Chapter 16

A/N: I'm back! And I've returned triumphant: the first draft of my first original novel is FINISHED! So while I'm editing away at that, I've come back to y'all with a new chapter, in March, as promised! Enjoy, and don't forget to review—I'm always ALWAYS interested in your thoughts and opinions!

As always, cheers to the SPNsters, particularly Nova42 and Chrissie0707, for their constant support and ass-kickery! It's so much more fun to fan with other people, and these girls make my fandom experience incredible.

The black '67 Impala kicked up gravel as it sped into Singer's Salvage Yard, but any alarm such an entrance may have caused was quickly assuaged when the occupants' faces came into view. There were three of them, two guys and a young woman, and they were all smiling. As the sleek black beast of a car slid into her usual parking spot, the driver's whoop of exhilaration could be heard from the porch of Bobby Singer's house. The older man grinned under his tattered trucker's cap and waved. Sam, dimples on full display as he laughed at something Kate had said, opened the door and waved back enthusiastically.

"Hey, Bobby!" he called. His siblings echoed the greeting as all three got out of the car, and their surrogate uncle returned it. Sam let himself be folded into a rough hug when he reached the porch and then saw himself inside. Bobby had greeted Dean and was giving Kate a longer-than-usual hug, and he wasn't about to get in the way.

Dad came down the stairs as he entered the house, and Sam found himself smiling again as he embraced his father. He hadn't seen the man in weeks, as John had opted out of what Dean fondly referred to as their "Victory Tour"—twenty of their favorite spots, coast to coast, in thirty days—and he was surprised to realize he'd missed him. Dad seemed to be of the same mind, squeezing him tight and muttering a gruff, "good to see you, son" in his ear.

Eventually, they all moved their whole happy party into the living room, and Bobby disappeared to get beers. Kate and Dean were on the couch, Dad in the chair, and Sam leaned against the wall contentedly—he'd been sitting far too much the last few days as they made their final run into South Dakota, and his legs were sore. He nodded his thanks as Bobby nudged his shoulder with a cold bottle and took it gratefully.

"How was it?" Dad was asking, obviously referring to their first-ever truly-relaxing road trip. Kate and Dean gave him the exact same grin, and Sam rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where this was going.

"It was awesome, Dad," Dean answered smoothly. "We hit up Rosie's Diner in Tallahassee, that park near the house we rented outside of Denver, Sam mooned everyone in Hocking Hills, and then we drove Route 66 all the way from Chicago to LA."

Dad was laughing by the end, eyeing Sam across the room. "Had a bit too much to drink that night, son?"

Sam made a mocking bitch-face in return. "No, I was painfully sober, thanks to my delightful siblings."

"Skinny dipping in an Ohio lake to see who could last longest was your idea, Sammy," Kate was all wide blue eyes and innocence. "And it was your belated birthday celebration, we just had to go along with it."

"I suppose you had to give in first and second just so you could make off with my clothes, too?" Sam asked. He wasn't even mad, it had been funny as hell; but he wasn't about to let his siblings know it. Dad and Bobby were both snickering, so he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, hilarious, shut up."

Dad guffawed, and now Dean was laughing—again—though Kate just favored him with a truly evil grin. Sam felt something in the vicinity of his chest clench, watching them all.

This was perfect, or the closest he ever expected to come to it. He let himself smile.

Once everyone had regained their composure, Dean spoke up again. "But we got work to do; so it was fun and all, but we're here to get back to the grind." Dad and Bobby both nodded, unsurprised.

"You kids thought about what you wanna do with yourselves?" Bobby asked, gaze bouncing between the three of them. Dad appeared to be content just listening, shockingly.

Sam blinked, though, surprised by the question. "Hunting, of course," he said. Kate nodded, though Dean kept his eyes on Sam. He understood his brother's confusion; after all, Sam had been the one always so eager to get away from the Family Business, to go off and do his own thing, to have his own life.

But with what he knew now? Angels and demons and his family somehow thrust into the middle of it all…it seemed important to stay, at least for now. He could always go back later, once Kate was safe and his family disentangled from what apparently amounted to a preternatural war.

"Actually, I was thinking you may want to go back to school." Sam's jaw dropped in shock as the words left his father's mouth. Both Dean and Kate stared at Dad too, who grinned a little in response to their reactions. "What? I'm not completely oblivious to the fact that you guys are actual human beings in addition to hunters. You've got hopes and dreams, just as you should, and you should be able to pursue them."

"Christo," Dean said, looking at Dad with only-slightly-exaggerated suspicion. Their father's smile turned sad.

"It's really me." Then he looked back at Sam. "Your entire life, son, I've been trying to protect you from Yellow Eyes. I didn't know exactly what he wanted, but I knew it could only be sheer evil; and the only way I knew to keep you safe was to keep you close." Sam felt a hitch in his chest that he identified as sorrow. "When you left, it was the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced. You, out there on your own, smart and strong and completely unaware of the danger…but if I'd told you, it would've made everything worse." Dad's voice wavered. "I've only ever wanted you safe and happy. And if I had to choose between the two, I'd want you safe even at the expense of your happiness. I won't apologize for that."

Complete silence reigned. Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing; it was everything he'd ever hoped for. Dad got hold of himself after a moment, and continued. "But now Yellow Eyes is dead. Your mother is avenged, and more than that, you're no longer vulnerable to his machinations. Sammy, you're safe now." Then Dad smiled again, and this one was all joy. "And you're whip-smart. So go to school, get your degree, and become whatever you want. I think you—and your brother and sister—are owed a little happiness at this point."

Sam stood there for a minute, trying to absorb. Dad's blessing to go back to Stanford? He wanted to go, obviously, but he'd expected to have to fight for it. Though he had promised himself he would not lose his temper or say such things as he had the first time—he was much older now, and, he hoped, wiser—he had known it would be a struggle to convince Dad he needed to go.

And he did need to go. Hunting was all well and good, and now that he was back in it, he had truly lost the disdain he once held for the profession; but it was also not the best use of his talents. Sam was a scholar at heart, and he knew it. Knowledge and its many uses meant more to him than brute force—and he knew there was a place for both in their lives.

"Stanford does have one of the most extensive libraries in the country," Kate was saying, like she knew exactly where his head was at. "A library chock full of ancient lore and rare texts. You'd have access to things there you wouldn't otherwise have." Now she was appealing to the promise he'd given her, to find ways to ward against angel attacks. He'd had no luck online or in the few books they actually carried in the Impala, but he'd intended to have a peek at some of Bobby's texts while they were here. It dawned on him, suddenly, that Kate had a point. Dad was nodding, Dean was watching Sam closely.

"Is it what you want, Sammy?" his older brother asked. Sam looked at him—only at him—and nodded. He was relieved to see the flicker of pride in Dean's eyes, just before his brother cracked a smile, finally. "Well then, go, man. You do you."

Sam blinked hard—he wasn't getting teary, that'd be ridiculous—as it hit him just how badly he'd needed Dean's approval. More than even Dad's, he knew, for he'd have gone back to Stanford with or without Dad's blessing and it'd have hardly bothered him. But Dean…he wanted Dean to understand, needed him to know he wasn't abandoning them, wanted more than anything for the man who practically raised him to bless his chosen path in life. He forced a shaky grin and nodded.

"Okay."

The next few days at Bobby's were a flurry of activity. Sam spent a lot of time on the phone with Stanford Admissions, exploring his options for going back. Kate read everything Bobby had—which wasn't much—on angels and how to avoid them. It was depressing how little information there was, though Kate didn't say as much to her brothers. Dean worked on the car when he wasn't sharpening knives and making salt rounds, going through all the familiar motions of getting ready to hit the road again.

The third night, they sat around the den reading; well, everyone but Dean and Dad was reading. They two were talking quietly at the kitchen table, heads bent close over Dad's journal. Kate quirked a smile at the sight and went back to her book, a massive ancient tome that Bobby had just grinned when she'd asked how he'd gotten hold of. Blinking to clear her achy eyes, she tried to concentrate.

That was when a soft noise from across the room drew her attention. Meg Masters was standing in the doorway, dressed to leave, new clothes, a tough jacket, and backpack slung over one shoulder. It was the first Kate had seen of the woman since the day she'd been un-demoned and nearly killed, so she took the opportunity to study Meg for just a moment.

As a demon, Meg—well, Kasadya, really—had been all swagger and lithe confidence, like a snake. She'd carried herself with an easy impudence, radiating self-possession wherever she went. It was an attractive trait, and she'd known how to use that too, deadly flirtatiousness always present in her delicate smirking mouth and fluttering eyelashes. Human Meg couldn't have been more different if she tried. She stood ramrod-straight, tension in every line of her body. There was a strange jerkiness to the nod she gave Bobby, as though she'd forgotten how to do it. Her wide hazel eyes were a storm of emotion visible even halfway across the room—fear, grief, horror, determination—and though her features were considerably softer than before, her mouth was turned down and her jaw a rigid line of stubbornness.

Kate knew that look. Meg Masters was about to do something incredibly stupid.

"The demon—" the young woman began, stumbling a bit over the word. Everyone looked up, including Dad and Dean, and Meg ducked her head for a moment before looking back up and staring Dad down. It occurred to Kate that Meg may be one of those not-so-rare individuals who was both insanely stubborn and shy all at once. "Kasadya," Meg continued, her voice stronger now. "She said you were the best hunter out there."

Kate looked to Dad, who was staring at the girl before him as though he'd never seen anything quite like her before. Perhaps he hadn't. When Meg didn't go on, he seemed to realize she was waiting for a response.

"I'm good," Dad said, shrugging one shoulder. It was a humble brush-off, one of Dean's favorite gestures when someone started complimenting or thanking him.

That answer seemed to satisfy Meg though. She nodded once. "Train me then."

Kate stared. That, of all the expected requests or questions, was the last one she would have seen coming. Hadn't the girl had quite enough of the supernatural at this point?

Dad, however, didn't seem surprised at all. He didn't miss a beat before he looked back down at his journal. "No," was his answer.

"Please."

"No," Dad said again.

Meg grit her teeth. "Why not?"

Dad looked back up at her, his face carefully blank. "You're a civilian."

"So were you," Meg pointed out. She looked around the room, to Dean, Sam, finally to Kate. "So were they."

Dad's eyes flashed. "I was a Marine. They were raised into this. You have been neither, Ms. Masters. For the last time, no." It was one of those final 'no's, the dangerous kind that meant you should stop asking right the hell now.

Meg didn't know Dad well enough to know that; but she evidently heard it in his tone. "Then I hope you can live with your conscience," she said, and crossed to the other side of the room, backpack in hand. She placed some folded bills on Bobby's desk. "As we agreed," Kate heard her say quietly. "Is the Passat ready?"

Bobby nodded. "She is. But you're not."

"He's not going to do it," Meg said. She didn't sound angry or sad, just factual. "And I need to be out there. I'll learn on my own, like he and everyone else did."

"Wait," Dean blurted, standing. "You're just going to…go? Hunt? Just like that?" Kate sat up a little straighter, ready to run interference if she had to; like Dean, and clearly Bobby, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of the girl just running off on her own. Hunters learned that way, true, but they also died that way.

"Apparently I have no choice."

Kate turned an imploring gaze to her father, who was staring intently at the blonde poised in the doorway. If she'd been trying to get his attention, she clearly had it now. Kate wondered if that was as good a thing as Meg was hoping for.

"You can't do that," Dad said, and his voice was deadly quiet, with that unquestionable authority of his. Meg's eyes narrowed.

"I can, and I will," she retorted. "You play host to a fucking demon for an entire year and then tell me you don't want to do something about it. I saw enough in that…thing's…mind to know there are legions more, just like her. Them, and other things too; monsters and ghosts and spirits, all threats to regular, normal people like I used to be." Meg took a couple of steps closer, clearly letting loose everything that had been on her mind, probably for the entire month she'd been recovering at Bobby's. "I have a baby sister, did you know that? Four years younger than me, sweetest thing you ever saw; and all I can think about is what if it had been her? What if later, it is her? What if a demon gets hold of her, or a ghost, or a vampire? What if it's someone else's sister, daughter, or friend?" Wide hazel eyes sparkled with furious unshed tears. "I won't let it happen. I'm going to get out there and kill as many of those bastards as I can. When they hear the name Meg Masters, every single one of those sons of bitches is gonna shake in their boots."

No one said a word for at least fifteen agonizing seconds. Meg was breathing like she'd just run a mile, though she refused to let go of Dad's gaze. John stared right back, searching for something in her face. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because he broke the silence with a sigh.

"All right then," he conceded. "I'll train you. But you do exactly as I say when I say to do it, or deal's off, hear?"

Dean finished prepping Baby for the road the next morning. The day was just warming, the air stuffy enough already to be oppressive, and he was on a mission. He had business to do with his sister, and though he knew Kate would laugh at him for being so formal, he also knew she would appreciate it. Just because he wasn't much for verbal declarations of…well, anything…didn't mean he wouldn't leave his comfort zone for the sake of one of his siblings.

You know, once in a while.

He saw his sister on the porch, drinking coffee. Her blonde hair was mussed and there were dark smudges under her eyes—a night poorly spent, he guessed. It made something warm and soft bloom in his chest, and he threw an arm over her shoulder when he joined her on the deck, tucking her into his side. Kate grunted a greeting—even morning people weren't chatty after a bad night, apparently—and he tried not to be too mother hennish when he asked, "Didn't sleep?"

She didn't answer at first, for so long that he wondered if she'd heard him. Then she sighed and leaned almost imperceptibly into him. "That angel showed up in my head again," she confessed quietly. "He's…very tenacious."

Dean took half a second to wonder at her—he knew if he'd been mentally accosted by a supernatural being all night, he wouldn't be using words like tenacious before he'd even finished his coffee—then scowled. "Son of a bitch is lucky he doesn't have a physical form. I'd beat him right out of it." Kate snorted a half-hearted laugh, which made Dean grin. "What? I would."

"If anyone could, it'd be you, big brother."

They lapsed into silence for a minute, watching the waves of heat dance across the not-so-distant horizon, until Dean squeezed Kate's shoulder. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

She squinted up at him. "Oh yeah?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Kate, will you be my hunting partner?"

She blinked for a second, then genuine amusement registered on her face; though he caught the flash of gratitude, quickly hidden. She laughed out loud and shoved against his side playfully.

"I don't know, let me think about it," she answered, then sipped her coffee, looking off into the distance as if pondering one of life's great mysteries. "I think…yes. I will accept that offer."

He couldn't help it; he laughed too, glad he'd decided to ask her outright instead of just letting the matter be unspoken—which it would have been. She would have come with him regardless. But tacit, silent assumption was different than what they'd just done; this verbal agreement was much more than a request for a hunting partner, and they both knew it. He was promising to have her back, and she his, to fight the monsters together and on equal footing. What was more, in his mind, this was a silent oath to protect her from whatever Heaven and Hell had planned—angels or demons and everything else be damned.

They'd saved Sammy from Azazel. Now it was time to free Kate too.

They were still laughing when Dad came out of the house a moment later, hunting bag slung over one shoulder. He saw them and nodded. "Was hoping to find you two."

"Are you leaving, Dad?" Dean asked. He wasn't surprised; the man had been itching to get a move on since they arrived, it was obvious. Dad nodded.

"Meg coming with you?"

"Sure is," Dad answered. "I don't expect that will last long, though. This is a tougher life than she's used to."

"Not sure it gets much tougher than playing a demon's prom dress for a year," Kate offered, a single eyebrow raised in skepticism. "She might surprise you. At least try to give her an honest chance, yeah?"

Dad nodded. "Speaking of. Since you two will be hunting together—you will be hunting together, right?" They both nodded, smiling. "Thought so. I want you to have this." He handed them a leather-bound book Dean recognized instantly, since he'd been carrying it around for months now.

"But," he protested. "Don't you need this?"

Dad shrugged. "Nah, I know it pretty much cover to cover by now. And anyway, if I need something, I can just call you, right?" Dean couldn't stop the grin spreading over his face—it wasn't much, in the way of fluff, but this was practically a blessing from Dad. The man may as well have laid hands on both their heads and recited old Latin or something. He nodded, noting Kate doing the same beside him. "Good," Dad said. "Kate, I think Sam is wanting you. He was muttering something about sigils a minute ago."

Kate laughed, kissed Dad on the cheek, and went inside. Dad jerked his head toward the truck, motioning Dean to follow as he moved toward the monster of a vehicle. "You keep a lookout for your sister," Dad said, and Dean took an odd comfort in the familiarity of the order.

"Of course."

"No, Dean," Dad tossed the bag in the back seat and turned to face his eldest. He fixed Dean with a hard stare. "I mean it. You take care of her. Got it?"

Dad knew something was up. They'd carefully glossed over details of what was going on with Kate—her idea, not his, he'd voted to enlist their help—but apparently it didn't much matter. Dad knew something was going on, and Dean was glad. If Dad's hackles were up, then he knew it was bad; and that meant they'd have both Sammy and Dad on the case to try and figure this thing out. All Dean had to do was keep her safe.

And he'd been doing that all his life.

He returned his father's hard stare, willing the man to hear the absolute resolve in what he wasn't saying.

"Always."