Dean was looking through his father's journal when Cas came in. The room was a tacky mix of 50s and 60s décor. It made Dean smile, to think about the fact that the wallpaper always seemed to be several decades behind in cheap motels. He'd spent the 90s imagining what the rooms had looked like brand new in the 70s. Apparently they'd been 20 years out of date back then, too. Maybe they bought discount wallpaper years after the trend was over? At least this one didn't have a cowboy theme like the last one.

Cas put a take out bag down on the table and Dean noticed the smell of hamburgers coming from it. Cas came to sit on Dean's bed—too close to him, but Dean had stopped berating him for that. In fact briefly Dean considered running his hand up Cas's leg.

He resisted the urge.

Cas gestured to the journal. "How did your father have all this information about demon activity from before he was even a hunter?" he asked.

"I think he must have back tracked somehow…using newspapers or something…looking for events like the one that killed my mother," Dean said.

"Did you find one you can use to track him?"

"A couple of weeks from now there was a house fire like ours on a baby's six-month birthday. There were signs of demon activity around there," Dean said.

"I thought all the deals were ten years away from the deals with the mothers—leaving five years until they would come due," Cas said.

"I think he did a couple of trial runs. Tests, you know. I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong and he won't be there. But this looks like it could be Azazel's work," Dean said.

"Did the baby grow up to have special powers?"

"The kid was killed in the fire so didn't turn out to be one of Azazel's chosen. If we get there in time, maybe we can stop him feeding the kid his blood and even save the family," Dean said.

"We?"

Dean gave Cas a long look. "I don't want to take chances with you…but if you say you're up to fighting Azazel, I guess I got to let you."

"Just like if you want to go after Azazel even though you've already stopped the apocalypse, I have to let you. It's called free will, right? You taught me all about it," Cas said.

He smiled a slow, very human smile and Dean regretted ever trying to tell him what to do. Just because Dean felt vulnerable…alone…didn't mean Cas should be wrapped in bubble wrap and kept from harm. It wasn't the way it should be, between them. Hell, usually he'd thrown Cas to the wolves whenever he'd had to. Of course, back then he'd had Sammy and Bobby and a whole lifetime of casual acquaintances that were now thirty years away and wouldn't remember him when his timeline finally caught up with theirs.

They made plans. The first part of the plan was to get the colt. Dean had returned it to Daniel Elkin's so they could get it in the future—but he guessed since he wasn't going to grow up to be a hunter in this future it didn't matter anymore.

He wondered how Ruby had made those extra bullets—if it had been her witchy powers (and Dean was not touching witchcraft) or her demon powers—or knowing Ruby, it could have even been some secret help from Lilith. Briefly Dean considered going to the nearest crossroads and asking Crowley for more bullets, and then he rethought the idea and just decided not to miss the yellow-eyed bastard.

This time when he stole the colt from the safe he had help from an angel, and it went a lot better than the first time.

They made other plans.

Azazel might sense an angel—so they found a way to shield Cas's presence from supernatural detection. It was a complicated bit of warding, but on the chance that Azazel sensed Cas (they still weren't fully aware of all his powers), Dean felt it was necessary. They did their best to ward Dean so Azazel wouldn't sense him either, though it was harder to ward a human than an angel.

Dean wanted to have the family go away on a vacation, but Cas said that Azazel would follow them wherever they went. Their best bet was to sneak into the house just before Azazel did and kill him with the family home. And hopefully not get arrested for it.

So all they had to do was wait.

It was probably the most nerve-wracking wait of Dean's life—possibly because he only had Cas to commiserate with, and no one had patience like a being who'd been alive for millennia. He took everything so calmly.

One thing Dean did take into his own hands, so to speak, was Cas's virginity. He hadn't actually lost it in that brothel, apparently. So it fell to Dean to handle it. It was a bit awkward, at first, but they became lovers easier than they had become friends.

Of course, not many friendships start the way theirs had.

It was a consolation to Dean that if one of them died, they would know what it had been like to be with the other one. Sex didn't really change things, though, because the important part—the caring part—had been there for a while. Sex was just another level of intimacy, a way for the two of them to express what they meant to each other, and Dean didn't regret taking that step.

Cas, for his part, seemed pleased and a little bewildered at the development. Well, he seemed a bit bewildered by most things, didn't he? But the way he held on to Dean too tightly whenever they had to part let him know Cas felt the same way that he did. It was as much codependency and need as it was love, but it was love, too.

The day of Harriet Brownlee's six month birthday didn't dawn auspiciously. It was rainy and cold.

They pulled up to the house around noon. They had agreed that they should wait until the last possible minute to let the family in on what was going on, and only if necessary.

They'd scoped out the house the day before when the father had been at work and the mother had taken little Harriet shopping. There was a back door, and wonder of wonders, they didn't seem to lock their doors. It was a simpler time, Dean supposed. And if they locked the door tonight Dean could pick it or Cas could crush it with his superman strength.

The superman strength was kind of a comfort right now. Dean was a lot more nervous than he remembered being the last time.

But he was angrier, too.

Yellow-eyes might not have killed his mother in this time-line, but his machinations were indirectly responsible for the deaths of both John and Sam. And when he thought about all the people who died because of the apocalypse…it motivated him all the more.

The devil would stay in his cage forever if Dean had his way.

They both picked at dinner; even the threat that it could be their last meal did nothing for their appetite.

"Do you think we can do it?" Dean asked Cas. It was the first time he'd ever asked. He hadn't wanted to know Cas's answer.

"You've done it before," Cas said.

"You know that isn't an answer, right?"

Cas's finger stroked the rim of his coffee mug absently. "He doesn't expect you. Who would think you'd try after failing to kill him the first time you came back in time? He doesn't realize how motivated you are—what you've seen and who you've become because of it. And it could be as easy as a shot in the dark he never sees coming. Or this might not even be the right house."

"But all things being equal—it could happen, right? I'm not just kidding myself, am I?"

"You're asking an angel who went after the archangel Raphael with nothing more than holy oil. I believe that anything is possible. And I believe that if anyone can do it, it's you. You've a way of defying fate. Free will, Dean. I believe in free will. I believe in you," Cas said.

Dean looked at Cas, smiling slightly. "You had me worried, there. I thought you were a better liar by now. But you pulled it off in the end."

"We'll pull it off, too," Cas said.

"I believe you," said Dean softly. And for a couple of moments, he did.

They crept into the nursery when all the lights in the house had been out for an hour. Or rather, Dean crept and Cas flew. He could have taken Dean, too, but Dean still found it disorientating and wanted to be at his best. They hid just out of sight behind a large white baby bed that reminded Dean of Sammy's. The one that had been, and never would be.

Dean's nerves dissolved in the face of that thought and turned into hard, fire-hot anger. Azazel would die tonight.

Azazel, and no one else.

When the man walked into the nursery, it was the fact that he was wearing an overcoat that first clued him in that it was Azazel, not the child's father. But he looked at Castiel to be sure, and he nodded.

Dean raised the gun, and fired.

And the gun misfired.

Dean felt his heart jump to his throat, trying not to react to the misfire—trying not to let it mess with his head. He felt his hands shake and took a steadying breath, knowing this was his last shot.

He cocked the gun again.

"What is going on in here?" Azazel asked. "Are babies arming themselves now?"

Dean took aim, ignoring Azazel's words. He hoped the celestial light that Cas was shining at Azazel would counteract whatever powers the demon was throwing at him. Finally Azazel saw him.

"Shoot him now, Dean," Cas said.

"My pleasure," Dean said.

This time the gun fired perfectly, and Azazel crumpled with a look of confusion on his face.

There was a woman's scream from the other room—the baby started crying—and the kid's father came into the room with a gun. For a minute Dean was convinced he'd stopped Azazel and the apocalypse only to be shot by the father of the girl he'd saved—but Cas grabbed him and they flew to the motel room.

There was that moment of disorientation from the flight, and then from having shot the thing that had dogged his childhood and life all over again, and then Castiel was crushed to him and he knew it was really over.

"Thank you for letting me come with you. I think they might have shot you if I hadn't taken you out of there," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah, you're always right, baby, I got it," Dean said.

"I think calling me baby is kind of ridiculous, as well as inaccurate. If anyone's the baby here, it's you," Cas said.

Dean ignored Cas's words and hugged him tighter, burying his nose in Cas's neck and inhaling the scent of him. They'd made it. They'd lived.

"What do you want to do now?" Cas asked.

"Whatever we want. We can hunt…or live in the suburbs…we could do anything," Dean said.

"We?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. It's going to be we. If it's up to me, it's going to be we for a long time. For as long as you can stand me," he said.

"I can't imagine getting sick of you, Dean," Cas said.

"Well, you probably won't have to imagine it before too long," Dean said, laughing.

"I don't think so, Dean," Cas said, his voice as serious as ever.