So this will be the last official epilogue. There's one more after this, but that was written way too late at night and I don't even know what it is. You guys will probably enjoy it so I'll post it, but this is the last official one. :) More happiness!

A couple months after the joint wedding, Bobby and Ellen finagled Dean and Jo, and Sam and Amelia into a particularly puzzling hunt together.

"So how's married life?" Amelia could help but ask Jo, when the brothers went to interrogate a witness, and the girls found a decent motel. Two rooms, single king each. Amelia knew Jo would interrogate her about that.

"He's a cocky ass, of course. Didn't want me hunting. Fought for a week about that before he finally came around to my opinion. He's sweet, though, you wouldn't believe it." Jo smirked, then, in her trademark way. "And the sex isn't half bad, either."

"Oh, God," Amelia clamped her hands over her ears, laughing, "didn't need to know that."

"Hey, you asked," Jo nudged her in the shoulder. "So you and Sam... Single king, hmmm?" She raised a delicate eyebrow.

Amelia couldn't help but think of late nights, Sam's arms around her after a nightmare, his lips on hers, and blushed bright red right up to the roots of her hair.

"I knew it!" Jo beamed.

Amelia didn't try to lie her way out of the situation.

Sam mentioned the word relationship after the hunt, when Dean and Jo left and Amelia didn't. That left a bitter taste in her mouth, after her parents' broken, abusive marriage, and she slept on the couch for the next few nights. It hurt too much to actually label their friendship like that.

He didn't mention it again for a long time.

Slowly the nightmares faded, with time and the warm closeness of Sam. They split up driving more evenly now that she was actually getting some sleep at night, and Amelia enjoyed being behind the wheel of her now precious Firebird once more. They hunted, but only some of the time. Sam helped ground her, but she still was almost reckless as a hunter, and sometimes she could almost taste his disapproval. They fought about that. But hunting usually made the nightmares worse, and Amelia slowly, reluctantly weaned herself off of it. She drank more than her fair share, and Sam didn't like that either. But he hadn't lived his whole life with Dean for nothing. He knew how to work away at a person. Periodically they would drop in on Bobby and Ellen. No longer Singer Salvage, it was B and E's now. They were cute, in a old couple sort of way. Bickering half the time. Moving around each other comfortably, each move of one evoking a countermove of the other, like they had been together for years, not just months. Ellen made Bobby clean up a little bit, drink a little less, but not too much. Bobby gave Ellen someone else to care about in her life besides Jo, and she stopped worrying some, but not too much, as Dean and Jo hunted around the country in the Impala, big names in the hunting world. Sam and Amelia never stayed too long. It seemed almost rude to change the couple's routine when they were so obviously content. So they hunted, and found old libraries to research, and holed up in cute little towns for weeks on end, taking odd jobs and playing at living a normal life.

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Six months later, Sam brought up marriage after a hunt gone bad, and the thought no longer twisted Amelia's gut up.

"I'll marry you, Sam," she smiled over at him as they lay in their hospital beds in the emergency room, and his tired, bruised face lit up in happiness.

The trauma doctors just shook their heads as they set bones and stitched wounds, their patients smiling and happy even before the morphine kicked in.

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When Henry Winchester fell out of a closet a few months later, all four Winchesters jumped from their chairs, pulling their handguns on the stranger.

Predictably, the brothers gave their wives the slip to chase down Abbadon, not wanting to put the women in danger. They decapitated her, losing their grandfather in the process, but gaining a few interesting pieces of information along the way.

Amelia and Jo were beyond pissed that they had been left behind. Jo actually broke Dean's nose. They calmed down a little when the Winchesters discovered the bunker, but not much.

The brothers spent a week apart from their wives, as the girls had a long slumber party and explored the bunker, cleaning decades old dust, stocking the fridge, organizing their rooms.

Jo hung up fifty different weapons on the walls of the room she chose for her and Dean. Sawed offs, machetes, handguns, knives, a couple machine guns they had picked up somewhere, swords from the bunker. Speakers in the corner. A closet full of flannel, jeans, and leather jackets. Hunter's journal on the bedside table. A liquor cabinet in the corner. Protection sigils for decoration.

Down the hall, Amelia filled their room up with books, predictably. Bookshelves and bookshelves filled with the tomes they had collected and lifted and gleaned from the shelves of the bunker. She was happy to have them out of the crowded trunk of the Firebird. A huge squashy leather couch, long enough for even Sam to lay down on. A king sized bed with a glorious comforter. Reading lamps. A few artifacts placed around artistically. She had never nested before, even in the panic room at Bobby's, and she found she actually didn't mind being domestic.

They didn't let their husbands in until everything was perfect. And since the brothers really hadn't seen their wives in a week, they didn't leave their new rooms until everything was a little more perfect.

Now that everything was made up, Amelia and Sam buried themselves in the archives. They would sit next to each other at the tables, each entirely consumed in the books, reading about anything and everything. Between the two of them, they sometimes remembered to eat more than one meal a day.

They found priceless information, long forgotten knowledge that would give hunters an edge over the supernatural. Centuries old books in the archives that Amelia and Sam would crowd over, translating them together, not able to wait their turn, eyes bright as they uncovered the secrets the Men of Letters had held for so long. A complete one-eighty from Amelia's first introduction to hunting. She was totally fine leaving the hunting up to Dean and Jo. The nightmares were bad enough already, and she couldn't take too many more concussions. The information they discovered was helping people and saving lives, couldn't get much better than that. And of course Sam loved it. She found the section of the men of letter's personal journals one night, and brought him the journals of the Winchesters back three hundred years. He kissed her for that, and ended up not reading them until a little later. What kind of guy got turned on by dusty old books?

Jo and Dean couldn't sit still for that long, though, and went off on a hunt a week later, starting a new routine. For the most part, Jo and Dean took the hunts, and Amelia and Sam did the research. Bobby and Ellen dropped in every so often. Bobby appreciated the huge collection of information, and they would have research contests: picking a certain element of the supernatural and seeing who could find the most new information about it in the dusty archives. Dean just shook his head at them, crowded around an ancient book arguing vehemently about the translation of a single word. Geeks all of them. Ellen just liked that everyone was under the same roof, safe and happy. Dean and Jo appreciated having the bunker to come back to after hunts, a home base to rest, laugh: live. The Impala and the Firebird looked nice next to each other in the garage.

Everyone still had nightmares after years of injuries and PTSD. Dean still drank a little too much. He and Jo argued passionately some times. Usually they made up just as passionately, causing Sam and Amelia to retreat to the depths of the bunker. Amelia would occasionally light their sheets on fire in the middle of the night, and then even Sam couldn't reach her for a few days as she retreated into herself, drinking and moping around at the reminder of how dangerous she could be to those she loved. Dean of all people could shock her out of it, taking her bottle away almost violently, silently standing through the angry, half-drunk abuse she slung at him until she calmed down and let Sam close to her again.

The bunker was a refuge, a real, solid place that was always there for them to return to, always there to welcome them. Something that none of them really ever had.

A home.

Thanks for sticking around everyone, see you in the last chapter! :)