AN: * * * FINALE SPOILERS * * *
Five surprising conversations that Sam had during and after the events of the series finale. Not AU but filling in some things. I brought some characters back because I wanted to, okay? A bit cathartic (for me, anyhow), not AU, though I'm sure I'll write a fix it at some point down the line. There are some excellent fix its out there already...if you're mourning after the finale, you should check them out.
March 23, 2024
Sam sat on the steps of a handsome Cape Cod watching his breath steam and rise in the almost light of the minutes just before sunrise. He'd been up and running for a few hours already and was allowing the chill spring air to cool him down. In a few moments he'd go in, take a shower, and start the real parts of his day, but for now, the morning was all his. He shivered a little through his light layers, but was unwilling to miss what promised to be a spectacular sunrise.
The door opened behind him, but he didn't turn, surprised by how pleased he was to have company. Eileen nudged him over and handed him a covered cup of coffee and a bottle of water. She knew he wanted the former and needed the latter. He rubbed a circle on his chest, thank you, before taking them.
Eileen leaned on his arm and he put an arm around her shoulders, signing I stink. She just shrugged. Then with a tiny smile, she signed we'll need to shower.
Sam smiled back and they watched the sunrise in silence. They traded sips of the hot coffee back and forth but were still chilled by the time they went in. Sam stopped Eileen just inside the door. "I'm done running," he said.
"You better be. You were out the door at, like, five," she shook her head, misunderstanding.
"No." Sam took both her hands so she faced him in the narrow entryway. "No, Eileen. I'm done running. After Boston, I'm done."
Within a year of him making running his obsession, his escape, he'd qualified for the Boston Marathon. Last April, he'd completed it in the top 50 for his age group. He was training for the next one, just under three weeks away.
Eileen looked at him, really looked at him, then bit her lip. Tears filled her eyes. Sam had seen her get a bullet dug out of her leg without a tear, but these tears were for him, because she understood. She had given him the time and space to put himself together, and had refused to let him implode. She'd made no demands, had no expectations except that he get up every morning. She'd accepted that he wasn't the same man she'd known and never would be again.
Sam realized that he'd been staring at her in silence for a long time, but she let him do that too. She wasn't the woman she'd been, either. But he didn't want or need her to be. "Eileen, will you marry me?" he asked, voice rough.
She gave him a smile that lit a few of the dark corners of his heart, a smile that didn't dispel grief but made it a little more bearable. "Of course I will, dummy," she said aloud. "After a shower."
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
July 7, 2026
Sam stretched his arms behind him. He was ostensibly working on his thesis at a picnic table at a small park. It was warm but not hot, the shade of the towering oaks and the breeze off the small, manmade lake keeping it pleasant. The heat wasn't the reason Sam was having a hard time focusing on his computer. It wasn't the sight of Eileen in a bathing suit, either, since she was swimming now. It was the feeling of being so exposed. There was nobody within fifty feet of him, but just being outside without weapons or hunting was so strange. Well, he was supposed to be without weapons. And he kept looking at the water, thinking about mermaids and kelpies and dobhar chus and…
But he'd researched the area before ever agreeing to move here, and there wasn't a single reason he'd found to think there was any danger at the park. Reflexively, he checked on Eileen and pulled his hair up into a quick ponytail, something she liked. He thought about what Dean would say about his hair like this and rode out the expected wave of pain stoically.
Sam woke up the computer again and promised himself that he'd get at least three pages written before they left. But he'd barely started before there was a pricking at the back of his neck. Knowing he'd have heard if someone walked up, he spun his legs over the bench and twisted around reaching for the gun Eileen had pretended not to notice him carrying.
"Easy, Moose. Just here to chat. Love the hair, by the way. Going metrosexual?"
Sam stared, briefly wondering if he'd had a stroke or something. "Uh…Crowley?" Every detail was perfect, down to the smirk and the black suit.
Sam heard Eileen walking up from behind, and knew she didn't have anywhere to hide a weapon in the little two-piece she'd pulled out for this trip. It wasn't quite a bikini, but it was…something he really didn't need to think about right now. He held up a hand, hoping she'd stay back.
"Speaking of sexual…lovely to meet you, Mrs. Winchester," Crowley (if it was somehow the cockroach) just shy of leered. "I'm Crowley, just here for a little meet and greet with your husband."
"Crowley? Former king of hell?" Eileen moved closer and Sam desperately wished she'd stay away. Or that they could see each other's faces. Instead, she ranged a bit to the right and a little behind him, just close enough that he could see where she was. Watching his back. That thought would never come without pain, but it was too familiar for Sam to let it show on his face.
"Please. I was practically another Winchester." Crowley ignored Sam's scoff. "Yes, it really is me. Jack is almost as sentimental as Chuck, it seems. And he didn't like the whole Wild West thing going on in Purgatory. Apparently, monsters deserve a chance at a nice afterlife too. So he brought me back, juiced me up a bit, and put me in charge over there."
Sam realized he was starting to believe it, but he was still wary. Jack thought it would be a good idea to give Crowley more power? He wasn't sure he bought it. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, so the demon killing knife that was at his ankle – yeah, sue him – was in easier reach.
"Oh, stop caressing your blade, Sam. There's a lady present. Alright, fine. You don't believe it's me." Crowley looked distinctly put out. In fact, he looked like he'd swallowed a handful of tacks. "You're my Marnie."
He looked so very disgusted that Sam almost smiled, which was something he actually did on occasion now. "Okay, you're Crowley. MacLeods are the new Kennedys?"
Crowley gave the most genuine smile Sam had ever seen on his face, and it somehow put the hunter at ease. He sat up and gave a small gesture that let Eileen know she could come closer. She wrapped her towel around her waist and perched on the bench next to him.
"Ah, yes. Mother has settled into her role as queen. Apparently, she's color coordinated the different levels of Hell. I've promised to visit in the next decade or so, and she says she'll come see me when I've got things the way I want them." The smugness sat much more comfortable on his face than any other expression he wore.
This time, Sam did smile a little, thinking about how odd this conversation was. "So you left your new domain just to say hey?"
Crowley studied them a moment, then put his hands in his pockets, somehow managing to make the simple gesture theatric. "You may not believe it, but I wanted to tell you I'm s – "
"Don't." Sam cut him off, biting off the word and straightening. Eileen leaned lightly on his arm.
Surprisingly, Crowley didn't mock him or insist on continuing. "I thought you should know that they've fixed up heaven. It's not just memories any more. It's…better. And it's all together so people can spend time together or whatever they want, and all that drivel. And…your old pal Singer's out of the halo's jail. Happily ever after, blah, blah, blah."
Eileen leaned a little harder on Sam's arm as he swallowed hard. He couldn't ask any of his questions. He wouldn't. If he did, that tiny tether holding him to life might just break from the strain.
"Well, this has been a delightful stroll down memory lane and I truly enjoyed meeting you," Crowley sent one more lascivious look toward Eileen. "Sorry about that whole Hell hound thing. Ketch didn't exactly tell me who he was sending it after."
Sam half rose and Crowley took half a step back. "Calm down, Moose. I was just leaving. Oh, and congratulations on the little moose." With one more smirk, he disappeared.
The ground fell out from under Sam and he sat back hard. He stared at Eileen, and his eyes dropped to her flat stomach. She looked just as poleaxed as he did. They weren't senior citizens or anything, but had kind of assumed that they'd missed their window.
Then the tears that Sam normally refused to shed fell, and he pulled Eileen onto his lap and buried his face in her hair. And for the first time in a long time, Sam Winchester believed in miracles.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
February 9, 2025
Sam stared down at the bundle in his arms with no less amazement than he had moments after its birth three days earlier. Eileen made fun of him for never wanting to set their son down. Son. She teased that he'd permanently spoil the boy, but like always, she didn't push. Just like she had known without asking what the boy's first name would be. "If he refuses to sleep in his crib, you're going to be the one who has to hold him at night." Her eyes had twinkled in the way that he loved. "And I'm not letting you turn him into a spoiled brat!"
"Don't listen to her, Junior," whispered Sam. Eileen was still tired, though Sam had never been so impressed with her toughness as witnessing the birth. That was including the time she'd shrugged off a stab wound to finish killing a particularly strong domovoi.
As much as he loved his wife, and as grateful as he was for the gift of their son, Eileen wasn't the one Sam was thinking about right now. He pulled the sleeping boy up to his shoulder and just breathed him in for a few moments, feeling a wave of love only a handful of people had ever drawn from him. The tears fell freely now, and he silently gave a promise that he would eventually be able to call him by his given name, and an apology that he couldn't yet.
The tears had finally dried up and Sam was nearly asleep when he sensed a presence in the room. A deep, fierce protectiveness flared in his heart with his helpless son in his arms, but a voice, a voice he knew said, "I'm here on a social call, Sam. I will not hurt you or your family."
Surrealism colored the soft dark of the nursery. Sam squinted at the figure faintly lit by the gentle light from the hallway. "Death?" he whispered. "Jack brought you back?"
"He did. The Darkness killed so many of my reapers that he had to make more, and he decided he didn't want any of them running things, so to speak. We have an excellent détente. I am the true neutral I was always intended to be, and he doesn't interfere." A slight tilt of the head. "He is able to do things that Chuck never could."
For the first time in a very long time, the thought of his own death made Sam sad. "So you've come to collect me, to set things right, I suppose. Just let me set down D…my son, so he doesn't get hurt." He kissed the silky hair and made to stand. "Please leave Eileen alive so he's not alone. Please." The plea was soft.
"You misunderstand me." Death's voice was nearly as soft as Sam's. "I'm not here to collect you or anyone else. I am not changing anything retroactively."
"But you said…I stood you up. And now I've done it twice." Sam's muscles were corded with tension, and the baby stirred slightly in his arms.
"There is something to be said for letting the past be the past. After all, I came back myself." He held out his arms. "May I hold the child?" At Sam's hesitation, he softly chided, "I gave my word, Sam."
It was one of the hardest things he'd done – and there were many to choose from – but Sam stood and extended the warm bundle to the horseman of death. The surrealism swelled and filled the room until Sam wondered if this were nothing more than the dream of a sleep deprived new father.
Death rocked the boy gently, seeming to admire him. "Life is not my opposite, you know. It's my complement. And I mostly act as a transition from one type of living to another." He didn't stop looking at the baby. "You may be interested to know that Jack is not personally supervising heaven. He's left that to two archangels. Castiel and Gabriel."
Sam leaned back in the rocking chair. "He brought them back too."
"And gave your Castiel a promotion. Also, he has ordered that Heaven and Hell both limit their interference on Earth. Apparently, he wants people to have protection from both. It seems free will is important to him."
Sam desperately wished he could see the other's expression. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Speaking of protection…"
Sam froze as Death, capital d, kissed his infant son's forehead. His life had been one long train of weird and weirder, and he still had no idea how to process this.
Death's dark eyes glittered in the meager light. "That will grant him a measure of protection. It's not perfect – you should not encourage him to play in traffic, for example – but it will simply give him a bit more luck, if you will. Consider it my birth gift. The first one I've ever given, actually."
"Thank you." Sam was stunned as he took his son back. He wanted to ask why, didn't quite dare.
The entity currently confounding him seemed to understand. "Perhaps it is because I like his name." He turned and touched the little bookshelf that held a few stuffed animals and board books like Goodnight, Moon. The bookshelf grew to almost reach the ceiling, and the shelves were nearly full with paperbacks, interspersed with the items that had been there before. "This gift is from Jack, for you to keep or give your son, if you so choose. They are not available to anyone else, and he said, and I quote, 'you may burn them or keep them or whatever you want.'" He inclined his head as if to leave.
"Wait," called Sam a little louder than he intended. Then, softer, "please. I just want to say thank you. For coming and telling me about Cas and Gabriel. And for the gifts. You are welcome any time. You should let me know ahead of time. Eileen's a great cook." What the hell did I just do? Sam wondered.
Death looked back, amusement? appreciation? in his dark eyes. "Unlikely, but I will keep it in mind." He lifted his walking stick just slightly in salute. And with a smile, Death disappeared.
Feeling like he wasn't quite touching the floor, Sam walked over to the books. Across each spine was a title, and under it, the words Complete Winchester Gospel. The last was called Inherit the Earth. Understanding what he'd find in them was just one more thing that made Sam feel dazed enough that he sat down very carefully and wrapped his son even closer. Maybe he'd open them. Some day.
Sam didn't set down his son until Eileen woke the next morning.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
September 17, 2040
Sam took a deep breath and just absorbed the scene in front of him. A light fog rose over the small lake in front of him and the trees ringing the still water looked down at their reflections. The sun hadn't made its appearance yet, but its light was already seeping into the sky.
The dawn is a wild, fair woman, with sunrise in her hair, * Sam thought. He was loath to break the stillness, but he knew they'd already missed much of the prime fishing time. "DJ! You coming?" he called, amusement in his tone. His son had always been an early riser, but he was still a teenager, and he seemed to be sleeping more and growing taller weekly.
Sam turned from the bucolic scene and was about to call again when he saw a figure making its way down the steps from the cabin atop the small hill at his back. He knew in a second it wasn't his son. But even as he reached for his gun and took a wider stance to adjust for his injured right leg (the reason Eileen had insisted on this little vacation), his subconscious recognized who it was.
"Jack?!" he cried in surprise, limping as fast as he could to meet the man? entity? Nephilim? halfway. Without thinking it through, he threw his arms around Jack, who hugged back enthusiastically. Sam thought there should be some awkwardness, given how different he was from the Jack Sam had known. But somehow, there wasn't. It was just Sam and Jack and the joy of seeing a family member after a long absence.
Sam felt healing power flow into his injured leg, stitches disappearing as if the rusalka had never clawed him up. He smiled even wider, backing off enough to hold onto Jack's biceps and look him over like a proud uncle might. "Jack, it is so good to see you! I didn't know if I would, given who you are now, and all you must have on your plate."
"Your son is still asleep. I hope you don't mind," said Jack, tolerant of the inspection and just as solicitous as he'd always been.
"Of course not." Sam waved at the lawn chairs that were waiting on the dock. "Can you stay a while? Would you like to sit?"
"I would like that," responded Jack, slight smile still on his face. They sat in silence looking at the morning for a few minutes, then Jack admitted, "Your triglycerides are down, too."
Sam chuckled at that. "Well, thank you. You didn't have to do that."
"No, and it's one of the reasons I don't…manifest on Earth very often," Jack explained. "I can't seem to help but heal, and I cannot heal everything, so I prefer to stand hands off."
"There have been a lot of cures for a lot of terrible diseases discovered in the last few years," mused Sam. "Is that because of you?"
"Only indirectly. Demons were in a lot of key positions in pharmaceuticals, blocking and covering up many discoveries. Humans found all those cures on their own once the interference was taken away." Jack studied Sam intently, his otherness suddenly palpable. "I expected you to grow angry with me. Maybe even bitter. I should have known better than to underestimate you."
"Angry at you?" Sam was surprised.
"Yes. Because I had the power to bring Dean back and I didn't. But no matter how many times you've cried, you've never railed at me."
It took Sam a long few moments to answer. Twenty years later, he still shed tears over his brother, still struggled to think about his death. It didn't matter that he spoke to his son about the latter's namesake nearly every day – he still missed him with stabbing intensity. Jack didn't seem to mind the silence. Finally, Sam spoke. "You didn't make it happen, Jack. You didn't put us in that situation. And I know he's at peace now." The words didn't come easily, but they were sincere.
After another silence, Jack said, "All four of those that I consider my parents taught me important things. Sam, you were the one to reach out to me. Kelly always loved me as my mother, and she really connected to me after I reached out to her instinctively touched her mind before I was even born. I reached out to Cas the same kind of way, sensing that my mother trusted him. I worked at gaining Dean's trust and acceptance later. But not you. You were the one who had been most hurt by Lucifer, but you reached out to me anyway, from the moment I first saw you. And you kept reaching out to me. That type of kindness and forgiveness leaves an impact. Thank you."
"I just don't happen to believe that children should be punished for the actions of their parents. Their genetic parents, I mean." Sam leaned back farther in his chair and scrubbed a hand over the light beard he was sporting. Damn tears were threatening again. "But…you're welcome."
"I'm not surprised your son is kind. He was eating pop tarts and feeding squirrels," Jack reported, making Sam grin.
"Yeah, I made it so they couldn't steal birdseed any more and he felt sorry for them." Sam quirked another smile. Then he cast a speculative look at his companion. "Thank you for the books, by the way. You sent Crowley and Death to talk to me, didn't you?"
"I didn't send them," Jack contradicted. "I encouraged. And I made it very clear that there wouldn't be any repercussions either way. Also, I did not tell Death to give your son the gift of protection or Crowley to tell you that Eileen was pregnant. They simply chose to do those things."
After another, more comfortable silence, Jack added, "All three of you," and Sam knew he meant Dean, Cas, and himself, "taught me that knowledge and wisdom are not the same thing, but it is a lesson that I am still learning."
"You were pretty wise right from the beginning."
"Not wise enough. I was so determined not to make Chuck's mistakes that I let things happen that I could have stopped. Things I think I should have stopped or reversed, since a lot of what is bad here is because of Chuck's machinations." Jack's sadness rolled off him in waves. "And that, I regret. I came to visit you, but also to do what Chuck never would: apologize. Sam, I am sorry. Your pain – I could have prevented it. I won't change things now, but I still wanted you to know."
Sam stared at the sky. He didn't know what to say. He still wasn't angry with Jack, and he couldn't have told you if the apology made things better or worse. He didn't have the power to offer a cosmic entity absolution and didn't think Jack needed or wanted it anyway. He ignored the tears he could no longer stop.
When they had dried, Sam decided he wanted to offer some absolution after all. "You know, Jack, you're better at this than Chuck ever was, because you have compassion. You know that, right?"
Jack looked thoughtful. "Well, he never had any parents."
Sam blinked, touched yet again. He cast his mind for something else to say. The conversation had been hard, but he wasn't quite ready for it to end. He had missed Jack. "Does Cas still wear a trench coat?"
Jack's smile was pure joy. "He does. He gets a lot of pleasure from healing people, and whenever he comes to Earth, he always looks the same even though he doesn't need a vessel any longer." Jack canted his head to the side in a gesture that tugged at Sam's heartstrings with its familiarity. "I thought he would come visit you, but he felt it would be painful for you."
"Maybe. But whenever it happens, it will be good to see him again." And they both knew Sam wasn't thinking only of his friend.
This silence was full, but not heavy. Finally, Jack stood, and Sam gave him another long hug. "By the way, Jack, why did you stop time just for us to talk?" asked Sam, looking at the sky that still held only a hint of dawn.
"I didn't want to take away any of your time with your son." Jack smiled one more time, lifted a hand in farewell, and faded away.
And Sam thought, not for the first time, that the universe was in good hands.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
August 8, 2066
One second, Sam was struggling just to breathe, vision darkening and body growing cold and numb. The next, he was standing on a bridge, feelings strong and healthy and whole, and looking at the man he hadn't seen in a lifetime. His breath caught in his throat and he knew the second Dean realized that he was standing there.
Sam finally heard that voice again. "Hey, Sam."
"Dean."
Then they were hugging. Then he was looking into the eyes that had been there for so much of his life. And there was a familiar hand on the back of his neck, and it was better than feeling no more aches and pains and weaknesses.
They stood side by side, the way they were supposed to be and just breathed together, Dean's hand on Sam's back. It was as if he'd never left. They could have stood there for years, for all Sam knew. He didn't feel tired or impatient. There wasn't even a hint of discomfort. No bugs. No fatigue. No distractions. Perfect temperature.
Finally, Dean spoke again. "Tell me about it, Sam. Tell me everything."
"Well, that's specific." Sam laughed, feeling so…light.
"Did you…did you keep hunting?" Dean turned toward him, and he was eager. He wanted to know, but Sam could sense that there would be no wrong answer. Dean just wanted to hear what little brother had been up to. Sam almost laughed again. He was an old man now – though back in a younger man's body – but he was and always would be Dean's little brother.
"Sometimes. But I really spent most of my time teaching, until I retired."
Dean laughed and it was the laugh of the child he'd hardly gotten a chance to be, or a man without burdens. It was beautiful. "Retired. Huh. Where did you teach?"
Sam looked into the horizon, watched a bird swoop and rise. "I split my time between teaching Mysticism and the Arcane at KU and, uh – "
"Professor!" crowed Dean, pride evident in his voice. "I knew there was a reason we called you that when you were a kid!"
Sam soaked it in. "Yeah, and on the off semesters, I taught hunters at the John and Mary Winchester Hunters' Institute." Oh, how he cherished the way Dean's mouth fell open. "Our, uh, proprietor really likes naming things. She kept trying to name stuff after us, which is just weird. The library is now the Henry Winchester Library." Sam rolled his eyes, exactly as he had when others had insisted on the name. "It's not as grand as it all sounds – "
"But you taught hunters?" Dean was undeterred in his enthusiasm. He was drinking in Sam's words like a man dying of thirst.
"Not just me. Let me back up. So there are three parts to the whole thing. It's all in the bunker. We put all the dangerous stuff in Magnus' place." Sam paused, knowing he was rambling, but having so much to catch Dean up on. "There's the library, which Bobby – the other Bobby – ran for a long time. There's always a couple guys available to answer calls, provide cover if you go in as a fed, and give advice or do some research. They're also there to send help if someone's in trouble. Then there's the institute, where we offer classes on fighting techniques and lore, and lots of things, especially for hunters who are just getting started."
Dean's eyes were shining – shining and Sam felt settled in a way he hadn't since he'd had to say goodbye. "What's the last part, Sammy?"
"There are places for people to stay. Injured or burned out hunters. We have a doctor and three nurses who work there. Or people whose lives were disrupted by the supernatural. Like, if someone was possessed and has to hide from the law, and needs a new identity, they can stay there and we'll help them through it. Or if they have injuries they can't explain, for example, or lost their home."
"That's amazing."
Sam breathed in his brother's praise. "We named that for Maggie."
Dean's eyes were so understanding. He'd always understood Sam in a way nobody else ever did. "Who is this proprietor?"
Sam chuckled. "Mrs. Butters. She got lonesome in the woods! She loves mothering injured and traumatized people, especially the kids."
They talked about the institute for a long time, and the way it connected hunters, offering support without trying to force rules or strict structure on hunters. Sam knew that it had always been Dean's wish that hunters didn't have to be so isolated, and he reveled in getting the chance to reveal how he and others had worked to make it a reality.
Dean laughed when he learned that the funding came from alternate world Charlie uncovering and liberating a big bank account from the British Men of Letters – and then learning day trading from Linda Tran. He loved hearing about Garth's youngest – Garth Fitzgerald V – who was just as quirky as his father, but played a key role in convincing loners to take advantage of what the institute had to offer.
"What about you, then?" Dean asked, and Sam could tell that this was what Dean really wanted to know. "Do you have a family?" Sam had already admitted that he'd moved out of the bunker.
In answer, Sam pulled a beloved picture out of his wallet. "You and Eileen, huh?" Dean grinned at the wedding picture. "So she never figured out she could do better, huh?"
"Guess not. We were married for almost 33 years." Sam got lost in recollection for a moment. "Nine years ago, she was running errands when she was attacked by a werewolf. We think it probably recognized her. Anyway, she killed it. She was 72 years old, and had nothing on her but a butterfly knife, and she killed it, but she was badly injured and she never recovered."
"I'm sorry. But…badass," said Dean, striking exactly the right balance. Because even mourning was muted here. After all, Sam knew he'd find Eileen soon. He pulled out the next picture, one that was 35 years old, but was probably his favorite family picture.
"This is…well, I call him DJ."
Dean stared at the little family of three for so long, Sam almost missed the lightest sheen of tears in his big brother's eyes.
"His name's actually Dean Robert Winchester. I called him DJ for Dean Junior when he was a baby and it was, uh, hard to, uh…" Sam trailed off. It had been too hard to even say the name Dean for literally years. Dean didn't press, just gave a laugh that was equal parts disbelief and joy. It was a glimpse of just how badly he'd wanted this for Sam, a family, a traditional home. "And this will blow your mind." He handed Dean another family picture, one that showed DJ with his wife, two dark-haired boys of around 14 and 11, and a blonde girl of about 8 with freckles across her nose.
"These are my grandkids. Jonathan, Patrick, and Ellie. She," he tapped the girl, "is either going to rule the world or become a world-class criminal." He couldn't stop a slightly rueful smirk. "She isn't afraid of anything, and gives her very protective big brothers absolute fits." Dean couldn't seem to stop staring at the picture, like he didn't quite believe it was real. Sam took the chance to just look at Dean, watch the play of emotions across his face, more open than he'd been for many years.
"Dean – " And shit just saying the name made Sam's throat clog. He looked into understanding eyes until he regained his composure. His emotions were all over the place. Sam laughed. "You know, you're a lot more patient since you d-died."
Dean ignored the hitch in Sam's voice and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not in the habit of picking on old guys, gramps."
"I take it back. You're just as immature as you were before you kicked it. I didn't miss you." Sam glibly lied, far more comfortable with the banter than with the heavier emotions.
"Oh, sure. That's why you gave my name to your only child." Dean's eye roll was epic.
Sam rolled his eyes right back and kept lying through his teeth. "Eileen insisted. Honestly? I pretty much forgot about you. Sold your car for parts."
Dean's eyes widened comically. "I'll kill you for that." He sighed. "Dammit. You're already dead, aren't you?"
Sam tried to glare and smiled instead, and suddenly they were both grinning like idiots, then laughing until there were tears running down their faces. Was it really that funny? Probably not. But everything was richer here, joy and amusement were stronger. And it had been so long since they had laughed together.
When he could finally talk again, Dean asked. "Is DJ a hunter?"
"No. I mean, he helps out sometimes, and he's trained. He's brilliant – could have done anything he wanted. Actually was pre-med and considered becoming a doctor. And what does he pick for a job?" Sam's lips pinched and he suddenly looked very paternal. "He's a race car driver. A race car driver! I blame Eileen for giving him the thrill-seeker gene." He pulled out one more picture, DJ standing in front of a funny car with his family, Ellie on his shoulder. Sam shook his head but couldn't hide his pride completely. "He's a genius with engines."
"No kidding." Dean took the picture with the same reverence he'd once showed his favorite machete. "How about that. Wish I could meet the kid."
Sam snorted. "That kid is forty years old. But, yeah, he's a good man. And he knows all of your embarrassing stories."
"Well, whenever he gets here, I'm tellin' him that you sucked your thumb until you were 6. And about how you hit on a sixty-year-old nurse when you had a concussion. And you were like 23 at the time. Oh, and I'll tell him – "
"And if that's not embarrassing enough, you'll start making stuff up." Sam shook his head, still unable to stop smiling.
"Don't have to. You managed to do plenty of embarrassing shit." Dean rubbed a thumb over wedding picture he was still holding. Despite the teasing, his eyes were soft and Sam thought his brother looked so very young without guilt and worry and the weight that he'd carried practically his entire life. Dean seemed to shake himself. "I wonder if they have burgers in this place."
"You don't know? You're the one who's been here for 46 years, genius."
"I've been…driving."
"That's it? Driving?" Sam struggled to keep his amusement off his face, simply enjoying the verbal sparring that he'd missed for so long.
"Shut it. Time's different here. I'm going to find me a burger. Wanna take a ride, bitch?"
Time was different here; Sam could feel it. There was no hurry, no urgency. They'd get a chance to see Eileen, and Bobby, Cas, Mom and Dad, and so many others. But for now, he and Dean were going to drive around heaven and look for a burger. "I thought you'd never ask, jerk."
Without either of them doing anything to cause it, music began to play. Sam caught on to the song, and looked over at Dean, laughter on his lips. Dean looked back, laughing too. And everything was right as Axl Rose sang: knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door.
The quote about dawn is from Robert Loveman. If you haven't heard of him, you should really read It's Raining Violets and A Diamond.