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by reading

Strangers and Angels universe. They still hear from the Winchesters from time to time.

11. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

Hi, everyone. Wow. Over a year. I am so sorry. This chapter will wrap up the story. Thank you so much for sticking with it!

A quick note: I started this before last season and the arrival of "God" in the form of Chuck. I'm ignoring that and the Amara storyline. Just so you know.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it! And a pre-emptive Merry Christmas, as well!

xxxx

Sam shifted again. He'd known the drive from Austin to the Sweeds' place would probably be uncomfortable for him, but they were one hour into an eight hour trip, and he was pretty sure he was going to go insane before they reached their destination. He rocked from one butt cheek to the other trying to relieve the ache in his hip. He made a noise of discomfort and annoyance.

"Dude. Seriously." Dean turned from his place in the passenger seat to stare at his brother. "Are you going to do that for the entire trip?"

Sam caught a glimpse of Jake's grin in the rearview mirror as he turned his attention to his brother.

"M- maybe," Sam conceded somewhat belligerently. "S- sore."

Dean raised an obnoxious eyebrow at him. "Use all your words, Sammy," he sing-songed.

Sam was thankful that while his language skills were not what they had been or what he wanted them to be – yet – his motor responses were no longer impaired. Also, that he had long arms.

"Hey!" Dean yelped when Sam's hand connected – maybe a little more smartly than Sam had intended – with the back of his brother's head. The Impala swerved slightly. Blue Bear, the giant stuffed animal the boys had gotten Sam fell off its perch on the other side of the bench seat.

"I'm. Sore," Sam annunciated carefully, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. Both words. No stutter. Then he nodded at the bear on the floor. "Blue. Bear."

Jake scowled at both of them from behind the wheel. "Don't make me pull this car over."

Dean raised himself slightly from where he sat and reached over the back of the seat, fumbling for the stuffed animal. He didn't insist that Sam use a full sentence. So success. With an eye roll at his brother, Dean grabbed the bear and tossed/placed it back on the seat. "If you're gonna be so jumpy, I should drive," Dean grumped, shooting a glare at Jake. While Dean had improved greatly over the month Sam had been in rehab, he'd had a relapse of his mono the week before. Doing more than he should, of course. His driving privileges had been revoked—long-distance—by Jo, and he had capitulated only grudgingly. Though he had capitulated.

Jake gave him a disdainful look and didn't respond. "You wanna stop and stretch, Sam?" Jake asked, checking with Sam in the mirror. "We knew we were going to have to take more breaks than usual. And Gretchen said not to push it with sitting in the car too long."

Sam's physical therapist had not been thrilled about the idea of a long car ride for him at this stage in his recovery. But he'd been discharged from the rehab facility, and they were headed to the Sweeds' for him to recuperate, so there was no real choice. Sam had known wearing the brace in the car wouldn't be comfortable—and it wasn't—but the long list of physical therapy exercises he had could be done as easily at the Sweeds' as anywhere else.

Sam had managed to keep Gretchen's disapproval from Jo and initially even the McCrae boys, but one of Michael's connections had ratted Sam out. He suspected that Jake would pull over with or without Sam's saying he needed a break before too long.

Sam shook his head. "Not. Yet," he said. Took another breath. "S- soon. Though."

Jake gave Sam a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Sam shifted again, careful not to make a sound. But Dean's head still canted slightly in his direction. Stupid squeaky seat.

When Dean didn't comment, Sam leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. Though his hair had grown out some, it still wasn't long enough to insulate his head from the cold seeping through the window. Another cold front had blown through Austin the day before, and it looked like there might even be snow at the Sweeds' for Thanksgiving in a couple of days. He wadded up his hoodie and shoved it between his head and the window.

Sam smiled to himself and the sigh that escaped him at that point wasn't frustration. It was good to be back in the car and on the road, aching leg aside. And to be headed to the Sweeds'. Sam still couldn't quite believe that. That they would be with Jo and Luke for the holidays, for the rest of his recovery. It had been such a long time.

Jake's classes had been cancelled the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, so he had – of course – decided to skip class on Tuesday. "I told my professors I had to drive my badly injured, but healing, friend home for the holiday," Jake had told Sam breezily when he'd tried to protest Jake's missing any school. "It has the advantage of being both convenient and true."

Michael had managed to finagle having both Thursday and Friday off. "I'll celebrate the birth of our Savior at the hospital in a few weeks, of course," he'd said ruefully. "But I expected that." He would be arriving late Wednesday night.

Luke's kids and their families weren't traveling for Thanksgiving, and it was also their Christmas with in-laws, so it would just be the Winchesters with the family. Jo had shown Sam and Dean pictures of Luke's granddaughter, Macy, and it was hard to believe that the adorable four-year-old he'd met so many years ago was now the slightly awkward-looking teenager from the photos on Jo's phone.

The same actually went for the McCrae boys. All three of them had still been kids when the Winchesters had last seen them, and while Tommy still counted as a kid, Michael and Jake definitely did not – one a doctor and the other starting a second career as a lawyer. Jake, it turned out, had graduated with an engineering degree from Rice and worked for several years with a firm that specialized in civil infrastructure before deciding to go back to law school. He was hoping for an internship with a social justice organization over the summer. Michael was considering medical missions after he had a few years of emergency room experience under his belt. It all sounded so… grown up.

Tommy's plans for the future seemed to start with "U.T." and pretty much stop there. When asked what he wanted to do after college, he'd shrugged and said vaguely, "I don't know. Be a doctor or a lawyer, I guess?" Luke and Jo had both visibly restrained themselves from commenting and rolling their eyes. Later Jo had said, "I have to keep reminding myself that a lot of kids don't know what they want to do after college. It's just that both Michael and Jake were pretty focused from the get-go." She'd sighed. "He's his own kid, for sure, even if his 'maybe this will make you leave me alone' answer is his brothers' professions."

Sam had been doing a lot of listening the last few weeks. He'd slowly been able to ask halting questions, but his ability to answer questions himself was still lacking. It was hard. He could tell that Jo had a lot she wanted to ask, but she was trying not to, knowing that Sam would not be able to respond the way they both wanted him to. The speech therapist had been very hopeful and encouraging about Sam's progress. He tried to remind himself of that when he felt frustrated by his continued struggle.

The trip home took closer to ten hours than eight with all the stops they took for Sam plus meals, and Sam was tired in a way he hadn't really expected considering all he'd been doing was sitting and dozing over the course of the day. He was going to blame that exhaustion for the unexpected lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes when they pulled into the motel's parking lot and angled around toward the Sweeds' house, lit up and welcoming and missed, behind the small establishment.

"We're here." Dean's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

Jake looked at Dean and then back at Sam as he brought the Impala to a slow stop in front of the house. "Welcome home," he said.

xxxx

The door to the house flung wide in response to Jake's tap on the horn, and Tommy was across the porch and down the steps before Dean got his door open.

"Hey!" Tommy pulled the door all the way open. "You're here!"

"Looks like," Dean said, shorter than he intended, but damn. He had not been at all prepared for his reaction to being back at the Sweeds'. He gave Tommy a quick apologetic grin before reaching out his hand, giving the boy the gift of helping him out of the car. The trip had worn him out.

Tommy hadn't faltered, of course, at the bite in Dean's voice, just smiled back and hauled him up and out. "It took y'all long enough," he said, steadying Dean without thought, before opening the back door. "Hey, Sammy! You need help?" He reached a hand in like he was going to pull Sam all the way across the seat and out of the car.

Dean saw Sam smile somewhat wanly as he shook his head. He was leaning back against the opposite side door. Sam shook his head. "Thanks." He took a breath. "This s- side." Dean was tempted to chide his brother for not using all his words, but decided against it. Sam looked beat.

Sam shifted awkwardly, easing his leg off the seat and starting to turn himself forward. The brace made the transition kind of difficult.

Dean started around the car to help Sam out. "Can you get bags, man?" he asked Tommy.

Tommy nodded and met Jake at the trunk, hugging his brother violently before grabbing a couple of duffels. "I'll put these in your room."

Our room. Still.

"You got him?" Jake asked, shaking Dean out of his reverie, arms full of things that needed to go inside.

"Yeah." Dean checked to make sure Sam was no longer using the door as a back rest before opening it. "I got him."

They'd perfected – or close to it – getting Sam in and out of the car on the way here, but it was still an awkward process that left both Sam and Dean winded. Dean steadied his brother against the side of the car, taking a minute to catch his breath as well.

"Need these?" Luke had appeared and held out Sam's crutches with a smile.

"Thanks." Dean took the crutches with a smile in return, glad he wouldn't have to leave Sam unsupported to wrangle the things out of the backseat. Dean angled the shoulder rests toward Sam until his brother reached for crutches, tucking them into his armpits.

"Where's Jo?" Dean was frankly surprised that she hadn't beat Tommy to the car.

"Customer issue at the motel," Luke said with a grin. "You should have heard her when that call came in right after you'd texted your ETA." He shook his head. "That guy is either going to get whatever he wants so she can be done with him, or he's going to get a piece of her mind he never wanted to hear."

Dean laughed out loud, and Sam did, too.

"Well, let's get you boys inside." Luke looked over his shoulder at Sam as they approached the house. "How are you with steps, kiddo?"

Sam sighed when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Not the b- best," he said carefully.

"Slow and steady, man," Dean said taking the crutches, handing them to Luke, and stepping to Sam's side. He slid his shoulder into the place one of the crutches had been. "We got it."

And they did. Even if both of them were shaky by the time they got to the top.

"What do you think, boys?" Luke was watching them both, assessing their conditions as they entered the house. "Straight to your room?"

Dean looked up at his brother, who hadn't moved away or reached for the crutches. Sam was leaning heavily on Dean, jaw tight as he caught his breath, and Dean wondered if he had a headache to deal with as well as the soreness from a long car ride.

Dean had just opened his mouth to say that their room would probably be best, when he noticed the dog making its way slowly down the stairs to their left. His eyes widened.

"D-dog?"

Luke laughed as the dog's tail started to wag more quickly at the sound of his name. "Oh, yeah. Did y'all not know he was still hanging around?"

"Oh, my God," Sam breathed, carefully pushing off from Dean and limping toward the animal. "Hey, b- buddy. Do you remember m- me?" Awkwardly, Sam leaned over, holding out a hand for the dog to smell. The speed D-dog's tail began to increase to the point that his whole back-end was moving from side-to-side.

"He's a little deaf and getting blind," Luke said indulgently, "but he's still keeping us in line."

Dean moved up beside Sam, hands at the ready as Sam lowered himself to one of the bottom stairs that led to the second story of the house. Sam started petting the dog, who began to whine and even yip sharply, continuing to wriggle arthritically. Dean let D-dog sniff his hand briefly before scratching behind the dog's ears. The whining increased in volume and pitch.

"Do you think he remembers us?" Dean asked, almost in wonder. He looked back at Luke, hand still on the dog. It seemed impossible after all this time. D-dog sank into a sit next to Sam, though his butt continued to move slightly.

Luke grinned. "I'm gonna guess 'yes,'" he laughed. "Because this –," here he gestured to the dog leaning all his weight on Sam, eyes closed, mouth seeming to smile, while Dean and Sam petted him, "—is not his usual reaction to strangers."

Both Dean and Sam laughed, continuing to give all their attention to D-dog. Until Dean noticed the cats.

There were two of them, orange tabbies, sitting a few steps above them, watching. When Dean made eye contact with one, it sauntered down a couple of stairs until it was within reach of Dean. It blinked slowly at him.

Dean held out a hand, and the cat sniffed it delicately before bumping its head against Dean's knuckles. Obediently, Dean scratched its ears. He looked over his shoulder at Luke again.

"That's Pippin; his brother is Merry."

Sam grinned and shook his head; Dean rolled his eyes as he sat down on the stair next to Sam. "Nerds."

Merry sidled over to nudge his brother out of the way and bump his own head against Dean.

"Well, yeah," Luke agreed.

They continued to pet the animals until Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Up?" he asked, looking at his brother.

Resisting again the urge to insist Sam speak in a full sentence, Dean scrambled to his feet and pulled his brother to a standing position.

"I think we will head to our room," Dean said, returning to the question Luke had asked before they'd been distracted by the critters. "Sam could probably use some Tylenol." He glanced at his brother, who nodded in agreement.

"I'll get you some water, then. And food? Y'all hungry?" Luke was already on his way to the kitchen.

"Thanks. No food, I think. We ate not too long ago."

Sam nodded here, too.

Dean steered Sam toward the back of the house.

"Tommy, get out of Dean and Sam's room!" Luke hollered as he headed into the kitchen.

"What?" Tommy yelled in response to Luke's earlier shout, exiting the hall that led to the Winchesters' room. "I was just waiting to see…"

"Go see if you can help your mother," Luke shouted back, now in the other room. "The boys want to rest!"

"Hey! Where is mom?" Jake called from the front of the house.

"She's at the motel," Tommy yelled, though Dean wasn't sure why given that Jake was now almost in the same room as the kid. "Some dude…!"

"Why are you yelling?" Luke shouted as he came out of the kitchen. He did actually modulate his voice as he entered the room. "Dean and Sam are exhausted and all this noise…" He blinked when saw Sam and Dean standing, almost frozen, in the middle of the family room. "I thought y'all were going to bed."

Dean cleared his throat. "We're headed that way," he said. "Man." He turned to his brother. "I'd forgotten the noise level in this house."

Sam to Dean's surprise, grinned at him. "M- missed it," he said.

Dean stared for a beat, then threw back his head and laughed. "Me, too."

xxxx

They were still working out the bed time prep for Sam, since he'd only been out of the rehab center a couple of days. Obviously, Sam could do most things himself, but getting in and out of pants made for some interesting maneuvers on both their parts. And tonight Sam was so exhausted, he was clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling the brace off first, then struggling with button and zipper until Dean had finally told him to suck it up before divesting his brother of his jeans and working him into his pajama pants.

"Th- thanks," Sam said with a sigh and a slight slur. "S- sorry." Sam's enunciation regressed when he was tired.

"Shut up," Dean said, and Sam smiled.

They'd gotten Sam his Tylenol and their teeth brushed and were just sliding under the covers when there was a knock on the door.

"Boys?"

"Jo," Dean grinned. He got out of bed and caught the door as she eased it open.

"Hey," she said, slipping in and giving Dean a tight hug. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you got home."

"'s okay," Dean reassured her, sitting back on his bed.

"Oh, honey, don't try to get up," she scolded Sam, moving around Dean's bed to lean down and give Sam a hug. She perched on the edge of Sam's bed.

"I won't stay long. I just wanted to say 'hi' and tell you how glad we are that you're here."

"It's good to be home," Dean said. And blinked. It had slipped out unbidden. Home.

Jo's smile deepened, but she didn't given any other indication that she'd noticed. "Well," she said. "I'll let you two get some sleep." As she rose, she leaned over to kiss Sam on the cheek. Then did the same to Dean where he sat on his own bed.

"See you in the morning."

xxxx

Wednesday had been a lazy day. Both Dean and Sam had slept until late in the morning, rising to the scent of coffee and pancakes and bacon. The whole family had lingered at the breakfast table, a winter storm making it easy to stay where they were until they just had to move.

Sam's own movement had only been from the kitchen table to the sofa in the family room, where Jake had just started a rewatch-binge of Lost from the beginning of the series. Never having seen the whole show and clad comfortably in his flannel pajama bottoms and long-sleeve t-shirt, Sam had settled in for the long haul.

Jo had exclaimed in some dismay when she'd seen what they were watching. "Oh don't start it now, sweetheart! Can you at least wait until after dinner tomorrow? You know you're not going to want to stop, and I'm going to need your help with getting ready." She'd narrowed her eyes at both of them. "Plus, Jake, I thought you had a major assignment due on Monday. And Sam what about your PT?"

Both had mumbled vague assurances that they would help with dinner and get their work done, but had immediately forgotten their promises by the time Jo had left the room. They'd watched without much pause until midnight, when Jo declared a Lost-moratorium until Thanksgiving was over.

When Sam woke Thursday morning, he ate his breakfast and did his PT exercises. Then he sat on the couch and stared longingly at the TV until Luke came in and turned on a football game. Sam felt strangely twitchy and was somewhat concerned he might be going through withdrawal—football, evidently, would not settle his craving to know what was going to happen next on Lost. Restless and sad, he crutched into the kitchen where Jo and Jake were.

"Here." Jo directed him toward the kitchen table where a pile of green beans sat on a towel. "Snap these for me. It will be a distraction." She patted him on the shoulder. "Until you can get your fix."

Sam sighed his most put-upon sigh as he took a seat. But he set to work obediently, dropping the finished product into a bowl Jo set beside him.

Jo had put the turkey in the oven early in the morning and the smell of it cooking was starting to fill the house with a wondrous scent. She was working on something else now – rinsing whatever it was off in the sink. In the family room, Sam could hear the announcers over the sound of Luke and Dean arguing about which game to settle on.

"How are you doing, sugar?" Jo set a cutting board on the table across from Sam and placed a bowl next to it.

Sam shrugged and smiled to indicate he was doing fine, but realized when she cocked an eyebrow at him, that Jo wasn't going to let him get away with not speaking.

"I'm o- okay. Thanks."

"You're really doing so much better with your speech. I can tell already."

Sam shrugged again. "It feels s- slow." And it did. Like he was never going to be where he wanted, doomed to speak in halting sentence with slightly stuttered words that took forever to get out, forcing others to wait and wait until he could articulate what he wanted to say. He knew (he'd been told) that likely wouldn't be his situation. But it felt like that most of the time.

"What are those?" Sam couldn't see what was in the bowl. And he didn't want to talk about his recovery.

"Brussel sprouts." Jo let him distract her. She put one little green ball on the cutting board and trimmed up the end of it before halving it and moving it aside.

Sam couldn't help the face he made.

"Hold your judgment." Jo pointed her knife at him. "There's bacon involved."

Huh.

"Yeah." Jake turned from where he was rolling out pie dough. "She's made a believer out of all us on the Brussel sprouts."

"Huh." Sam let the doubt he felt color his grunt. But still. Bacon.

"Do you have speech exercises to do?" Evidently, Jo had not really been distracted from Sam's recovery, and she'd seen him working on his PT that morning.

Sam sighed. He should have realized he wasn't going to be able to avoid talking about this with her. "Yes." He tried to think through how best to describe what he was working on. "Read off…" He paused, went back. "I… read off scripts…. It helps to practice…." He took a breath. "Regular c- conversations."

Dean wrote out the scripts for him sometimes. The speech therapist had suggested Dean get down on paper some typical conversations for Sam, so that Sam could work through every day speech. The good news was that Sam's ability to read had improved considerably. He could read words better than he could speak them. And the scripts had actually been pretty helpful. Dean, of course, had written out a number of scenarios that he didn't show the therapist—filled with bad language and things he thought would embarrass Sam. Sam practiced those on Dean over and over until Dean had finally thrown them away in a huff. But they really had helped Sam cuss his brother out much more articulately than he could manage other conversations.

"That's interesting," Jo said. "Like what kind of conversations?"

"Like ordering in a r- restaurant," Sam said. Not that that had come up much recently. But it would.

"What can I get for you, sugar?" Jake asked the question, voice pitched in a surprising imitation of Jo when she was waiting tables in the diner, moving to join them at the table with his rolled out pie crust and the pie pan.

Jo slapped at Jake as Sam grinned and played along. "A hamburger, please. And a chocolate milkshake." The answer flowed without stutters or pauses.

Jo put her knife down and clapped appreciatively. Sam inclined his head graciously.

"That's actually really impressive, Sam," Jo said. "Especially when I think about where you started."

"Yeah." Sam snapped a couple more beans. "I know I'm g- getting better," he admitted. "Just not fast enough." He gave her a rueful grin.

Jo nodded her understanding. "And the leg?"

"It's d- doing okay. Surgery wounds healed p- pretty easily. Just working on building up my strength n- now." Weirdly, the length of time it was taking for Sam to get back on his feet with the broken leg didn't frustrate him as much as not being able to speak. (Though Dean asserted that it wasn't weird at all given Sam's propensity for talking everything through.) Sam figured at least part of the reason was that he'd dealt with broken bones before and knew exactly what to expect. The speech thing felt much bigger and unknown.

"Do you have to wear the brace that whole time?" asked Jake.

"Mostly." He paused, gathering his thoughts for the next part of his answer. "We thought I could check in with R- Rob about that." The local doctor had become a friend along the way.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to look at it, honey," Jo assured him. She put the trimmed and halved Brussel sprouts back in the now empty bowl and took it over to the counter to finish getting the vegetable ready for dinner.

Finished with the green beans, Sam got to his feet and carefully carried the bowl to the counter as well. "I'm going to watch f- football," he said.

"OK. Will you please remind Tommy that he needs to set the table in about 20 minutes?"

According to Luke, there was some mysterious preparation schedule that Jo carried in her head and that magically resulted in everything being ready at the same time for the meal. Luke said no one knew it or understood it except Jo, but that the timing was exact and that dishes went into and out of the oven in a particular order. "Just do what she tells you to do when she tells you to do it and everything will be fine."

"Sure," Sam said obediently.

Tommy nodded his acknowledgment of the instructions as he shifted over on the couch so that he was in the middle, and Sam could use the arm to ease himself down next to him.

"That's also probably my cue that I need to deal with the rolls," Luke said. He got up from one of the recliners, picking up the cat on his lap. He dropped the cat – Merry, Sam thought – onto Tommy's lap. The cat did not seem bothered by its change in position, kneading Tommy's knee for a couple of seconds before curling up and settling down.

Sam squinted at the screen, reaching over to pet the rumbling feline. "Who's playing?"

"A&M and Texas," said Michael shortly. He was sitting on the other side of the couch.

"The Aggies are losing," Tommy stage whispered to Sam. "It's making him grumpy."

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Michael turned and punched his little brother twice – hard – on the arm. Tommy yelped, turned to hit back, but then settled again when Merry meowed his protest a being jostled. Amazing what a cat in one's lap could do to keep the peace.

"How are things looking in there?" Dean asked from the other recliner. He also had a cat on his lap. Neither of the Winchesters had been sure about the feline additions to the household when they'd first arrived, but they had been won over quickly by the two tabbies. Sam and Dean had both learned the unique comfort of having a purring cat heavy in the middle of your back as you fell asleep at night. Sam was considering suggesting that they get a couple of cats when they got back to the bunker. For the moment, he was ignoring the obvious impracticalities of the idea given how much they traveled.

That morning, to Sam's surprise, his brother had gotten up early and helped Jo get the turkey in the oven. "What?" Dean had said when Sam had raised an eyebrow at him to express his shock. "We might need to make a turkey some time," he'd said defensively.

"Jo's making Brussel sprouts," Sam said. He deliberately addressed the one side dish he knew Dean wasn't going to be happy about.

"What?" Dean sounded both disgusted and disappointed. "Gross."

"She uses bacon," Sam offered.

Dean's eyebrows drew down in confusion. "Bacon and Brussel sprouts?" he said doubtfully. "That just sounds like a way to ruin good bacon."

Sam shrugged, deciding not to add the reassurances Jake had offered about how good they were. Michael and Tommy, absorbed in the game didn't comment either. With the exception of Tommy, who got called in to set the table, the rest of them didn't stir until dinner time.

It turned out that both Dean and Sam were converts to the bacon-cooked sprouts, Dean managing to finish off the bowl before asking for the recipe.

Dean and Sam were excused from dinner clean up due to injury and illness much to their delight.

"I'll have coffee and pie in the family room," Dean said loftily to Jake as he passed him.

"Yeah, yeah," responded Jake, already taking the Winchesters' plates to the sink. "Keep your pants on."

"Don't you start Lost back up again, Sam," Jo said. She pulled a bag of coffee out of the freezer.

"B- but d- dinner is over," Sam protested, almost in a wail. He wobbled some as he stood up from the table.

"But Thanksgiving Day isn't," she said smugly. "I have something else in mind."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "We're not watching Anne of Green Gables again." He wanted to make it a statement of authority, but it came out like more of a question.

"You should be so lucky, Dean Winchester," she said. "You know you loved it."

He actually had. He also may have bought the sequel and watched it in the bunker when Sam was asleep. Not that he was going to admit that. So he just frowned at Jo as if he were offended by her assumption.

Sam was upright now and leaning on his crutches. He looked at Jo forlornly. "But…"

"What's your proposal?" Dean demanded.

"It's not a proposal," Jo corrected. "It's Pride and Prejudice." She met the glare directed at her calmly.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. What? He looked around at the other men in the room for support. Which did not appear to be forth-coming.

"The C- Colin Firth one?"

Dean's head snapped to his brother.

"Of course." Jo was looking at Sam approvingly.

"Oh. Okay." Sam turned and limped out of the room.

Dean's head swiveled to Jo and then to Sam's retreating back and then to Jo again.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," he huffed.

When Dean got out to the living room, Sam was getting settled on the sofa.

"'The Colin Firth one'?" Dean mocked. "I'm concerned that you know there's more than one Pride and Prejudice movie."

Sam shrugged. "J- Jess loved the C- Colin Firth mini-series. What was I going to say when she wanted to show it to me?" He smiled at his brother.

"And the other one?"

"It came out while we were d- dating." He shrugged again. "She wanted to see it."

Well, okay. Dean could understand that. He dropped down next to his brother on the couch.

"Still." He looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

"It's actually really g- good," Sam said. Then with a twitch of his lips and a sly glance, "Like Anne of Green Gable: The Sequel good."

xxxx

Luke wrestled his boots off in the screened porch and then eased the door into the kitchen open. Theoretically, everyone should be sound asleep, but in the quiet early hours of the morning it was hard not to believe that the slightest noise would disturb the whole house. He'd been called out right at bedtime for a bad accident and only just finished with the last of the paperwork.

He was surprised to see Sam at the kitchen table with a book open in front of him. Luke knew that Sam's injury had had an impact on Sam's ability to read, slowing him down considerably and keeping Sam from enjoying what he always had before. Sam smiled slightly as Luke shut the door behind him.

"Hey, man," Luke said quietly. "What are you doing up?"

"Leg cramp," Sam said. "Couldn't fall back to sleep."

The doctor had told Sam he could put the brace away for most of the day and use it only when he felt the leg needed it. Luke knew Sam was trying to navigate the thin line between building up his leg and not overdoing it. He'd overdone it the day before, and evidently his leg was letting him know it wasn't happy.

"Bummer."

"'Yeah," Sam agreed. He nodded toward the book. "I've been trying to get this finished for a while now anyway." He paused. "How's the weather?" he asked as Luke turned on the fire under the kettle and then reached for a mug and a teabag.

Luke held up a second teabag to Sam, who nodded. "Pretty ugly," he said. "Glad to be back inside."

It had been ice on the road that had caused the car, driven by an older man, to skid over the line and collide with a Tahoe filled with high schoolers. There hadn't been any casualties, praise the Lord, but three out of four of the teenagers and the driver of the original car had been hospitalized. Luke had been called in as back up since the accident was a county over, so he hadn't had to make the calls to the parents. He hated those calls. Working the scene had its challenges—wind and almost frozen rain—but he'd rather spend time in the elements than have to wake mothers and fathers to tell them their children had been hurt.

"I bet." Sam kneaded at his thigh just above the knee. He didn't seem to realize he was even doing it.

"You take your meds for the cramping?" Luke asked.

Sam pulled his hand away from his leg. "Yeah," he said with a grimace. "Just haven't k- kicked in quite yet."

Sam went back to his book while they waited for the water to boil. When the whistle started, Luke turned the heat off quickly and fixed both mugs.

"Thanks." Sam took the mug, blowing gently before taking a careful sip.

Luke studied Sam for a minute. "Hey. So I don't think I ever heard exactly what happened with that house collapsing on you." At the time he and Tommy had left for home, Sam still hadn't been able to talk, and the hows of the accident had been the least of the concerns they'd had for Sam.

Sam's eyebrows went up. "You d- didn't?"

"No," Luke admitted. "Not sure how that got by me." He cocked a head at Sam. "You mind telling the story again?"

Sam shrugged. "N-not a lot to tell, really."

"Good." Luke smiled. "I need to get to bed."

Sam laughed. "OK." He took a breath and seemed to be considering how best to start. "Well, you know D- Dean was sick. He had crashed really early that afternoon. S- said he was just tired, but I could tell it was more than that. So after he fell asleep, I d- decided to go to the drug store. We were low on f- flu meds, and I figured that was what he had. There was a Walgreens close by, so I thought I'd walk."

Sam paused for a moment to take a drink of his tea. "I had to go right by the house we were investigating. It was almost dark outside, and I was walking by I could see lights inside." He rolled his eyes. "It was H- Halloween so of course kids were in there. The ghost wasn't supposed to show for another week, but you never know, so I went in to see what was going on. There were people in the basement, and I figured I'd go down and tell them I was a security guard or something and get them out. When I got d- down the stairs, there were a couple of separate groups poking around and trying to scare each other. So I yelled at them for trespassing and sent them out. But just as they were about to reach the stairs, the ceiling started to come down. It was already a low enough that I could get my hands up to try to hold things up until they were out, but I couldn't hold it long, and the whole thing came down."

Luke whistled. "Wow, Sam. That's incredible. I knew some of the kids said you'd kept it from being worse than it could have been, but I didn't realize it was because you'd held up the house."

Sam flushed. "Well, it wasn't very long."

"Still, son. That's impressive." He cocked his head at Sam. "So was it poor Emily Johnson, do you think?"

"Honestly, I don't think it was. The house was in really bad shape, and people had been tromping through it all day. At least there wasn't any manifestation of her that I noticed. I think it was just bad luck." Here he gave Luke a sardonic look. "Which is par for the course, really."

Luke shrugged and gave Sam a small grin. "Well, you survived. And saved the lives of a number of people." He drained the last of the tea from his mug. "So I'm not sure I'd qualify that as 'bad' luck, kiddo."

Sam shook his head. "It's always glass half-full for you, man."

Luke laughed as he got up and clapped Sam on the shoulder when he passed him on the way out of the kitchen. "Good night, Sam."

"Night."

xxxx

It was almost two weeks until Christmas when Dean made the suggestion.

"You want to do Christmas at the bunker?" Sam clarified.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Sam thought about it. "I don't know." He cocked his head to one side. "Have you talked to Jo about it?"

Dean shook his head. "I wanted to check with you first." He sat on the bed across from Sam. "I think we could do it. You're a lot more mobile, and I watched Jo do the turkey at Thanksgiving." He squinted at Sam, and Sam realized his brother was nervous about making the suggestion. "I mean. It might be cool to invite them to… to our place, I guess?"

Sam was surprised by the uncertainty in Dean's voice and, frankly, by his own surprise at the idea of hosting the Sweeds for a holiday.

"I hadn't thought about that," Sam said slowly. "We'd have to, like, get there before them and clean up and stuff."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

"I guess we do have sheets and towels for everyone, don't we?" The linen closet in the bunker was fully stocked for housing however many Men of Letters had been living there.

Dean nodded. "It's not like we have to go crazy with the decorating or anything, and we've got the room." He paused. "Right?"

"Yeah." Sam tried to think through the logistics. They'd probably need a week or so to get the bunker into shape if they weren't going to exhaust themselves and risk a relapse for Dean or a setback for Sam's leg. But if they took their time and were careful not to overdo….

"You think it's too much." Dean's voice startled Sam out of his thoughts. He sounded disappointed.

"No," Sam said hurriedly. "No. I just… I was thinking through what all we'd need to do to get the place ready."

Dean's face lit up. "Yeah? It's not too much, right?"

"No. I think we could totally do it."

"Cool."

xxxx

Sam stood at the end of the hall, hands on his hips, and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. They'd done it. Each of the bedrooms off the corridor had fresh sheets on the beds, floors that had been swept, and furniture that had been dusted. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean.

Dean came up behind him. "Tree next?"

"Sure."

Sam felt a surge of satisfaction that he'd managed the word without a pause or a stutter. He and Dean had done a good job, Sam thought, of pacing themselves over the week they'd been back, taking each room in turn and cleaning the common areas of the bunker at a speed that had kept either of them from relapsing. Sam had to admit that he felt tired at the moment, but it was a good kind of tired. But any time Dean heard Sam struggle with a word he took it as a sign to shut things down immediately. And Sam was looking forward to picking out the tree.

It had been cold the last few days, so they bundled up for the trip to the tree lot. Sam blew on his hands, rubbing them together as they walked the long row of trees. Sam had brought one of the crutches, just in case, but so far he'd managed pretty well.

"What about this one?" Dean pulled a nice-sized tree away from the others leaning up against the fence.

"Turn it around." Sam eyed the thin branches in the middle of the tree. "It's got a bare patch, there," he said, pointing.

Dean shoved the tree back into place. They walked a few more steps. "This one?" He pulled out another.

"I don't know," Sam hedged. "The branches are so close together it might be hard to hang ornaments."

Dean cocked his head to the side, studying the tree. "Yeah." He looked around as he let the tree fall back against the others. "Let's walk all the rows and see what our options are," he suggested.

"Good idea," Sam agreed. "Hot chocolate?" There was a snack stand at the end of the row they were on.

"Sure."

Chocolate in hand, they wandered the rows, each pulling out the occasional tree for inspection, but seeming to have decided without saying so that they wouldn't make a decision until they'd seen all the options.

"I like the spruces," Dean said after they'd finished their circuit of the lot. "They're cool looking and there's lots of space between the branches." He looked at Sam. "Optimal ornament hanging."

Sam nodded. "Agreed."

The tree they decided on was tall and expensive. Neither of them cared. Any time they'd managed trees when they'd been kids, the tree had been, by necessity, small and cheap. Sam, of course, had always longed for a "normal" tree—tall and full and packed with ornaments. As adults they hadn't had a tree together since the Christmas before Dean's deal had come due.

This tree might just be Sam's ideal of a Christmas tree, and he was a little embarrassed by how happy it made him.

They'd brought a blanket to protect the Impala's roof when they tied the tree to the top of the car, and Sam had googled how to care for the tree to make it last as long as possible. The tree stand they bought at the lot seemed like it would hold a good amount of water to keep the spruce from drying out too quickly.

It took them longer than Sam would have thought possible to get the tree off the car, down the stairs, and set up in the bunker. By the time the tree was upright and watered in its corner of the library, Sam was exhausted. Dean looked a little pale himself.

"So." Dean sat in one of the library chairs. He was trying to hide the fact that he was panting some. "That'll do for now, right?"

"Right." Sam eased down next to his brother. They sat in silence for a long time.

"It's a good tree," Dean said softly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He didn't want to ask, because thinking about it made him tired, but, "What about ornaments?"

Dean let out a breath and thought about it for a while. "What if we wait 'til the Sweeds get here?" He turned to Sam. "We could pick out what we want together, and they could get what they want?"

The Sweeds were due to arrive the next day, so the tree wouldn't sit bare for very long.

"Yeah. Good."

xxxx

"This is the right place?" Jo looked through the windshield of the Suburban doubtfully. They were out in the middle of nowhere, though there was a large industrial building to their right with an odd door in the side of the hill. She ran a settling hand over D-dog's back where he sat between her and Luke in the front seat of the car. The dog was too polite to climb into her lap in an effort to get to the door, but she could tell he wanted to.

"These are the coordinates they sent," Luke said, glancing down at his phone.

"Who sends coordinates as directions, anyway?" Jake asked from the backseat. He, too, was peering out the window. "It looks abandoned."

"Are they squatting here?" Michael had actually managed to get the holiday off from the hospital. He eased his door open.

"Surely not," said Jo getting out of the car and turning to lift the old dog out. She set the dog on the ground and put her hands on her hips, studying both the building and the metal door set in the side of the hill. She couldn't imagine that the boys would invite them someplace that wasn't a permanent – or permanent for them – home base.

"Cool!" said Tommy as he crowded behind Michael, trying to get out and see for himself. He wiggled past his brother and out the door. "Should we knock?"

"I guess?" The door was heavy metal, down a couple of steps and set into the brick wall of a round concrete bunker-looking thing. It was very strange.

Tommy dodged around the rest of the family moving more uncertainly toward the entrance, jumped down the stairs and banged a fist against the door. It made a dull thumping sound that didn't seem to carry very far. He reached for the handle.

Jake was not far behind and slapped his brother's hand away. "Dude, give them a chance to answer before you barge in."

Tommy scowled. "They just walk into our house."

"Yes, well. We gave them a key," said Jo. "Plus. This is the first time we've been here. We should let them, I don't know, greet us officially." She looked back at Luke. "I think it's a very big deal that we've been invited here."

"Maybe I should call and let them…"

The door swung open and there stood Dean.

"Hey! Come on in!"

He stepped back and hugged each of them as they walked through the door. "Sam's downstairs. If we waited for him to make it up here, it'd be hours."

Jo laughed as she hugged him, then turned toward the interior of the … Warehouse? Apartment? Space? And gasped.

They were standing on a balcony that opened into a large, beautifully constructed room. It looked like a control room of some sort with old-fashioned-looking machinery. Beyond that she could see into a second room that looked like a library: large wooden tables and shelves of books.

"Dean," she whispered, turning to look at him.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Welcome."

Sam came through the library as the Sweeds walked down the stairs, Tommy bouncing down ahead of everyone else and enveloping Sam in a hug.

"This is beautiful," Jo said after greeting Sam, walking further into the room with the books and the tables. "How long have you been here?" She paused. "Where is here?"

"It's been a few years now," Sam said. "It belonged to a group called the Men of Letters. They were, hunters of sorts, really." He reached down to pat D-dog, who had followed the family slowly down the stairs.

"Really?" Luke had noticed Tommy noticing the sword on display. "Stop," he said when Tommy reached for it. "Were they a society or a club or something?"

Dean snorted. He had lowered himself to the floor and was running his hands over D-dog who had essentially climbed into his lap. "Kind of. They were a group that thought they were better than ordinary hunters like us."

"What happened to them and how did you find this place?"

"The Men of Letters got wiped out in the 50s. And. Our grandfather gave us the key." Dean looked up at Sam with a grimace.

"Your grandfather? I didn't know you had family still living." Jo looked taken aback.

"Welllll," Dean hedged. "We don't. He… It's actually a pretty complicated story. Maybe later?"

"Of course," said Jo with a smile, though she knew that unless she pressed she'd likely never here the story at all.

"That's a nice tree." Jake was standing next to a large, really spectacular-looking spruce, tucked into the far corner of the room.

"We got it yesterday, but we don't have any lights or ornaments." Dean looked a little self-conscious. He got to his feet and shrugged, glancing at Jo. "This is the first time we've done Christmas here, actually."

Jo smiled at him, heart warmed that this was a special thing for the Winchesters, saddened that they hadn't had this before.

"Well, we can help with that," Jo said. She put her purse and coat on one of the tables. "Give us the tour!"

The bunker – as the Winchesters called it – was enormous. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, an industrial kitchen, and a garage with cars that had struck the men in her life speechless in awe and reverence. Even Jo, who wasn't much of a car person, could appreciate the beauty of the vehicles in that room.

She'd left her husband and children in the garage and wandered back to the kitchen. Sam was only a minute behind her, walking with just the slightest of limps.

"They'll be talking c- cars and engines for hours," Sam said with a sigh.

Jo laughed, taking more in-depth stock of the room around her. She scanned the open shelves against one wall and so wanted to open the refrigerator and cabinets to see what else was there, but she restrained herself. "This place is amazing, Sam," she said.

"Yeah." Sam laughed and shook his head. "It's really become home."

"I'm so glad for you both," Jo said. She moved toward the fridge, reached for the handle, then let her hand drop, turning back toward Sam.

"It took me a little longer than Dean to, I don't know, embrace that idea. But I'm glad I did."

"Really?" Jo opened one of the cabinets, peeking inside before she caught herself and quickly tried to close the door.

"Yeah." Sam caught the door before it shut, reaching in and pulling out a bag of chips. "Dean made guacamole. Want some?"

"Sure." Jo twined the fingers of both hands together so she wouldn't nose into what wasn't any of her business. She sat down at the table and thought about what Sam had just said. It surprised her for some reason that Dean had been more willing to settle into a home than Sam. Although, at one point as a child, Dean had had that comfort. Sam never really had. Letting yourself make some place home might take some time if you weren't used to that.

"Beer?"

Jo nodded. Sam pulled a bowl out of the fridge and put it down in front of her with the chips. Then he took a couple of beer bottles in hand, opening each with an easy twist. Sliding one bottle across to Jo, Sam took a seat, opened the bag and held it out to her. Jo took a chip, dragged it through the guac, and put in her mouth. Her eyes widened. "Wow. That is good."

Sam laughed. "Dean watched Jake make guacamole a couple of times while we were with them. He's got some cooking skills, I have to admit."

They munched their way through a significant portion of the guacamole.

"You know, you can make yourself at home," Sam said, finally. "Our kitchen in your kitchen, so you should feel free to, I don't know, see what's in the fridge or open any cabinets you want." He smirked at her.

Jo felt her face get warm, and she couldn't help the bark of a laugh that escaped. Caught. Of course Sam had noticed. She grinned. "Really? I don't want to interfere with what you two have planned, I just…." She was already out of the chair, chip and beer in one hand, reaching for the refrigerator door.

Sam laughed. "I think the plan at the moment is 'cook a turkey.' Anything else is up in the air as far as I know."

The contents of the fridge looked promising. Luke had put the lasagna she'd made on one of the middle of the shelves and while there was a lot of beer, there was also milk and some lettuce and tomatoes. Jo moved on to the cabinets, finishing off the chip in her hand and making a list in her head. They'd need some spices. It looked like salt and pepper and garlic powder were the only flavorings the boys had been using.

She looked at the clock. It was just after five. "Sam, how do you turn on this oven? Let's get it heated, and I'll put dinner in." She hesitated. "Unless y'all had something else planned?"

Sam looked a little caught off guard. "Uh. I don't think we'd actually thought of that." He squinted at her. "We have cereal?"

"Let's save that for breakfast," she suggested with a laugh.

Sam got up to turn on the old stove, and Jo watched closely. The oven roared to life, and Jo went back to the table, sitting down and reaching for another chip.

It was only a few minutes before they were joined first by Michael, then Jake, then finally Luke, Dean, Tommy, and the dog. The chips and guacamole were gone only minutes later.

xxxx

"Good morning."

Dean gave Jo an acknowledging jerk of his chin as he headed to the coffee maker.

It wasn't particularly early in the morning, but the rest of the family was still asleep. The long drive the day before and the late night catching up had worn everyone out apparently.

"Nice robe," Jo said once Dean had gotten coffee in his mug. "And slippers." She was biting back a smile.

"What?" Dean looked down at himself. Right. "It's comfortable," he shrugged. Feels homey, he didn't say.

"I've never seen you wear a robe before." Jo said, taking a sip of coffee and peering at him over her mug. She was smoothing a hand over D-dog's head that was resting on her thigh. The dog had only shifted his eyes to look at Dean when he'd come in the room.

Dean joined her at the table. "I don't wear it on the road." Though maybe he should consider taking the slippers, at least. Some of the motel carpets were nasty.

"Home kinds of things, huh?" Jo guessed, smile now apparent, kind and understanding.

Dean shrugged his acceptance of that, but didn't acknowledge it out loud.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"So. Can I ask you a question?" Jo's voice was quiet.

Dean smiled slightly, but didn't look at her. "Sure."

She still hesitated, but finally said, "I wanted to ask before, but… seeing you at home like this… It's made me wonder again." She paused. "Lisa and Ben?"

Dean felt his heart still at the question and when he didn't respond immediately, she went on, "You sent us those pictures, and you seemed … happy, I think?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. Even after all this time, that one hurt a little. "We were. And they were… amazing. But. When Sam came back, things were complicated and … I put them in danger." He drank his coffee. "I couldn't stay."

When he looked over at Jo, she was watching him, a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Dean glanced away. "It was a long time ago."

"Do you… do you ever see them?"

Dean shook his head, didn't tell her about Cas's erasing him from their lives. "No. It was better to make a clean break." He did check on them some, but he hadn't seen them in person since that day.

"Has there been anyone else?" she asked. "Anyone special?"

"Hey."

Both Jo and Dean startled a little, heads turning toward the door into the kitchen as Jake wandered in. He didn't speak again, just made a beeline for the coffee.

Jo raised an eyebrow at Dean, not deterred by the presence of another person in the room.

Dean shook his head again. He thought about Melanie sometimes, the girl from psychic-town, but… "Nah." He turned now and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "But it's okay, Jo. It really is." It was hard to explain, but it was alright. He and Sam had managed a good life together—one with purpose and a contentedness Dean wouldn't ever have anticipated.

"I'm glad."

Dean hufffed out a laugh, giving her a smile. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me, too." He waited for a second until Jake had raised his coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip. "You know Jakey's been seeing Daisy, right?" Dean had been surprised to find out that the girl Jake had been best friends with and considered dating in high school actually lived in Austin, too.

To his credit, Jake didn't spit his coffee out, though he did seem to swallow a hot mouthful sooner than he'd planned.

While the kid was spluttering and coughing, Jo said serenely. "Of course, I do, sweetheart." She gave Jake a jaundiced look. "No thanks to my child, though." At Dean's puzzled frown, Jo reached over and patted Dean's arm. "We live in a small town, honey. People talk. Even when the people involved have moved away."

"Ugh." Jake groaned. "We've only gone out a couple of times."

Dean shook his head at the younger man. "Dude."

Dean had seen Jake's face when he'd come in from that first date, heard him talking to Daisy on the phone, seen them together when Daisy had come over to watch a movie one night. The kid was gone. And right now he ducked his head at Dean's admonishment of his attempt at denial.

"I've always liked that girl," Jo said with a smug look at her nephew.

Jake rolled his eyes. Then started to grin. "I do, too."

xxxx

They stood in a huddle, all seven of them, staring at the rows and rows of Christmas decorations spreading out before them.

"So, we'll start with the lights?" Jo said. "Then figure out decorations?"

They'd had a long, somewhat pointless conversation on the way into town about what kind of decorations they should get for the tree.

In turned out that everyone had firmly held – and very different – beliefs about how a tree should be decorated. Tommy wanted blinking, white lights with handmade ornaments from his childhood. Jake also liked the blinking, white lights, but wanted ornaments that looked like snowflakes and red and green orbs. Michael said he'd always liked the colored lights with the bigger bulbs and suggested popcorn strings and paper chains. Jo and Luke did their best to remind the boys that the tree was the Winchesters' and the two of them had both first say on ornaments and veto power over anyone else's choice.

The Winchesters were out of luck with the homemade ornaments, but Dean wanted colored, blinking lights, while Sam himself leaned toward the white lights that Tommy liked. Though he did kind of like the ones that didn't blink.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Lights first." And they trooped into that aisle.

The light selection was overwhelming. Even the white lights had multiple variations depending on how blue or yellow you wanted your white.

They wrangled back and forth until Sam realized that Dean was more invested in the color of the lights than he was himself.

"Fine," Sam capitulated. "We can do colored ones that blink."

Michael and Dean high-fived.

"But I get first pick on type of ornaments."

Dean narrowed his eyes, but agreed. "Fine."

"How many boxes do we need?" Sam asked and pushed the cart he was leaning on closer to the shelves. Luke put several boxes of colored lights in the cart.

"You know," Jo suggested, "we could get some of the white lights and string them up around the bunker."

Sam glanced at Dean who nodded his agreement, and Luke reached for a few more boxes.

The ornament aisles were the next stop. It made Sam exhausted just looking at all the choices and thinking about trying to get a consensus on the decorations. Without realizing he was doing it, he gave a loud sigh.

"This is a lot," Tommy said, somewhat awed. There were agreeing nods among the assembled group.

"You know what we could do," Dean said, looking at Sam. "We could just each get a box of ornaments we like." He shrugged. "It's not like we have to have a theme or anything."

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother and grinned. "Yeah. Let's do that."

"And we'll set a time limit. Fifteen minutes."

"Yes!" Tommy pumped his fist. "I can get anything I want?"

"Sure," Sam said. He could see the delight on the faces of all three of the younger "boys" as they scanned the aisles.

"Wait." Jo lifted up a hand. Michael, Jake, and Tommy deflated somewhat. "That's very generous, y'all. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Dean said. He looked at his watch. "Ready?" The contestants assumed racing stances. "Go!"

Ultimately, the hunt wasn't as chaotic as it had seemed it might be. The boys were surprisingly – or really, not at all surprisingly – thoughtful as they considered their choices, looking carefully at all the possibilities before making their selections, Jo and Luke each picking out a couple of the individual ornaments.

In the end, they had a nice variety of ornaments. Tommy had actually found a set of do-it-yourself ornaments he thought they could make, and Michael had wandered off to return with a package of construction paper, popcorn, needles, thread, and glue.

Jo encouraged both Winchesters to pick out more than just a single box of ornaments. "You've got a big tree. It'll take a surprising number of ornaments to fill it out."

Sam was amazed at the kinds of ornaments that were available. There were traditional ornaments—candy canes, angels, stars—but then there were some of the most random objects Sam could have imagined—stuffed fruit, donuts (Dean got some of those), a sailboat. He couldn't resist the box of Star Wars themed ornaments and one that had multiple types of pie that he tucked into the bottom of the cart, hoping to surprise Dean when they got home.

Right before the end of their fifteen minutes, Luke asked, "Y'all want something for the top of the tree? Star? Angel?"

There was a pause and Sam's "star," was said in sync with his brother's.

"Star, it is," agreed Luke. He held up two options. "One of these?"

With an inquiring glance at Dean, Sam pointed to the star on the left. Dean nodded his agreement, and they were done.

xxxx

Sam sat at one of the library tables in the bunker, staring at the now decorated tree across the room. He took a pull at his beer.

The floor around the tree was filled with presents and the giant Blue Bear was propped against a wall, additional packages in its lap. The family had agreed to a couple of hours of recovery from the shopping trip and tree decorating and Sam was enjoying the momentary stillness as everybody else had retreated to rooms for naps or reading.

Christmas was two days away, so they wouldn't have a lot of time to enjoy the tree this year, but Sam couldn't help the slight smile at the idea of being able to set the tree up earlier next Christmas and the chance to savor this part of having a home for a longer time in the years to come.

He wasn't necessarily surprised when Dean joined him at the table, beer also in hand.

"Looks good," Dean said. The lights were plugged in and the ornaments that could reflected their light dimly.

"It does."

The silence settled between them, comfortable and comforting.

"The pie ornaments are awesome." Dean gave him a grin that Sam returned. They were.

The quiet descended again, and Sam felt himself start to drift.

Sam startled at the sound of what he knew were the wings of an angel.

"Cas." Dean's voice rose in surprise at the sight of the angel that appeared across the table from them. He looked at Sam and got to his feet.

"Hello, Dean." Cas still wore the battered trench coat he'd sported so long when he was on earth. Sam couldn't help but wonder if the angel put the coat on specifically when he visited the Winchesters.

"Hey, Cas," Sam said. He didn't get up, but smiled briefly in welcome.

"Hello, Sam." He studied Sam. "How are you doing?"

"Good, thanks."

Cas nodded. "I'm sorry." He paused. "I mean, I'm not sorry that you are doing better. I'm sorry that the house fell on you."

Sam smiled. "Right. Thanks."

"I thought that if you were in the hospital you would have a chance to reconnect with your friends."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Dean frowned and looked back at Cas. "What does that mean exactly?"

"You did not realize that Michael and Jacob McCrae were in Austin, and I knew if Sam was in the hospital you would have an opportunity to interact with the family that had meant so much to you in the past."

Sam blinked at the angel.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again.

Cas looked from Winchester face to Winchester face. "You missed this family and needed to be in relationship with them."

Sam and Dean stared. Sam couldn't process the implications of what Cas seemed to be saying.

"So." Dean's voice was strained, but calm. "You dropped a house on Sam so that we would reconnect with the Sweeds?"

"And exposed you to mononucleosis," Cas added.

"I…," Dean looked at Sam, who could only stare, open mouthed. "I…," Dean looked back at Cas. "I don't even know what to say to that." He took a deep breath and seemed to find his words. "Except, are you freaking kidding me?!"

Cas's brow drew into a frown, not seeming to understand Dean's agitation. "If I had simply told you that Michael and Jacob were in town, would you have contacted them?"

Sam exchanged a look with his brother. No. They both knew they wouldn't have. It had been too long, they'd've been too afraid to reach out, been able to justify not trying to reconnect by telling themselves they were protecting the family.

"If you hadn't been severely injured," Cas looked at Sam, "and desperately ill," now he turned his gaze to Dean, "would you have remained in town until Josephine and Luke had arrived or would you have slipped away again?"

Silence. They both knew the answer to that question, too.

"You have been alone too long," Cas said. "It was time."

Sam looked at the decorated tree, at the lights wrapped around the columns of the library. He could smell the pot roast cooking in the crockpot that Jo had shown Dean how to make. He looked at his brother.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, sliding his eyes to Sam. "Well."

Cas gazed at the two of them for a long minute, then turned to the tree. "It's a nice tree," he said.

"Thanks," said Sam.

"Dean, honey?" Jo's voice drifted into the room, and Sam could hear her coming along the corridor from the kitchen.

There was the sound of angel's wings again, and Cas was gone.

Jo smiled when she saw them, grinned her continuing approval of the tree when she glanced that way. "Dean, are you ready to learn how to make the best mashed potatoes in the world?"

There was a beat of silence before Dean turned. "Yep."

As he moved toward the door, Dean passed behind the chair where Sam sat. He paused and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. When Sam looked at him, Dean huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly, squeezing Sam's shoulder.

"Lead the way," he said following behind Jo. "You gonna help?" he asked Sam before he left the room.

From the kitchen, Sam could hear Tommy and Jake starting to wrangle over the possibility of hot chocolate and popcorn before dinner, and he pulled himself to his feet.

"Right behind you."

The End.