AN: wow. it's here and i've spent 24 chapters talking and sharing and now i don't know what to say. instead, i will cry.

but for reals. this has been an absolute labor of love and sharing it with everyone has been indescribable. i wrote this because i saw a cool fan art and i loved SOA and Sansan and didn't think for a minute anyone would care to read it. but it has found a home, and i have too, with all of you.

my deepest, sincerest, most utter thanks. it really has been a wild ride, pun intended. thanks for taking it with me.

Sandor Clegane had always hated coming home. He'd hated it since his brother was old enough to be bigger and stronger than Sandor, and would torment him every change he got. Then when Sandor had got a little older, there was no home to return to. For most of his life, that was how it had been. There was no home that Sandor Clegane called his own.

But that had all changed. For the better, certainly. Because at the moment, Sandor Clegane was going home. It was taking longer than he wanted, actually, because a certain small girl next to him was taking her sweet fucking time, but still. He was going home, to some place that wasn't a shitty little apartment with a futon and a tv. It was a home, true and proper. A home where he was cared for. Loved. Wanted.

It was enough to make his heart ache, a little bit.

It had been a couple weeks since he was last home, but he was impatient to return. Arya, on the other hand, was dragging her feet, and he imagined he knew why. Pod wasn't happy with her vengeance quest, and though he understood it, it didn't make it any easier for her to return to him when she was fresh off a kill, like they were today. Another Lion dead, this one sweetest yet.

They'd taken the Lions by surprise and the result had been Jaime and Littlefinger in their captivity. Jaime, for all his golden haired good looks and fast talking, had paid for his crimes against Robb's father and the Wolves. Sandor hadn't taken part, and Sansa herself had muttered that the Lannister was a good man of sorts, despite it all, and better to her than the rest.

Sandor had, however, relished what had came for Littlefinger. His only regret was that Sansa herself wasn't there to condemn him as well. He'd spoken her words in her absence, and when Littlefinger had looked shocked and horrified at him, Sandor had reminded him of the things he'd made Sansa do, and the things he wanted her to do. No tears had been shed for him.

All that remained were Joffrey and his mother, and a few lower ranking Lions. He wasn't sure who was going to tear Joffrey apart first, himself, Robb, or Arya, but the boy could only run for so long. Robb would chase and hunt him down, and once he did, the war would be done and over. Then Sandor would be free to remain at his home for all time.

Winterfell was home, he reflected as he smoked. He would stop the habit when he got back to Sansa, since she hated it so much, but while he was on the road with Arya, it was fair game. Winterfell, the small town, the woods, the ranch, was all home, but none so much as Sansa. She was truly home. She was where his heart ran to, over and over again. She was his safe shelter.

Arya came out of the bathroom, scowling, reaching for a cigarette. He took a long drag before handing her the empty pack. She looked at it, then at him in disbelief, before making a noise of annoyance and throwing it into the garbage bin and pouting like a two year old.

"What did I say about taking mine?" She grumbled darkly and he took another puff, resisting the urge to laugh at her childishness.

"Don't?"

"Fucking don't." Arya corrected.

"This things are shite for you anyways." He said, flicking the butt down and grounding it out with his heel. "Clogging up your fucking lungs."

"You fucking smoke them." Arya said incredulously and he laughed.

"Aye, and I'm an old fucking man."

"I'll tell Sansa on you." Arya threatened and Sandor gave her a look with raised eyebrows.

"And I'll tell Pod on you."

"Fuck off." She huffed, uncrossing her arms and turning back to her bike. "C'mon, we'll be late for dinner if we keep fucking around."

"Not me who stops every thirty miles to piss and smoke and have a little pity party." Sandor reminded her, getting the last jab in, and Arya sped past him. Laughing, he followed her. From there on, Arya didn't pull off, but the few times he went to pass her she threw the middle finger up at him and he backed off, laughing to himself. He'd die before admitting it, but he was fond of her.

The closer they got to Winterfell the fast his heart would beat, and he had to repress a sort of excited shaking, giddy like a teenage schoolgirl in front of her crush when he thought about how soon he would see Sansa again, hold her again, kiss her again. It was impossible not to feel joy when it came to her. Several times he'd came home to her, but the joy never seemed to diminish.

The sights were becoming more familiar. He no longer needed Arya to guide and lead him around, and he no longer got lost and had to, gritting his teeth and swearing, call Jory to ask where the hell he was and how to get back to where he wanted to go. He was relearning how it felt to get acclimated to a place, to know it's ins and outs, to feel comfortable in it. The road to Winterfell was the same as it always was, bare trees on either side of the drive, and at the end, Sansa.

The winter air was chilly, and he wondered if Sansa would have a hot mug of tea waiting for him. She usually did, on cool days like this. He smiled to think of her, bundled up in the window of the ranch, reading or typing on her computer. It was March, and almost her birthday. He had no idea what he was going to get her, but he sure as hell planned on making it special. For his birthday, and for Christmas, her gift to him had been his own wolf ring, one that sat heavy on his thumb. She'd given it freely, and he knew what it meant. He was her's, always.

When he pulled up to the house, his attention was quickly diverted the the smouldering pile of rubble in the middle of the yard, and the three figures around it. He knew the gleaming auburn hair was Sansa, the tangled curls meant Rickon, and the dark hair was Osha. He wondered, as Sansa came hurtling full speed at him, what Rickon had managed to burn down now.

"Sandor!" Sansa hit him with a solid impact, flinging her arms around him and then her legs. He groaned slightly, catching her, before chuckling and giving her a squeeze.

"Hi little bird." He set her down, giving her a brief kiss before looking up. "Something happening here, or are we just having a bonfire?"

"Ah." Sansa laughed, tucking herself into his side. "No, nothing major. Rickon just decided that he wasn't going to abide by the laws and guidance of the California school system anymore. He burned some books and papers. Osha gave him a strong reprimand."

"Interesting." He remarked, before looking down at her. She beamed, putting her arms around his waist and tossing her hair back. She somehow got more beautiful when he left, and more gorgeous upon his returns. "How are you?"

"Missed you terribly." Sansa informed him with faux-seriousness. Her bright blue eyes glittered with coy amusement. "I pouted and sobbed and cried and wailed. Missed you so fiercely I didn't know how to go on!"

"Alright." He growled, scooping her up, making her shriek with laughter and delight. "I've had enough of the sass, Sansa Stark."

"Have you?" Sansa rested her head on his chest, sighing happily. "I thought you said you'd never get sick of my sass. That it entertained you."

"I can think of more entertaining things." Sandor carried her to the house, ignoring the excited barks from the dogs inside. "Especially with your mouth."

"Hey!" Sansa smacked him, laughing. "Watch it. Is Arya home safe?"

"At Pod's." He informed her, setting her down when he crossed the threshold so that he could bend down and pet Lady. "She thinks he's going to be furious with her."

"He might be." Sansa flicked the electronic kettle on and pulled two mugs down from the shelves. "He's not thrilled, I can tell you that much."

"He's a fair lad." Sandor went for the tea bags. Despite his every effort to convert Sansa to proper tea, she still valued convenience over taste. Much to his dismay, he was very much in love with an American. "He understands her, even if he doesn't like it. Thought all these months to get use to it would make him come around but seems not."

"I like Pod." Sansa said thoughtfully, bending down to kiss Lady's nose as she frantically darted between the two humans, always delighted whenever Sandor returned.

"Everyone likes Pod." Sandor laughed. "He's got a likeable face."

"Agreed." Sansa pondered it until the kettle dinged and she could pour two steaming mugs, handing one to him and joining his at the counter.

"Cheers, little bird."

"Cheers." Sansa quietly tucked herself into his side. He let her quietly shift through her thoughts, not pressing her. She'd speak when she was ready.

"Everything alright around here then?" He asked her softly, after the first couple sips of his cooling tea. Sansa nodded, tapping the side of her mug with long nails.

"Yeah. Bran's good. Rickon's Rickon, but he hasn't damaged anything we can't replace. I even heard from mom yesterday."

"Did you?" He raised an eyebrow. Catelyn was somewhere in the east, trying to settle the dispute for Robb and get her brother back. Apparently, Joffrey's allies were proving more unruly than they'd imagined.

"I've accepted something." Sansa traced the rim of her cup. "When Joffrey killed my father, he killed my mother too. All the parts of her that mattered anyways. She's still a queen and a mother, but without him… She's just a ghost of her former self."

"Little bird." He kissed the top of her head, unable to do anything else. He knew she wasn't wrong and by all accounts, was very right. But it was her family, and he knew what it was like to mourn the loss of a mother. He simply held her close.

"It's ok." Sansa took a deep breath and twisted to give him a little smile. "Robb will be home by my birthday, he says. And he'll even bring Talisa back with him."

"Oh, you'll fucking like her." Sandor chortled. During his time on the road with Arya, he'd seen Talisa several times, each more enjoyable than the last. She was settling into her role as Robb's old lady and future queen. He hoped Sansa would like her as much as he did.

"I'm sure." Sansa sighed, looking around the house critically. "But in the meantime, I have to get this place cleaned up and ready. If the war really is going to end when he kills Joffrey, the whole club will come home and ruin the place. Fuck."

"Let's not talk about the club or the war yet." He hushed her, kissing her temple. "Let's just enjoy this for a minute, huh?"

"Fine." Sansa turned in his arms to give him a proper kiss. "How is it, though? Are they making you do the grunt work, prospect?"

"They don't dare." He laughed, tangling his fingers in her fiery hair while his other hand found her waist. "Something about me and the princess of the north?"

"Tell them to fuck off." Sansa's tone was serious, but her eyes were sparkling. "I'm not a fucking princess. I'm just Sansa."

"My girl from the north country." He muttered, pulling her close and breathing her in. Sansa hummed, content, and they stayed that way until Rickon stormed in, hungry and eager to hear Sandor's stories from the time on the road. Sansa disentangled herself from him, and smiling, went to make them something to eat.

Domestic bliss was the sort of term he would give the time he and Sansa shared while at Winterfell. It was easy to feel a sort of routine there. Nights together, tangled in the sheets, with the hazy glow of sex and the lights that Sansa strung around the canopy of her head. Days together, cooking and fixing things, cleaning and writing. He liked nothing more than to look up and see Sansa with her laptop or her paints, lost in her own little world of her own creation.

Brienne and Pod and Arya filtered in and out, while Rickon and Bran made more frequent appearances. Men from the club came and went, and while Sandor knew their names now, Sansa knew their wives and children. He wondered if she knew how good she was at this, at the day to day running of the club. He didn't dare bring it up. He would rather not be banished to the couch.

After a few days, when he'd settled back into life with her here, he realized he had no more than a few days before her birthday. He tried to weedle her wish list out of her, and turned to Bran and Arya for inspiration, only to be laughed at. Arya informed him that this new Sansa was impossible to shop for, and wished him luck. Bran was of similar help, and Rickon gave him nothing. He debated asking Brienne, but he stopped himself before he could even entertain how that could play out.

There was a sneaking voice in his head, one that he had to squash down every time Sansa crawled into bed and curled up with him, or whenever she hugged him from behind while they cooked. The voice told him that there was a gift that he could get her, one that she'd like, one that she might even appreciate. Small, delicate, and sparkly. Expensive, but worth every penny. He had to work damn hard to shut that voice up, but it only seemed to get louder and louder.

A few days after his arrival, he was pondering giving in to the voice when Arya came crashing into the house, her chopped hair hastily pulled back, chunks falling out. She was half dressed, in her heavy boots and a sweatshirt of Pod's. Only half of her face contained the heavy eye makeup she wore usually, giving her the appearance of having a black eye. Behind him, Sansa burst into laughter at the sight of her sister.

"You look fucking ridiculous, what-"

"Robb." Arya said and Sansa's sharp intake of breath made him reach for her instantly. "Robb has Joffrey, he captured him."

"Fuck!" Sansa yelled, pressing a hand to her heart.

"Wrong fucking moment to pause, motherfucker," Sandor accused while Sandor shouted,

"You scared the fucking shit out of me!"

"He's south." Arya explained, ignoring her sister's outburst. "We have to go there. Now. Robb's holding a trial, we have to go."

"Arya!" Pod nearly hit the counter, trying to skid to a stop when he came flying into the house. "What the fuck is wrong, why'd you-"

"Robb has Joffrey." Sansa explained and Pod's jaw dropped as he turned to face Arya. She apprehensively folded her arms and jutted her chin out.

"What?" She asked defensively. "I knew you'd be mad if I said I was going to go down south and kill him. I didn't want to piss you off."

"Oh, and rushing off without a fucking explanation again is going to make me happy?" Pod demanded, annoyed, but Sandor cut them both off before they could argue further.

"Quit it, you two." He turned to Sansa, who was pale, looking down at her feet. "Sansa, what do you think?" He gently touched her chin, bringing her gaze to his. She was spinning her ring frantically, like it was going to transport her somewhere far away, so he brought her hands to his lips, kissing them.

"I…" She trailed off, then looked up at him with her head tilted. "I want to make sure it's done. Make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else."

"Then we'll go." He promised her quietly before turning to Arya. "Where is he then? Where'd the young wolf find him after all?"

"Some shitty motel, hiding in his mother's hometown." Arya laughed then, a bit mercilessly. Sandor had seen her murder men; he knew that she was relishing this and felt no reservations about this killing. But he sensed the discomfort from Pod, and also Sansa. "Robb says that this ends it all then. We're done fighting, we're going to grant mercy to everyone else. But not him. Or fucking Cersei. They both die."

"Jesus fuck." Pod muttered behind her and Sandor ignored their spat in favor of watching Sansa, who was absentmindedly putting the dishes in the sink.

"Sansa." He kissed her head. "What do you need?"

"Better get to cleaning." She muttered. "Better get it all cleaned up."

"No time." Arya called, from where she was stretching up to kiss Pod's cheek. "We're leaving, now. Robb said Sandor can bring you, and Brienne can bring Bran and Rickon."

"You're fucking letting them come?" Sandor turned to her, aghast, but Arya's face was pure determination, and it was clear there would be no argument.

"Joffrey murdered their father too." She said, by way of explanation, before turning and walking out. Sandor turned to look down at Sansa, but she was already heading for the stairs.

They left in a convoy that night, all at once. There hadn't been much time to prepare, but Sansa had managed somehow to get everyone fed. Bran and Rickon were in Brienne's SUV, while Arya and Pod rode her bike beside Sansa and Sandor on his. Sansa was dressed in the boots she'd worn while on the run, with tight black jeans and a thick black hoodie with one of Sandor's jean jackets thrown over the top. She tugged her old beanie on and put her arms around him. It felt familiar, but all too different.

The night sky, the cool air, her on the back of his bike. It reminded Sandor of the trek across the west, the desperate bid to get her home. Away from Joffrey, Cersei, the Lions. And yet here he was, on a dark highway, taking her back to all of it. He had to remind himself that she was safe. That this was alright. That it would be ok. She had the safety and protection of all the Wolves. But it didn't stop him from feeling like a lead weight was settling into the pit of his stomach.

It was deep into the night when they reached the town where Robb was located. When he parked his bike, Sansa was off in a heartbeat, going to make sure that Bran and Rickon were both asleep. He helped Brienne carry them into the motel, laying them down on beds. With a nod, he went back outside to see what was going on. Whatever he'd expected, the sight of Jon was not it.

"Jon!" Arya's race for him was followed closely by Sansa, and Jon was nearly bowled over by the force of the two of them.

"Hey." He said softly, ruffling Arya's hair and giving Sansa's shoulder a pat. "Hey, hi guys. Bran and Rickon sleeping then?"

"Yeah." Sandor said, as Sansa wiped away a tear. "What the fuck are you doing here, Snow?" Jon flinched at the name.

"I had to come back for… This." He admitted.

"Robb only told us yesterday." Sansa's brow was furrowed. "Why were you back so soon? How did you- Wait. Have you been home?" She demanded.

"Not necessarily." Jon fidgeted, uncomfortable. "I was close by. When Robb mentioned they might be closing in, I decided to… Come back. Mom will be here in the morning."

"Well shit." Arya was still looking at Jon like she didn't quite believe he was real, for once beaming instead of scowling. "Everyone will be here."

"Apparently." Sansa rested her head on Sandor's arm. Jon looked at them with resignation, but when Arya took Pod's hand, his jaw dropped.

"You missed some things." Sansa informed him, a little sadly, before Brienne came out and ordered them all to bed, threatening and scolding in equal measures.

Sandor didn't sleep. Sansa, curled into his side, slept fitfully, but he was glad for whatever little rest she could get. He didn't want this weighing on her anymore. He wanted to take her away, take her somewhere safe. He thought of the mountains, and wondered if she'd go nomad with him. A life on the road, the two of them, seemed rather fitting. He'd go anywhere, so long as it was with her.

When dawn came, all the Stark children rose. Sandor had never seen them all together and though he didn't expect them to interact the same as any normal family, he wondered if they would tease and complain and support each other. He got his answer when they pulled up to the deserted quarry and Robb emerged from a knot of Wolves and other clubs that backed him.

"Jon." Robb called, looking at his twin first, and Jon stepped forward, clasping Robb's forearms. The two looked each other in the eye, grey to blue, before they separated. Rickon went leaping into Robb's arms, and he staggered under the weight, laughing. Bran, ever calm and collected, gave Robb a brief hug. Sansa and Arya both hugged him, though Sansa was trembling.

"A sight to see." Jory remarked, watching as Robb talked lowly to Arya and Jon, while Sansa gave a sad little smile to the other men who stepped forward with greetings. "I haven't seen them like this since before their father. Maybe even before Sansa went off to college."

"As long as they're alright." Sandor said roughly, watching Sansa. It wasn't more than a few minutes later that a car pulled up, and Catelyn emerged, stiff backed, and faced her children. Robb was the first to step forward and kiss her cheek, and after that the rest followed, a little slower. Sandor hung back, keeping a respectful distance, until Sansa looked for him.

"You can go see him, if you want." Robb was telling Sansa, when Sandor stepped forward. Sansa caught his hand almost instantly, gripping him tightly. He knew that they must be talking about the captured prince.

"I don't think I have anything to say to him." Sansa muttered, looking at her scuffed up boots. They were almost falling off her feet, but Sandor hoped that she loved them as much as he did. "He knows what he did to me. He knows that everything I promised him would happen has. You're going to kill him and that's enough for me Robb. I don't want to see him again."

"Fair enough." Robb patted her cheek gently before looking up at Sandor. "And you, Clegane? Got any final words for him?"

"No." Sandor said, surprised at the lack of hesitation he had. "No, I've said everything I want to. He's a fucking cunt, and he'll die. Like Sansa said… That's enough."

"Alright." Robb clapped his shoulder. "Then I don't expect you to stay here, Sansa. Take her somewhere safe then, Clegane."

"Aye." Sandor said, putting his arm around Sansa's shoulder. They both watched, quietly, as Robb spoke to each of his other siblings, and Sandor knew that he was offering them the same choice he'd given Sansa. A chance for last words. When it was all said and done, Robb walked into the quarry with Arya, Rickon, and Catelyn. Bran, Jon, Pod, Sansa, and Sandor hung back, quietly watching.

"He hurt you worst of all and you're not going to see him die?" Bran asked Sansa lowly, as the men around them either departed or followed Robb into the quarry.

"No." Sansa's face was chiseled from marble. Her arms were crossed and her hair, loose down her back, blew in the early morning wind. It seemed like a storm was coming. "I've seen death. I don't need to face it again. Let them have their vengeance. I'll have my peace."

"What now?" Jon asked, seemingly more to himself than either of his siblings.

"You could come home." Bran glanced at him. "The war is over. Robb has most of California now. He's going to need help."

"You could help him." Jon said, thought it was clearly a joke.

"I'm going to go to MIT." Bran stated, and no one batted an eye at his declaration. Sandor believed that he was likely being truthful.

"I'm going to ask Arya to move in with me." Pod announced and they all turned to look at him, Sansa amused, Jon rather murderous. "I have an apartment in town. I know she's always going to be a bit… Wild. But I like to think that she'd like it there. Away from everything."

"You can try." Jon gave his shoulder a pat, trying his best to hide his thunderstruck look. "Best of fucking luck to you."

"Thanks." Pod muttered, but didn't protest.

"Are you coming home then or not, Jon?" Sansa asked her brother bluntly, turning to face him with her arms folded. He flinched but turned to face her as well.

"I'm still going to be nomad…" He said carefully, but before Sansa could angrily huff at him, he added, "But I won't head out for a bit. I need to be home for a bit. Some girl told me that my family needed me and I should stop being a selfish prick."

"See, I-" Sansa started, but Jon chuckled.

"Not you, San."

"Oh." She stopped, then tilted her head before understanding blossomed across her face. "Wait. Jon, do you have… A girl?"

"Speaking of." Jon looked delighted in the relief that Talisa brought with her. She was dressed in tight black jeans and a leather jacket that was zipped shut, her hair piled atop her head. She walked towards them, back straight and face calm.

"Talisa." Sandor greeted her and felt Sansa's nails dig into his forearm. "Good to see you again. Didn't know you'd be coming."

"Hello Sandor." She gave him a smile, stopping across from Sansa, Bran, and Jon. "I've heard you're doing well. I'm glad."

"Hello." Sansa stepped forward, shouldering past Sandor remorselessly, extending her hand out with a raised eyebrow. "I'm Sansa, Robb's little sister. It's nice to meet you."

"Of course." Talisa grasped her hand and shook it with a warm smile. "Robb's told me so much about you. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"And you." Sansa glanced over her shoulder at her brothers, both of whom were hanging back and eyeing Talisa with varying amounts of distrust. "I know you've already met Sandor, but these are my brothers, Jon and Bran." She ushered them forward.

"Nice to meet you." Talisa grinned at both of them, while Jon gave her a smile that was more a grimace than anything, and Bran simply inclined his head. "I wish it was under better circumstances, but nonetheless, it's good to finally get to meet everyone."

"Have you met mom?" Bran asked her suddenly and if Talisa was taken aback, she did her level best to hide it with a smile.

"I have, in fact."

"And how'd that go?" Jon chuckled, while Sansa gave a wry smile. Talisa smiled back, it slipping a little in her hesitation, before answering.

"Your mother is a great woman and I've learned a lot from her in the short time that I've been here. I think that she's very-"

"It's ok." Sansa patted her shoulder. "She's our mother. We know. Don't worry about being politically correct with us. If you keep Robb from doing stupid shit, we'll get along just fine. I mean, you already fixed up my Sandor. I couldn't dislike you." Sansa gave her a warm clasp on the shoulder and that Talisa reciprocated with a warm smile. Before any more could be said, Jory came over.

"It's going to happen now." He informed them quietly, reaching out and taking Sansa's shoulder carefully. "Do you want to go?"

"No." Sansa's hand found Sandor's once more and she pulled him close to her. "No, let's end it. Let's end this and then go home."

"Alright." Jory gave her a curt nod, before Sandor drew Sansa into his arms. He kissed the top of her head as she hid her face.

"It'll be alright." He heard Jon saying to Bran and perhaps to Talisa as well. "Robb's a good man, and he follows father's rules."

"Rules?" Talisa asked and Jon's answer was grim.

"The man who passes the sentence should be the one to deliver it."

When two shots rang out, one right after the other, Sandor squeezed Sansa close like his arms could protect her from the sound echoing throughout the quarry.

Afterwards, there was no celebration. There was no joy. Robb, Rickon, and Arya rejoined them, stone faced and serious. Robb gave Talisa a simple kiss on the cheek, introducing her to his siblings in their entirety. Then they stood silently, unable to leave each other but unsure of what came now. Jon, surprisingly, was the one who broke the silence.

"We should go home." He announced. "I have someone that will be waiting for me there, and I'd like for you all to meet her."

"A girl?" Arya turned to him, eyebrows high. She and Pod were standing about a foot apart, but he was the first person Arya glanced at when Jon went red and coughed, avoiding their eyes. Pod gave her a knowing sort of look, and took a half step closer to her.

"Home then." Catelyn said quietly, from behind them. They all turned to her and she folded her hands in front of her, giving a little smile. "I'd like to have all my family home with me. Just for a bit. Sansa's birthday, perhaps. Let's all go home."

"Yes, ma." Robb gave her a kiss on the cheek and then took Talisa's arm. "Come along then. I think half the club is going to follow us."

They dispersed, to their bikes and cars. Sansa stood next to Sandor's bike, absentmindedly stroking the handlebars before looking up at him. He tilted his head in concern, reaching down and catching her chin. She give him a watery sort of smile and he pressed his lips gently to her forehead, trying to convey his tenderness and devotion to her in the kiss.

"Are you alright, little bird?" He asked her carefully.

"I'm ok." Sansa wrapped her arms around him and exhaled deeply, giving him a little squeeze. He waited for her to add more, but when she didn't, leaned back and looked at her inquiringly.

"Aye?"

"Aye." Sansa gave a nod. "I just… It's over now. It's done. I'm ready for it to be behind us, you know? Let's move on past it. I don't want to linger on it. He's gone and so are the rest. I'll never have to think about them again, and I have you."

"You do." He stroked her cheek and she smiled, blue eyed and beautiful. "There's something I wanted to tell you, you know."

"What's that?" Sansa looked up at him and he was sure he would never fail to be surprised at how innocent she could be, even after all she'd suffered.

"I found out what my name means," he revealed and her eyes went wide. It had been an offhand thing, one night bored on the road with Arya, but he had been waiting for the right time to tell Sansa.

"And what is it?" She asked, her hands cold. He took them, kissing them, before admitting,

"Defender of mankind."

"I know," Sansa whispered and he pulled back, startled. "I bribed one of the drunk girls to look it up, after we talked about it. I knew you'd do good Sandor. I always knew you had it in you."

"You did, before anyone else," he agreed, not even bothering to be peeved or impressed with her. He'd learned long ago that Sansa Stark was an extraordinary woman, and he would never underestimate her. "You always believed in me, even when I was a rabid old dog."

"My wolf." Sansa corrected, her hands gripping his prospect kutte. It would be a wolf soon enough, and then he would be marked as hers for all of time. He would outwardly reflect the brand that she'd seared onto his soul, months ago in the clubhouse filled with Lions.

"We could go away." He heard himself offering, quietly, as the revving of bikes blew up dust all around them. "I could take you to Scotland. Show you all the old fucking places. You could see where I grew up. That fucking dusty house, and the… the… meadow, where-" He cut himself off and Sansa's smile was trembling, something between sadness and joy.

"Ok." She agreed quickly. "Ok, I love that. Ok. Let's do that. Let's go to Scotland, ok? We can go and you can show me all the places you loved and hated. We can get away. I'd like that so much Sandor. So, so much." She kissed his forehead.

"Alright." He agreed, holding her close. There was plenty of time for them to do whatever they wanted. They had all the time and the freedom in the world.

Sansa climbed on the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around him. He wondered if she knew what she did to him. If she had any clue at all. He would make her understand, one day, just how important she really was to him. He thought about her birthday, and the gift that he needed to purchase. The promise of forever he would give her. He smiled as he started his bike, falling in line with the rest of the Wolves.

They were heading back north, but it felt bigger than that to him. With Sansa on the back, it felt like he was heading home.

AN: if you are reading this note, please know that i am thanking you, desperately, for making it through this journey. this story has been my heart and soul, and i've gotten so much joy from sharing it. i've left the ending open, because i don't quite think that a bright eyed sansa smiling on the back of a brooding sandor's bike is just out of my mind yet. all i ask is that you leave a review on your way out. from me to every single person, thank you. thank you. thank you.

(also even though this song was done by my duluth boy bob dylan, the lions slay this song and it's amazing ok that really is all THANKS BYE)