Young Dean rolled his head back and forth, trying to ease a pull in his shoulders. Sighing, he glanced down at his watch. He knocked back the last of his coffee, pushing himself up and crossing the room to rinse the mug in the sink. He turned, stopping for a minute to take it in. He couldn't believe they lived here. That they would live here.

He walked over to the cabinets, opening them up one at a time and looking inside. The shelves were stuffed with food. He opened the fridge and it was a similar story, full of vegetables, meat, and beer. For sure more food than the three of them needed.

So I guess money isn't really an issue anymore.

And it was more than just food. They owned pots, pans, coffee mugs… Somewhere in this bunker he had his own room. His own bed, his own everything. They didn't just have a house, they had a fucking batcave.

He gave a weak smile. "Sweet." He muttered softly to himself.

Dean grabbed a couple bowls and spoons before taking the milk and cereal. He hesitated a moment before he swiped a half-eaten pack of oreos. (The label says "Sam, fuck off" and he is not Sam.) He traced his steps back, finding his way back to their room without much difficulty.

.

Dean settled in before he put his bowl down on the desk with intent, the noise waking Sam immediately.

"Dean?" Sam blinked, taking a few seconds to let their surroundings click into place.

"Mornin' Sammy."

"We're still here." Sam focused on the walls around them then back at his brother. "I thought maybe I dreamed it."

"No such luck." Dean shook his head.

"And it's really true… this is where we live now?"

"Seems like." He shook the box of cereal, getting his brother's attention back immediately.

Sam slid to the edge of the bed, jumping and sliding with his socks on the tile to come to a stop in front of the small desk. He grabbed the box from Dean, giving it a look. "Nice."

Dean leaned back in his chair, bringing his own bowl with him. He watched Sam walk with his over to the edge of the bed, sitting down and looking at the bags next to him. "He… uh Dean… got us some stuff."

Sam tried unsuccessfully to balance his spoon out of the milk while he peeked into the bag closest to him. "Oh."

"It's mostly right."

Sam turned his attention back. "You talked to them." He waited for Dean to nod. "What are they like?"

"Old." Dean quipped back, and he couldn't help but to laugh at the indignant glare thrown his way. "It's weird. They seem weird."

"Who was that man?"

"Cas. He seems weird too." Dean shrugged.

"How did he put us to sleep?"

"He says he's an angel."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, and Dean was surprised to see the well of hope behind them. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "That just sounds weird."

"Yeah. Well, there's pretty much nothing about this that isn't weird." Dean replied.

"What does that mean? Like a real angel? Angels are real?" Sam couldn't mask the small shiver of excitement. Can he fly?"

"I don't know."

"Does he have any other powers?"

"I don't know."

"Why is he here? Does he live here with us?"

"I don- oh. Uh, yeah. He does."

"Woah." Sam breathed.

Dean rolled his eyes before focusing back on his breakfast.

"What did you talk about?"

"The weather."

"Dean."

"We just talked." He said, spreading his hands and trying to tamp down the defensive edge in his voice. "We- we talked about how he got here, we talked about him being an angel, he said he was going to wipe our memories before we go back-" He forced himself to calm down, trying to fake nonchalance by taking another bite and talking with his mouth full. "I don't know, we talked."

"You talked about you." Sam said.

"Yeah, a little."

"What did he say?"

"He said I was infuriating."

Sam scowled. "You are so full of shit."

"Am not." Dean replied with a cocky grin.

Sam hesitated. "What about me?"

Dean's expression softened a little. "He's good."

"Like…?"

"I mean… he's you, so he's a real pain in the ass. Total dork."

Sam grabbed the pillow from the bed, lobbing it at his brother's head.

Dean managed to just barely deflect it, guiding it safely away from his bowl of cereal. "Hey, watch it! We are guests."

"It's our house." Sam pointed out, ducking the returned fire and just managing not to slosh the milk over onto the mattress.

"Not yet it's not." Dean rolled his eyes, a smile still pulling at the corner of his lips.

Sam righted himself, settling aside his bowl and pushing back to sit cross legged on the bed. He looked around him, trying to imagine it. These walls were his… they had their own rooms, they had a kitchen and a library. Not that he'd seen much, but the little he had was captivating. "This place is really nice." Sam said, hastily shutting his mouth like he shouldn't have said it.

Dean sighed. "It is." He had been trying to avoid thinking about it too hard.

There was a downside. A big fat one, he knew it. And he'd figure it out soon enough.

Sam frowned, it dawned on him. "We're still hunting."

"Yeah."

Quieter, "We never found it, did we?"

"I don't know, Sammy."

Sam was quiet for a moment before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Nevermind."

.

Dean looked up, coffee still in hand as his younger self and brother walked into the library.

Sam stopped in his tracks, seeing Dean for the first time. He hesitated before looking past him at Cas.

Dean gave a soft smile. "Don't worry, he's a friend."

"Dean told me… uh…my Dean." He clarified needlessly, pointing at the younger Dean. He stared at the stranger in front of him, trying to reconcile the idea that this was his older brother.

"I figured." Dean said.

Sam found his legs again, walking over quickly and sliding into a chair close to him. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it and he chose instead to focus on the how. "Dean said a witch brought us here."

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"We don't know yet." Dean admitted.

Younger Dean joined them, taking a seat next to his brother. "What was she doing right before we got brought there?"

"We had her cornered. There was a blinding light, she tried to run away, we pursued. Cas was the one who found you."

"Nothing else?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. Whatever she was trying to do, we think it messed up and brought you there."

"It was the same hotel." Young Dean said, waiting for a confirmation on what he already guessed after talking to himself earlier. "Any idea what she was actually trying to do?"

"No idea." Dean shrugged. "Right now our priority is sending you guys back before you're missed or get noticeably older."

All of them looked up when Sam rounded the corner.

Dean split into a grin. "Well well well. Look who's the last one up." He chastised.

"Doesn't count if you're still up from last night." Sam replied, noticing Dean in a familiar set of clothes from last night.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Sam came to rest leaning back against the table next to Cas. He smiled over at young Dean. "Wouldn't have pegged you for an early riser."

Dean just managed to conceal his wince, watching his younger self do the same. Doesn't count if you're up from the nightmares. "We were talking breakfast."

Cas scrunched his brow. "We were?"

"Well, we are now." He looked up, pointing at Sam and closing his eyes as if trying to read his mind. "Weird hippie food, next!" He ignored Sam's indignant look to look at the younger Sam. "Still the French Toast phase, right?" Young Sam was too surprised to remember to act offended. Dean turned to himself. "And, one of everything, you got it." He hopped to his feet.

"Wow, you really can't wait to get out of here." His younger self observed.

Dean rolled his eyes. "And you really can't wait until I leave, we're even." He nodded his head towards the door. "Cas?"

Cas looked up, belatedly realizing that he was being summoned to follow. He noted his page before closing his book and standing. He did so without comment, glancing at Dean before leading the way back through the crows nest and out towards the car.

Dean stopped one last time on the stairs, turning back, but he had no idea what to say, so he simply carried on.

Young Dean watched the pair climb the metal stairs, waiting until he heard the outer door swing shut again. He looked back at Sam. "What's that about?"

Sam frowned, staring after his brother. "We had sort of a close call recently." He said absently.

Dean hesitated a moment, trying to read Sam's tone. He ignored the clear note of concern Sam had for the older Dean and tried to interpret the rest. "How close we talking?"

"Cas." Sam explained, finally turning and facing him. "Uh, another minute he… pretty damn close."

"But he's an angel!" Young Sam blurted out, eyes widening. "Things can kill angels?"

Dean watched Sam's expression tighten and his eyes widen.

Sam schooled it though. "Not much. But yeah, there are a few things. He… it's rare."

"And Dean wasn't the one who saved him." Younger Dean finished, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

Sam furrowed his brow. "How did-?"

"Let me guess." Dean said plainly, looking back towards the map room. "It's been however long it's been, and he still hasn't let Cas leave his sight. He leaves, they both leave."

Sam nodded. "Pretty much."

"Cas asked me if I would feel more comfortable if he left." Dean admitted. "I said he could stay."

"Dean would have found a reason to go with him for a bit."

"Dean would have thrown me out of the bunker and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong."

Sam let his breath out. "He would have at least tried." He conceded.

Dean let out a brief cough, covering a brief flash of vulnerability.

Young Sam only let the silence continue for a moment before he was on his feet. "So we really live here?"

Sam gave a gentle laugh. "We do. For a few years now. Henry… uh, our grandfather. He showed us this place. He was a Man of Letters." Sam explained.

"Dad's dad?" Dean asked.

Sam hadn't thought his younger self's eyes could get any bigger. "Time travel." Sam elaborated.

"How?"

"Spell." He saw Dean open his mouth and he preempted him. "It won't work. It'd either send all four of us back, or just keep you here, we aren't sure which."

"Was that why he disappeared? He came here?"

Sam looked down. "Yeah. There was a demon… she killed the men of letters and then managed to get here. Henry died to get a shot at her."

"Did it work?"

"Eventually." Sam did his best not to dwell on the memories of how Dean managed to do that. His brother already lived with the guilt of that, he didn't need Dean doing that twice over.

Young Sam was oblivious to the more somber tone his older self had taken, still caught up in the idea their grandfather had shown them this place. "Dad hated his dad." He pointed out softly. "For leaving him."

"I know."

Young Sam nodded, but he didn't know what to do with that.

Sam sighed, standing up and pulling a couple books off the shelf. "This is the biggest collection of occult knowledge in the U.S. If any place was going to have a way to get you home, this is it.

Young Sam looked around them in awe, finally acknowledging the library that surrounded them properly. "There are so many…"

"Well, I have a couple ideas where to start."

"We may need help." His younger self said, picking up one of the books Sam pulled and flicking through it. "Did you tell Uncle Bobby about us yet?"

Sam froze. He snapped his gaze up, locking eyes with Dean.

Dean looked between Sams for a moment before he gave the slightest half shake of a head.

Sam half opened his mouth, trying to figure out what to say.

Dean picked up a pen and chucked it at young Sam's head. "Quit being so annoying."

Young Sam rubbed the side of his head. "Ow."

"Grown-ups gotta talk." He pushed up out of his seat. "Sit. Read." He ruffled Sam's long hair before walking deliberately towards the door.

Sam threw himself a sympathetic glance before he got up and followed Dean away from the library. Once out of sight he pointed Dean up towards the garage.

.

"I think this is far enough." Dean turned around once they were through the doors. "He'll be at the edge of the door trying to hear, but he won't leave the library." He said confidently. "Well… not right away, anyway."

Sam smiled for a second. "I remember."

"It's everyone, isn't it." He didn't let it be a question. He fought to keep a stoic expression. "Dad, Bobby, Pastor Jim… They're all gone."

Sam lowered his gaze. "Yeah." He said softly.

Dean stood completely still for a moment, fighting a battle to keep the world from pushing in on him. He pushed it aside enough to take a deep breath. "The thing… the-" He broke off, taking another breath and trying to focus on keeping the waver out of his voice. "The thing that killed-"

Sam winced. "We killed it."

Dean just looked at him. "What was it?"

"A demon."

"So we know how to kill demons now?"

"Yeah." Sam came to lean on one of the railings.

Dean swallowed. "How… when did they die?"

Sam sighed. "You were 27 when Dad and Pastor Jim died. The uh… the demon that killed Mom. We were close to getting it, and…" He trailed off, knowing Dean knew what he meant. Those details could remain buried. Dean didn't have to feel the guilt of their father's death twice either. "Bobby you were, uh… 32."

"How'd he-" Dean cut off.

"Something new. Leviathan…"

"It was… was it quick?"

Sam flashed back to hours in the trauma center. Bobby fighting for one breath of life to tell them what he saw. Watching him pass the first time. Watching him become a ghost and almost immediately begin to lose himself. Burning his spirit, and losing him twice. It had been an eternity. "Yes."

Dean gave a tight nod, taking Sam at his word and blinking away the relief. "Good. That's uh… sorry."

"Yeah, you too…"

Dean gave a small sad laugh at the absurdity of that apology. He coughed. "We're still hunting."

"The demon was involved with a lot. Sort of took a long time to fix that mess. And there are a lot more things to hunt out there now."

"So you stayed on the job."

"Hard to leave the family business."

"Yeah…" Dean said absently. He wasn't surprised. Dad had always said that they'd be out when they finally caught the damn thing, but he didn't believe it. He hadn't in years. It was numbing to hear it confirmed though.

"It's been a little quieter recently, so it seems like we're between any potential apocalypses." He tried to inject a little humor.

"Okay." Dean said slowly. "Not really sure what to do with that."

"Fair."

"Were there others?"

"Yeah." Sam absently scuffed his shoe on the concrete floor. "We've made a lot of friends over the years… we've lost a lot of friends too."

"All of them?"

"No." Sam said firmly. He thought of Jody and Donna and the girls. He suppressed a wince when he thought of his mother. Their mother. He had to talk to his Dean about that.

"Okay." Dean breathed. "Yeah, good."

"What do you want to tell him?" Sam said, nodding back in the direction of the library.

"Let me handle that." Dean said. "I'll tell him later tonight. He can wait until then. No offense, and it's weird saying this, but he doesn't know you yet."

"Alright."

Dean took a shaky breath, fighting to keep his emotions properly locked away. Sam had forgotten how good Dean had gotten at that by now. This Dean wasn't bad at it, but a couple decades of practice were doing him favors. Dean took a slightly deeper breath. "So… angels are real."

"Yeah."

"When did we find that out?"

Sam took a second, counting in his head. "Eight years ago."

Dean nodded. "And how did you meet Cas?" He asked, trying for casual, hoping to get more from Sam than he got from Cas.

"Cas uh… he saved you."

"From?"

"I'll let Dean tell you that story himself."

Dean groaned. "Fine." He said. "At least tell me why Cas had to rebel from heaven for me."

"The angels were attempting to accelerate the apocalypse. You asked Cas to fight with us."

"And he did?"

"He did." Sam confirmed.

"And you… we stopped it."

"We're here, aren't we?" Sam asked, ribbing him a little. "We managed to. Few hiccups here and there, a little touch and go for a while, but we figured it out."

"Why us?"

Sam tilted his head, unsure what he meant.

"The demon that killed mom. Why did he do it? Was it just random?"

"No." Sam admitted. "He was…" He trailed off, chest tightening. He thought of the blood, thought of the army of psychic children. Of getting a knife through his back and dooming his brother to hell. Of following Ruby and throwing open the gates to the cage and watching thousands lose their lives as a result.

Something inside Dean stirred. He considered for a moment before crossing the room and leaning against the railing next to him, close enough to try to be a comfort.

Sam snapped out of it, and suddenly had to repress a laugh at the familiarity of the gesture. "The universe is screwed up." He said at last.

"You're telling me."

"The angels and demons… they were after the same thing, and they were using us to get it."

"Angels and demons both wanted us?" Dean asked. "Us us?"

"It's a long story. Bloodlines, the bible, God… maybe another time. The important thing is we figured it out. You, me, Bobby, and Cas."

Dean was quiet a moment, looking Sam over critically. "And you're really okay?"

"Yeah… I am."

"And you have been?"

Sam hesitated.

"What?"

"We've had our ups and downs."

"Describe the downs." Dean said flatly.

"We've been dead a few times."

"What?"

"We got over it."

"Fuck."

Sam gave a small laugh. "Yeah."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what? No. That's enough for now, we'll unpack that later."

"Fair enough."

Dean sighed. "We should get back. We've got, what, five minutes left until Sam conveniently finds a reason to come looking for us?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Let's go."