Chapter 14.

Dean and Sarah had gone through a small stack of photo albums, some filled with family memories, which brought both smiles and tears for Sarah, some with aid work across the world. Dean listened to her stories with genuine interest, even fascination. Nobody looking at the old lady she had become would ever think of all the good she had done, the lives she had saved or transformed.

What struck him most was that she remembered them all. She spoke their names, stroked their pictures, as if they could feel her love for them through the touch.

She remembered their stories, from the woman who had carried her six year old daughter two hundred miles to safety to the drug smuggler's thug who had wept as he told her he could never be forgiven. And Sarah had held his hands and listened to his pain as if he were a blameless child.

He mostly forgot his own issues as she talked. People like that one reminded him that she saw his own darkness the same way. Some of the family photos reminded him of moments he remembered before his life fell apart and others made him think about what he had missed, but most of the time, he was happily lost in her stories.

There was a look on her face he knew well. He saw it often on Sam's. Though she had often shared someone else's darkest times and it could not have been easy, there was joy in it for her. Happiness, for her, lay in giving someone else a better future than their past. Sam and Sarah were natural saviours, constantly seeking somebody else to help.

He knew that neither of them saw their own selflessness. They thought themselves ordinary, with the blindness that came with a complete lack of ego. Even so, it must feel better for them than it did for him. Less guilt, less knowledge of personal wickedness. Sam had made mistakes, Sarah may have too, but neither took any pleasure in another's pain. Neither had been driven by hatred. He had always acted in anger, hatred or fear. That had to make a big difference. Cause and effect and all that.

Sarah suddenly stood and went to the window. "I wish you could have seen this place as it was before. We had chickens and a few cows and a lot more crops than I can grow now. My only livestock now are the bees."

"Would you like more?" said Dean.

"I couldn't handle more now." she said, "But it would be good."

"This may be a stupid idea, but we have people at the bunker looking to move out. I could ask if any of them would do some farmwork in exchange for a room here."

"We may need to get part of the barn converted or something." she said, "And that could be expensive."

"Don't worry about money." he said, "If you want it and they agree, we'll make it happen."

"We'd need to involve Castiel. He doesn't know it and we shouldn't tell him until he gets over his issues with my mortality, but he inherits this place when I die."

"You're leaving it all to Cas?"

"Jimmy Novak, on the paperwork." she said, "He can keep it or sell it or give it to Jack or Claire. I just know that he will never let my bees be neglected or killed. He'll do right by them."

"Yes, he will." said Dean, "I hope you're not intending to die soon."

"I plan to make triple figures." she said, "I'll need to, if I'm hoping to sort out my four boys."

"Yeah, we are a long term project." said Dean, aware of the irony when he didn't see his life as a long term anything.

"Poor Castiel can't bear to hear me talk about dying. He's not good with mortality."

"No, he veers pretty wildly between fatalism and denial." said Dean, "I don't know which is worse."

"But you've thoroughly explored both yourself." she said.

He joined her at the window. "You may not read me as well as you think."

"I don't need to read you. You're basically a rewrite of my story, just in a better cover."

"With more weapons and a lot more Hell."

"That reminds me, how many weapons did you bring here?"

"None. Just my knife and gun." he said.

"That's none?"

"I'd feel naked if I didn't have those." he said, "They're just in case something attacks."

"Unlikely here. Thanks to our over-protective angel, this place is warded against almost everything."

"Yeah, well, for everything else, I have my knife and gun."

"I understand." she said, "You've been at war your whole life."

He nodded.

"And, of course, you don't feel safe here at all."

"I do. The place is warded and Cas knows his wards." he said.

She turned to smile at him, her expression making clear how completely he had failed to fool her.

"I had to try." he said with a shrug.

"Of course, my dear." she said, "Doesn't bother me at all. I love a challenge."