Hey guys. Sorry this took so long. Not only was I slammed with work in real life, but I wanted to make sure I got the tone of this exactly right. I guess I lied last time, this chapter is decidedly fluffy...but buckle up, the angst is coming for sure next chapter. Meanwhile thanks to everyone who is persevering with this story. I really appreciate all the follows and favorites. Thanks also to Kathy, Shazza19, OldGirl-NoraArlani and shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for their kind reviews and support.
For the rest of the day, Dean stayed close to Sam. He couldn't help it. The mental countdown was getting too loud to ignore, especially as the MacCallum family started to disperse back to their regular lives. First to go was Kate, Alan and the kids. Alan had to be back in the office, so they left mid-afternoon once the big photo of everyone on the stairs was done. Everyone had waved as the rental car disappeared down the long lane, taking with it the easy, light feeling that had characterized the weekend. An hour or so later, Peggy and Glen left giving a lift to April and Zoe. Then Carlos and Alicia and their children headed out to catch their plane.
Despite the smaller numbers, dinner was fantastic. Aunt Kathy had really outdone herself with a melt in your mouth roast beef and perhaps the best sugar cream pie Dean had ever eaten. After the meal, the sweet matriarch of the family handed out leftovers and hugs as each small group loaded up to head home. Kathy had given both him and Sam a warm squeeze before Dennis had bundled his mother into his car, with calls of goodbye and well wishes all around. As he left, Murray had shaken Dean's hand with a companionable but pointed smile.
"Hope to see you at Thanksgiving, son."
Finally, only the local family was left sitting under the tent that was now much too large for the remaining group. The adults lingered outside, reluctant to let go of the weekend. Since he was the last child still present, Sharron had prepared one of the newly vacant rooms so that Fiona and Johnny could stay in the house instead of the barn. Jonathan wore himself out with a small meltdown over the move. The little guy only stopped crying when Sam promised to read him a bedtime story, but he was so overtired, he'd almost immediately fallen asleep in Sam's arms when picked up.
"Well it looks like he's tuckered himself out. If you don't mind carrying him Sam, I guess we'd better get him to bed," Fiona directed. Sam got to his feet, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy. "Goodnight everyone" she said as she led the way to the house. Dean resisted following his brother. Instead he helped Declan, Colin, Ethan and Jacob put the lawn back into order, folding up tables and chairs and carrying them to the storage shed.
As they stacked the last of the chairs, Declan tugged on Dean's arm, motioning him to stay back as the other three made their way to the main house. Dean waited expectantly until Declan had checked that his brothers were out of hearing range.
"What's up?" Dean asked, a little surprised that Declan had anything to say to him that he couldn't say in front of his family. Rather than answer right away, the younger man handed Dean a folded slip of paper.
"Here. It's my address. I live at the other edge of town, feel free to come by anytime. Don't feel like you need to call ahead or anything, I don't stand on formality. And, uh, I'm a teacher, so there's no one home during the day." Declan purposely met his eyes for a moment, then shoved his hands into his pockets nervously before speaking again.
"I just figured you might like a place to crash should you want to swing by Kempville and not have the whole family know about it. I love them, but sometimes it's nice to not have to deal with everybody." He shrugged. "It's up to you."
Dean would not have predicted this offer, but as he thought about it, he appreciated Declan's forethought. Even though he had no intention of crashing back into Sam's life, he knew himself. Just like when Sammy had been at Stanford, he'd find an excuse to surreptitiously check up on his brother, make sure he was okay and that there weren't any threats around. How Declan figured that out, he'd never know, but Dean was grateful. He tucked the slip of paper with the address deep into his pocket.
"Thanks, man," he said sincerely, clearing his throat to keep things casual.
"Hey!" a voice shouted from the house, catching their attention. Ethan leaning out the kitchen door.
"Colin recorded the Reds game from this afternoon if you wanna watch it." Declan gave his brother a wave and started to close up the doors to the shed.
"So Dean, do you want to have a beer and watch the game with us?" Declan's asked. Sam could be occupied with Jonathan for a while, so a drink or two and some time in front of the television actually sounded good. He needed a distraction from the loud tick tock in his brain that told him exactly how little time he had left with Sam.
"Sounds good," he said and followed Declan back into the house.
xxxxxxx
Sam carefully maneuvered the sleeping child in his arms up the stairs and followed Fiona into the room across from theirs that Aunt Kathy had been using. Sharron must have been busy because there was no sign that the older woman had been there and the queen sized bed was freshly made. On the dresser was a projector that cast a soft pattern of cows and moons across the walls and ceiling, providing just enough light to see. Fiona folded back the covers, but touched his arm to stop Sam from putting Jonathan into the bed.
"He's sticky to the elbows, let me wipe him down a bit," she whispered before disappearing back into the hall. She returned a moment later with a warm damp washcloth. Cradling Jonathan against his chest, Sam lowering himself to his knees, propping the child on the bed. He pulled off Johnny's shoes, while the boy leaned against him. Funny how both of the little sneakers fit into one of his hands. Fiona knelt beside him and gently eased Jonathan's shirt off over his head. The movement roused the little guy and he blinked sleepily at Sam.
"Daddy?" he mumbled as Fiona efficiently ran the damp cloth across his face and over his arms and hands. That title on his son's lips had emotion washing over Sam. He could never get tired of being called that.
"I'm right here," murmured Sam thickly. Brushing the soft curls back from Jonathan's face, the sleepy boy nuzzled into his palm, too tired to even open his eyes fully.
"Here," said Fiona, handing him a clean pajama top. Sam wiggled it over the tousled head and eased his son's arms into the sleeves. At the same time Fiona peeled off his fish-printed socks and tugged his jeans off. "He's okay like that for one night," she said in a hush, so Sam eased the child back onto the bed. Sliding out of the way, he let Fiona tug up the covers up around Johnny's shoulders. He was snoring softly, already asleep. Fiona leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Jonathan's forehead then stood, tucking the boy's dirty clothes into a nearby bag.
Sam lingered for a moment. The golden glow of artificial moonlight gave the room a cozy, dream-like quality and Sam was entranced with watching the gentle rise and fall of the pint-sized chest. His own chest felt tight as another wave of love shook through him. Unable to stop himself, he reached down to tenderly skim the back of two fingers against the little guy's warm cheek.
"G'night," he breathed before reluctantly joining Fiona at the door.
Shutting the door behind them, Sam leaned against the wall to get his bearings. Fiona stood across from him, watching. Forcing a smile, Sam felt exposed, unfamiliar with the intensity of this emotion and uncomfortably aware that it probably showed on his face.
"Listen," she said quietly, in deference to the sleeping boy on the other side of the door. "I was thinking...I still have some vacation time, so if it's okay with you, I thought that Johnny and I could move into the little house with you tomorrow." Sam was still grappling with his feelings and so it took a minute before her words penetrated his brain. His confusion was obviously not what Fiona was expecting because she continued in a rush.
"I mean, Johnny and I would stay in the second bedroom of course." She flushed, her cheeks pink even in the dim light from the hallway fixture. "I just thought that it would give you more time to get to know one another." Her voice trailed off awkwardly, but now that he'd understood her meaning he thought it was a wonderful idea.
"I'd like that," he said quickly, eager to reassure her. The more time he could spend with his son the better, and he'd need to learn fast how to be a parent. Routines, boundaries, likes and dislikes. He wanted to know everything about his son and wanted to do whatever he could to make co-parenting go smoothly. It would be great to have some one-on-one coaching from Fiona. She heaved a small sigh of relief and grinned at him.
"Well, uh, I think the guys are downstairs in the den if you want to join them. I'm going to help Sharron with some laundry and then maybe take a bath, so, uh see you later." She slipped past him and down the stairs before he could say anything else.
xxxxxx
Dean rolled over again, squishing the pillow into a new and hopefully sleep inducing shape. Sam was asleep in the other bed, his soft, steady breathing, both a comfort and a painful reminder that this might be the last night he ever spent with his brother. A couple of hours ago, Dean had decided to play it cool, to leave with Sam thinking that he'd be back soon. It would be easier on Sammy that way. But then after some tossing and turning, he'd changed his mind. His brother knew all his tells and he'd just hurt Sam if he lied and tried to act casual, and that wasn't how he wanted to leave things between them. Of course, he didn't want to make a big deal of leaving either. That would only worry Sam who might extract promises from Dean that he couldn't keep. Around and around his thoughts went, inventing and discarding dozens of scenarios all the while tormenting him with horrible imaginings of his life without Sam.
He'd lived through losing Sam before, both when the kid went to college and again when Sammy jumped into Hell. And this time it should be easier. This time Sam wasn't cutting him off in a fit of anger and independence. This time Sam wasn't dead, condemned to an eternity of torment. No, this time Sam was going to be content and safe. Dean was so damn happy for him. There was no reason for his chest to ache like it did or for his gritty eyes to sting. The room felt hot and stuffy and suddenly Dean felt like he couldn't catch his breath, like the walls were closing in. With a yank, Dean tossed back the covers and quietly climbed out of bed. Grabbing his boots, he crept out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.
A few minutes later, he was caressing the bold curves of his Baby. The car had been a comfort to him for his whole life. Unlike people who he'd loved and lost, she was always there. He climbed onto her hood, the stars like a blanket of glitter above him, a sight Sammy would love. Fleetingly he thought about going back inside and waking up Sam, but the stillness of the warm night was too soothing to move.
xxxxxxx
Sam woke with a start, his pulse racing. He'd been dreaming, not even a nightmare really, just twisted images of motel rooms and back roads, the scenery of his childhood. Except in his dream he couldn't find Dean. There was no monster, no threat or danger, it was just as if his brother had left the room seconds before Sam had walked in. Or that Dean was at the trunk of the car, hidden just out of view. He'd been walking and walking, looking for Dean when the ground had crumbled beneath his feet and he'd begun to fall. The dream then morphed into the memory of falling into the Pit and that jolted him awake, out of breath and flailing against the mattress. Automatically glancing at the other bed, he found it empty which did nothing to calm his thundering heart rate. Climbing out of bed he noticed Dean's boots were gone. He dashed to the window.
Now that there was no one staying in the barn or in the smaller house, there were few lights on outside. In fact the small fixture by the kitchen door was just enough to gleam softly on the black paint of the Impala. Sam released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. Dean wouldn't leave without the car. As he stared, he recognized a familiar shape on the hood. Now that he was more awake, the dream faded away like a shadow in sunshine. He picked up his own shoes, careful to make no noise in the hallway and tiptoed downstairs. Stopping in the empty kitchen, he put on his shoes and made a quick trip to the fridge before flipping off the porch light and slipping outside.
"Hey," Sam said quietly when he got close to the car. His brother was sitting on the hood, his back resting against the windshield. The night had retained some of the daytime heat, enough that the bottles in his hand began to sweat.
"Hey," Dean said in reply, turning slightly to acknowledge Sam's approach. Glancing up Sam could see why Dean was out here. This far from town, the night sky was awash with stars, sparkling like diamonds on a black velvet background. With the porch light off, there was no competing glow, just the peaceful magic of starshine and the soft hoot of a distant owl. Handing Dean one of the beers, he climbed onto the hood, settling beside his brother. With a synchronized snick, they both opened their bottles. Sam leaned back and gazed up at the heavens.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked Dean, keeping his eyes on the stars. Taking a swig from his bottle, Dean didn't answer for a long time, long enough that Sam snuck a look at his face. Dean's expression was contemplative, open in a way that few even got a chance to see. Sam counted himself among those lucky few.
"Just thinking," Dean eventually said. "How about you?" Sam shrugged, his shoulder brushing Dean's.
"Bad dream," he admitted. When Dean shot him a glance, he waved it away. "Regular, run of the mill kind. No big deal." With that they lapsed into silence for a while, content to share the sky. For a moment it felt like time had stopped, that for once the world and it's problems would wait for them. It was nice, spending these quiet moments with his brother.
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Dean had been thinking, which experience had taught him was sometimes overrated. But he wasn't the impulsive guy he'd been in his twenties anymore so he let his mind wander. Sam's shoulder and hip were pressed against him lightly and it was a fitting metaphor. It was almost ten years ago that he'd pulled Sammy back into hunting and they'd been side by side through so much - through too much. Dean wasn't very eloquent, preferring to let his actions say what his words couldn't, but tonight, maybe it was time, the darkness making him brave.
"When you were growing up," he began softly, breaking the spell of the stars, "I did the best I could to look out for you."
"I know," Sam said, hushed.
"But I made a lot of mistakes. I didn't always say the right thing, or know how to give you what you needed."
"Dean," Sam broke in, always ready to jump to his defense, but Dean knew his own shortcomings. He held out a palm to stop Sammy.
"Just...just let me get this out, okay?" His brother nodded at him, but Dean couldn't meet Sam's eyes and say what he needed to say, so he kept his gaze on the cosmos.
"Despite everything, you grew up smart and determined. You went away to college and built a life. I understood that you needed to go, and I was happy for you even though I missed you. But then I came and got you and it all went to hell. Since then, you've had so much crap piled on you, more shit than probably anyone. I know that sometimes...well sometimes I added to it, that I made it worse." Vividly Dean remembered the cruel way he'd locked Sammy up, making him detox from the demon blood cold turkey. Alone, because his big brother was a coward, too scared and overwhelmed to watch Sam suffer. He shook the memory away.
"Anyway, you handled more than anyone could ever be expected to deal with. Stuff that I couldn't handle. And...I don't know how you did it, Sam. Life kept throwing more and more at you, and you still found a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other." He risked a glance at his brother, but Sam was just listening, staring into the darkness.
"I couldn't have done it. In fact, I didn't, and you've had to save my ass more than once. Hell, you've saved the damn world more than once." Sam was shaking his head, and Dean knew he was running out of time to make his point before Sam interrupted. He had to clear his throat to continue.
"What I'm trying to say Sam, is that I'm proud of you. You're stronger than I am Sammy, and you're a better man than I could ever be. And I know that you're going to be a great Dad for Jonathan." His words ran out with a croak, and he took a swig of his warming beer, his face hot with a blush the he was glad the shadows hid.
"Are you finished," Sam asked quietly. Dean had only said a fraction of what he was feeling, but he'd gotten the gist of what he'd wanted to say out. He waved his hand at Sam, conceding the opportunity to talk.
"First of all, WE handled it." He put emphasis on the 'we' by nudging Dean's shoulder. "All the crap that got dumped on us - we found a way. WE saved the world, not just me." How like Sam to want to share credit, Dean had to smile.
"Dean, you taught me everything I know, from how to tie my shoes and shoot a gun, to how to carry impossible burdens. And more importantly, you never gave up on me - no matter how bad things got." Sam paused then, to take a deep breath as if he was measuring out his next words carefully.
"I couldn't have made it without you, man. Whatever I am, whatever strength I have...I learned it from you, Dean."
Dean privately remembered lots of time when he had failed Sam, had flown by the seat of his pants, praying that he hadn't screwed things up past redemption. But he kept all that to himself. Sammy's words were like a balm to the part of Dean that never felt good enough, that felt like a fraud. Sam's words stole his voice and he felt tears well up. All he could do was squeeze his brother's forearm in appreciation. Sam put his giant hand on top of Dean's for a moment and Dean had to smile before pulling away to finish his beer. Sam did the same and then leaned away to drop the bottle next to the car, giving Dean enough time to put his usual defenses back in place.
"Thanks." If his voice was a little horse with emotion, Sam was generous enough not to call him on it.