I have not published here in years. But that end … this is a coda to the series finale. It turned out longer than I expected, so I've split it into two parts.
This is what happened to Sam, before he reunited with Dean. There's some language. This is the episode we should have had – damn Covid-19.
Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you ...
- Kerry Livgren, Kansas
Part One
"Dean. It's okay. You can go now."
And Sam leaned his forehead against his big brother's and felt Dean leave him.
He burned the body, just him and Miracle, and he stood there long after the flames had faded to ruby red embers. That first night, he wandered around the bunker, rudderless, finally falling into an exhausted sleep on the research table, next to his brother's initials.
Somehow, life went on, and so did Sam. He set an alarm and got up, went for a daily run, showered, made breakfast, kept an eye open for cases. He tried to have some sort of routine because he knew if he didn't, the despair would swallow him whole.
On Day 12, he finally wandered into Dean's room. That was the only reason he heard the phone buzz from the desk drawer.
I know this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm down in Austin and we've had a few bodies turn up, minus their hearts. A friend of mine, Donna Hanscum, she said you were the guy to call.
Purpose. Saving people, hunting things, it's what we do. The call came on Dean's phone, in Dean's room – was it a sign? Was it … a direction? Sam didn't know what else to do, so he stammered, "I'm on my way."
He hung up and walked to the doorway, pausing to look around the room one last time. The empty beer bottles, the half-made bed, the flannel shirt tossed into the corner. He closed his eyes and thought, I miss you so fucking much, jerk before closing the door firmly behind him.
Sam was almost to Wichita when Donna texted him. "Hey, heads' up," said Siri's robotic voice. "I gave Agent Bon Jovi's number to an old friend, Sheriff Hazard, down in Austin. I think he has a skinwalker. I thought you boys could help him out."
He grunted, a sound halfway between a snort and a sob. Boys. Plural. He'd been plural all of his life … until twelve days ago.
He hadn't told Donna about Dean. He hadn't told anyone – not even Eileen, whom he was more than halfway in love with, and whose modest house was only 20 minutes from the bunker. He couldn't give it voice.
The skinwalker led to a wraith just outside of Phoenix, and that led to a ghoul in the Carson National Forest. Sam was methodical, as always, and more careful than ever, since he was hunting alone. At the end of the day, he believed he was honoring his brother's legacy, and he was grateful that Miracle kept him from feeling completely alone.
On Day 33, Sam found himself headed back to Lebanon, and in the heart of downtown, he went west toward Eileen's instead of north toward the bunker. Miracle's ears perked up and he looked around, as if realizing they were going the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, buddy," Sam said. "I just can't."
Eileen was on the porch when the Impala pulled into the yard. A warm smile broke over her face and she stood up and waved. Miracle jumped out of the car and bolted for her, and she laughed as the dog wagged his tail enthusiastically.
"Hello, hello, who are you?" she crooned at him, scratching his ears. She looked up at Sam, delighted.
"Miracle," Sam said, finger-spelling the dog's name, "meet Eileen. Eileen, this is Miracle."
"Aww, what a good boy, are you a good boy?" Eileen looked past Sam to see the Impala was empty. "Where's Dean? Did you trade him for the dog?"
Shit.
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "He's … he's gone."
Eileen's brow furrowed. "Gone? Gone where?"
He looked at her helplessly, his eyes flooding, and found he couldn't say it. Instead, he held out his hands, right palm up, left palm down, and then reversed them. Dead.
"Sam … oh, Sam." She was at his side instantly, tears already standing in her eyes. "Oh, no. What happened?"
"Vampire nest – and a spike, and …" Sam bowed his head and sank to his knees. His tears made little wet spots on his thighs.
"Everyone's gone, Eileen," he choked. He barely felt her gentle touch as she turned his face toward her, to better read his lips. "My parents. Bobby. Cas. Ellen and Jo. Rufus, Maggie, Jess … and Rowena, and Ash, and Adam, who didn't have a fucking chance, Charlie and Kevin, and now Dean …"
His brother's name made him sob, and it took almost five minutes for him to regain control. Eileen hugged him tightly, and when Sam was able to look at her again, she signed as she whispered, "Not me, Sam. I'm right here."
Eileen guided Sam into the house, gave him a bottle of water and a valium, and tucked him into her bed. He woke up ten hours later. He was still tired. Dean was still dead. Eileen slept beside him, the dog curled up at their feet. Sam stared at the ceiling as tears leaked into his ears and thought, This could be my life. And that could be okay.
He rolled onto his side, snuggled into Eileen's shoulder, and slept another six hours, more soundly than he had in a month.
By Day 62, they had stopped pretending that Sam was ever going back to the bunker. Miracle claimed Eileen as his human, and followed her around like a furry shadow. "Traitorous beast," Sam said to him one day, and Miracle looked so wounded at the rebuke that Sam burst out laughing. The sound startled him.
"I'm glad to hear you laugh," Eileen smiled.
"I think I am, too," Sam replied. He took a deep breath. "I've been thinking. I need to finally make those phone calls. About Dean."
"Um … I did that," Eileen said. When Sam looked at her blankly, she continued, "The first week you were here. I hope … I hope you're not upset. But there were people who needed to know, and you didn't seem like you were up to it. So I texted them, and used the relay service."
Sam stared at her, flabbergasted.
"I told them you'd be in touch when you were ready. Jody's been texting every few days, checking on you." She peered at him. "Are you mad? I'm sorry if I overstepped."
"I love you," Sam blurted.
Eileen threw up her hands in exasperation, and then, rolling her eyes, signed, "I know that, you dummy. I love you too."
On Day 87, they were married. In a world where deities could snap their fingers and drop you to smoke, and where heroes could be impaled and die in a filthy barn, they knew their future was not guaranteed, and it didn't make sense to wait. They had a small ceremony in the backyard. Garth Fitzgerald took an online course and became a minister for a day to officiate. Donna Hanscum and Jody Mills were the witnesses, and Miracle had the rings tied to his collar. Sam couldn't bear to choose a best man. They celebrated after with a barbecue – steaks, beer, and wedding pie.
On Day 131, they loaded the Impala with empty boxes and drove back to the bunker. Eileen threw away the spoiled food and packed up the nonperishables, and Sam went through the books and supplies. He did a cursory tour of his bedroom, but when he'd left to hunt that skinwalker, he'd taken everything he wanted. When they had finished, there was only one thing left to do.
"I can't do this for you," Eileen said. "But I can do it with you." She took his large hand in his small one, and they walked to Dean's door.
Eileen's nose wrinkled as Sam opened it. "It's stale in here," she remarked. "Old beer and dirty socks."
"Eh, it sometimes smelled like that when he was here," Sam said, a small smile coming to his face. He crossed to the nightstand and picked up a picture – Mary with toddler Dean. "Man, I can't believe I would have left this behind."
Eileen looked over his shoulder and swept her fingers in a circle in front of her face. Beautiful.
"She was," Sam agreed. "I need to get a frame for this." He took a deep, steadying breath, opened the drawer, and began sorting the contents onto Dean's bed. Pictures and hunting notes, save. Chili lime jerky wrappers, trash. Busty Asian Beauties, recycle. It hurt, but it wasn't debilitating. Perhaps he was beginning to heal.
The majority of Dean's clothes went into a bag for donation. Sam saved a couple of flannels, even though they'd never fit him. They left most of the antiquated equipment - the typewriter, the rotary phone, the desk lamps – but they packed up the record player and the vinyl. In the last four months, Sam hadn't been able to listen to any music made before 1990, but maybe that would change. Some of weapons they stored, but they took the weapons hanging on the wall and the blade stashed under the mattress. The top of the desk was mostly candy wrappers and crumpled papers, but Sam added the notebooks to his "save" pile.
Eileen picked up a flask. "You didn't burn this," she said.
Sam shook his head. "Honestly, I didn't think of it – but I don't think I had to. He's not coming back."
His voice caught and he cleared his throat. Eileen nodded solemnly, then went to the small sink to rinse it out. She placed it gently on top of the flannels.
"I think …" Sam cleared his throat and tapped Eileen's shoulder to get her attention. "I think that's it."
"Except for the journal."
"Journal?"
Eileen held up a small, leatherbound book. Sam took it and opened the cover.
Dean – in case you run out of room in John's journal, or have a random deep thought. Unlikely. Thanks for everything. Love, Charlie
The back half of the journal was empty, but the front half held notes, drawings, and an occasional computer printout. There were even a few pages that looked like actual diary entries.
"Deep thoughts by Dean Winchester," Sam marveled. "I'll be damned."
"Sam? Before we go – could you show me where the funeral was? I'd like to pay my respects."
She didn't know it, but Eileen stood in almost the same spot Sam had, and looked somberly at the pile of ashes. Sam stood back as her lips moved silently, and then watched as she took Dean's flask from her pocket and carefully scooped some of the ashes into it.
"I thought, the next time we were up near Lawrence, we could stop at your mom's cemetery," she said. "Dean might like to have some scattered there, with Mary. And we can plant a tree in our yard, and scatter some there, too. So he'll always be with you."
Sam pulled her into his arms. "You're amazing," he said, and though Eileen couldn't hear him, they both knew she understood.
She tipped her head back and gave him a radiant smile. "Let's go home, husband."