Author's Note:

AAAAANNNNNNDDDD I'm finally back after seeing the finale... I loved it, but boy was that a gigantic dumpster fire on Twitter! I'm about 50/50 for Destiel... if you are a Desti-heller, just know that, in spite of this very hetero fic, y'all totally convinced me. I have a lot of feelings but here I'll keep them to a minimum.

That being said!

I don't buy that Dean would've given up his self-sacrificial plan that easily, so I added a little boost with the hyperbolic pulse generator. Fixing plot flaws since 2017…

I don't own Supernatural, because if I did, I would've ended it just slightly different.

***Dean POV***

January 31, 2019

ONE MONTH LATER

It had been a quiet couple of months, Dean supposed… for everyone else.

For him, the knocking never stopped. Aside from when he first returned from Hell, and Purgatory, he couldn't ever remember surviving on this little sleep. He knew he had bags around his eyes, and he realized he was sharp and snappish with everyone around him, including Sam. He survived on coffee and beer, alternatively.

Castiel had advised him that the refridgerator door in his mind would hold Michael even while he was asleep… it was getting to sleep that was the problem. Michael was always there, always banging on the door of the storage closet, and screaming…

For awhile, Dean had been convinced that the best plan would be for him to shut himself in a warded box, called a Ma'lak box, and have Sam deposit him over the side of a boat in the middle of the Pacific. He would be trapped, with Michael, forever… but at least the world would be safe from the archangel.

It had taken the combined persuasion of Sam, Castiel, Ember, and even Krissy to talk him out of his suicidal plan. To be honest, he still wondered if he had made the right decision. He could feel the door to the storage room in his mind giving way, a little more each day.

Still, perhaps there was hope. Near the end of January, a breakthrough occurred. Ketch, Ember, Castiel, and Rowena had worked together and managed to locate the plans for the hyperbolic pulse generator! Only then did Dean completely put the Ma'lak box plan aside.

This had not been a simple task. Ketch had known (or suspected, at least) where the plans were located – a vault in Wales, guarded by three men and warded against both angels and demons. Castiel had put the men to sleep using his angel powers. Ember had gone inside, invisible, and stolen the plans, with Rowena talking to her through an earpiece. Castiel had then made copies of the blueprints and given them back to Ember to put back in the vault. Finally, he had modified the memories of the three guards.

Fortunately, it seemed that they had gotten by with it.

Unfortunately, they quickly realized that stealing the blueprints was just beginning.

"The only spells we've done that have been more complicated than this," Ember commented, "Have been the one to open the rift last year, and the one that summoned the Darkness."

"It looks like it belongs in the Book of the Damned," Rowena agreed.

"Three feathers of an angel," Castiel read off the list… "Not too happy about that one. But that's one of the easiest ingredients on this list for us to gather…" He shook his head.

"And remember it'll take at least a month before it's ready," Rowena finished.

No one spoke until Krissy finally asked, "What will we do with him when he's been ejected from Dean?"

"I want to kill him," spoke up Jack. "We have the archangel blade."

Rowena shook her head in agreement. "We could banish him to Lucifer's cage, like we did Lucifer last time, but I'm strongly in favor of killing."

"If we want to kill him, we'll need a body to banish him into, is the problem," said Castiel. "A body which has already been prepared with cuffs, and one which we know can sustain him for at least a few minutes and not explode."

"The possession can't last for very long anyway," said Sam. "Because once Michael gets out of Dean's head, he'll be able to draw on his army once again."

"Right," said Castiel. "And, to top it all off, we have to find a way to force the person in question to agree to the possession."

"Our best bet will be one of Michael's monsters," said Dean. "The way some of them talk, they're desperate to be used as a meat suit. And they definitely need to be ganked, regardless. But… finding one of them strong enough to withstand possession will be-…"

"A problem," finished Castiel glumly.

"Can you tell ahead of time if a body will be able to sustain Michael?" Ember asked Castiel.

He nodded. "I've got a good idea."

Dean sighed. "So… a list full of ingredients. Including a vessel that is both strong enough to hold Michael for at least a few minutes, and deplorable enough that we have to kill them anyway." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that'll be a cinch."

"You know who would be perfect?" Ember began, but Castiel cut her off.

"Don't start," he said. "We can't find Nick, and I keep telling you: what made him best suited for Lucifer might make him ill-suited for Michael."

Nick had made a re-appearance in their lives recently when he had kidnapped Mary Winchester. She had led him to the demon Abraxas, who she had caught and trapped in an Enochian puzzle box about a year ago and put into her storage shed for safe keeping. Abraxas had been responsible for Nick's family's murder.

Nick was a serial murderer now. Castiel had been following Nick's spree of murders and discussing them with Dean when each occurred. Most of them had some loose connection to his family's murder. He needed to be stopped, but unfortunately he had learned a few things while he was with the Winchesters; he'd managed to successfully tattoo an Enochian warding symbol onto his hip, and now even Castiel couldn't locate him.

"If he blows up in the process, I just don't see the drawback," Ember mumbled, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

***Sam POV***

February 7, 2019

And so, it was decided: they would wait for a monster capable of withstanding possession by Michael.

With each passing day, however, the situation became increasingly frustrating. Not a day went by without Castiel being called off to some other state to read the mind of some barely-in-control monster in hopes that said monster would be an appropriate meat suit for Michael. No matter what, the answer was always "no."

January changed into February, and with it, the Winchesters and Castiel discovered a change in the mind of Donatello, the prophet. Donatello's mind was struggling to rebuild! Sam had thought Castiel's mind-reading had turned the prophet into a vegetable the year before, but miraculously he had recovered enough on his own that Castiel was able to heal him the rest of the way. Though the prophet still didn't have a soul, when he awakened in the hospital his mind was free of the corruption caused by the demon tablet the previous year. It was a "win" that was both unexpected and sorely needed.

Still, even the assistance of a prophet didn't speed up the creation of the Hyperbolic pulse generator, or even the locating of an appropriate vessel. Castiel didn't bother even scanning Donatello's mind to see if he would make an appropriate vessel; instead, he went into a long-winded explanation about how the "conduit of the word of the Lord would be the worst possible vessel due to…" But everyone tuned out after that.

Then, one day, purely by chance, Sam found what he thought might be the answer. They had confiscated several items from a murderous pawn shop owner (long story), and among them…

"It's called the Baozhu," said Sam. "It's one of eight ancient Chinese treasures. It's a pearl that grants wishes... sort of."

"Sort of?" asked Dean.

"Well, technically it's supposed to give you 'what your heart desires,'" finished Sam.

"That would be Michael outta my freakin' head," said Dean.

"I don't know," said Sam, holding out the pearl. "I guess you hold the pearl and concentrate on what your heart desires."

"Michael outta my head," said Dean. "Got it."

Dean picked up the pearl and held it in his hand. Sam got a swooping feeling in his stomach, the kind of feeling he typically got before something major happened.

The lights in the bunker began to flicker, and Sam's thoughts immediately went to Eileen. She was miles away, though, on a hunting trip with Ember. They were following up on a werewolf client of Ember's who they worried might've gone rogue. In fact, for once, Sam and Dean had the bunker to themselves.

Except… Sam could see the outline of a man in the darkness. Sam reacted instinctively, ducking when the man swung, but the man was faster, and countered with a gun, pushing Sam to the floor. Dean swung at the man, but the man fought Dean as well. Sam heard the sound a gun cocking.

"Don't you move."

Just then, the lights came back on, and Dean and Sam stared in wonder at the man.

It was John Winchester.

Dean found his voice first: "Dad?"

John looked at them in shock. "Dean? Sam? What in the hell?"

***Dean POV***

February 7, Evening

Dean couldn't remember being this happy in years. It was the kind of happy that was fragile, too good to be actually happening.

He wasn't sure what had happened. He had been thinking about his heart's desire, about getting Michael out of his head. And then, out of nowhere, he had started thinking about how amazing it would be to see his parents back together again…

This version of John was like a dream. Dean had a feeling that his father felt like he did, as though this whole thing was too good to be true. His father had died fighting Azazel more than ten years earlier, a little over two years before Dean and Sam had met Ember and Castiel.

After John's arrival, there had been the usual exchange of holy water, silver, and salt. Then they'd spoken for over an hour to catch John up on everything that had happened since his death.

"So, you saved the world?" he said slowly nearly two hours later. John had had half a bottle of good whiskey, and Dean thought that, given the circumstances, his father was taking the news well.

"More than once," Dean affirmed seriously.

"Then it's all true," John said. "God, the devil, you boys smack in the middle. Now you live in a secret bunker with a half-demon, half-angel kid."

"Yeah," Sam and Dean both nodded. Admittedly, their situation was fairly surreal.

"And you've done this whole time-travel thing before?" John clarified.

"A few times. Actually, uh, our grandfather, your dad – he's the one who helped us find this place. I think he'd be real happy to know you're finally here."

"Right. Man o' Letters," John affirmed, Learning that his father had accidentally time traveled to the future to help Sam and Dean had been one of many bombshells John had received this evening; he had always thought his father had abandoned him. Dean had a feeling John wasn't entirely ready to accept this particular piece of news yet, or at the very least was sitting on it until a time when he could think about it further in private.

"Yeah. We're legacies… because of you," Sam said. Dean could tell that Sam was acutely aware of how difficult it had always been for him and John to get along. Dean had spent his childhood mending fences between the two. This particular version of John Winchester had been retrieved from 2003, which was shortly after Sam had had a gigantic fight with John before leaving for college. Dean had a feeling that this fact was on the forefront of both of their minds.

"I just wish that I had been there to see it," said John, smiling at the two of them. Dean thought that his father was holding back tears. He tried to recall the last time he'd seen his father cry, but couldn't remember being older than perhaps five.

"Dad, none of this would have happened without you," said Dean. John had taught them everything, for better or for worse.

"It's good," John said, smiling. "It's fine. I went out takin' out Yellow Eyes. I mean, that was the point, right? I mean, get the thing that killed mom."

"Yeah, yeah, uh, Dad. About Mom…" started Sam.

They hadn't told John about Mary coming back from the dead yet. Dean had taken over the story at that point, and he'd wanted it to be a surprise. He had called their mother as soon as John had shown up, however. He hadn't told her much, just that there was an emergency, and she'd driven all the way from Minnesota. She couldn't have had more perfect timing as she appeared in the kitchen.

Watching the two of them embrace, after more than 30 years apart, was like watching the end of the best possible chick flick. The love in his parents' eyes as they kissed each other erased any doubts he had about accidentally using the pearl for this, instead of for Michael.

Unfortunately, Sam wasn't so sure.

"I love this, too, Dean," he protested when they gave Mary and John some private time together. "I do, honestly, but messing with time… You know how this ends. Things change."

"Yeah, great," said Dean, becoming annoyed. "We got our family back together. I'll take that change."

"That's not what I mean," Sam said insistently.

The doubts were creeping back in, and Dean wasn't in the mood. "Stop. Just stop, okay? Look, can we just have one family dinner? Just one? Us – all of us together. That's all I want. Can you just give me that?"

And he left Sam in the hallway and walked away.

***Sam POV***

February 7, Evening

Maybe Dean was right. One family dinner. The universe could let them have one family dinner, right?

Sam found his father looking through the books on the shelves. "This place," he said in wonder. "I don't even know."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. When we first moved in, I think it kind of blew our minds, too."

John smiled at him, and Sam knew that his father either had had too much whiskey, or was simply overjoyed to be alive for once.

In John's timeline back in 2003, he'd been looking for answers about Azazel, and about Azazel's connection to Sam. The last time this version of John Winchester had seen Sam, Sam had said horrible things before he'd gone off to college in Palo Alto - things he knew neither of them would ever forget.

John must feel overjoyed about Azazel's death, about reuniting with Sam, and, most of all, about reuniting with Mary.

"Where's Mom?" Sam asked.

"Oh, she's, uh, gettin' your brother a shopping list," John answered, still smiling. "She's gonna make that casserole of hers."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, Dean and I tried to make that once." It had been a disaster. John had yelled at them for making a mess, but Sam thought perhaps he'd really been angry about the reminder of Mary.

John's face dropped at the memory. "I, um… I remember. I screwed up with you a lot, didn't I?"

"No, that's okay," Sam said.

"No, it's not," John said firmly. "Sammy, tell me the truth."

It was his father's command voice – soft, but uncompromising. Sam had never been very good at abiding it. "I don't want to talk about that."

"You didn't have a problem talking about it before you left," said John. The things Sam had said about their family, about John, still hung in the air between them. "You raised us like soldiers, always on the go, always at the ready," Sam had screamed. "We were never children! I just want to live a normal life! I never asked to be part of this family, and now I'm asking to leave it!"

Sam made an effort to explain himself. "Dad… for me? That fight… that was a lifetime ago. I don't even remember what I said, and…"

That wasn't true. He remembered exactly what he'd said. "I mean… yeah. You know what? You did some messed-up things. But I don't… I mean, when I think about you…"

God dammit. He was going to cry. "And I think about you a lot… I don't think about our – our fights. I think about you… I think about you on the floor of that hospital. And I think about how I never got to say goodbye."

It had been brewing all evening. He'd never really apologized for all of the things he said during that fight, even during the brief period between when they'd started speaking again and when John had died. Sam hadn't even been sure he wanted to apologize, because most of the things he'd said were true. But he wished things could've ended differently.

John put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam. Son. I am so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Sam said, his chest feeling suddenly lighter. "But you did your best, Dad. You – you fought for us, and you loved us, and… that's enough."

It felt, somehow, as though some small part of Sam knitted back together.

***Dean POV***

February 7, Evening

"Alright. I'll get the booze – you get the food," Dean said. Dean and Sam had gone into town for ingredients. Dean's uneasiness had grown with every passing minute since his conversation with Sam, and he felt strongly that the sooner they got ingredients and went back home, the better. Still, he felt happy. His father was back.

"Alright, Jackson," he said, walking into the liquor store. "It's celebration time. Give me your best stuff."

"Uh, do I know you?" said Jackson, giving him a strange look.

"It's Dean," Dean said, surprised. "Campbell. I come in here, like, always."

"Oh. Right," said Jackson, but he obviously didn't believe him.

It wasn't until he had finished buying the liquor that it occurred to him that Sam's whole "playing with time" theory probably had some merit. Were they really "changing things?" Just to be safe, he looked himself up on Google.

Apparently, there was a reward for $100,000 for his capture. That was weird. He hadn't tangled with law enforcement in over a year, and it had been years since he'd been accused of anything that would lead to that kind of price. (As he recalled, it had to do with a bank robbery, a murder, and a shape-shifter.)

He looked up Sam, which was a mistake.

Just then, Sam came up to him, looking panicked. " , we have a problem."

"Yeah, yeah, we do," Dean agreed. "Check this out." He handed Sam his phone.

The screen was frozen on a picture of Sam, who was wearing glasses and a turtleneck sweater.

"Is that me?" Sam asked.

"According to the internet, you run a law firm and love kale," Dean answered. "Wait until you check your wannabe TED talk."

Dean started the video. "Invest in a treadmill desk, don't drink coffee, and stick to a raw food diet," Sam was saying. "I mean, God bless kale – am I right? Truth is – And this is hard to hear – performing at your best requires all of your mental energy. Every last drop. You see, it's just not compatible with something like, uh… hobbies or, uh – or even having a family."

"Okay," Sam said, frowning. "That's enough of that."

Sam turned off the video. "Listen, Dean, there is a wanted poster for you, hanging in the post office."

"Oh, yeah, no, I-I Googled me, as well. Lots of beheadings," Dean answered.

"I was right – messing with time changed things," Sam said dismally.

"Well, I mean, I'm still hunting, but you're internet famous," Dean said defensively. "So, what – is there two of us running around here?"

Sam looked thoughtful. "No, I don't think so. I think it's a temporal paradox. We pulled Dad here from 2003, right? So time is self-correcting. Our timeline is changing to this new one."

"So, what do you mean?" Dean asked, though he had a feeling he already knew.

"It means, I think, that, if we don't fix this, then we become those other versions of-…"

"Dean?" cried a voice.

Dean barely had time to turn around before he was being kissed. It was Ember – he knew that immediately, but why she was kissing him completely baffled him. He lost himself completely for a second in kissing, her, but then pulled his head back."

"Ember what the he-.."

"Baby, I thought you were going to be in Atlanta until Wednesday?" she said. She hadn't let go of him, and he shrugged away from her.

She allowed him out of her reach, then turned to Sam. "Who's this?"

"Uh, Sam," Dean said absently. "But Em-…"

"Oh my God, is this your brother?" Ember said in shock.

Just then, a blinding light lit up the restaurant nearby. It was as though the entire restaurant had been lit from within, like when an angel smited –

Together, all three of them rushed toward the restaurant.

Inside the restaurant, a waitress and three teenagers cowered in horror in the face of two angels that Dean recognized immediately as Zachariah and Castiel.

Dean recognized the waitress, too, and the three teenagers. All were locals, and they'd had run-ins with the Supernatural before.

"Get out!" Dean screamed. "Go, go, go!"

The waitress and the teens ran out.

Zachariah and Castiel's nostrils flared. Cas was looking at Ember with a curious but malevolent glare, but Zachariah's gaze was fixed on them. "The Winchesters?" he asked.

"Zachariah?" said Sam.

"Cas?" said Dean.

"You know these guys?" said Ember.

"Silence, foul creature," said Zachariah.

"Bite me," said Ember, but she waited for Dean to make a move.

"Now, I know we had big plans for you, and then your daddy just up and disappeared, which… oh," said Zachariah, realizing suddenly. "You. This is all you."

"Cas, you know us," Dean pleaded.

"I don't know you," said Castiel, tilting his head. His voice was gruff and unfeeling, like in the beginning.

"They ride with an Abomination," said Zachariah. "Kill them."

Castiel walked toward Dean, pulling out an angel blade. Ember moved forward, Ruby's knife flashing through her hand.

"Cas, don't!" Dean screamed.

Castiel threw Dean back toward the back wall. Meanwhile, Zachariah lifted his hand toward Sam, using his powers to choke him.

"What did you do, Sam?" Zachariah yelled, and Sam fell to his knees.

Dean attempted to recover, but he wasn't quick enough. "Dean, the knife doesn't-…"

But Ember's words were cut off by a horrible scream, and Dean ran forward in horror as Castiel pierced Ember's side with the knife.

"What did you do?" Zachariah was yelling. "Sam. Speak, Ubu, speak! What, what is it?"

Dean rushed Cas before he could take another swipe at Ember, but Cas parried, punching him. There was a bright flash of light, which Dean realized could only mean that Sam had managed to finish off Zachariah.

Then Dean saw the flash of another angel blade and knew instinctively that Sam was fighting Cas as well. Castiel threw Sam into a table, then turned around to Dean.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no!"

Castiel had his hand around Dean's throat, choking him.

Dean tried to push away. "Cas. Cas. Stop it."

Suddenly light filled the room again, and Castiel was gone. Sam had made a banishing symbol on the floor.

Sam and Dean both rushed toward Ember. Her side was covered in blood, but she was somehow still conscious. "Dean," she whispered. "Dean, I – I'm glad you found… your brother… I love…"

Dean didn't know what to say. "Ember, it wasn't supposed to be like this. You're supposed to be-…"

But she was gone.

-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-

The universe had to be put back together, and quickly. The family dinner was, perhaps, the only thing they would have time for.

Dean had the job of telling their father. "Basically, uh, if you don't go back, Sam never gets back into the life, um, and Mom, she, uh… Well, without everything that we did – with God, The Darkness – she never comes back. Sam thinks that34 she'll just fade away."

This John Winchester, so displaced from his life and the burdens of 2003, was perhaps kinder than John Winchester that Dean remembered.

"Okay," he said, though Dean could tell he was holding back tears. "I mean, me versus your mom? That's – that's not even a choice."

He even told Dean he was proud of him, a moment Dean didn't expect and would never forget. "It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes. But now you – you are a grown man, and I am incredibly proud of you. I guess that I had hoped, eventually, you would… get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family."

Dean nodded and smiled. "I have a family." He thought of Cas, somewhere with Zachariah, and Ember, dead at his hands.

He thought of Jo. Maybe if they found a way to get rid of Michael, maybe, someday…

Dinner was a somber affair at first, but eventually they decided to be grateful for every moment they had together as a family. All too soon, it was time to say good-bye.

"I am so proud of you boys," John told them, smiling, and pulled them both into a hug. "I love you both so much."

Sam and Dean were crying too. "I love you, too," Dean said.

"Okay," John said. "Okay. I'm ready." John took Mary's hand and winked at her. Then he faced Sam. "Sammy."

As Sam picked up the pearl and put it on the table, Dean tried to memorize the way his parents looked together, happy in this small moment. He tried to remember that he should be grateful to get to say this final good-bye.

Sam picked up a bowl and brought it down on the table, smashing the pearl. Dean flinched at the sound. Slowly, John began to vanish, and their mother began to cry.

***Castiel POV***

February 7, Late Night

"Well, there's our proof," Ember said, snuggling into bed next to Castiel. They both knew he would fly off as soon as she fell asleep, but it had become their nightly ritual and neither intended to change it. "In another universe, if things had gone differently, you would kill me."

"You've seen my mind," he said defensively. "This surprises you?"

"Not really," she said. "I've seen your memories, the ones you've been willing to share. I know who you used to be."

"I've changed," Castiel said simply, because that was all that needed to be said.

"I know," she responded.