Chapter 5:

Dean found Sam at the Impala. He had one hand raised, hovering an inch from the hood, as if he'd been about to touch it but got stuck halfway there.

"I haven't seen her in so long," Sam said with an embarrassed look when he saw Dean.

"Catching on that she's a lady, Sammy?" Sam threw a bitch face at him and he felt his heart twist.

The Winchesters don't take pictures. They never sent out Christmas cards; they didn't have any grandparents who insisted on letters; they didn't take vacations. So they didn't have family pictures. Only school photos, IDs, and the occasional joking snap with the last few rounds in a disposable camera.

One of the only ones Dean had of Sam—since the kid was usually the one behind the camera, determined to finish the roll—was one Jess had sent to him in a letter. She'd written that Sam had only just told her that he had an older brother and that he hadn't talked to Dean in two years. So she'd sent a letter to the Uncle Bobby that Sam had on his emergency contact list with instructions to give it to Dean.

Inside, she introduced herself and added a picture of Sam. The photographer, probably Jess, captured a moment of freedom and happiness that Dean had rarely seen. His head was thrown back as he laughed, sun shining on his face, igniting his hazel eyes.

Dean kept that picture in his wallet.

But Sam's bitch face was one that Dean had no picture for. As much as he mocked his little brother for it, he had never thought to capture it on film. And when Sam jumped headfirst into Hell, he had never thought he'd see it again.

But here was the bitch face in living color, right in front of him.

"We can take a ride later. Maybe I'll let you drive her," Dean said.

Knowing the emotion behind the statement, if not the reason, Sam nodded in bemusement. An awkward moment passed.

"I think it's time we ask Bobby what he actually did, don't you?" Not waiting for an answer, Dean led the way to the garage he assumed the hunter would be hiding in.

Sure enough, Bobby was under the hood of some clunker, banging away.

"Bobby," Dean said loudly. The banging stopped and Bobby emerged wiping his hands with a dirty rag.

"Guess it's time, huh." The boys nodded and Bobby sighed. He threw the rag aside and adjusted his hat. "Alright, but can't we do it inside where it's warm?"

Sam shook his head and cut to the chase. "What's the catch? Whatever you and Lisa did, there's no way you 'simply' raised me from the dead." He'd obviously been mulling the problem over in that geek brain of his.

"You're right," Bobby grunted. "Ain't no such thing as a simple hell-raising. But that's not we did." He paused as if unsure how to continue.

"You said something about fate before," Dean prodded.

"Right. Well, your Lisa's book was basically a how-to manual written by some priests in ancient Greece. A lot of precise directions of how to properly run a temple. But there were also some ceremonies, some spells. The one we did was actually pretty easy, but it had some warning labels."

"What kind of warning labels?" Dean pushed again when Bobby stopped.

"The kind that said once you get the Fates involved, they don't let go easy."

Sam frowned. "Wait, you actually used the Fates?"

"Sort of," Bobby answered. "More like petitioned them to make sure destiny is working right. Wasn't really a spell, as much as it was a plea for them to check their 'threads of life' or whatever they use. Since you're out, Sam, I guess the girls decided Hell wasn't the right place for you."

"That's good news, right?" When nobody responded to Dean, he continued. "I mean, Sammy didn't belong in the Cage. The Fates got him out. All good?"

"When has anything ever been 'all good,' Dean?" Sam muttered. "And why did you ignore the warnings, Bobby? I can see Lisa trying something like this, but you? You've been around the bush a few too many times to just hope for the best."

Bobby laid a glare on the young Winchester. "One, we didn't know if it would work. It's been gathering dust for who knows how long. And two, it's not like we had a choice. If it got you out of Lucifer's hands it was worth any risk."

Sam huffed, but Dean interrupted whatever bitching he was about to start. "I'm with Bobby. He should've let me in on it, but it was the only thing he could do. Besides, we can handle a couple little girls."

"Girls with enough power to pull me out of the place that absolutely nothing can escape from." Sam's eyes faded away and his brow creased as if he was remembering something unpleasant. But before Dean could say something to distract his brother from thoughts of Hell, Sam straightened and looked at Bobby. "I'm gonna need whatever books you got on the Fates."

"Sure thing," Bobby said, and started towards the house. "Haven't had time myself. We did the spell and then you and Dean showed up about an hour later."

Sam stopped walking abruptly and Dean almost ran him over. "An hour? It took me more than four hours to get here from where I woke up."

"Where did you wake up?" Dean asked.

"Some little town in Minnesota. Woke up in the snow, stole a truck and some clothes, and headed here. I didn't expect anyone to be here."

Bobby squinted in thought. "Guess we'll have to get used to that, what with working with the Fates and all. Bet they knew what I was going to ask long ago."

Dean was thinking about what little he knew about the Fates. He knew that they were sisters and that they dealt in destiny. But since he'd never had to kill one, he'd never worried about how little he knew about them. With Sam in research mode now, that would change quickly.

"Dean showed up right after I got here," Sam mused.

"And I drove my baby. The Fates must've had something to do with that. I haven't touched her in eight months," Dean added but regretted it immediately when he saw Sam's eyes fade out again.

Sam swallowed heavily but acted like he wasn't thinking about how he'd spent the past…Dean didn't know how long. Hell's time for him was roughly ten years downstairs per month topside. Maybe the Cage ran differently, but he was shaken with the thought that his little brother had twice the number of decades of torture under his belt than Dean.

Realizing that the other two had already gone inside, he let out a shuddering breath that he had been holding in. God, he had hated destiny for so long.

The angels told him it was his destiny to invite an archangel inside his body to stop the Apocalypse. They told him that destiny was why he went to Hell in the first place. They told him he had to kill his little brother and that the world had to end. He responded with a raised middle finger and a "Fuck you," but Sammy still ended up in the Cage in order to save the world and halt destiny's inexorable plan.

But the Fates, deliverers of destiny, had decreed that Sam didn't belong in Hell. Maybe they were actually on the Winchesters side.

He'd lost hope long ago, but having Sam back gave him enough faith to close his eyes and offer a prayer to a God who only occasionally listened. "Please. Please just let this be okay. Please…"

Not knowing what else to say, he opened his eyes and walked inside with his trademark smile firmly in place.

"Sure you still know what you're doing, Sammy?"

"Shut up, Dean." And Dean smiled for real at earning another bitch face.

**************************SPN**************************

A/N: So Fate doesn't actually show up till season 6. So early warning, I'm probably going to take a little creative license with them. Reviews are love!