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Chapter 36

Sam and Dean stepped through the labyrinth of units towards the one nestled in the back. It was locked and they didn't have a key. That only meant it took them two seconds instead of one to get it.

They were wary and skeptical when they threw open the sliding door. If Maggie was anything like their dad, the unit would be full of booby traps. But, when the metal door slammed into the ceiling, they realized how little Maggie actually had.

Her defense was a line of salt and a few Demon Traps, but nothing else. It was either seriously lacking in security, or she didn't have much to begin with.

Unlike John or Bobby, she didn't have shelf after shelf after shelf filled with trinkets. Instead, a few trunks lined the walls of the small unit. They hesitated again, but mostly because the two of them were suddenly confronted with the leftovers of Maggie's life.

Slowly, they stepped into the 8x8 foot 'shack' and took a side each. They felt a bit strange going through her things, but they had her permission.

Dean was busy on his own, opening the first trunk and seeing clothing inside, when Sam noticed something interesting. When he opened his first trunk, he noticed something strange. There was a folded piece of paper sitting inside it on top of a few smaller boxes.

"Hey Dean," he said. Dean turned and noticed Sam reading the paper. He looked up at the trunks and noticed they were numbered. Dean watched him curiously as he put something together in his mind. "She said these ones," Sam glanced again to the paper before pointing to the trunks on his side. "Have the tools and books and stuff."

"She said?" Dean asked skeptically.

Sam handed over the letter. Sure enough, it was another note from Maggie.

Sam, Dean,

Some of the trunks are just clothes and things from the decades passed. Maybe you could sell them to an antique or resale shop for some gas money, I don't know. Try ebay? Or you can leave them here. The trunks on the left, the ones with numbers 1-13, those are all the things I've collected through the years hunting. Guns, talismans, books, whatever you guys need. I don't really need them anymore…

Happy hunting guys,

Maggie

And scribbled underneath it at the bottom was something that made him smile.

And don't break my shit!

When he was done with the letter, Dean took the few steps towards his brother to hand it back. Sam was frozen. When Dean looked over his brother's shoulder, he saw why. Resting in its custom leather sheath inside a smaller box filled with weapons was Maggie's angel blade. It twisted their hearts to see it.

Dean didn't want to look at it and gladly turned around. While her clothes didn't hold his immediate interest, he knew he'd rather dig through that than look at the things he'd seen her use while they hunted together.

The trunk he'd opened was still open so Dean returned to digging through it. There were folded garments that could've either been coats or dresses -he honestly couldn't tell without holding one up- and held his attention only for a moment. He soon slammed the lid shut and moved to the trunk beside it.

This one held dresses from twenty, thirty, forty years ago. He raised a brow at some of the more low-cut garments before a wisp of white caught his attention. For some reason, Dean moved towards the piece and held it up. It was the same ivory dress he'd seen her wear in 1944 –and the day before-, but aged. It looked like it had been in the trunk for decades.

He didn't know why, but Dean pulled the dress the rest of the way out of the box, as though doing so might help him recognize it. When he yanked it free of the trunk, he heard something heavy clank around inside it. Sam glanced over his shoulder briefly before noticing the dress. His brows came together. Pushing the feeling down, he went back to her weapons while Dean sought out the source of the noise.

Resting at the bottom of the trunk was another box. It looked like it was maybe a foot long, six or seven inches wide and four or five inches deep. It was a hefty size and made him curious. He pulled it out the rest of the way, dropped the trunk's lid and set the box on top so he could sift through it. The moment he opened it, part of Dean wished he hadn't.

It was a box of memories, trinkets and things from over a century of living. In the lid –held in place with a piece of electrical tape- was the picture Bobby had taken of Sam, Dean, Cass, Jo, Ellen and 'Jenny' before they went after Lucifer and the Hellhounds killed Ellen and Jo. The picture hurt him more than he thought physically possible. It was a staggering reminder of every horrible thing that happened to him and Sam over the passed year. Everyone in the picture, everyone save him and Sam, were dead. Still, he felt himself reaching for it and sliding it into his jacket pocket along with another picture he kept hidden on his person.

He found newspaper articles. One dictated September 11th, another that a man had landed on the moon. There were a few about the major wars being started, including Pearl Harbor and the damn Civil War, and one declaring Slavery Ended, and President Lincoln Shot. It seemed like every major event from the last one hundred and fifty years had a clipping in the box, except one. At the bottom, beaten and a horrible shade of yellow, was an article that wasn't noteworthy in anyway.

Local Sheriff Disappears After Gun Fight

Was sprawled across the headline, fading and wiping clean. Dean made a face. He didn't understand why this would be important, until he spotted the top corner.

Sunrise WYO, March 5th, 1861

It took him longer than it rightfully should have to realize the headline was talking about him and the Phoenix having a shootout in the middle of the town. He smiled softly to himself and let the article fall back into the pile with the others.

Everything else was small bits. There were a few coins spanning the multiple decades, a few confederate and northern bills and then a folded piece of notebook paper that looked oddly out of place. He flipped it over with his index finger and saw her name written in his handwriting. His jaw went lax.

She kept it. He thought to himself. She kept it for fifty years…

Unsure of how to proceed, Dean shoved everything back into the box and slammed it shut. He was confronted with too much and he didn't like it.

~!~

Time moved on, as it tends to do, and the Winchesters were swept up into the worst of everything. Problems that weren't even theirs soon became so and they broke because of it. No matter what they tried to do, how many people they tried to save, the worst seemed to be attracted to them. The horrible, the ugly, and the disgustingly twisted, the pain and the vile found the Winchesters. And they never let go. The worst of the worst never let go. They choked out every good thing that ever happened to the brothers until they were jaded, believing that 'happiness' was only for suckers, for the stupid.

But there were brief moments, moments that would leave as soon as they came, but they were still there. It was like a sudden breath before dipping your head back under water, that little hint of life and the thing that kept them going. But, they were only memories at this point. While Sam seemed to be allowed to have a life, one always seemed just out of reach for Dean.

Again, after Dean was sent to another dimension, Sam managed to find himself a young woman to fall in love with. Though honestly, maybe Dean was just happy this one was human. The last one, Ruby –fucking bitch- was definitely something, but human wasn't it.

Why was it so easy for Sam? Why did he get to have the chances? Why did he get to have the normal life? In his jealousy, Dean didn't realize Sam had been through worse than him in some instances, but again, his jealousy wouldn't let him.

So when he was deep in his resentment, Dean would stalk away to somewhere private and reach into his pocket for a picture or two. The one of him, Maggie and Johnny was so worn he wondered how long it had left before it'd disappear. Still, he carried it and looked at the family he could've had if Sam didn't beat Lucifer. Then he'd look to the other one, the one of all of them, and dream of the life he used to have before Lucifer.

They hurt. The pictures physically hurt him to look at, but it was a good kind of pain. Dean knew he'd never have what was in the pictures, but there was something comforting in having proof that it could've happened, that it did happen in one timeline or another.

For years he carried the pictures around along with the memories of the dead and for years they continued to weight him down, but Dean couldn't forget. He refused to forget. Their life didn't offer much in the ways of good things, so when a Hunter got it, they had to hold onto it for dear life.

It was generally around that point that Dean would realize his resentment for Sam and Sam's happiness was stupid. He'd realize he was being petty.

Besides, Dean knew at some point something awful was right around the corner. It was a horrible thought, but one that was always proven right.

~!~

Season 9, Episode 1

Sam hesitantly entered the small, quaint cabin nestled beneath the large green canopy. He knew deep down what would be waiting for him inside, but he still proceeded. It wasn't until he stepped into the living room that the fear tripled. His assumptions were nothing compared to seeing the tall, thin black figure staring into the fire.

"Hello Sam," he greeted in his cool, slimy voice. Slowly, the towering man turned and faced the frightened Winchester. "I've been waiting for you."

Sam felt his heart beat erratically in his chest.

"Please, take a seat."

Death offered Sam one of the chairs facing the fire. Reluctantly he obliged. Death followed suit and took the other. Sam was scared and while it wasn't a foreign emotion for the young man, the fear of his death, his mortality, was something else. It was more visceral now that the man himself was sitting in the nearest chair.

"I must admit, when I heard it was you, well I had to come myself." Death said after a moment of silence.

Sam scoffed before he could stop himself, his eyes moving to his hands as he rubbed his thumb along the side of his palm.

"I bet you get off on this."

"Perhaps," Death said coolly. "But not in the way you assume. I consider it to be quite the honor to be collecting the likes of Sam Winchester. I try so hard not to pass judgments at times like this, not my bag you see, but you," Death paused, figuring on the words he could say that would illustrate how he felt. "Well played, my boy."

Sam stared in utter shock at the man sitting across from him. If he didn't know better, the Horseman of Death was telling him he was impressed. There was an odd feeling rising in Sam. He'd spent so long being worried about Death, pissing him off even, that he was a little lost hearing Death paying him a compliment.

"I can see why Magdalena was so taken with the two of you."

Sam's face fell and a small gasp left his lips, like what little air he had fled. His brows pooled in the center of his forehead.

"Is she…" he paused. "Maggie I mean, she okay?"

It had been a long time since Sam had seen or heard from Maggie. Hell, it had been a long time since he'd even heard her name mentioned out loud. She'd become a sore subject to say the least.

Death didn't speak. He continued to stare blankly at the human with his cold black eyes when the air in the room shifted.

"I'm just fine." A sweetly feminine voice said from nowhere.

Her feet made nearly no sound as she walked around the same threshold Sam had seen Death through from the cabin's door. Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He was both happy and unbelievably sad to see her. Maggie smiled so wide it hurt as she looked at the stunned young man. Tears welled in her eyes.

"How's it going Sam? Long time."

Those within the man's head were unaware they were being spied on, that someone else was listening to everything being said and wished desperately he could see it. But Sam could. Sam could see her just fine, wearing the same thing she was the day she died, looking as though nothing had changed.

Sam pushed himself up from his seat and slowly advanced on her. His expression hadn't relaxed. He was honestly too stunned to see her, until a sad realization began to seep into his head. His advance stopped.

"Are you real, or are you in my head too?" he asked apprehensively.

"Of course I'm in your head." She told him simply.

Maggie noticed Sam's shoulders droop. A sad laugh left her lips and she shook her head at him. Sam stared back in confusion.

"Just because I'm in your head doesn't mean I'm not real, Sammy," she smiled on the verge of crying. Maggie closed the gap between them and held his cheeks in her palms. "I'm real."

With a weak laugh, he pulled her into a hug. Maggie returned the affection ten fold, squeezing him so tightly it hurt her arms, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to let go of her dearest friend.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered into his shoulder, squeezing him firmly once more before they parted enough to look at each other. "I'm so sorry."

He forced a smile. Maggie knew what his being there meant. Sam nodded heavily.

"It's okay." He lied. Even though the words felt like a lie, he had to admit they were slowly beginning feel right, comfortable. "You look good Maggie."

"Yeah," she shrugged with a sideways smirk. "Well, I suppose being dead agrees with me."

A smiled tugged briefly at the corner of his lips. Taking her hand in his, Sam turned to face Death again. Seriousness and sadness marred the youngest Winchester's face again.

"I need to know one thing." He said, perking Death's interest.

"Yes?" he asked as he leaned forward in his chair.

"If I go with you, can you promise that this time it will be final. That if I'm dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it, nobody can deal it away, and nobody else can get hurt because of me."

"Sam," Maggie whispered sadly.

Death seemed to mull over the words for a moment or two before meeting the young man's eyes again.

"I can promise that." Death told him honestly.

Maggie's face fell, her head dropped and she clung to Sam's side. It broke her heart that he was so desperate to stay gone, to stay dead. She didn't want to imagine the things that had transpired in her absence to make him so sad.

Sam leaned into Maggie's hug. He let his chin rest on the top of her head. She tried to pour her remorse into him and maybe he felt it, she didn't know. Regardless it was a depressing situation.

"Sir," Maggie said softly, looking up at the man who was now standing. He met her gaze. "Please? This time, please."

Sam looked to the girl at his side and back to Death. He didn't know what they were talking about or why the hell she called her father sir. Come to think of it, Sam couldn't recall a single time Maggie referred to Death as father, or dad.

The Horseman seemed to have expected her request, one she wasn't elaborating on. Still she looked at her father with tears in her eyes and desperation billowing from her. She let go of Sam and stood before the intimidating deity.

"I rarely ask for anything," she began to beg, her voice quiet and pleading. "But please, this time. I have to."

Death didn't speak and for once he didn't truly look annoyed. It was a little difficult to tell with his type of face and demeanor, but it was one of the first times Sam had ever seen the man look anything but indifferent.

"Please," she begged, her voice quivering.

Death's eyes darted briefly to Sam then back to Maggie and to her utter shock, he gave the slightest of nods. Maggie let an exasperated breath leave her lungs, a smile immediately touching her lips when she reached forward and hugged Death. Sam felt his brows rise in shock at the sweet display even though Death didn't really return the affection. He did little more than touch her back between her shoulders before she pulled away.

"Thank you." She breathed. True relief touched every word. "Thank you so much."

He gave her a brief nod.

"But it's up to you, all of it. I'm not going to help you with this." He told her.

While Sam may have been lost, Maggie knew exactly what Death was talking about.

"That's fine. I'll get him the message."

Death nodded again and let his gaze shift to Sam.

"It's time, Sam. Shall we?"

Death turned and began to make his way out of the cabin, Sam joining him when they were interrupted.

"Hold on." Another all too familiar voice interjected.

The trio turned. Maggie's heart sped to an unimaginable degree within her chest.

"Dean." Sam said.

"It's okay." He said to his brother. "Hey Mags, how's it going?"

"Good." She said, trying to keep from charging him.

She wanted to so badly, but she had to stand her ground, especially if she was going to be able to relay the message she needed to. Besides, this was about Sam and Dean and as much as Maggie wanted to wrap her arms around the eldest Winchester and never let go, she couldn't.

"I uh, I woulda brought crow nuts but time's short." Dean told Death.

The being nodded slowly.

"By all means." He said, giving the man the time he obviously wanted to say goodbye to his brother.

"What's going on?" Sam nearly demanded.

"I found a plan."

"It's too late, I'm going."

"No, no, no, no," Dean said quickly as he took a couple of steps forward. "No, listen to me."

"No, why are you even here?" Sam snapped in annoyance "I'm not fighting this anymore."

"You have to fight." Dean shot back. He looked desperately to his brother. "I can fix this, but not if you shut me out."

Sam's brows furrowed. He looked to Death, Dean's eyes darting seconds later to the Horseman.

"It's not his time." He pleaded.

"That's for Sam to decide." Death replied easily.

"Sam listen to me," Dean begged as he moved closer to his brother. "I made you a promise, back in that church, you and me, come whatever. Well hell if this isn't whatever. But you gotta let me in, you gotta let me help. There ain't no me if there ain't no you."

Maggie's eyes burned for the pair. She loved them both more than she had ever loved anyone in her long life and it broke her heart when they were at odds or pleading with the other not to give in. She'd seen it more times than she ever thought possible in the years she spent at their sides.

"Sammy," Maggie whispered.

Sam and Dean slowly looked to the young woman approaching. She walked passed her father and to Sam's side. She didn't say anything else and instead wrapped her arms tightly around Sam. She hugged him as firmly as she could. Maggie already knew the answer even if Sam didn't.

When she released him, she rejoined her father and waited sadly for the inevitable.

"It appears they won't be needing your assistance after all." Death said, just loud enough for Sam to hear.

"What?"

Maggie forced a smile though it lost so much power when coupled with the tears she'd spilt. She waved her hand dismissively.

"It was nothing, just a little something. But uh," she looked from one brother to the next. "If you ever need my help, ever, recite the Poem of Asclepius and I'll do whatever I can."

"But I thought you said you couldn't do anything?" Sam asked mildly confused.

"Loophole." She smiled weakly.

"We still need to get you out of here first Sammy." Dean continued, praying his brother would listen.

Sam slowly began to nod.

"What do I have to do?" he asked weakly.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Dean smiled wide and touched his brother's shoulder. Before anyone could see what was happening, brilliant white light filled the room and a horribly high pitched noise echoed around them. Those who weren't a part of Sam were ejected immediately and sent back to their intermediate world of nothingness. Like before, Maggie was sent to the dimension between worlds, neither Heaven nor Hell nor anywhere else. It was just her.