A/N: And because I'm sooooo glad my internet's working again and I made you guys wait for two entire days *wink*...

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Part Three: In the Beginning

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Scene Three

~Maine, October 2015~

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It was a warm, sunny, beautiful Indian summer day somewhere in the Maine countryside. The perfect day for a pick-nick or a visit in the park with your family.

Unless, of course, you were part of the Winchester family.

Still, Dean would go as far as admitting to enjoy himself sitting on one of those wooden double benches with a table in the middle, what passed for a newspaper these days in front of him, his trusty Colt 1911 sitting right beside the paper and his brother standing behind him, scanning the gold-stubbled fields and the woods in the distance, leaves ablaze with reds and oranges.

If, you know, he was into this whole share-your-feelings-it's-good-for-you nonsense.

Here in the countryside, the repercussions of the Pulse back in '09 weren't as palpable as in the big cities. Or maybe he should rephrase that and say the repercussions of the Pulse were just as palpable as in the cities but in a completely different way.

There were exceptions, and, of course, there were boarded up storefronts in almost every town when the economy had crashed, but mostly, when it was a farming community, people just tightened their belts a notch and went about their everyday life as usual.

Vegetables were grown in the gardens, life-stock provided milk and meat. Old, nearly forgotten crafts (like spinning your own wool or manufacturing wooden barrels to name just a few) were revived when the modern day equivalent became too expensive or just not practical anymore. Trading goods for services or other goods was a common practice once again.

All in all, at least where this kind of small towns was concerned, it sometimes felt as if they were living in the 1900s. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. At least now Dean knew why Alec had gotten that wide-eyed look sometimes over things that used to be perfectly normal for Dean.

The guilt he felt for being essentially responsible for throwing the whole nation back about a hundred years in its evolution, however, was tempered more often than not by the knowledge that it could have been that much worse if Sam hadn't done what he did. It had taken Dean a while to come to terms with his brother's actions, but he couldn't undo the past and he had to admit that the results couldn't be argued with. At least hunting had gone back to normal. There were the usual uglies; vengeful spirits, wendigos, all those monsters in the closet. But the demons had mostly left them alone for the last six years, Lilith having been thoroughly thwarted in her plans and the seals she had broken back in place once more.

Sure, some patented Winchester techniques such as credit card scams were a thing of the past seeing as most people didn't trust technology with their money anymore. Then again the Winchesters had been able to trade lodgings and food for their special skills and services as supernatural bug busters in several cases already.

Like in the little sleepy town they were staying in at the moment.

Sam had tracked down a chupacabra which was way off its usual feeding grounds, and once the mayor's daughter learned that Dean's small family had been tracking 'this slippery crafty little fucker who likes cows for breakfast and goats for supper,' well...

Granted, the hunters didn't say anything about a mystical creature being responsible for all the dead life-stock but hey! No one said they had to reveal all their secrets to get the job done.

His brother, thirty-one now even if he still looked like the boy from Dean's childhood when he let loose with that smile of his that had the ladies all but role over onto their bellies or smother him with well-meant motherly care depending on the type of woman, still scanned the fields and tree line worriedly.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he asked; not for the first time during the last hour either.

Dean sighed, turning over a crinkled page. "Relax, Sammy. He's gonna be fine."

The reason Sam and Dean were waiting and enjoying the sunshine instead of hunting down the goat-eating bad monster was because Ben, bouncing on his toes and maybe a bit too eager, had all but begged them to let him do this job on his own. His "But you promised, Dean!" still curled Dean's lips up into a fond smile.

It was strange how Ben would say his name and all Dean heard was 'Dad.' Even more astounding was it that Dean didn't mind. He didn't mind at all. In fact, he kind of liked it.

After not nearly enough consideration (according to Sam anyway) and two stern lectures to be careful and not get cocky and 'don't, for God's sake, let humans see you do that shit where you're faster than my eyes can track,' Dean agreed.

"He's only sixteen, Dean! He shouldn't be doing a hunt on his own!"

"He's not on his own. We're right here!" Dean was starting to feel like a broken record as he listed, once again, all the reasons why Ben could take care of himself. "He has the training, he's faster, he's stronger than the both of us put together. He's a genetically enhanced super-soldier, Sammy! Besides, when I was his age –" God, had he really just said that? Dean was feeling old all of a sudden "– I killed my first werewolf with Dad."

Despite Sam standing behind him, Dean could almost see the face his brother made, but Sam refrained from uttering the insult that was undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue. Over the last few years he had mellowed out a lot towards their father. Not the least of which was due to raising a child on the road now himself, Dean imagined.

Sitting down beside Dean, Sam sighed. "I don't see it," he declared out of nowhere.

"See what?" Dean tore his gaze away from the paper to watch his brother inquisitively.

"Alec told us that Ben was psychotic. That he killed humans as sacrifices to some made-up deity."

"The Blue Lady," Dean guessed.

That first year Ben had stayed with them the Mother Mary (or the Blue Lady as Ben still called her now and again) had been the one thing the boy found solace in. Sam had explained about religion and told Ben her story, and now Ben still believed, still prayed sometimes, but it wasn't the unhealthy obsession Alec had made it out to be.

And then, so did Sam. His little brother still prayed, even after everything that had happened, and he wasn't a psychotic serial killer either. Granted, he had teetered on the edge there for quite some time, but after all was said and done, he was still just Sam Winchester, hunter and the little brother Dean would give up (had given up) everything for.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me neither. Maybe it won't happen."

Dean sure hoped so. He could live without the drama of fearing he would have to kill yet another one of his family because they turned dark side.

Sam unwittingly echoed the sentiment no second later. "I sure hope so."

A loud screeching sound, a crash in the underbrush and a familiar voice cussing clamorously disrupted the idyllic silence.

"Stay here, you fucking, goat-eating piece of shit!"

The brothers' heads snapped up and swiveled around towards the noises.

Another loud crash followed and then a dark blurry form barreled out of the underbrush. Another figure gave chase, smaller, but even faster than the first one. When it caught up they went down in a tangle of limbs, ungodly shrieking and a collection of colorful curses that had Dean's eyebrows rise in astonishment and his chest swell with pride.

Sam rose in alarm when all activity stilled, calling out an anxious, "Ben?"

The moments stretched and just as Dean was ready to head over there the pile moved, a slender, long arm rising up above the knot of limbs and waving.

"I'm okay."

Ben's voice sounded breathless but smug, and another moment later, he rolled the dead chupacabra off of him, stood up and ambled towards their bench, a blinding, self-satisfied smile on his face. Sam slumped down next to his brother.

"You know, Dean, if it wasn't apparent that he shares your DNA, there would be no doubt left now," he commented dryly.

Shooting him a disgruntled glare, Dean demanded, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

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to be continued...