildest wishes actually came true. I wished for my mom to be alive. In this fake wish dream, you and me were together. We were happy."

"Dean, ghosts are one thing, but genies and demons are just a complete other thing."

"So you believe in ghosts but nothing else?"

He could see her struggling with herself as she tried to formulate an answer. Dean leaned back in the bright yellow chair, rubbing a hand over his face. Telling Carmen was harder than it ever was telling Cassie. Carmen was… Carmen. She was vastly different and so perfect in every way. Dean couldn't even recall what he saw in Cassie in the first place while sitting with Carmen in her mismatched kitchen.

"When I was seven, I saw a ghost," she started as her hand slipped from underneath his. "My parents, my brother, and I were cleaning out his house to get it ready for sale. I walked into the den and saw him there. He waved with this huge smile on his face. He always smiled like that… would slip his thumbs under his suspenders and just laugh. My brother used to joke that if there was a Santa Claus, our grandfather would be him."

"Carmen…?"

"I ran out of the den screaming for my dad. I thought he'd be so happy, you know. I dragged him into the den, and my granddad wasn't there. My dad just kinda smiled sadly at me before leaving." She paused for a few seconds, a soft smile gracing her features. "At the showing for the funeral, I was the only one not sad. I thought that I was the only one in on some sort of joke, you know? I thought my granddad would just sit up in that casket and everyone would laugh in relief. When his coffin was being lowered into the ground, that's the first time I cried for him. That's when I realized it wasn't a joke, and I actually understood what death meant. So, yeah, I believe in ghosts. Ever since that experience, Dean, I've tried to keep an open mind. This though - this hunting stuff is just a lot to take in."

"I was six when I saw my first spirit," Dean started. "My dad had to go to a cemetery to do a little salt and burn. My job was to make sure Sammy didn't wander off while my dad dug the grave. The ghost haunted the cemetery and killed kids who would go in to do séances and crap. So, my dad's digging a grave, and I'm holding a squirming two-year-old in my arms whose telling me he's bored and wants to leave. Then, out of nowhere, the spook attacks my dad. It was the first time that I really saw something supernatural."

"This is nice."

"What is?"

"Talking openly about our pasts. I never told you stories about when I was younger, because you couldn't remember. I didn't want to feel like a bitch or anything."

He smiled thinking how he could never share any of those experiences with anyone before. He'd shared some things before with other hunters like Jim Murphy, Bobby Singer, Joshua Harper, and even Gordon Walker. Never before had he sat down with someone like Carmen before and tell tales of his hunting adventures.

"Dean…"

"Carmen…"

"Have you ever seen an angel?"

Stopping dead in his tracks, he glanced up at Carmen as though he never saw anything like her. His mother's voice filled his head, her soft words of angels and protection clouding his mind. For the longest time, he denied the existence of angels. He never talked of them, never allowed Sam to watch any movies or television shows revolving around angels. He didn't want him let in on the lie as well.

"No."

"I had a… younger sister who died when I was sixteen. She was eight," she spoke softly. "While she was in the hospital, she talked about angels a lot and how they were with her. The last thing she told me was that she had to die, that it was her destiny… that she was meant to become an angel and watch over the family. I've always wondered if that was true - wondered if she became an angel."

"I'm not one for divine intervention and angels," he said steadily. "Sam, on the other hand, is a huge sucker for that."

"You believe in all the bad stuff but none of the good stuff?"

"I've only seen bad."

"Let's go to bed. I'm exhausted."

She stood up, holding out a hand for him to take. Grabbing it, he thought of his mother and her great tales of angels. Part of him wished they didn't exist, because they couldn't or didn't want to save his mom. Another part, a small part, wanted them to exist so that he could feel close to his mom again.

Entering the living room, Dean saw Sam sitting up on the couch waiting for them to return. The kid glanced at him, his eyes wide and ready to talk some more. With one look in their secret language - a language he'd missed so much in the past several days - he told Sammy to go to bed and worry about it in the morning.

As he laid in bed with Carmen's head on his chest, he tried to push the confusion out of his mind. He wanted peace, that was all. He didn't want to worry about his death date, Sammy, Carmen, the baby, hunting. He just wanted to live in the moment for once and not worry.

He shot up in bed, his heart pounded wildly for some reason. Glancing to his left, he watched the steady rise and fall of Carmen's chest. He blinked trying to clear his mind and keep his heart rate in check.

"Dean…"

The voice wafted through the room, the tone dancing in his eardrums. It couldn't be. Turning towards the right, he saw his mother standing beside his bedside with a grin lighting up her features. She was dressed in the white nightgown she died in, a nightgown he remembered from so long ago.

"Mom?" He felt himself stop breathing. "This is a dream."

"Listen to me, Dean, a far worse man than yourself gave up his soul and redeemed it. You have to believe."

"Believe in what? Mom?"

"Your dad and I are watching out for you two, but we can't interfere. Dean, get out of the deal."

"I want to, Mom, but-"

"You can. You will. Sammy needs you. Your son needs you."

Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. He leaned into it, feeling her icy cold hands against his skin. How he missed her touch, her hugs, her burnt chocolate chip cookies she said were made with undeniable love. He missed her voice, her laugh, her smell. He missed the way she danced with his dad, the way she danced with him, the way she swayed with Sammy.

The touch left his cheek, and he studied his mother's face. Taking something off her neck, she slipped it around his. Looking down, he noticed it was some sort of necklace with a symbol on it - a symbol he remembered seeing but couldn't place it.

"Just believe."

His eyes opened, something wet sliding down his cheeks. Quickly, he wiped away the salty tears and glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning. He turned his gaze onto Carmen whose lower body was alit in sunlit through the blinds on the window. Reaching up, he touched his cheek where his mother's hand was before. Her cool touch was still there.

His hand went down to the protection amulet around his neck. It was still there but something else occupied it. There was another necklace around his neck - a single silver chain with a symbol hanging from it. The symbol that looked so familiar.

Important Notice One: Some of you may have realized, but this story had started to be plagiarized. So I ask all of you to look out for plagiarized stories and put a stop to this. I never realized that this actually happened - stupid, silly me - but I'm now going to be vigilant about the stories I read. So look you for yourselves, for me, and for all the other writers out there.

Important Notice Two: I'm on the fence about doing a prequel to this story to show what happened in the Kentucky hunt. I was going to smooth over it in this story; but the more I thought about it, the more detailed the story became in my head. So I can either leave out what happened in the hunt completely, or I can write a prequel. It's totally up to you. I'll be taking tally from this website and the others that I post this story up on. So vote if you want it.

Author's Notes: My generic author notes that seem really off place in light of two important notices. There was a lot of dialogue in this chapter. Was it too much? There's only one or two chapters left (depending on if I can fit it all in one chapter or not) plus an epilogue. I'm on the fence about the epilogue. You'll either love it or hate it. Drop a review since they are what authors live and breathe.