AN: As soon as I posted the note about my mom after the last chapter, I immediately second guessed myself. After all, people come here for entertainment, not personal drama. But I have to admit, the comments surprised me and, yes, made me cry – in a good way! I didn't tell my story for pity, but the kindness is so appreciated. MUAH! I love you all.

I'm posting this chapter and the epilogue at the same time, because I wrote it all together but decided it has a natural break. This story got much longer than I originally thought (what else is new?), and I'm grateful for those of you who stuck it out with me. Also, there are a lot of comments that I'm replying to, so please be patient with me.

Kathy: Yay! I'm glad you're reading! You always have such nice things to say, and so specific too. Sorry you don't get updates right away, but I can see a bunch of reviews from you. Thank you.

Secretwrittenword: Ooh, I'm so glad you like the interactions between the boys. That's the heart of it all, isn't it? I recently read something where Jim Beaver talked about how surprised he was when a fan first told him that they'd watch the show even without a single monster, and how he's come to understand that it's the characters and their interactions that fans love. So true! And thanks for your words about my mom. It was hard to watch her slip away, but it was also a study in courage that I'll never forget.

Lena: Oops, bad me! Now, you're assuming Sisyphus ends sad…but how often do I do that, really? *grin* I am sorry that reading about my mom made you sad; that wasn't my intent. And you have said kind and caring things about her before (I think I mentioned her on the anniversary of her death – July 4). I so appreciate it. I know absolutely nothing about anime but would love to read your story nonetheless if you wouldn't mind giving me the details. And I know I owe you an email…coming soon. OH, and there's a total shout-out to you in this chapter, based on something really smart you wrote to me on a different story one time.

BitterSweetJoy: You made me blush and tear up too! You are too kind about my writing. And you should have heard my mom's vocab. My three sisters and I used to try to find words she didn't know (and my sisters are no dummies). I do love writing and it means so much that you and others find some enjoyment in what I do. Your meme reminds me of a quote by George R. R. Martin: A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. A man who never reads lives only one. And you don't need to comment a lot to be a good reader; as much as I enjoy comments, I get it!

Bkworm4life4: So so so glad you're reading! And thank you for your comment!

sylvia37: I'm so sorry about your fil. I think his journey was much more typical than my mom's. And yeah, what did Charlie say? Together the Winchesters can do anything, right?

Stormy: Yes, yes, yes! The boys' bond and its depth and resilience are what it's all about. I like action and humor, but that's window dressing compared to the love and connection between Sam and Dean. I do like to think that love is eternal, or at very least, has an eternal impact. Thanks for your words about my mom. She was truly extraordinary! And I'm glad you find the Cro-magnon comment is funny…funny is very hard to write.

sfaulkenberry: Thank you again for very nice comments! I'm flattered and humbled by your "like always" aside. Don't you just love the boys' connection? It's just the heart of everything.

The rest of the day went very much like the morning. It was a bit like watching Sam grow up again, sped up a thousand times. Or like watching him piece his life together. Dean didn't even get frustrated with all of the questions, so glad he could do something to help. Sam got frustrated a few times, when he couldn't think of a word he wanted, or couldn't find something. He was completely lost inside the bunker, but of all the things to lose, Dean thought that was a very small one.

Some things were surprisingly difficult to explain. When Sam asked: "Dean, did people, did people pretend to be us? Girls? In a car made of…cardboard?" Dean ended up talking for almost an hour. Because before he could even get into the musical, he had to talk about Chuck and prophets and Chuck's books, which led to questions about Becky that Sam quickly decided he didn't want answered.

Sam's reactions were still stilted and his questions careful. Dean didn't make fun of him once all day, for which he thought he should probably get an award. But he was feeling hopeful…so hopeful that his inner pessimist couldn't stop saying something was bound to go wrong. He ignored all the what-ifs it brought up.

When Sam was getting tired, he suddenly started spouting Enochian, which had a not panicked, just a little…concerned, I swear Dean running for Cas. But it turned out Sam was just talking through what he remembered about angels. Honestly, he remembered more angels' names than Dean ever would have. ("We never met an angel named Inias," Dean argued while Cas translated. "Yes we did," Sam had responded immediately. "Meg killed his commander and Cas killed a pig to make sandwiches." This response caused both Dean and Cas to stare at Sam, but the latter looked just as surprised as the other two at the strength of the memory and complexity of his answer.)

While it wasn't a straight line, they were still moving in the right direction. So when Sam kicked Dean out of his room, Dean didn't protest too much. He did sneak back and open the door once he was sure Sam was asleep, leaving his own open as well so he could hear any signs of distress during the night.

But it wasn't Sam who woke Dean in the wee hours of the morning. It was a worried Cas. "Dean, there is something outside."

In three minutes flat, Dean was out of bed and had pulled on his jeans and boots. He jogged to the war room and quickly got Sam's laptop going. About a year earlier, Sam had finally gotten cameras mounted by the bunker entrances. Dean embraced paranoia as much as the next nutcase, but he hadn't ever appreciated the cameras until now. Luckily, Sam had set things up so it took all of two clicks to call up the cameras. The ones by the tunnel exit showed nothing, but outside the main door, there was a scene that brought Dean's hackles right up.

Maybe ten people stood arrayed outside the door, all facing it, all standing eerily still. Despite the darkness, Dean could see that they were all similar in appearance: all tall and slender, with dark hair and sharp features. All very similar to Robin. And the ground around them was black with crows.

"Murder most fowl," said Dean. He was proud enough of that comment that he resolved to repeat it to Sam some day. "I have a few guesses about why they're on our doorstep."

Cas grimly palmed his angel blade, but Dean held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Zorro. Doesn't look like they can get in. Besides, there are too many of 'em. And we aren't totally sure they even want to fight." And you don't look like you could take down an angry housefly right now he wanted to add but didn't. "Listen, I'm going to go talk to them."

"Dean – "

"I'll stay in the doorway, see what they have to say. It'll be fine. Based on your little fairy tale from earlier, I'm guessing that they're not fans of angels."

"The spawn of the Morrigan despise angels."

Dean shook his head. "You stay out of sight. I'll be fine." He checked that his gun was loaded, stuck an extra magazine in his pocket and hung a machete from his belt. With a nod to himself, Dean walked up the stairs and opened the door, ignoring Cas' continued protests.

"Hello, there. You're Robin's – " he almost said brothers, but they were quite androgynous in appearance, so he amended it on the fly. " – siblings, I assume."

"We are," said the one closest. Dean would have judged the voice as female, though the demigod stood as tall as he did. "Did you kill him?"

Dean pondered that for all of half a second. "Yes." He heard, and ignored, quiet footsteps coming up the stairs to his left. "But understand, Robin stalked us, watched us, then took something of mine. He took my brother, and put a fatal whammy on my him. Killing him was perfectly justified." See, I can do the lawyer thing, too.

There was complete silence for a few moments. Even the birds didn't move. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up, but he didn't say anything, though the hand holding the gun might have twitched a few times. Finally, the spokesperson (spokesmonster?) looked back at him. "Your reasoning is acceptable. The House of Morrigan will not seek retribution. We would like to take his body."

"I…burned his body. I'm sorry." Dean was surprised to find that he was sorry. He didn't regret taking the creature's head, not one iota. But he felt for the family left behind, even if they were a family of half-bird freaks.

"That is what we would have done as well." The lead…thing…inclined her head, then in a flurry of feathers, all of the humanoids transformed into birds, and they and all the true crows flew off. Within three minutes, the clearing was empty.

Dean took a deep breath, holstered his gun, and closed the door. Then he turned to see what he'd instinctively known was there. Sam stood, with stocking feet and a serious case of bedhead, tucking his gun away. He'd waited, as he always did, ready to cover Dean's back, but trusting Dean to make the right call. Sam noticed Dean looking at him as they made their way back down the steps.

"Something of yours, huh?"

There it was. The quiet understanding. The hint of humor to keep the moment from becoming too "chick flick-y." Supporting Dean in a hundred different way, content to trust his older brother, to both rely on Dean and be ready, willing, and able to defend him. Sam.

"Hell yeah, something of mine." Dean didn't back down from his statement. "I put a lot of time into training you. You don't just give up an investment like that."

Sam just flipped him off and went back to bed, but it felt big somehow. Like a big piece of the puzzle had clicked back into place.