Halfway through their third day straight of research Dean didn't think he could struggle through another sentence. As soon as noon hit he had tasked young Sam with helping him scrounge up some lunch.

Dean opened the fridge dramatically. "So, what are you thinking?"

Young Sam furrowed his brow in exaggerated contemplation. "French toast?"

"That's not lunch."

Sam frowned deeply, looking up at his much older brother.

"That Puss in Boots crap won't work on me." Dean lied.

"What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "A movie. Never mind, I'm not adding it to the list." He and Sam had already come up with a list of movies they could blow through.

"What are we watching next?" Young Sam asked eagerly. He was feeling spoiled with a new Star Wars trilogy, and he had been promised more.

"Lord of the Rings. You're gonna love it."

"Cool." Sam breathed.

"Fine. Brunch it is." Dean said at last, feigning a long-suffering sigh. He began to pull things out of the fridge.

"Yes!" Sam said. He ran over and held out his hands for Dean to load up with eggs, milk and butter. He turned, balancing carefully to walk it to the counter.

Dean walked over, reaching up and grabbing a pan. He began rearranging ingredients, grabbing a few extra.

"It's weird… You cooking."

"I cook all the time for you." Dean protested. "Then too."

"That's what I mean." Sam said. "My Dean is always cooking for me. And now you are, but like twenty years later."

"Some things never change." Dean felt a warmth in his chest when he looked at his younger brother. He remembered Sam when he was this age. A lot of unexpected emotions were stirring at the moment.

"I'm glad." young Sam said, voice much quieter, a little shy. "I am glad you're still here… I uh… sometimes I worried… that you'd leave."

Dean felt a small stab. It isn't me who leaves. "Why ruin a perfect team?" He said.

Young Sam smiled. "And now we get to live in a secret bunker that is protected from monsters."

"We really lucked out on this place."

Sam walked over to the sink in the corner, grabbing a bucket and bringing it back. He turned it over, stepping up onto it and taking his place at the counter.

Dean smiled. He slid the loaf of bread across the counter before he began cracking eggs into a dish.

Sam started to pull slices out, stacking them to the side. "What's it like?"

"What, living in the bunker?"

"No… hunting."

Dean looked him over for a moment. "You haven't been on a hunt yet."

"No." Sam said. "But I've seen you and Dad…"

Dean thought for a moment. "We save a lot of people. That feels good." He looked up, catching his other younger brother's eyes as he walked in. "Sammy! You suckered me into making french toast twenty two years ago, and I'm not quick to forgive."

Sam gave a weak chuckle.

"So, what's up." Dean said, continuing to crack eggs.

"We think we figured it out." Sam's tone was reserved. "Dean found a spell. Cas confirmed he thinks it'll work."

Dean froze, eggshell still in hand. "What?"

Young Sam was frozen right alongside him. "How?"

"Uh, it sort of blends the two times. We'll be in both at once for a minute… Cas will put you to sleep." He leaned back against the door frame. "You'll wake up there."

"And we won't remember anything." Young Sam said slowly.

"Yeah."

No one spoke for a minute.

Young Sam swallowed. "When?"

Sam shook his head. "Cas is working out the details now. We need a couple rare herbs, and still have to figure out what kind of sand we need of all things."

"Sand?"

"Cas thinks it'll take a few days to get everything together."

Young Sam took a shaky breath. "And then we go back…"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Dean watched Young Sam struggle to process it. "Hey, pass me that bread." He said.

For now the only thing they could do was finish lunch.

.

Most families had albums full of photographs. School photos, childhood birthday parties, family trips to Disney.

Most of Dean's early childhood burned with his mother. His father tried at first, before he lost himself to hunting entirely. There isn't anything of him between the age of six and ten. At ten they met Bobby.

Most of those burned in Bobby's house.

The pictures Dean was combing through were the few that survived. Rare moments of happiness, standing among the rusted out junkyard cars. Bobby even bought their fucking school photos the one fall they were at school in Sioux Falls. But none of them when they were from the age they were in the other room.

I should take a picture of them now. Then there would be one.

He jumped, looking up when he heard the knock. He hastily shuffled the pictures together, thrusting them into his desk drawer and sliding it shut.

Cas hesitated at the door. "Am I interrupting you?"

"No." Dean said, careful not to be too quick with his response. "What's up?"

"I…" Cas stepped into his room. "I was just walking and decided to stop by." he lied.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine."

Cas tilted his head, trying to keep his expression not too patronizing.

Dean rolled his eyes. "They're going home."

"And how do you feel about that?"

He sighed. "I have no idea." he admitted.

"You have been very stressed with their presence."

"What's ahead of them… They don't deserve it."

"You never did."

Dean closed his mouth. He looked away. "I know they have to go back. Sucks it's so soon." That was putting it mildly. "They're just getting the hang of the internet. Sammy wanted to go fishing again."

"It'll probably take a week to get everything we need."

Dean sighed. "Yeah. We'll see how that goes."

"I only saw a brief window into your memories… I too regret that they need to return. I cannot imagine what it is like for you."

"My past was behind me."

Cas furrowed his brow, walking further into the room. He decided to take a seat on the small couch against the wall. "What do you mean?"

"It was a lifetime ago." Decades on earth and longer in hell. "And it's not like I was over it but… but then Mom and… and them." He rubbed a hand over his mouth. "It's stirring up a lot of shit I thought I had buried once and for all."

"You healed once…"

"Did I?"

Cas frowned.

Dean let out his breath. "No, you're right. But it's still bullshit."

"It is." Cas said solemnly.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh. "Gotta get back to ignoring all my new trauma."

Cas gave a weak smile. "You still don't deserve it."

"Oh, shut up." Dean straightened up, opening up his desk drawer and digging back into it. "While I have you here…"

Cas watched Dean curiously.

"I figure you'll be moving on soon."

"I don't have plans to leave."

"Well when you do, I have something… I… your truck is too old for CDs and radio stations suck these days… I figured you deserved some good tunes." Dean dug back into his desk, coming up with a cassette tape. He hesitated, looking at it before extending it to the angel. "Gotta expose you to good culture."

Cas looked at the tape in his hands. He readjusted to hold it just a little tighter. "I will listen to it."

"Good."

Cas studied him for a moment. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes."

"Then I will stay."

Dean smiled, trying his best not to look relieved. "Good."

Both of them looked up when they heard a door close down the hallway, closer than Sam's.

Cas stood. "I have a stack of books on sand waiting for me."

Dean nodded, watching his younger self appear in the doorway, sidestepping to let Cas out. "Let me know if that tape deck in your truck doesn't work. I can take a look at it." Dean said as Cas turned back towards the door.

"I will."

Young Dean got a glimpse of the cassette tape in the angel's hand as he left. He snorted. "Traxx?" He asked. "Alright, cool guy." He said with heavy sarcasm.

"Shut up." Dean said, rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Haven't been in my room yet. Wanted to see what I should be looking forward to." He said, beginning to properly inspect the room. "Figure out if I still have any taste."

"And?"

Young Dean stopped right in the middle, taking a complete turn. "Doesn't suck."

"A ringing endorsement."

Young Dean walked over to study the weapons on the wall before turning to Dean's vinyl collection. "Oh, nice." He breathed, starting to flip through them.

Dean grinned. He saw himself wince. "How are your hands?"

Young Dean gently shifted his palms. "I don't know how I keep forgetting with the bandages on, but I've dropped more things in the last day than I have in the last year." He sighed. "But I haven't opened them again."

"Cas says you're going to let him heal those up."

"Yeah, apparently I didn't get stupid yet."

"Hey."

Young Dean shrugged, a smile forming on his lips. "Just calling it how I see it."

"Well, I guess you've got stupid to look forward to."

"Don't remind me." Young Dean sank down onto the chair at the corner table. "So how does this work? You don't have any scars from this." He pointed out, looking at Dean's arm.

"Most scars disappear when an angel heals you."

"So when Cas-"

"Full reset."

Young Dean blinked. "Neat." He said. "I can think of a few scars I wouldn't mind ditching."

"Yeah."

"You said most scars?"

Dean absently touched his shoulder. "Can't erase scars caused by an angel."

"What?"

Dean pushed his overshirt down, slipping up his t-shirt to expose the handprint on his shoulder.

"Jesus." Young Dean breathed. "Who did that?"

"Cas."

"Why!?"

"From when he dragged us out of hell."

"He, what, actually grabbed you and dragged you out?"

"I guess." Dean said with a shrug. "We haven't really talked about it." They hadn't really talked about anything to do with his rescue from hell.

"Do you remember him getting you out?"

"No." Dean said. "It's all a blur. Didn't recognize Cas at all when we met." Of course he hadn't been wearing Jimmy's face in hell, but he wasn't about to open that conversation.

"I'm sure that went well."

Dean smiled somewhat fondly. "Got a couple rounds of buckshot and a knife in him before we had a conversation."

"You got out of hell and the first thing you did was shoot the angel that got you out?"

Dean waved his hand dismissively. "I thought he was a demon."

Young Dean caught a glimpse of his older self's collarbone as Dean righted his shirt. "Cool tattoo."

"Anti-possession." Dean sighed. "Gotta get you and Sammy a necklace. Forgot you don't have one yet."

"Oh." Young Dean said softly.

"I think I have a couple." Dean got up, crossing and kneeling down in front of the chest at the end of his bed. He cracked it open, digging in. "Dammit Cas." he hissed under his breath. "I had this organized."

"You let Cas just go through your stuff?"

"I said he could look for a book." Dean said absently. "There we go." He pulled out a small wooden box, opening it up and exposing the mess of necklaces inside. He grabbed two charms, handing them over to his younger self.

Young Dean pocketed one for his brother before slipping the other over his head, letting it come to rest next to the necklace Sammy had given him. He noticed his older self wasn't wearing it anymore. He didn't really want to know why.

"That'll prevent any demon from jumping your body."

"Convenient. Dad figure these out?"

"Bobby."

"Mmh." He watched curiously as his older self began to pull items out of the chest, reorganizing things and replacing them. A pile of books, an excitingly large slinky, a big plastic bin full of cassettes... "So what songs made it onto our top 13?"

"Obvious ones."

"Rambling On and Traveling Riverside Blues."

"Yep." Dean said, straightening up a couple folders and slipping them back into the crate.

Young Dean listened to his older self rattle off the rest of the titles. He blinked in surprise. "What, no Moby Dick?"

"Figured there were other songs Cas would like better."

He hesitated. "Wait… you just made that tape?" It wasn't a tape he had laying around that he lent Cas. He made that tape for Cas.

"Yeah." Dean realized his mistake just a second too late. The only person who would possibly be able to read between those lines was himself.

Young Dean's head snapped up. "Oh my God."

"No." Dean warned.

"You…" Young Dean accused. "Cas?"

"Oh we are absolutely not having this conversation." Dean said sternly, face growing warm.

"I can't… really?" Young Dean sprang up from his chair.

"We're done here." Dean pushed himself up from the ground.

"Hey, you don't get to decide that."

"Go to hell."

"I will."

Dean tripped slightly, glaring at himself. "Drop it."

"Does Sam know you're-"

"That I'm what?"

"Whatever the fuck you are."

"No." Dean pointed at the door. "Now get out." He waited for a moment but when his younger self made no moves he bridged the gap, roughly taking himself by the shoulders and pushing him towards the hallway.

"Hey, get off me!"

"Out." Dean shoved him through the doorway, slamming the door in his face.

Young Dean stood still, staring at the closed door, heart pounding in his chest. Each beat was more forceful than the last, shaking through his ribs loud enough he wouldn't be surprised if Dean could hear it through the door.

Young Dean staggered, looking back and forth down the hallway. He closed his eyes, the thought of heading back to his and Sam's room dumping another surge of adrenaline into his system and he hastily turned back towards the library.

His mind was looping through static, and he fought desperately to quiet it. He felt a brief wave of nausea as he had the sudden thought and hope he didn't run across Cas in the library. He did a scan of the room before he left the door frame, relief it was empty not quite reaching him through the tightness in his chest.

It wasn't that he didn't know, it was that he sort of thought he'd get over it eventually.

As soon as he thought about it directly he felt stupid. Of course that wasn't how it worked, but he had denied himself that with success so far, he didn't see any reason why he couldn't just carry that on now. It wasn't like there weren't any women left in the world. He'd have even more years of practice, surely he could manage.

And Cas? He hardly knew anything about him. Angel, sure. Rescued him from hell. Awesome. Rebelled against heaven for him? Bit fucked up.

That was forever ago by his count. What the fuck came after that? Hell, Cas was spitting in God's face then, what happened since? When did it start? Did Cas know? Did he-

Young Dean snapped back as he heard the cabinets close in the kitchen. He froze, trying to reason out who he was hearing. Cas didn't eat and his kid brother was asleep.

That just left his other older kid brother.

He started towards the kitchen, keeping his steps cautiously quiet in case he was wrong. He needed to know more about Cas, and he was damned if he was going to ask Cas anything.

Young Dean was glad Sam was actually alone when he entered. He knew he needed to figure out a way to be subtle about it. He started rehearsing in his head as he approached Sam.

Open up with something simple and just test the waters. Ease into it. Something easy. So, what is it like living with an angel? "Dean is in love with Cas." Fuck.

Young Dean froze, trying to figure out exactly how he got into this mess so fast.

Sam looked over, keeping his gaze for a moment before he abruptly burst out laughing.

Dean slowly unclenched, watching Sam lose his composure entirely, loud enough he was a little worried it'd attract attention. He waited while Sam struggled to force himself to breathe, leaving tears in his eyes. He frowned, attempting to make sense of exactly what was happening. "Sam?"

Sam couldn't help it. It was obvious that his now younger brother had probably had a whole plan in place to approach this topic, and it had been ruined in a second. "Sorry." He breathed, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry, I just… that didn't come out how you wanted, huh?"

Young Dean felt his heart rate pick up again as he made himself cross the kitchen and sit across from Sam. "You knew." He said softly.

"I've suspected." Sam said more sincerely, finally managing to take a deeper breath, swallowing a resurgence of laughter.

"For how long?"

"I don't know." Sam shook his head. "You don't exactly open up that often."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "And Cas?"

"Takes the phrase 'it's complicated' to a new level." Sam sighed. "You two have always shared something. I don't know when it became something else."

"He… I…"

"Dean told you?"

Young Dean's cheeks flushed red. "I uh…"

"Can't hide things from yourself I guess." Sam said softly, studying him carefully.

"Though I'll give you credit for how hard you try."

Young Dean tried and failed to muster up some sort of retort.

"Neither of them talked to me about it." Sam continued, hesitating before opening the beer in front of him and sliding it across the table. Not the worst thing. He got up to get himself another. "I considered asking Cas a few times… but I figured he'd just deny it."

"So Cas… he feels-?" Young Dean suspected, but he didn't actually know.

"Yeah." Sam said. "Maybe longer, it's-"

"Hard to tell." Dean finished, catching on to a pattern.

"Yeah." Sam settled back down with his new beer. "We had a friend… a while back. I think if she were still alive Dean would have talked to her about it."

Young Dean managed an incredulous look.

"Okay," Sam conceded. "I think if she were still alive she would have confronted Dean about it."

"And he would've denied it."

"Unsuccessfully."

"Does he know that Cas-"

"Do you think he knows?"

"No." Young Dean admitted.

Sam simply nodded, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

Dean blinked for a moment, brain feeling a little like it was short circuiting, switching thought to thought. He ran his hand around the outside of the bottle restlessly, making no move to drink it. "Is that even legal?"

Sam furrowed his brows for a moment before he realized. "Yeah. All fifty states."

"Has there… I mean, all these years there had to be someone else." He said weakly. Were they all….?

"Yes." Sam said, hesitating slightly and wondering if it was his place to tell that story. Looking at Dean now, he figured he had to at least say something. "Lisa. You lived with her for a while."

"She was a hunter?"

"No, but she knew you were. You were out of the life for a while."

Young Dean blinked. "What happened?" His voice got quieter. "What happened to her?"

Sam winced slightly. "You thought you were trying to protect her by leaving."

"Was I?"

"I don't know."

Dean sat with that for a minute. He tried to shake himself out of it. "Did uh…" His breath caught in his throat for a moment, but he forced through it with a cough. He looked down and picked at the label of his beer bottle to avoid looking at his brother. "Did he tell you he was… that I was…" He couldn't say it.

"No. You never have." Sam glanced at the door closest to his brother's room. "I don't know if it just wasn't something you wanted to talk about, or if you were worried about what I'd think."

"I-"

"Dean, there's nothing wrong with you."

Dean tensed. "I didn't say there was."

"Maybe not with words."

Dean's face flashed bright red and he closed his eyes, mortified to feel tears escape. He was starting to get that fight or flight feeling again and his body protested when he forced it to remain still.

Sam looked directly at him. "Dean?"

"I was supposed to grow out of it." Dean whispered, voice hoarse.

"What?"

"I didn't… I thought…"

Sam stood, bridging the gap and pulling his brother to his feet. "Come here."

Dean let Sam pull him into a tight hug, too exhausted to feel shame for openly crying. "I don't…"

"It's going to be okay."

"Sam…" Dean's voice broke, and he shivered, turning his head and letting his face get buried into Sam's shirt.

Sam only hugged him tighter. "You're my brother, Dean. I hope you know that I'm here no matter what. I love you."

Dean clung on, shaking, letting Sam's embrace fight off the weight threatening to cave in on him, stilling the world that was threatening to spin out of control. Here his soul was bared, feeling his chest clench tighter as his baby brother just held him.

He couldn't help but to think that was the thing he may have needed to most hear in the world.

And how fucked up it was that he'd have to forget it.