PART THREE: Take the Long Way Home
Dean spends the next year spiraling out of control. He drinks too much, loses his job, spends a week on a bender before cleaning himself up again so he can find another job. Repeats the cycle until no trucking company will hire him and he has to crawl back to Lawrence to beg for his old job back at the garage.
He breaks his own rule within the first month, texts Sam, begging him to come back. He leaves long, drunken mesages on Sam’s voicemail until the box is full, then disconnected.
Sam texts him about a week later, apologizing. He sends photos of his son. He calls Dean on his birthday, tells Dean he loves him.
But Sam doesn’t return.
He never doubts that Sam thinks about him, though. Worries about him. And when Sam calls him on his fortieth birthday he does his damndest not to sound as pathetic as he probably looks.
“Are you eating? Getting enough sleep?”
Dean mumbles his replies while Sam mother-hens him to death.
“Come back, Sam,” he pleads. “Bring the kid.”
Sam sighs. “Dean.”
Dean’s pretty sure it won’t be long till he manages to drink himself to death, but he doesn’t say that. Sam knows. He already feels guilty. But he’s made his promise to that other Dean, and now he’s raising a new Dean, and he won’t let them down.
Sam’s not done with him, though. Dean feels it in his bones.
//**//**//
Sometime in the middle of the second year after Sam leaves, he gets a text from him.
“I found your Sam. Sam Singer. He’s an attorney in Sioux Falls, SD. Married and divorced, like you. I can guarantee he’s waiting for you.” The next text is a photograph of a man who looks exactly like Sam, but with glasses and shorter hair. He’s wearing a suit. It’s a resume headshot, formal and serious as all hell.
Gorgeous, of course.
Dean’s heart leaps, then crashes. It’s not really Sam. It’s not his Sam, this doppelganger who doesn’t even know he exists.
Or is it? Didn’t Sam say he’d come to Dean in the first place because Dean didn’t have a Sam? But what if Sam Singer is the Sam Dean was supposed to find, except he got side-tracked because his Sam showed up instead?
Sam would’ve figured that out. Sam would’ve realized that Dean’s Sam wasn’t his brother after all.
Sam’s brother was his Dean all along, his brother-in-arms as well as the lover he lost. Sam grew up with the brother who would become his everything, then die and leave him. Sam’s loneliness and grief drove him to find Dean in the first place.
Dean’s losing his mind.
He borrows a car from Gunther and drives North. He doesn’t have a plan, other than tracking Sam Singer down. What’s he supposed to say? Sam said that Singer will be waiting for him. What does that mean?
Dean stops at a bar on the outskirts of Sioux Falls, gets drunk and ends up in a fight with the bartender, who calls the cops and has him arrested for assault.
It’s not the first time.
Dean’s still sleeping off his hangover in the local jail when he gets dragged into the interview room to meet with the public defender.
Of course, the PD is Sam Singer.
Dean looks up, way up, as the lawyer stops inside the closed door. He’s just standing there, staring at Dean, which is how Dean knows Sam was right. This guy’s been waiting for him. He’s probably had freaky dreams about him. All Sams are psychic, after all. He figured that out after a few months with the other Sam.
“Dean Winchester?”
Even the way the guy says his name sounds like a caress, the way the other Sam said it the first time.
Dean lifts his shackled wrists. “Guilty,” he says. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
He watches, amused, as Sam Singer gets his shit together, obviously having a challenging time of it.
“I’m your attorney, Sam Singer.”
He manages to cross the room, pull out the chair back from the table, and fold himself into it, directly across from Dean. He does it all without looking at Dean, which amuses Dean even more because he can read this Sam’s awkward, shy body language like a book.
Sam lies the file with Dean’s criminal record and booking photo on the table in front of him and opens it.
“Born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas,” Sam reads. “Dad was a mechanic, Mom was a teacher.”
“That’s right,” Dean agrees.
“Normal, uneventful upbringing,” Sam goes on. “Intact, middle-class home.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Joined the Marines at 18, right out of high school. Served two tours in Afghanistan,” Sam says, then clears his throat. “You saw a lot of action there?”
“Two of my buddies died right in front of me,” Dean says. “Benny and Jimmy.”
He never tells people that, but he needs to see Sam flinch.
Sam flinches.
“When you came home, you worked in your dad’s garage, did odd jobs around town, married your childhood sweetheart. That marriage lasted almost two years.”
Sam lifts his eyes to Dean for the first time. Dean smirks.
“Wasn’t meant to be,” he says with a shrug.
“After the divorce, you took a job with R&R Trucking. Spent more than ten years driving rigs all over the country until you got yourself arrested for public drunkenness in 2024. All of your arrests since then have been for drunkenness and assault.”
Sam closes the folder, lays his fingertips lightly on the table on either side.
“What happened, Mr. Winchester?”
“Call me Dean,” Dean says, his eyes on Sam’s hands. They look smooth, not a blemish or scar in sight. No callouses on the trigger finger. Not working man’s hands. Not like his Sam’s.
This is his Sam, he reminds himself. That other one was a loaner. Temporary.
“What happened, Dean?”
You, Dean wants to say. That other you. The one who belongs to a dead guy.
“I lost someone,” he says out loud. It’s the truth. “Sent me off the rails.”
Sam nods thoughtfully, but Dean can see the disappointment. Sam’s jealous and he doesn’t even know why.
“He looked a lot like you,” Dean says. “Just not so gussied up.”
“What happened?” Sam almost whispers, and Dean smirks before answering.
“He found somebody else,” Dean says. “I should’ve seen it coming. Did see it coming. He was chasing a ghost the whole time we were together.”
Sam nods like he understands, and Dean winks at him.
Sam ducks his head and blushes.
Too easy, Dean thinks. Like taking candy from a baby.
“So, you gonna get me out?” he asks aloud.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Bail is set at one-thousand dollars, since this isn’t your first offense. Can you pay that?”
“Sure. You can just put it on my credit card.” Dean smirks, watching as Sam ducks his head again. His hair swings down over his forehead.
“Good, good,” Sam says. “I can probably get you in to see the judge in about a month, if you agree to plead guilty to the charges.”
“What kind of sentence are we looking at?”
Sam takes a breath. “Well, I know the judge, and she’s pretty understanding about substance abuse. She has a brother who’s in an out of rehab. I’m guessing that’s what she’ll give you as part of your sentence, rather than jail time.”
Dean nods. “I can do that.”
“Do you have a place to stay? You’ll need a local address as a condition of your bail.”
Dean grins flirtatiously. “How about your place?”
Sam’s eyes go wide. “My place?”
“Well, you were going to ask me out anyway, weren’t you?” Dean presses. “After I get out of here.”
Dean watches as Sam’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
“I can’t let you stay at my place,” Sam says finally. “I’m your lawyer. It wouldn’t be ethical.”
Dean nods, grin widening. “Find me a decent motel, then. I’m not picky.”
“I can’t put you up, Dean! If you can’t find a place of your own, you’ll just have to stay in the local shelter. The court will accept that address.”
“Whatever.” Dean pouts. “But I’m not staying in any shelter. I’ve got a car.”
“You can’t sleep in your car!” Sam insists.
Dean lifts an eyebrow, gives Sam another lop-sided grin. “Then I guess you’re putting me up. Motel or your place, your choice.”
Sam’s exasperation is priceless. Dean leans back in his chair a little to enjoy it. He watches as Sam thinks it through, struggling with his confusion over his attraction to Dean. It makes Dean want to laugh. He knows exactly how it feels, meeting the most perfect, the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen for the first time. Sam can’t believe his luck.
The fact that Dean’s dirty, too thin, and needs a shave just makes this moment all the more hilarious. Sam doesn’t stand a chance, any more than Dean did when he first laid eyes on that other Sam. Dean has the advantage here because he knows what’s going on in Sam’s big brain and even bigger heart, knows that Sam’s coming alive with every passing moment in ways he never knew he could be.
Dean knows because he’s been through it before, but that doesn’t make this time any less exhilarating.
This time, with this Sam, there’s more than a string of desperate one-night stands in Dean’s future.
Dean’s as sure of that as he is of anything.
//**//**//
It takes Sam a while to completely warm up to the idea of giving in to his feelings for Dean. He’s been burned a couple of times in previous relationships, and this thing between them seems too good to be true. Sam’s ethical sensibility doesn’t allow him to sleep with a client, so they don’t go there until Dean’s sentence is complete and he’s sober as a doorknob.
But just being with Sam is the balm on his soul that Dean needed. He doesn’t even think about suicide anymore, much less drinking hard enough to forget being left by that other Sam.
Dean’s not the most patient man on the planet, but with Sam, he’s willing to wait.
Almost a year after they first met, Sam finally lets Dean take him out for dinner. Sam pulled some strings and got Dean a job as a security guard at a local warehouse, and Dean squirrels away his paychecks until he can get reservations at a fancy restaurant, the kind he knows Sam frequents with his wealthier clients.
“You sure about this?” Sam asks when they pull up in front of the restaurant. “Wouldn’t you rather eat at that diner across the street?”
“Oh hell yeah,” Dean breathes in genuine relief. He doesn’t even own a dinner jacket, and the menu he looked at online was in some language he didn’t understand.
Burgers and beer are much more his style, and the fact that Sam smiles fondly when he admits that makes Dean fall in love with him all over again.
“My dad took me to places like this when I was a kid,” Sam explains when they’re seated across from each other in a booth at Ma’s. “It feels like home.”
“Yes it does, Sammy,” Dean agrees, gazing at the man he plans to spend the rest of his life with, even if Sam doesn’t know it yet. “Yes it does.”
Sam wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but he doesn’t protest, and Dean can tell he secretly like it.
//**//**//
It’s not a perfect relationship. They fight sometimes. Dean’s insecurities get the better of him and he says mean things, makes Sam furious and frustrated. Sometimes, Sam leaves, which terrifies Dean on a level he doesn’t like to think about.
But they work it out, and by the time ten years have gone by and Dean’s well into his fifties, he accepts Sam’s vow never to leave him and they tie the knot.
They both mellow with age, and the day Sam decides to retire, they buy a cottage near a lake with two rocking chairs on the porch. Sam still keeps a home office, where he takes on pro-bono work once in a while to keep his lawyering skills sharp, and Dean has a workshop where he builds things and works on old cars.
When the other Sam shows up in the late afternoon one day in early fall, Dean’s just about to call it a day.
“I needed to see you again,” Other-Sam tells him. “I needed to see you older. My brother never got to grow old.”
Dean wipes his hands on his grease cloth and nods.
“How’s the kid?”
Other-Sam flushes with pride as he talks about his son, his accomplishments, his acceptance to Stanford Law School. His new career as an attorney.
“He wants to help people,” Other-Sam gushes. “He’s a really good person.”
“Like his dad,” Dean comments. Other-Sam blushes and ducks his head, his dimples popping. “Hey. You want to stay for dinner? My Sam is grilling chicken and vegetables.”
“Oh no, I can’t,” Other-Sam says. “I just dropped by to see you.”
“Come on,” Dean coaxes. “I really think you two should meet.”
Which is how Dean’s two Sams meet. Dean’s Sam raises his eyebrows, but he gets it right away. Dean told him about Other-Sam years ago. Sam had barely blinked then, but he’s naturally curious.
“So there’s vampires in your world,” he presses as they gather around the table, laden with grilled meat, vegetables, wine (for Sam), and beer (for Dean).
Other-Sam takes a sip of his wine and nods. “Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. Magic.”
“And Heaven is a real place.”
Other-Sam nods again. “That’s right.”
“How do you travel from your world to this one?”
“There’s a spell,” Other-Sam explains. “It opens a portal, and I just walk through.”
“Huh.” Sam takes a bite of his salad, and Dean can practically see him thinking. “This universe can’t be the only one.”
“It isn’t,” Other-Sam agrees. “There are a few.”
“But not an infinite number,” Sam clarifies.
Other-Sam takes a deep breath. “No. Originally, there were, but most of them were destroyed in the last apocalypse. Now there are just a few left.”
“So ours is a lucky survivor,” Sam notes.
Other-Sam nods.
“And in all those other universes, there’s a Sam and a Dean?”
Other-Sam glances at Dean. “Most of them.”
“Why?”
Other-Sam rolls his eyes. “The god who created us was a little obsessed.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“And in your universe, he made you and your Dean brothers.” Dean shakes his head. “Wow.”
“We’re brothers in most of the universes,” Other-Sam says. “That’s why I thought you didn’t have a Sam at first. I forgot that sometimes Chuck would make us unrelated, to see if we’d still find each other.”
“Chuck?”
Other-Sam takes another deep breath. “The god that made all of this liked to meddle,” he says. “He was an obsessive, meddling asshole.”
“Was,” Sam clarifies.
Other-Sam nods, shooting a reassuring glance at Dean. “He was neutralized many years ago. Jack’s in charge now.”
“Jack?”
Other-Sam nods. “Jack’s a good kid. Very hands-off, but he’s got a good heart.”
Dean gets the feeling there’s more about Jack, but Other-Sam’s reluctant to tell them, so he and Sam let it go.
“If there’s a Heaven, that means there’s -” Sam hesitates.
“Hell, yeah,” Other-Sam confirms. “Been there. My Dean, too. The current queen of Hell is a friend of ours, actually.”
At Sam’s and Dean’s expressions, Other-Sam huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah, she used to be a three-hundred-year-old witch. Bequeathed everything to me when she died, which is how I found my way into your world in the first place.”
Sam takes a bite of salad, chews thoughtfully.
“I gotta say, Sam, you and your Dean sound like powerful superheroes. Not exactly ordinary men, like me and Dean.”
Other-Sam sucks in a breath. “Trust me. That’s not the way it is. Until we defeated Chuck, we were just pawns in his sick game. You guys too, technically.”
“And now?” Sam presses. “You travel between worlds. You’re a master of spells and incantations and who knows what other kinds of power, right at your fingertips.”
“Not anymore,” Other-Sam insists, wincing, as if the idea of all that power makes him nervous and ashamed. “I quit years ago. Right around the time my son was born.”
“Yet here you are,” Sam reminds him, raising his wine glass.
Other-Sam glances at Dean, then back at Sam. “I had to see him. My brother was still young when he -”
Sam nods, slow and sympathetic. Dean loves that about him, among many, many other things.
“I get it,” Sam says softly. “If I lost him, I’d probably do anything to see him again, even if it meant traveling between worlds, if I knew how to do that.”
Other-Sam winces. “I’ve done worse to get him back, in the past,” he confesses. “Dean made me promise I wouldn’t do that this time. I let him down.”
Sam reaches across the table and lays a hand over his counterpart’s hand.
“He’ll understand,” Sam says softly. “He loves you.”
Other-Sam stares at him for a moment, then turns his hand over, squeezes Sam’s hand before letting it go.
“Not sure about his understanding,” Other-Sam says ruefully. “He’s pretty stubborn. He thinks I should just get over him and go on with my life. As if.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“You did that,” Dean reminds him. “You have a son.”
Other-Sam smiles, soft and fond. His eyes wander away as he thinks about his son.
“He’ll be so proud of you, Sam,” Dean says warmly.
Other-Sam lifts his eyes to Dean. “You really think so?”
“Yeah, I do.” Dean nods, slipping naturally into the reassuring big brother role that Other-Sam has always needed from him.
“It won’t be long now, will it?” Sam asks softly.
Dean starts, shooting a hard look at his husband before returning his gaze to Other-Sam.
And now he sees it, the tightness around Other-Sam’s eyes and mouth, the sickly paleness of his skin.
Other-Sam lets out a long sigh. “Got the diagnosis about a month ago,” he confirms. “I’ve got six months, maybe a year.”
A stab of shock and grief pierces Dean’s chest.
“Does your son know?” Sam asks gently.
“Not yet,” Other-Sam confirms. “He’s coming home for Christmas. Figured I’d tell him then.”
“Oh Sam, I’m so sorry,” Dean breathes.
Other-Sam looks up, startled. “I’m not.”
He gives his head a little shake, a shadow of the irritation he used to display when he was younger and Dean said something stupid.
“I’m seventy-four years old, Dean. I’ve lived a long life. I have a son who’s raised and in a good place. I’m going to see my brother again.”
“I’ll miss you,” Dean says.
“You have him,” Other-Sam gestures at his counterpart. “And believe me, I made sure you found him. I couldn’t leave you the way Dean left me. It’s too much. The way we’re made, it’s just too much to ask.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances. Dean nods.
“Fair enough,” he says. “And thank you. After you left, I was so lost. I don’t think I would’ve made it if it wasn’t for Sam.”
“I know,” Other-Sam assures him. “Believe me, I know.”
“Dean thinks I’m so strong,” Other-Sam goes on, sounding almost bitter. “And I can endure a lot. I have endured. But when he left, I just. He never understood that.”
“I think he understands better than you think,” Sam says. “He just doesn’t like to think about it.”
Dean shoots his husband a look, vaguely offended, but when Sam cocks an eyebrow at him, daring him to deny it, Dean can’t.
Dean turns back to Other-Sam. “When you see your brother again, don’t let him bully you. He may think he wanted you to go on with your life after he died, but he’ll be jealous as hell when he finds out you did.”
Other-Sam barks out a laugh. “Says the dude who went on with his life after I left.”
“With this guy!” Dean reminds him, hooking his thumb in Sam’s direction.
Sam and Other-Sam both laugh, and Dean can’t help the huge grin that takes over his face when he hears it.
“I should go,” Other-Sam says after a companionable moment.
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Sam says. “We have an extra bedroom. We’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”
Other-Sam starts to protest, but Dean reaches across the table, lays his hand on Other-Sam’s forearm.
“Really, Sammy, you’re more than welcome,” he assures Other-Sam. “It’s the least we can do, for bringing us together all those years ago.”
Other-Sam’s gratitude and relief break Dean’s heart a little, but he agrees to stay. Dean fantasizes briefly about taking both Sams to bed, but lets it go when he sees Other-Sam move painfully as he gets up to help clear the table.
They spend the rest of the evening in the rocking chairs on the front porch, watching the lake as the sunlight fades and the moon rises. As the stars appear, Other-Sam sighs contentedly.
“I used to imagine us retiring to a place where we could watch the stars like this,” he reveals. He’s sitting between Sam and Dean, and Dean can tell it’s comforting to him, being here with Dean and his sympathetic alter-ego.
“I used to imagine having a brother,” Dean responds. “Back when I was a lonely little kid.”
They’re a weird little family, but definitely a family, Dean thinks. They know each other as well as brothers do. Not for the first time, he wonders what Other-Sam’s life was like when his Dean was alive, wonders what it must’ve been like to grow up with a brother who later became a life partner.
Dean decides it’s not as weird as it could’ve been. If he and Sam had been childhood friends, then grew up to become husbands, it would’ve felt perfectly normal. Right.
Sam lets Dean show Other-Sam to the guest bedroom, where Dean lays out a pair of Sam’s pajamas. He leaves clean towels and a toothbrush in the bathroom, then turns to bid Other-Sam goodnight.
Other-Sam watches him, sad and fond, and Dean knows he’s thinking about his brother, imagining him as he would look at seventy-eight, had he lived.
“You know, Sam, I don’t know what it was like for you and your brother, but I get the feeling you two had a helluva ride.”
Other-Sam’s eyes fill, but he doesn’t cry. “We did,” he agrees.
Dean clears his throat. “And I just know he’ll be proud of you, for finding a way to live after he died. So don’t let him be a jerk about it, when you see him again.”
“I won’t.” Other-Sam agrees, but somehow Dean knows he will anyway. His own jealousy and insecurity is so ingrained, he can’t imagine overcoming it. All the Sams put up with too much from their Deans. More than they should.
“Sleep well, Sam.”
//**//**//
When Other-Sam drives away in the morning, Dean doesn’t let himself feel sad. Other-Sam’s going to be with his brother soon. He’s going off to get the happy ending he deserves.
Dean wonders if he and Sam will get anything after they die, then he realizes he doesn’t care. What they’ve had here on Earth is enough. More than Dean deserved, he’s sure of that. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s definitely the better part of his life, and he’s grateful.
As he settles into his rocking chair next to Sam to share their morning after-breakfast gaze at the lake, Dean’s pretty sure this moment right here is one of his happiest.
He turns his head, taking in his husband’s strong profile until Sam turns his head and gives him a questioning look.
Dean winks.
fin
He breaks his own rule within the first month, texts Sam, begging him to come back. He leaves long, drunken mesages on Sam’s voicemail until the box is full, then disconnected.
Sam texts him about a week later, apologizing. He sends photos of his son. He calls Dean on his birthday, tells Dean he loves him.
But Sam doesn’t return.
He never doubts that Sam thinks about him, though. Worries about him. And when Sam calls him on his fortieth birthday he does his damndest not to sound as pathetic as he probably looks.
“Are you eating? Getting enough sleep?”
Dean mumbles his replies while Sam mother-hens him to death.
“Come back, Sam,” he pleads. “Bring the kid.”
Sam sighs. “Dean.”
Dean’s pretty sure it won’t be long till he manages to drink himself to death, but he doesn’t say that. Sam knows. He already feels guilty. But he’s made his promise to that other Dean, and now he’s raising a new Dean, and he won’t let them down.
Sam’s not done with him, though. Dean feels it in his bones.
//**//**//
Sometime in the middle of the second year after Sam leaves, he gets a text from him.
“I found your Sam. Sam Singer. He’s an attorney in Sioux Falls, SD. Married and divorced, like you. I can guarantee he’s waiting for you.” The next text is a photograph of a man who looks exactly like Sam, but with glasses and shorter hair. He’s wearing a suit. It’s a resume headshot, formal and serious as all hell.
Gorgeous, of course.
Dean’s heart leaps, then crashes. It’s not really Sam. It’s not his Sam, this doppelganger who doesn’t even know he exists.
Or is it? Didn’t Sam say he’d come to Dean in the first place because Dean didn’t have a Sam? But what if Sam Singer is the Sam Dean was supposed to find, except he got side-tracked because his Sam showed up instead?
Sam would’ve figured that out. Sam would’ve realized that Dean’s Sam wasn’t his brother after all.
Sam’s brother was his Dean all along, his brother-in-arms as well as the lover he lost. Sam grew up with the brother who would become his everything, then die and leave him. Sam’s loneliness and grief drove him to find Dean in the first place.
Dean’s losing his mind.
He borrows a car from Gunther and drives North. He doesn’t have a plan, other than tracking Sam Singer down. What’s he supposed to say? Sam said that Singer will be waiting for him. What does that mean?
Dean stops at a bar on the outskirts of Sioux Falls, gets drunk and ends up in a fight with the bartender, who calls the cops and has him arrested for assault.
It’s not the first time.
Dean’s still sleeping off his hangover in the local jail when he gets dragged into the interview room to meet with the public defender.
Of course, the PD is Sam Singer.
Dean looks up, way up, as the lawyer stops inside the closed door. He’s just standing there, staring at Dean, which is how Dean knows Sam was right. This guy’s been waiting for him. He’s probably had freaky dreams about him. All Sams are psychic, after all. He figured that out after a few months with the other Sam.
“Dean Winchester?”
Even the way the guy says his name sounds like a caress, the way the other Sam said it the first time.
Dean lifts his shackled wrists. “Guilty,” he says. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
He watches, amused, as Sam Singer gets his shit together, obviously having a challenging time of it.
“I’m your attorney, Sam Singer.”
He manages to cross the room, pull out the chair back from the table, and fold himself into it, directly across from Dean. He does it all without looking at Dean, which amuses Dean even more because he can read this Sam’s awkward, shy body language like a book.
Sam lies the file with Dean’s criminal record and booking photo on the table in front of him and opens it.
“Born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas,” Sam reads. “Dad was a mechanic, Mom was a teacher.”
“That’s right,” Dean agrees.
“Normal, uneventful upbringing,” Sam goes on. “Intact, middle-class home.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Joined the Marines at 18, right out of high school. Served two tours in Afghanistan,” Sam says, then clears his throat. “You saw a lot of action there?”
“Two of my buddies died right in front of me,” Dean says. “Benny and Jimmy.”
He never tells people that, but he needs to see Sam flinch.
Sam flinches.
“When you came home, you worked in your dad’s garage, did odd jobs around town, married your childhood sweetheart. That marriage lasted almost two years.”
Sam lifts his eyes to Dean for the first time. Dean smirks.
“Wasn’t meant to be,” he says with a shrug.
“After the divorce, you took a job with R&R Trucking. Spent more than ten years driving rigs all over the country until you got yourself arrested for public drunkenness in 2024. All of your arrests since then have been for drunkenness and assault.”
Sam closes the folder, lays his fingertips lightly on the table on either side.
“What happened, Mr. Winchester?”
“Call me Dean,” Dean says, his eyes on Sam’s hands. They look smooth, not a blemish or scar in sight. No callouses on the trigger finger. Not working man’s hands. Not like his Sam’s.
This is his Sam, he reminds himself. That other one was a loaner. Temporary.
“What happened, Dean?”
You, Dean wants to say. That other you. The one who belongs to a dead guy.
“I lost someone,” he says out loud. It’s the truth. “Sent me off the rails.”
Sam nods thoughtfully, but Dean can see the disappointment. Sam’s jealous and he doesn’t even know why.
“He looked a lot like you,” Dean says. “Just not so gussied up.”
“What happened?” Sam almost whispers, and Dean smirks before answering.
“He found somebody else,” Dean says. “I should’ve seen it coming. Did see it coming. He was chasing a ghost the whole time we were together.”
Sam nods like he understands, and Dean winks at him.
Sam ducks his head and blushes.
Too easy, Dean thinks. Like taking candy from a baby.
“So, you gonna get me out?” he asks aloud.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Bail is set at one-thousand dollars, since this isn’t your first offense. Can you pay that?”
“Sure. You can just put it on my credit card.” Dean smirks, watching as Sam ducks his head again. His hair swings down over his forehead.
“Good, good,” Sam says. “I can probably get you in to see the judge in about a month, if you agree to plead guilty to the charges.”
“What kind of sentence are we looking at?”
Sam takes a breath. “Well, I know the judge, and she’s pretty understanding about substance abuse. She has a brother who’s in an out of rehab. I’m guessing that’s what she’ll give you as part of your sentence, rather than jail time.”
Dean nods. “I can do that.”
“Do you have a place to stay? You’ll need a local address as a condition of your bail.”
Dean grins flirtatiously. “How about your place?”
Sam’s eyes go wide. “My place?”
“Well, you were going to ask me out anyway, weren’t you?” Dean presses. “After I get out of here.”
Dean watches as Sam’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
“I can’t let you stay at my place,” Sam says finally. “I’m your lawyer. It wouldn’t be ethical.”
Dean nods, grin widening. “Find me a decent motel, then. I’m not picky.”
“I can’t put you up, Dean! If you can’t find a place of your own, you’ll just have to stay in the local shelter. The court will accept that address.”
“Whatever.” Dean pouts. “But I’m not staying in any shelter. I’ve got a car.”
“You can’t sleep in your car!” Sam insists.
Dean lifts an eyebrow, gives Sam another lop-sided grin. “Then I guess you’re putting me up. Motel or your place, your choice.”
Sam’s exasperation is priceless. Dean leans back in his chair a little to enjoy it. He watches as Sam thinks it through, struggling with his confusion over his attraction to Dean. It makes Dean want to laugh. He knows exactly how it feels, meeting the most perfect, the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen for the first time. Sam can’t believe his luck.
The fact that Dean’s dirty, too thin, and needs a shave just makes this moment all the more hilarious. Sam doesn’t stand a chance, any more than Dean did when he first laid eyes on that other Sam. Dean has the advantage here because he knows what’s going on in Sam’s big brain and even bigger heart, knows that Sam’s coming alive with every passing moment in ways he never knew he could be.
Dean knows because he’s been through it before, but that doesn’t make this time any less exhilarating.
This time, with this Sam, there’s more than a string of desperate one-night stands in Dean’s future.
Dean’s as sure of that as he is of anything.
//**//**//
It takes Sam a while to completely warm up to the idea of giving in to his feelings for Dean. He’s been burned a couple of times in previous relationships, and this thing between them seems too good to be true. Sam’s ethical sensibility doesn’t allow him to sleep with a client, so they don’t go there until Dean’s sentence is complete and he’s sober as a doorknob.
But just being with Sam is the balm on his soul that Dean needed. He doesn’t even think about suicide anymore, much less drinking hard enough to forget being left by that other Sam.
Dean’s not the most patient man on the planet, but with Sam, he’s willing to wait.
Almost a year after they first met, Sam finally lets Dean take him out for dinner. Sam pulled some strings and got Dean a job as a security guard at a local warehouse, and Dean squirrels away his paychecks until he can get reservations at a fancy restaurant, the kind he knows Sam frequents with his wealthier clients.
“You sure about this?” Sam asks when they pull up in front of the restaurant. “Wouldn’t you rather eat at that diner across the street?”
“Oh hell yeah,” Dean breathes in genuine relief. He doesn’t even own a dinner jacket, and the menu he looked at online was in some language he didn’t understand.
Burgers and beer are much more his style, and the fact that Sam smiles fondly when he admits that makes Dean fall in love with him all over again.
“My dad took me to places like this when I was a kid,” Sam explains when they’re seated across from each other in a booth at Ma’s. “It feels like home.”
“Yes it does, Sammy,” Dean agrees, gazing at the man he plans to spend the rest of his life with, even if Sam doesn’t know it yet. “Yes it does.”
Sam wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but he doesn’t protest, and Dean can tell he secretly like it.
//**//**//
It’s not a perfect relationship. They fight sometimes. Dean’s insecurities get the better of him and he says mean things, makes Sam furious and frustrated. Sometimes, Sam leaves, which terrifies Dean on a level he doesn’t like to think about.
But they work it out, and by the time ten years have gone by and Dean’s well into his fifties, he accepts Sam’s vow never to leave him and they tie the knot.
They both mellow with age, and the day Sam decides to retire, they buy a cottage near a lake with two rocking chairs on the porch. Sam still keeps a home office, where he takes on pro-bono work once in a while to keep his lawyering skills sharp, and Dean has a workshop where he builds things and works on old cars.
When the other Sam shows up in the late afternoon one day in early fall, Dean’s just about to call it a day.
“I needed to see you again,” Other-Sam tells him. “I needed to see you older. My brother never got to grow old.”
Dean wipes his hands on his grease cloth and nods.
“How’s the kid?”
Other-Sam flushes with pride as he talks about his son, his accomplishments, his acceptance to Stanford Law School. His new career as an attorney.
“He wants to help people,” Other-Sam gushes. “He’s a really good person.”
“Like his dad,” Dean comments. Other-Sam blushes and ducks his head, his dimples popping. “Hey. You want to stay for dinner? My Sam is grilling chicken and vegetables.”
“Oh no, I can’t,” Other-Sam says. “I just dropped by to see you.”
“Come on,” Dean coaxes. “I really think you two should meet.”
Which is how Dean’s two Sams meet. Dean’s Sam raises his eyebrows, but he gets it right away. Dean told him about Other-Sam years ago. Sam had barely blinked then, but he’s naturally curious.
“So there’s vampires in your world,” he presses as they gather around the table, laden with grilled meat, vegetables, wine (for Sam), and beer (for Dean).
Other-Sam takes a sip of his wine and nods. “Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. Magic.”
“And Heaven is a real place.”
Other-Sam nods again. “That’s right.”
“How do you travel from your world to this one?”
“There’s a spell,” Other-Sam explains. “It opens a portal, and I just walk through.”
“Huh.” Sam takes a bite of his salad, and Dean can practically see him thinking. “This universe can’t be the only one.”
“It isn’t,” Other-Sam agrees. “There are a few.”
“But not an infinite number,” Sam clarifies.
Other-Sam takes a deep breath. “No. Originally, there were, but most of them were destroyed in the last apocalypse. Now there are just a few left.”
“So ours is a lucky survivor,” Sam notes.
Other-Sam nods.
“And in all those other universes, there’s a Sam and a Dean?”
Other-Sam glances at Dean. “Most of them.”
“Why?”
Other-Sam rolls his eyes. “The god who created us was a little obsessed.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“And in your universe, he made you and your Dean brothers.” Dean shakes his head. “Wow.”
“We’re brothers in most of the universes,” Other-Sam says. “That’s why I thought you didn’t have a Sam at first. I forgot that sometimes Chuck would make us unrelated, to see if we’d still find each other.”
“Chuck?”
Other-Sam takes another deep breath. “The god that made all of this liked to meddle,” he says. “He was an obsessive, meddling asshole.”
“Was,” Sam clarifies.
Other-Sam nods, shooting a reassuring glance at Dean. “He was neutralized many years ago. Jack’s in charge now.”
“Jack?”
Other-Sam nods. “Jack’s a good kid. Very hands-off, but he’s got a good heart.”
Dean gets the feeling there’s more about Jack, but Other-Sam’s reluctant to tell them, so he and Sam let it go.
“If there’s a Heaven, that means there’s -” Sam hesitates.
“Hell, yeah,” Other-Sam confirms. “Been there. My Dean, too. The current queen of Hell is a friend of ours, actually.”
At Sam’s and Dean’s expressions, Other-Sam huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah, she used to be a three-hundred-year-old witch. Bequeathed everything to me when she died, which is how I found my way into your world in the first place.”
Sam takes a bite of salad, chews thoughtfully.
“I gotta say, Sam, you and your Dean sound like powerful superheroes. Not exactly ordinary men, like me and Dean.”
Other-Sam sucks in a breath. “Trust me. That’s not the way it is. Until we defeated Chuck, we were just pawns in his sick game. You guys too, technically.”
“And now?” Sam presses. “You travel between worlds. You’re a master of spells and incantations and who knows what other kinds of power, right at your fingertips.”
“Not anymore,” Other-Sam insists, wincing, as if the idea of all that power makes him nervous and ashamed. “I quit years ago. Right around the time my son was born.”
“Yet here you are,” Sam reminds him, raising his wine glass.
Other-Sam glances at Dean, then back at Sam. “I had to see him. My brother was still young when he -”
Sam nods, slow and sympathetic. Dean loves that about him, among many, many other things.
“I get it,” Sam says softly. “If I lost him, I’d probably do anything to see him again, even if it meant traveling between worlds, if I knew how to do that.”
Other-Sam winces. “I’ve done worse to get him back, in the past,” he confesses. “Dean made me promise I wouldn’t do that this time. I let him down.”
Sam reaches across the table and lays a hand over his counterpart’s hand.
“He’ll understand,” Sam says softly. “He loves you.”
Other-Sam stares at him for a moment, then turns his hand over, squeezes Sam’s hand before letting it go.
“Not sure about his understanding,” Other-Sam says ruefully. “He’s pretty stubborn. He thinks I should just get over him and go on with my life. As if.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“You did that,” Dean reminds him. “You have a son.”
Other-Sam smiles, soft and fond. His eyes wander away as he thinks about his son.
“He’ll be so proud of you, Sam,” Dean says warmly.
Other-Sam lifts his eyes to Dean. “You really think so?”
“Yeah, I do.” Dean nods, slipping naturally into the reassuring big brother role that Other-Sam has always needed from him.
“It won’t be long now, will it?” Sam asks softly.
Dean starts, shooting a hard look at his husband before returning his gaze to Other-Sam.
And now he sees it, the tightness around Other-Sam’s eyes and mouth, the sickly paleness of his skin.
Other-Sam lets out a long sigh. “Got the diagnosis about a month ago,” he confirms. “I’ve got six months, maybe a year.”
A stab of shock and grief pierces Dean’s chest.
“Does your son know?” Sam asks gently.
“Not yet,” Other-Sam confirms. “He’s coming home for Christmas. Figured I’d tell him then.”
“Oh Sam, I’m so sorry,” Dean breathes.
Other-Sam looks up, startled. “I’m not.”
He gives his head a little shake, a shadow of the irritation he used to display when he was younger and Dean said something stupid.
“I’m seventy-four years old, Dean. I’ve lived a long life. I have a son who’s raised and in a good place. I’m going to see my brother again.”
“I’ll miss you,” Dean says.
“You have him,” Other-Sam gestures at his counterpart. “And believe me, I made sure you found him. I couldn’t leave you the way Dean left me. It’s too much. The way we’re made, it’s just too much to ask.”
Sam and Dean exchange glances. Dean nods.
“Fair enough,” he says. “And thank you. After you left, I was so lost. I don’t think I would’ve made it if it wasn’t for Sam.”
“I know,” Other-Sam assures him. “Believe me, I know.”
“Dean thinks I’m so strong,” Other-Sam goes on, sounding almost bitter. “And I can endure a lot. I have endured. But when he left, I just. He never understood that.”
“I think he understands better than you think,” Sam says. “He just doesn’t like to think about it.”
Dean shoots his husband a look, vaguely offended, but when Sam cocks an eyebrow at him, daring him to deny it, Dean can’t.
Dean turns back to Other-Sam. “When you see your brother again, don’t let him bully you. He may think he wanted you to go on with your life after he died, but he’ll be jealous as hell when he finds out you did.”
Other-Sam barks out a laugh. “Says the dude who went on with his life after I left.”
“With this guy!” Dean reminds him, hooking his thumb in Sam’s direction.
Sam and Other-Sam both laugh, and Dean can’t help the huge grin that takes over his face when he hears it.
“I should go,” Other-Sam says after a companionable moment.
Sam and Dean exchange glances.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Sam says. “We have an extra bedroom. We’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”
Other-Sam starts to protest, but Dean reaches across the table, lays his hand on Other-Sam’s forearm.
“Really, Sammy, you’re more than welcome,” he assures Other-Sam. “It’s the least we can do, for bringing us together all those years ago.”
Other-Sam’s gratitude and relief break Dean’s heart a little, but he agrees to stay. Dean fantasizes briefly about taking both Sams to bed, but lets it go when he sees Other-Sam move painfully as he gets up to help clear the table.
They spend the rest of the evening in the rocking chairs on the front porch, watching the lake as the sunlight fades and the moon rises. As the stars appear, Other-Sam sighs contentedly.
“I used to imagine us retiring to a place where we could watch the stars like this,” he reveals. He’s sitting between Sam and Dean, and Dean can tell it’s comforting to him, being here with Dean and his sympathetic alter-ego.
“I used to imagine having a brother,” Dean responds. “Back when I was a lonely little kid.”
They’re a weird little family, but definitely a family, Dean thinks. They know each other as well as brothers do. Not for the first time, he wonders what Other-Sam’s life was like when his Dean was alive, wonders what it must’ve been like to grow up with a brother who later became a life partner.
Dean decides it’s not as weird as it could’ve been. If he and Sam had been childhood friends, then grew up to become husbands, it would’ve felt perfectly normal. Right.
Sam lets Dean show Other-Sam to the guest bedroom, where Dean lays out a pair of Sam’s pajamas. He leaves clean towels and a toothbrush in the bathroom, then turns to bid Other-Sam goodnight.
Other-Sam watches him, sad and fond, and Dean knows he’s thinking about his brother, imagining him as he would look at seventy-eight, had he lived.
“You know, Sam, I don’t know what it was like for you and your brother, but I get the feeling you two had a helluva ride.”
Other-Sam’s eyes fill, but he doesn’t cry. “We did,” he agrees.
Dean clears his throat. “And I just know he’ll be proud of you, for finding a way to live after he died. So don’t let him be a jerk about it, when you see him again.”
“I won’t.” Other-Sam agrees, but somehow Dean knows he will anyway. His own jealousy and insecurity is so ingrained, he can’t imagine overcoming it. All the Sams put up with too much from their Deans. More than they should.
“Sleep well, Sam.”
//**//**//
When Other-Sam drives away in the morning, Dean doesn’t let himself feel sad. Other-Sam’s going to be with his brother soon. He’s going off to get the happy ending he deserves.
Dean wonders if he and Sam will get anything after they die, then he realizes he doesn’t care. What they’ve had here on Earth is enough. More than Dean deserved, he’s sure of that. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s definitely the better part of his life, and he’s grateful.
As he settles into his rocking chair next to Sam to share their morning after-breakfast gaze at the lake, Dean’s pretty sure this moment right here is one of his happiest.
He turns his head, taking in his husband’s strong profile until Sam turns his head and gives him a questioning look.
Dean winks.
fin