Two hours passed in silence. Sam kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel tightly. Dean recovered from the initial shock of telling the truth and his brother's reaction and now was thinking of how he was to fix this mess. He hadn't planned to come clean like that. Ideally, they would have a day off between hunts and Dean thought he would just man up then and explain everything.

Sam hadn't said anything so far, so Dean had no idea what was going on in the brain of his. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. He needed to coax some reaction out of his brother to understand just how bad the situation was.

"How far are we from Indiana?" Dean probed. He had the map in his hands and knew exactly how far they were, but that was the only relatively safe question he managed to come up with.

Sam flinched slightly.

"About seven hours," he answered without looking at him, tone perfectly even. Sam was freaked out but trying to bottle it up – probably so that he would not trigger Dean with his fear.

"You want to drive all the time? I can change you if you're tired," offered Dean just like he would normally do.

"I'm good," Sam cut off. His lips were pressed into a thin line now.

Of course. As if Sam would let him behind the wheel after everything he had said.

Okay. Obviously, they couldn't just make small talk and pretend nothing had happened. On the plus side, they were traveling by car and that meant Sam had to listen to whatever Dean was saying, he couldn't walk away or shut him up.

"Our future sucks, by the way," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Well, I guess it could've been worse." He remembered his three-day trip to the Croatoan infected world in 2014. "But it still sucks."

Nothing. Still no sign of emotion on Sam's face. But his brother had always been curious. So, Dean just continued talking, hoping that at some point Sam wouldn't be able to resist the temptation and pretend to be deaf any longer.

"In my universe, we split up here. You went to California, I went hunting. I got into trouble and you hot-wired a car and got back just in time to save my sorry ass."

Sam frowned. Dean thought his face became less blank and more pensive. That was a good sign, so he went on talking.

"We hunted another shapeshifter. The interesting part was that a civilian had done most of the job for us, can you imagine that? He had no clue about shapeshifters, of course, he thought he had tracked down some kind of laser-eyes android or whatever. He even guessed about the sewers, except that he thought the android recharged its batteries there." Dean could swear he heard Sam chuckle at this. "Everything was fine until that stupid idiot decided to play hero and take it on by himself. He messed with our hunt and got killed by snipers." Dean winced. It was absurdly unfair that the guy had lost his life like that.

Sam was still ignoring him. Well, that wouldn't be easy, but he had six years of life experience to tell about. At some point, Sam's curiosity would get the better of him. Dean racked his brain, trying to remember something Lucifer- and Apocalypse-free.

"We hunted in Hollywood once. They were filming a horror movie, which totally sucked, by the way. They inserted a real spell in the script, so the actors reading their lines actually summoned ghosts. I hooked up with the lead actress after we were done."

Again, no reaction from Sam. But at least his brother didn't look more freaked out than before. So, Dean continued this one-sided conversation.

"Oh, I remember another one - it was hilarious. We had to infiltrate a mental hospital once," he started laughing at the memories. "That was really funny. I mean, all we needed to be admitted was to tell the doc the truth. Man, you should've seen his face when we told him about hunting demons and monsters. It was priceless," Dean grinned, remembering how the doc's reaction. "I bet we were crazy even by their standards. They diagnosed us both with schizophrenia," Dean shot a glance at Sam and saw him smile for a second. Then his brother composed himself and his face went blank again.

"Hey. Say something already, dude."

Sam opened his mouth, but apparently, he wasn't able to put whatever he wanted to say into words. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. Sam glanced at him for a second, and then was back watching the road.

Dean made the last attempt to get his brother talking.

"We have a half-brother, by the way," he said, enjoying the immediate effect this news had on Sam.

"What? It's- Wait- How?" Sam gaped, dropping all pretense.

"Yeah. Dad was hunting ghouls in Minnesota, got injured, and well, he and the nurse-" Dean trailed off. "He's Adam. Adam Milligan. Must be around fifteen now."

"Impossible," Sam said firmly, shaking his head. "Dad spent most time with us. And he never let it slip or mentioned anything about Minnesota."

"He didn't know until Adam was twelve. So, they first met around three years ago. Dad didn't tell him anything about hunting, so the kid has no idea about monsters and stuff, lives a normal life and studies pre-med. Or wants to study rather, it's too early now."

"It's very easy to verify, you know that, right?" Sam shot him a look, checking his reaction.

"Go ahead," Dean shrugged. "I think there're even some notes about Minnesota in Dad's journal. They went to baseball games a couple of times. Dad bought him his first beer on his fifteenth birthday. He even let him drive the Impala." Dean remembered it had pissed him off in the past, but he also remembered the kid had appreciated the beauty of his baby.

"How did we meet?" Sam asked after a long pause.

"He called Dad's phone. I took the call, so, that's how we found out we had a brother."

Well, technically it was a ghoul calling, but that was how they found out about their half-brother, so it wasn't a lie, right?

"I bet that was an awkward family reunion," Sam laughed nervously.

Dean didn't comment on that. Sam was probably imagining they had some kind of normal family get-together, where everyone felt embarrassed. He didn't want to ruin this by telling that the first time they met real Adam was after he'd been brought back from the dead to become Michael's vessel and was fetched to Bobby's place by an angel of the Lord.

Silence stretched. Dean didn't know what else to say. He couldn't give Sam any immediate proof anyway, so Sam could declare everything he'd said a figment of his imagination.

"Sam. I trusted you when you said you had visions, right? Can you trust me now?"

Sam sighed. Doubt was written all over his face, but he looked less tense.

Dean went on. "I know how it all sounds, man. I get it. You either think it's not me or I'm possessed, or I'm nuts."

"You wear an anti-possession charm and it's made of silver, so I'm almost sure it's you," Sam admitted and added, choosing words carefully. "And I believe that you believe you're from the future."

"But you don't think-

"There's not much evidence that time-travel is possible. No evidence at all, actually. And our job is kinda mentally demanding-" Sam trailed off.

"So you think I've gone nuts. Fantastic, Sam."

"I'm not saying that. Maybe it's just a single psychotic episode and you just need to get more sleep and take a couple days off-"

"Damn it, Sam, I'm not crazy," Dean growled in frustration. "And I need you to believe me. So that we can act together. And if you can't believe in time-travel, well, it's shit because all other things that happen to us and that I want to fix will sound way crazier than me coming back in time six years".

Sam took a deep breath and remained silent for some time. Dean was fuming. He had no idea how to prove his story to his brother. Well, he remembered their next hunt pretty well, he was sure he could even find the damn tree in that orchard, but it would be nice if Sam stopped thinking he'd gone nuts right now.

"Dean, I need some proof," Sam said finally.

"I am the proof. I know what will happen, just wait till it comes true and you'll see for yourself. I can tell you about this hunt. It's some pagan sacrifice crap, we'll need to burn the tree."

Sam looked confused. Well, that probably didn't make much sense to him now.

Sam sighed. "Okay. Suppose – just suppose – you're from 2010. It's 5 years from now. You said you know a lot about the past. So. Anything you know that I already know but present you aren't supposed to know?"

Dean processed the question. Some kind of secret that future Sam told him about his past would do – if only he would be able to remember it.

"Um, my memory is kinda a mess. You try to remember what you were doing six years ago and you'll see what I'm talking about."

"We still have six hours till we're in Indiana, so you'd better remember. If it's a psychotic breakdown, no way I let you anywhere near the guns."

"Fair enough."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were halfway to Indiana when Dean finally managed to dig up some memories that would probably convince Sam. His head was spinning. He definitely needed his own journal.

"Sam? I think I got something. Remember your time in Flagstaff? When you ran away. There was a dog there. You called it Bones. I don't think you've told me about this. He was kinda rusty in color. And there's another one," he continued hastily before Sam could cut in and say that this wasn't enough to convince him. "It's from our schooldays. Do you remember the school when we spent around two weeks?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Which one exactly?"

"I hooked up with the hottest chick there. She was blonde."

"As if it narrows down the list."

"Oh, c'me on. It was my final year, so you were fourteen and it was right after summer. You put some bully in his place there."

"Okay," Sam sounded confused. "So?"

"I don't know any details, but there was a teacher that was very important to you. I mean, we returned there for a hunt and you really wanted to talk to him. And no, I have no idea about what or what his name was."

"I understand what you're talking about. And you're right about the dog," Sam answered thoughtfully and gave Dean a scrutinizing look.

"And there's one more thing. Sorry to bring it up, but- You and Jessica, you were- It was serious. You were shopping for rings."

Sam drew a sharp breath.

"How did you know that? I mean, I wasn't going to mention this to anyone. Ever."

"You didn't. It's the thing that – the demon that killed Jess."

"What? You talked to it? And how did it find out about that?"

"I guess he'd been sort of spying on you before he attacked. We had a nice chat while he attempted to kill us."

"Did we manage to kill it?"

"Yeah," answered Dean with far more reluctance that Sam could understand.

"And?" Sam demanded, eager for more details. Dean didn't like where this conversation was going.

"And what? So, now that I said we killed that thing you do believe that I'm from the future?"

"I don't know, Dean. That's just… Well- It's still crazy, man. Even for us." Wait till you know about the Apocalypse, thought Dean.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"How long have you been here? And why did you choose this time?"

"I didn't have much choice, just knew it would be at least two years back. I've been here since we killed that demon on the plane."

"So, for about four months? Wow. Huh. Wait. It was you who broke the mirrors," Sam glared at him.

"Guilty. And I stole and burnt the girl's cross. I needed to do something or there would've been more victims."

Dean was watching Sam out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a cascade of questions that he was sure would soon follow.

"When did we kill this thing – you said it was a demon?" Sam asked finally.

"Sam, it doesn't mean we'll kill it at the same time now." Sam wasn't stupid. If he found out that they were hunting four years after killing Azazel-

"Dean. The way Dad keeps us in the dark? It drives me mad. If you want to do the same thing- Just-" Sam stuttered, frustrated.

Dean sighed, giving up. "In my universe we killed it in a year and a half from now."

Sam was clearly disappointed. He probably still hoped to be at Stanford next year. Well, if Dean didn't screw up, this time his brother might get his law degree.

"But maybe we'll manage to kill it earlier," he continued. "We had several chances in the past, but we missed them." He tried not to think about the fact that the closest they were to killing Azazel was when he possessed their Dad.

"I thought you'd have more questions," Dean said cautiously after Sam remained silent for almost ten minutes.

"I'll verify what you said about Adam first. And we'll see if your information about the hunt matches."

Well, at least he had some time before the interrogation began.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The information about Adam checked out – not that Dean doubted that, but Sam stopped questioning his sanity which was good. He hesitantly suggested that they should call or visit their half-brother, but Dean dismissed the idea.

"Yeah, and what would we tell him? About hunting monsters or one of our fake biographies?" Well, they would have to tell Adam about monsters before he was eaten by ghouls, but that could still wait.

They finished the hunt early, so they were a couple of days ahead of 'schedule', which meant that his brother had more time to think. Dean realized Sam would soon start asking questions – dangerous questions he didn't want to answer yet. So he started babbling about the future every time Sam's expression turned brooding and he looked like he was about to say something like 'Dean, we need to talk'.

"You know, this thing saved my life once," Dean said, fiddling with a small salt packet. They were sitting at the diner waiting for the food.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Were you attacked by some kind of minuscule ghost?"

"No. I was in a solitary cell and it was the only weapon I had against the nurse's spirit."

"Don't tell me you were imprisoned for real."

"No, we had to infiltrate a prison to hunt inside, so we let ourselves be imprisoned."

"But this is insane," Sam stared at him in disbelief.

"It was my plan and future you didn't like it either. During meal times you looked like you were about to throw up."

Sam grimaced. "We're definitely doing it in another way this time."

"No problem, it was a standard salt and burn anyway. That was fun, though," Dean grinned. "I won several packs of cigarettes in poker."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day they went to the tattoo shop where they got ink anti-possession tattoos on their chests. Sam wondered why Dad hadn't made them get these earlier, and Dean shrugged in answer. In their universe they had got the tattoos after Azazel possessed their Dad and had nearly killed them. Sam was frowning, probably wondering why Dean was so obsessed with protection from demons.

"Sam, now listen carefully. Very important information learned by future me. I'm sharing my wisdom in the hope that you won't have to learn it the hard way."

Sam eyed him with skepticism.

"Fairies like cream," declared Dean solemnly. "To catch a fairy you need to spill salt, and it won't stop until it counts every grain. And a microwave is a pain the ass to clean if you accidentally fry a fairy in it," he struggled to keep a straight face.

"You're kidding me. Were there no other monsters left or what? I mean, seriously, fairies? "

"Never underestimate your enemy, Sammy," Dean deadpanned.

Sam's patience didn't last long. When Dean once again tried to joke instead of answering Sam's question about how he had managed to go back in time ("built a time machine at Bobby's") his brother lost his temper. Why can't Dean just tell him everything? Why is he always the one who is kept in the dark about everything? Why everyone tried to make decisions for him? Why is he the one who needs to be protected?

"Has it ever occurred to you that it's not all about protecting you?" Dean yelled. "That I just don't want to relive all this shit again? That it hurts like Hell – and I know what I'm talking about – to remember all this?"

"I guess it'll hurt even more to relive it for real again," Sam snapped, eyes blazing with anger.

"Damn it, Sam. You died in my arms. I saw you dying, do you understand? I was with you as you were slowly losing consciousness until you weren't there anymore, until you were just a body. A dead body. And I carried you inside some house and I sat there still hoping that by some miracle you'd come around and get up and we would just get into the car and drive the hell out of there," Dean sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sam looked horrified, all signs of anger gone.

"And the worst thing was that I almost saved you that day. Almost. Me and Bobby, we finally found that place with psychic kids, came there, I saw you and you were just ten feet away when that son of a bitch stabbed you. And I couldn't do anything. I was late," Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. Sam wouldn't die this time. He wouldn't let it happen.

"You said before that we were both alive in your time," Sam said cautiously.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your big brother. Of course, I brought you back."

Sam didn't ask how and Dean was grateful for that. Next morning his brother just brought him several notebooks, highlighters (god, highlighters) and a waterproof zip lock bag.

"Okay, so you don't want to tell me now – but you'll have to eventually – but you need to write it down before you forget."

Dean muttered a thank you, painted a devil trap on the zip lock bag and put salt inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't forget, there's a puddle in the basement."

"Dean, there's really no need to repeat it for the hundredth time."

It was like having a nightmare where you try to run away from a monster but you're always too slow. Dean tried everything to change the course of events so that they wouldn't need to go to that house at all, but nothing seemed to work. He couldn't reach the kids' parents on the phone, and when he tried to call the police there was suddenly no reception. Despite everything he did they were going to end up in that house. It felt like the universe resisted being changed. And Death had warned him that something like that could happen. Shit.

Dean was nervous. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Look, I take the tasers. You help the kids. I swear I won't step in the puddle," Sam reassured him.

But Dean was sure some shit was about to happen.

He got the kids out of the house and hurried back downstairs. Sam was indeed within a safe distance from the puddle, but too close to the rawhead. Next moment Sam tripped over, the rawhead got its hands on the taser and aimed at his brother. Dean lunged forward.

Shit. Here we go again.
That was his first thought when he came round in hospital. He had failed to avoid this electrocution crap. He'd done his damnest best, tried everything, and yet here he was in the ward, weak and with his head spinning. He had planned that the healer and his wife would be their next hunt. He definitely hadn't plan going there as a terminal patient. Damn. Death must be laughing his ass off at his naiveté. Hope you have enough popcorn, dude.

"Dean? I talked to the doctor and- We somehow figured it out in the past, didn't we?" Sam's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I mean, you wouldn't have lived for five years if- The doc said-"

Dean sighed. "Yeah. We figured it out." He'd been so busy trying to prevent this that he'd forgot to tell Sam about how he'd been cured in his universe.

"Great," Sam exhaled, apparently relieved. "What should we-"

"Sam. Would you kill a stranger to save my life?" Dean asked without much preamble. Sam paled.

"Is it the only option?" he finally managed to ask.

Dean looked away.

"Dean?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's another way. But I'm not sure it'll work. And it'll be a drastic divergence from the course of the events," Dean sighed, and decided to try to explain. "We had a friend. He had healing powers. So I could sort of call him now." Pray to him, actually. "And if he's available and not too busy, maybe he'll come and help. But I'm not sure. He was kinda a dick when we first met." He'd almost wiped out the whole town and made me torture Alistair. "And I don't know if he has healing abilities already." When he came to think of it, the first time Cas healed him was right after Sam had jumped into the Cage.

"Dean, that doesn't sound promising."

"So it's better to be healed at the cost of another person's life?"

"I'm not saying this," Sam ran his hand through hair. "It's weird, man. I mean, you did everything differently now, right?"

"Yeah. I was warned, though. That I shouldn't change what doesn't want to be changed. Natural order and stuff."

Sam frowned. "Then maybe we should do what we did in your universe? Not that I like it. But looks like it's important."

"Looks like Death is an ass," Dean muttered.

Dean tried not to think about what would happen if the healer didn't choose him. Death had promised him to keep the sequence of the events in order. So, maybe that was exactly what he was doing. Maybe it was really necessary to be healed at the cost of somebody's life. And there was no sense to throw him back in time just to let him die like that, without really preventing anything. Right?

The idea of being healed at someone's expense still made him sick. But he couldn't come up with anything else. And even if he could – he still remembered what happened after he had refused to kill that girl. So, he'd have to suck it up and let another guy die for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?"

They were sitting at the guest room in Roy's house. For them this visit was an excuse to look around and find the altar because Dean had no idea where it was.

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest."

"What did you see?"

"A man with an important purpose. A job to do." Dean stared at him, unable to hide his shock. These words didn't make much sense the first time he heard them, but now… Was it possible? Could Roy really mean what Dean thought he meant?

"I've never seen a soul like yours before," Roy continued. "Bright, despite everything. And old. Much older than you are."

Dean's mouth went dry. Sam leaned forward, watching Roy closely.

"How much older? Like five or six years?" his brother asked.

"I bet more like forty-five," Dean croaked. Sam looked at him suspiciously. He knew he'd just added one more thing to the list of his brother's questions.

"Yes. Do you feel it too, son?"

Dean forced a laugh. "I feel like a very old man sometimes, especially when my joints crunch."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Do you remember what our next hunt was?" Sam asked on their way back.

"No idea," Dean wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Dean, what's done is done. It must've been important or you could've changed it."

"It's a convenient excuse, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"First time we went there, we didn't know how this healing worked. Now we go there 'cause it's 'the natural order' or whatever. I just wonder – what if we didn't have these excuses? What if we knew how healing worked and I wasn't from the future? What then?"

He knew what soulless Sam would say - that his life was worth more because he could save more people. And it's okay to sacrifice one guy to save hundreds of people. No big deal. Nothing to worry about. However, 22-year old Sam stayed silent. Dean thought he was going to ignore the question when his brother finally answered.

"I wouldn't let you die, Dean," Sam said quietly. "There's nothing that can justify taking life from one person to give it to another. Even in your case. But I'd do the same thing even if I knew everything. Because I don't know what I would do if you were dead. So yeah. You're alive because somebody else is dead. I can live with that."

"Sam? I'd do the same thing," Dean answered awkwardly.

"You already did, didn't you?" Sam gave him a quizzical look. "When I died. You found somebody else who used a binding spell on the reaper?"

"No. And anyway, binding a reaper won't help if you're already dead."

Sam didn't question him further, but Dean could tell his patience was wearing thin.

I want to thank everyone who's reading this work while it's still in progress. I really appreciate your support.

also if you want to suggest some ideas or discuss the plot you're very welcome (bc I still haven't decided on some turning points), leave comments or feel free dm me :)