When you try and mess with fate, you find it…or what controls "it" rather has a sense of humor…fate with a sense of humor.
You Belong Here.
A Supernatural Story:
("P.S. I Love You" meets "Serendipity").
By, Sarah E. Blanck and Cathy Norden.
Prologue.
Lost Year.
"Because nothing's a breeze. We suffer; we bleed, for two hearts to beat as one. We learn as we go, at least now we know something we can't become."
– Lost Year by Mute Math.
Sweet and utter serenity: it was all the Winchesters had ever needed; some actual silence, some genuine calm. But they could never receive that with all the things that went bump in the night.
There, at the end of all things, it became a strange and surreal feeling to Dean that his "sweet serenity" was the bed of pancakes smothered in fresh Vermont maple syrup on his plate. His jade eyes lingered on the meal for a moment before his hands slowly reached for the silverware. He glanced down at his left ring finger taking a deep breath fixating his glance on the silver wedding band weld to his finger. Just as his mind became cluttered with all the thoughts of the past, two soft hands swooped their way around his neck from behind while two rosy lips planted soft kisses along his jaw line and cheek. Dean couldn't help but smile.
"Morning, Char." He whispered.
"Good morning, husband." She cheerily stated as she made her way back into the kitchen, the apron from preparing breakfast that morning still tied neatly around her waist; black with cherries covering it's clothed and ruffled surface, she looked…different. Different from what Dean remembered. In fact he recalled a much more complicated account of Charlie covered in blood wielding a machete through a vampire's head.
He shuttered at the recollection and blinked his eyes taking a deep breath and extending his glance outside. The sun was blissfully dancing its way through the white-lace curtains Charlotte had picked out shortly after Dean's return. She felt, and had stated directly to him, it was much more "homey and delicate" than the red one's she had before. Dean had shrugged it off, then suddenly noticed how happy it was actually making her…just for him to be there while she picked out curtains for their home. Their home. Now that was an eccentric thought. Dean had never imagined in a thousand years he would be where he was. Married, a father…and brother-less. Which in turn brought him back to that vicious circle of never-ending questioning: 'how the Hell did I get here?'
He never did enjoy going over the 'what-if's of life, but lately that was all he could do.
As Dean slowly shoveled a bit of pancake between his teeth and swallowed hard he cleared his throat trying his best to remind his body he was hungry. Dean knew she could tell. He recognized Charlotte's discomfort, she was cognizant of the fact he had not been himself; and Dean was neither ready nor willing to admit it.
Charlotte ground her teeth together as she turned on the water and placed her hands under the faucet in attempt to ignore the awkward silence presenting itself. Once again she held back tears, once again she swallowed hard, wiped her face and faked a smile as she turned around on her heels. "I better go check on James and Marie." She offered up an excuse to leave knowing Dean needed some time…again. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep this act up, the happy little housewife. If he didn't bring up Sam soon, she would, and she would have to, not just or his sake but for James, herself, even Marie.
Marieanne Deanna Winchester was just a bit older than two. She was their walking, talking bundle of joy, named partially after Charlotte and Dean, she was the epitome of beautiful with her daddy's emerald eyes and mommy's brunette curls. She was gorgeous, and very well behaved for having been mid the "terrible twos". It seemed nowadays Marie and Mommy were two peas in a pod, with Dean filling his days with as much work at the construction sight as possible. Charlotte had always found it quite odd Dean had chosen that route. Construction and Dean Winchester somehow didn't calculate, except for the womanizing aspect…but she would rather not think about that. Charlie had always seen him as the mechanical type, what with his trusted Impala, but maybe Dean thought it was safer to steer clear from his twisted past reality, away from anything that would remind him even a little of his brother.
Charlie scrunched her nose and sighed peering out the window at the ugly old truck he had traded for his daily transportation and pouted at the idea of that beautiful black vehicle rusting away in their garage. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte shook her head and forced herself to trail out of the kitchen without saying another word to Dean. Slowly making her way up the creaky cherry wood steps, she slipped around the corner and down the hall to the quiet nursery.
Marie sat upright in her crib, "Auntie" James sitting beside her in the rocking chair, sound asleep and snoring softly.
James looked haggard, sleep deprived, even as she sat there snoring. The bags under her eyes were apparent and Charlotte bet if her eyes were open they'd be bloodshot and drowsy, dull of life. James missed Sam, almost as much as Dean. The only difference was she let it show. She let it get to her in a different aspect. Dean held it inside and pushed it far away from memory, James carried it on the tip of her heart and edge of her sleeve for the whole world to see. She had barely found any form of peace, other than crying herself to sleep each and every day.
Charlotte smirked and laughed under her breath as she picked up her squirming child and held her close kissing her cheek. She hummed in adoration, Marie smelt wonderful, just the right combination of clean baby soft skin and lotion. Charlotte patted her back softly and smiled at her baby girl bouncing her up and down playfully.
Out of anyone, Charlotte appeared to be less wounded by Sam's decision. However, underneath she was burning with despair from having lost her best friend. Charlotte had always had a reputation for keeping herself composed when burden slapped her in the face…well, for the most part. Back when Sam was around and hunting was still in the picture, she was quite the wild thing, which was probably what had caught Dean's eye in the first place. But there, at the end of all things, Charlie found her sweet serenity in their daughter's embrace.
"Hello my sweet." She whispered. She trailed her hazel eyes to James and shook her head as she stepped out of the nursery and headed back downstairs. She never deprived Dean time with Marie; in fact she encouraged their encounters. Yet as time passed and a year flew by since the almost-apocalypse, their encounters had become fewer, while Dean slowly became null of very much emotion.
"Dean?" Charlie called as she rounded the corner. "Dean I thought you might—" She stopped in her tracks and rubbed her lips together, a half empty plate rested on the table, the front door had barely just been shut. Dean started up the truck and began to back out of the driveway, all the while Charlotte peered out through the blinds her eyes watering. She swallowed hard and told herself to be tough, like she used to be.
'You never used to be this vulnerable Charlotte' she scolded. She glanced down at Marie, her little arms flaying, her fingertips pulling at the blinds.
"DADA!" She wailed. Charlotte furrowed her brow and nodded choking back soft sobs pulling her gently away from the window.
"He-he uh…has to work…" Charlotte attempted to explain but found that was hard to believe, even for her. Nowadays, work was just another word for bar hopping in Dean's vocabulary.
Unbeknownst to anyone in that household, Castiel had a close watch. There at the end of all things, he stood before God's throne…saddened by what he encountered below.