SPN Fic: When It's Done
Title: When It's Done
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5k
Summary: Dean's not sure he and Sam have a beginning.
Notes: Thanks to fish_echo and kadiel_krieger for audiencing and jay_jay for the beta. With any luck, most of the truly embarrassing typos are taken care of.
ETA: AND NOW THERE IS PODFIC!! By the awesomely awesome sadcypress (She went and made the story like a thousand times better in the reading of it, I swear!). It can also be found here and here at general_jinjur's archive. I'm more than a little bit dorkily excited about it. *grins*
When It's Done
Dean sits up in bed, blinking blearily in the darkness. The house is completely silent and he's not sure what woke him up. The dream that he was having, maybe, but it has already faded. Whatever it was, it's three a.m. and he's wide awake. Sam mumbles his name as he slides out of bed.
"Just gonna check on the kids," he whispers. He's pretty sure Sam is actually still sleeping.
The "kids" are curled up in their bed in the corner of the kitchen like good little puppies. They were Sam's birthday present from Dean. A fairly grand romantic gesture if he does say so himself. And since they were a present, Sam got to name them. Big Dan and Little Ann and Dean can't even pretend to be surprised at the choices. It was why he got a boy and girl pup in the first place.
Maybe it's the time of night or the stillness of the house, the fact that he is standing alone in the middle of the kitchen in only his boxers, but Dean suddenly feels cut off from the world, strangely alone. He's tempted to wake the puppies up just to have the company when warm arms wrap around his waist.
"Don't even think about it," Sam murmurs softly in his ear.
Dean leans back into the embrace, smiling. "Think about what?"
"Waking them up in the middle of the night. They're being very good right now."
"I'm offended that you think me capable of such a thing, Sammy. Truly." He can't quite keep the smile out of his voice and he feels as much as hears Sam's huff of laughter.
"I know you, Dean."
"Yeah, you do."
"Everything okay?" Sam doesn't sound overly concerned. He knows that if something were actually wrong, Dean would've already told him.
"You remember that weird couple from the garage this afternoon?"
Sam sets his chin on Dean's shoulder and nods, digging hard into the muscle to be obnoxious. "The redhead and the creepy mouth-breather?"
"Yeah. They asked me if I was happy."
"Huh. What did you tell them?"
"Yes."
"Mmmm." Sam squeezes him a little tighter. "Good answer."
***
Two days after Sam comes to live with them, Dean overhears him praying. He's walking down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth, past Sam's bedroom and the door is open. Dean doesn't mean to spy or anything, but Sam's words stop him.
"Dear God," Sam says. His voice is quiet, but clear. "Thank you for bringing me to the Winchesters."
Dean leans in a little closer, doing his best to peek into the room without being seen. Sam is kneeling in front of his bed, his hands folded on the mattress, his head bowed.
"Please let me stay here awhile," Sam continues. "They seem like nice people and I like Dean. I promise I'll behave this time. I won't cause any trouble for them. And I'm sorry about before. Really. But maybe, maybe that was so I could end up here?"
There's a heartbreaking earnestness in his voice and Dean sends up his own silent prayer before continuing down the hall.
He likes Sam, too.
***
Winchester isn't Dean's real last name. He was five when Mary and John adopted him, but he doesn't remember who he was before. As far as he's concerned, he's a Winchester. Family is more than blood. His dad taught him that.
***
Dean is home for the weekend but he has a paper due Monday and he left his research back at the dorm, so he has to make a trip to the library. Sam tags along because Dean's weekends home are few and far between, but abandons him after about half an hour in the reference section.
After he has everything he needs Dean realizes he has no idea where Sam disappeared to. He finds him tucked away in a random corner, curled up in one of the library armchairs, reading Where the Red Fern Grows. Again. His eyes are suspiciously shiny and he rubs them furiously when he sees Dean then tilts his head in that defiant way he has, daring Dean to laugh at him for it.
"Don't you have that memorized by now?" Dean keeps his voice mildly curious.
Sam's shoulders slump as the fight goes out of him and he sighs. "I know it's stupid, I just-" He stops, looks down at the book in his hands like it holds the answer to a very important question. "Do you think people can be that loyal?" he finally asks. "I mean, do you think they're capable of it?"
It's another one of those moments where the world shifts to the right and clicks into place and Dean realizes just how far gone he is. He squats down next to Sam's chair so that he can look him in the eye. "Sure. With the right circumstances, with the right people, I think they are. Absolutely."
"Yeah," Sam says finally. "I think so too." Then he leans forward, kisses Dean quick and sloppy and awful. His face is red when he sits back and he looks just this side of mortified.
Dean smiles and grabs Sam's chin, turns his face so he can brush his own kiss over Sam's lips. "Just like that. Me and you, Sam. Always."
Most people would consider that a beginning, but Dean's not sure he and Sam have a beginning. They just are.
***
"Hey, Dean," Dad says as soon as Dean walks in the door after school. Which means he's been waiting for him.
"He here already?" Dean asks. His parents have been doing the foster thing for as long as he can remember and Dean is used to it by now. He gets along pretty well with everyone and he likes the idea of helping people. Helping kids.
Dad nods and frowns. "I could really use you with this one. He's been through a lot. Lost his parents when he was three and been bounced around constantly since then. I think he would respond a little better to someone closer to his own age."
"Sure, Dad." Dean drops his backpack in the entryway and it hits the floor with a heavy thud. Apparently, freshman year is as much about building the upper body strength to tote around the obscene number of books they give you as it is actually learning shit. "Bedroom?"
He bounds up the stairs at Dad's nod, but when he walks in the bedroom, nobody's there. He checks his room, then his parents'. The bathroom is empty, so Dean walks down to Dad's study at the end of the hall. It looks deserted at first, but he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye and squats down to find the kid sitting cross-legged under Dad's desk, reading.
For a moment it feels like Dean's world shifts and settles. Everything is cast in a weird new perspective as the boy blinks up at him.
"Oh," Dean finally says. "There you are."
"Here I am."
He scoots out from his hiding place and stands. "Sorry. Sometimes I just." He shrugs like that completes the thought.
"Sure," Dean says. "Hey. I'm Dean." He sticks his hand out to shake.
The kid transfers the book he's holding from his right hand to his left, sticking his thumb between the pages to mark his place. "Sam," he says shaking Dean's hand.
Dean smiles. "Hey, Sam." He nods at the book. "Whatcha readin'?"
Sam looks down at his hand. "Where the Red Fern Grows."
"That's the one about the dogs, right?"
"Sort of." Sam tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "I mean, yeah. It's about the dogs. But it's also about faith and loyalty. And love."
"It's been awhile since I've read it." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "I just remember I cried like a baby at the end."
This is apparently the right thing to say. Sam smiles like it's Christmas and Dean just gave him the best present ever.
***
They have a family party for Dean's high school graduation. Nana and Pop show up first. Dean smiles when he hears Pop's bombastic, "John Winchester! How are you, son?"
"Doin' well, sir," Dad replies and Pop laughs.
"So respectful. I always liked you, John."
Which is Nana's cue to say, "Lying's a sin, Samuel."
Then it's Dad's turn to laugh. These are the times when Dean loves his family the most.
Uncle Bobby, Aunt Helen and Sam show up soon after and from the irritated look on Sam's face, Dean thinks that he wanted to be there much sooner.
Dinner is taken up talking about Dean's plans for fall quarter. Congratulations on his scholarships and questions about what he thinks he might want to study. Dean's considering Psychology, but he's not sure. He knows he wants to work with kids eventually.
Sam gets quieter throughout the dinner, though he continues to smile when Dean talks about his plans. Dean knocks his knee against Sam's under the table and says, "So, Uncle Bobby. You gonna let Sam come visit me once he gets his license?"
"Oh, hell, Dean," Uncle Bobby says, but with only a token amount of bluster. "I expect I'll be drivin' him up there ever other weekend until then."
"Good good. Just making sure," Dean says and Sam ducks his head and grins wide.
***
Sam is with them for six months before he's placed with a family who says they want to adopt him. He's there for two weeks before Dean wakes up in the middle of the night to Sam knocking on his window.
"Jesus, Sammy," Dean says, pulling him from the tree branch he's perched on and into the room. "How did you even get up there?"
"I'm a good climber." Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.
Before Dean can say anything else, he hears a creak that signals his dad coming down the hall. "Closet," he tells Sam and flops back in bed.
"Dean?" Dad knocks softly and then opens the door. "You sleeping?"
"Yeah. No. I was. I got hot," he says, realizing the window is still wide open and the room is freezing.
"Well, maybe it's cool enough now," Dad says.
"Yes, sir." Dean hops up to shut the window.
"I was going to have some ice cream. You want some?" He glances behind him and says, "Your mother doesn't need to know."
"No thanks. Can we maybe talk in the morning?"
"Sure." Dad starts to shut the door, then stops. "Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"The bed is made in Sam's room if he wants to sleep in there instead of the closet. Just tell him to use the door next time. I'd rather he not break his neck."
"Yes, sir."
Sam still waits until the door is shut before coming out of his hiding place to sit cross-legged on the foot of Dean's bed. "How did he know?"
Dean shrugs. "He's Dad."
"I don't want to go back there," Sam whispers. "I want to stay here with you."
"Okay," Dean says. As though he has any control in the matter.
***
Sam writes almost as much as he reads, scribbling furiously in notebooks that he doesn't let anyone else touch. At first, Dean thought they were journals and he doesn't ask because he doesn't want to pry. He's intensely curious, but he respects Sam's need for privacy more.
One day, they're sitting at the kitchen table doing their homework. Sam's finished his Math and he's writing again, glancing up at Dean often enough to drive Dean a little crazy, but Dean pretends like he doesn't notice until he's done with his History assignment. He sets his pen down and nods at Sam's notebook.
"Whatcha working on there, Sam?"
"It's, uh." Sam glances up at him from under his bangs. "Just a story I'm writing."
"Yeah? I didn't know you wrote stories." Dean doesn't have to feign the interest in his voice. "What kind?"
"Well, they're kind of, um. You want to read one?"
"I'd love to," Dean says and he realizes he should have asked sooner.
"Cool." Sam pulls another notebook out of his backpack and hands it to Dean. "Whatever one you want."
He ends up reading three while Sam writes. They're good. Really good, which maybe shouldn't be as surprising as it is. It's not like Dean didn't know that Sam was smart, but the stories have a depth that one wouldn't expect from an eleven-year-old.
They're horror stories, sort of. One is about a girl who finds out she's a werewolf and when she realizes she can't keep herself from hurting other people, she asks her boyfriend to kill her. Another is about a coven of vampires who don't drink human blood. The third is a woman who haunts a highway, killing people because she doesn't realize she's a ghost. That's the one Dean's finishing when he realizes that Sam has stopped writing and is watching him.
"These are-These are pretty amazing, Sam." Dean shuts the notebook and smiles at him. "Have you shown these to anyone else?"
"Not really," Sam says, looking both pleased and a little bashful. "I mean, they're just stories."
"They're good stories." Dean slides the notebook back to Sam. "I sense sort of a theme you've got going on there. With the bad guys who aren't really so bad."
"Yeah. I guess I like that idea. I mean." Sam scrunches up his face and scratches the side of his nose. "I like the idea that, no matter how bad you are, you can still make the choice to be good."
Oh, Dean thinks. He knows Sam's had trouble with his previous foster homes, but in the time that he's been with there, he's been this side of angelic. Still pretty reserved and formal with Mom and Dad, but when he's alone with Dean he's just a normal kid. Except smart, funny and caring, so maybe better than a normal kid.
"I like that idea, too," Dean says finally. "Kind of like, no matter what the universe throws at you, you still get to be the one who decides your own destiny."
Sam nods at him and smiles. "Yeah," he says. "Kind of like that."
***
After the graduation party, Dean is sitting with Dad in the study. Mom went to bed hours ago and Sam is sacked out on the couch after he begged Uncle Bobby to please let him spend the night. He fell asleep halfway through The Blob. For as much as he likes horror as a genre, the kid has no appreciation for the classics.
Dad's letting him have a whiskey drink with him, which is maybe why Dean finally has the nerve to ask, "Why me? I mean, out of all the kids you've helped, why did you decide to keep me?" He knows his parents love him, it's not that he doubts that, but he can't help being curious.
"All of the kids that have been here, they were all good kids. There was just something about you. You fit with us from the very first day." Dad smiles and rubs his hand over his beard. There's some grey in there now and it throws Dean a little to think of Dad getting older. "I wanted to help you grow into the man you had the potential to be. You haven't let me down, Dean. I'm so proud of you. Your mom and I, both."
"Thanks, Dad." Dean looks down at his glass, a little embarrassed with the praise. His dad is a lot of things, but effusive isn't one of them. "Thank you. For everything."
"Sam's gonna have a rough time when you leave." Dad says it carefully and Dean's not sure what he's angling for, so he responds honestly.
"He's not the only one." He stares at his hands and says, "I'm gonna miss him like hell and I don't-I'm not quite sure what to do with that."
Dad looks thoughtful, though Dean has no idea what he's thinking. Finally he says, "You two will work something out, I'm sure. Just so long as he's not trying to climb into your dorm room in the middle of the night."
Dean laughs at that. "Yeah. Might give people the wrong idea."
"Mmm," is Dad's only response.
***
"Hey, Dean?"
"Hmm?" Dean mostly ignores the question in favor of kissing Sam's neck. His decision to wait for sex until Sam turned eighteen had to be one of the stupidest in his life and it's been a long three years. But Sam turned eighteen yesterday and Dean drove up to see him today and after dinner and a movie they are finally, finally horizontal.
"Do you think that God has a plan for us?"
Dean presses his forehead against Sam's shoulder and takes a deep breath before looking up at him. "Please tell me you're making a very bad joke, Sammy." Dean's got his A-game going here.
"No, it's just." Sam pushes himself up on his elbows and then moves to sit up. "I was thinking."
"Oh good." Dean relents and roles off of Sam and onto his back to stare at the ceiling. This is punishment because nobody can hold a grudge like Sam can and Dean remembers the expression on Sam's fifteen-year-old face when he told him the nookie would have to wait. Sam is exactly that vindictive. Which sucks because it was mostly for Sam's sake anyway, though maybe also a lot because Dean knew Dad wouldn't approve and the chances of Dad not finding out were pretty much zero.
"Hey, come on, Dean. Look at me. I'm serious about this."
"What?" Dean says, tilting his head back so that he's looking at Sam upside-down. "You're serious about God's plan?"
"Yes. No. I mean, I was just thinking that sometimes it feels like. I dunno." He pushes his hair out of his face and sighs. "Sometimes I feel like you and I were meant to be together. That maybe, I know it sounds stupid, but maybe the universe arranged it for us. I mean, with all the shit growing up, with all the different homes I went to. Maybe it was for a reason."
So this is actually a serious conversation. "It doesn't sound stupid." Dean rolls onto his side to look at Sam properly. "It doesn't," he says again at Sam's skeptical expression. "The first time I saw you it felt like, I can't remember a time when I didn't know you. So, yeah. If there's a god out there planning this shit, yeah. You and me were a plan."
It feels like the truth in a way Dean can't really account for.
Sam's smile starts off sweet, momentarily lulling Dean into a false sense of security. Then he says, "You're not just saying that to get me into bed?"
Dean groans. "I got you into bed. It's getting you to shut up that I'm having trouble with."
"Huh." Sam tilts his head. "Sounds like a personal problem to me. Honestly, Dean. I thought you were better at this."
"How about this?" Dean kneels up and straddles Sam's lap, cupping Sam's grinning face in his hands. "I'm so crazy in love with you that I don't know where I end and you start. I don't want to know."
Sam stares at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. "Okay," he says finally. "Yeah, that works."
***
Sam runs away from three different families before Dean decides to broach the subject with Dad. "Why can't he just stay with us?"
Mom has taken Sam to pick his stuff up from the most recent family. They'd been really upset when he left and while Dad was able to work everything out, he insisted that Sam go back and apologize to them for making them worry.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Dean. Sam's troubled-"
"That's such bullshit!"
"Language!"
"I'm sorry," Dean says automatically. "But you know it's true. Sam's a good kid. He just doesn't belong with those people. They don't know him."
"And you do?"
"Yeah." Dean's surprised, though whether it's at the question or the obviousness of the answer, he's not sure. "Are you kidding me? What don't I know about that kid?"
Dad rubs a hand over his face. It's a tired gesture and Dean suddenly feels bad about arguing with him. He knows that Dad has gone above and beyond to help Sam, but Dean can't quite bring himself to accept we'll do what we can on this.
"He's not a puppy, Dean. We can't just keep him. It doesn't work like that."
Dean bites back the Why not?. He wants to argue about this, but he knows Dad's right and there's not really anything he can do about it. He hates feeling this helpless.
"You remember my friend Bobby?"
"Sure." Dean nods unsure of what that has to do with anything.
"His wife got a position at the university. They'll be moving up here in a few weeks. I've talked to him a few times about Sam." Dad nods. "He and Helen might be willing to take him in. We'll have Sam meet them and see what everyone thinks."
"Okay. That-I guess that sounds good." Dean knows this is a huge thing for Dad to do. A huge thing for him to ask of his friend. He still has ask one more time. "Why can't Sam stay here?"
"I know you care about him and I know you boys get along. I just think it's a good idea for the two of you to have some space from each other as well." He clasps Dean on the shoulder and looks him in the eye. "Your mother and I love Sam, too, Dean. You know that, right?"
"I know, Dad." This is the end of the discussion as far as his dad's concerned, so Dean doesn't say, But Sam and I belong together.
He's pretty sure his dad hears that anyway.
***
Dean occasionally helps out at the garage on weekends. He loves his job without a doubt and it's nice to think he's making a difference, helping kids who haven't always had it so easy. But after a week full of trying to work through the complexities of the human mind, it's nice to get under the hood of an old car and be able to fix it simply by replacing what's broken. And Dad has a reputation for being honest and damn good at his job, which means that he's never short of work for Dean to help with.
Sam arrived about twenty minutes ago with lunch for everyone. His latest book is going through the final round of edits, so he's taking advantage of the free time. He's currently chatting with Sarah, the receptionist, over a carton of fried rice. He also has the puppies with him and if Dean were the jealous type, he might be a little put out at the picture Sam makes at the moment, laughing with the pretty college girl like he's the most adorable thing in the world.
He's almost positive Sam would kill him for even thinking the word adorable, but between the puppies and the dimples, it's undeniable.
"Excuse me?" There's a woman standing at the entrance to the garage, looking around uncertainly.
"Yeah," Dean says. "Can I help you?"
"Oh, good." She looks at him and smiles. "In here."
A moment later a man joins her. He's wearing a rumpled suit and a trench coat, despite the warm, sunny day. "Our car is broken," he says after staring at Dean for a moment.
"It broke down," the woman says, giving her companion an inscrutable look that he completely misses because he's still staring. "I mean, we got it here, but there's definitely something wrong."
"You've come to the right place," Dean says, wiping his hands off on a mostly clean rag. "Where are you parked? I'll take a look."
The look the woman gives him is so joyful that Dean finds himself returning it without thinking. His smile just gets wider when he sees their car. It's a '67 Impala, just like the one Dad gave him for his sixteenth birthday.
Dean whistles low in appreciation. "This baby is cherry. You don't see many like it these days."
"Are you happy here?" the man asks suddenly.
"What?"
"Sorry," the woman says, hooking her arm around the man's elbow and placing her other hand on his chest. "My husband just got a promotion and it means relocating to either Portland or Denver. We're trying to decide where we want to live." She smiles brightly at her husband. "He's worried about seasonal depression."
The man frowns at her and then looks back at Dean. "Yes," he says. "The rain makes me sad."
"Um, yeah, I like it here. I can't say the rain has ever bothered me, though I know it does definitely affect some people."
"But are you happy?" the man asks again.
Before Dean can answer he hears a yip and Sam yelling his name and then Little Ann is bounding up to him, wiggling happily at his feet in that slightly awkward way that fat little puppies have. "Hey, there, girl. You outsmart Sam again?" He bends over to pick her up.
"Sorry, she got away from me." Sam walks up to them, Dan tucked against his shoulder like a baby, aggressively licking his ear.
"Man, God help you the moment they figure out just how much they own you," Dean says, handing Ann over to him.
"Yeah, yeah." Sam leans in to accept the puppy and plants a quick kiss on Dean's cheek while he's there. "Your lunch is in the fridge. You better find it before John does."
"He wouldn't dare touch my food."
"Don't count on it," his dad yells from inside the office.
Sam grins and nods at the couple, then winks at Dean. "See you at home."
"Sure. Thanks." Dean watches Sam go for a moment, laughing at the sight of the dogs watching him over Sam's shoulders. "I'm sorry, what was I saying?"
"You were telling us how happy you are," the woman says.
"Right." Dean's not sure that was actually what he was saying, but it's certainly true. "Yeah, I am. I'm very happy."
The way the man is staring at him is quickly becoming disconcerting, but then he nods and says, "I am satisfied."
Dean's pretty sure the smug look the woman gives her husband means that she just won an important argument. Sam has given him that look more than once, which kind of makes Dean want to take the guy's side, but he doesn't seem bothered.
"They would not have chosen this," he says to his wife.
Her smile doesn't fade at all. "No, they would continue to choose what they thought would make the other happy and miss each other through a thousand different worlds."
"Yes."
"Okay," Dean says under his breath. He is clearly no longer part of this increasingly weird conversation. "If you want to give me the keys, I'll pull this into the garage and see what we can find."
"Of course." The man pats down his pockets and pulls out a set of keys. "Thank you. For everything." He says it with unwarranted significance as Dean takes them.
"Sure thing, dude."
***
The first time Dean wakes up next to Sam, warm and happy and sated, he can't quite keep the goofy smile off of his face. Unfortunately, Sam is already awake to witness it and of course, he laughs.
"Man, what were you thinking just now?"
Dean stretches and wraps his arm around Sam's waist, tugging him closer. "Just wondering what horrible thing I must've done in a past life to be stuck with you now."
"Horrible? Try awesome. You probably, like, invented penicillin or saved puppies for a living or something."
"Yes." Dean laughs. "I'm sure I was a professional puppy saver."
"I bet you were," Sam says, scooting a little closer. "It would explain why I love you so much."
"Here I thought it was my dashing charm and roguish good looks."
Sam shakes his head. "They would be pretty cheap without the goodness of your heart."
"Oh, Sam." Dean grins. "That was awful. I'm a little embarrassed for you, quite frankly."
"Shut up." Sam rolls away from him and onto his back. "I take it back. You suck."
"That's more like it." Dean moves over him and brushes a kiss over his lips. "Talk dirty to me."
"I hate you."
"Sure, baby. I hate you, too."
***
"So what's your favorite book?" Sam asks him one afternoon. They're hanging out in Dean's room working on a diorama for Sam's English class. Sam says its stupid, but Dean secretly thinks its sort of fun.
"I don't know. Watchmen, maybe?"
"Never heard of it."
"It's only the most awesome graphic novel ever," Dean says before he realizes Sam might be a bit young for that.
"Yeah?" Sam looks up, giving Dean his full attention. "What's it about?"
Dean momentarily debates trying to change the subject and then decides against it. Sam's smart for his age. "It's this dystopian alternate universe where people dress up as super heroes and fight crime, except it's about how messed up that would make people. Y'know, if they actually tried to be super heroes."
"Dystopian how?" Sam asks, and Dean kind of loves that Sam's not asking for the definition of dystopian.
"Well, the U.S. is on the brink of nuclear war with Russia and Nixon keeps getting re-elected as president. Also, these scientists accidentally created this atomic guy who has godlike powers and can do pretty much anything. So we like win Vietnam and stuff."
"Huh." Sam considers this. "So what do the heroes do, then?"
"That's the thing, right? With the atomic guy, they're really pretty useless. Plus they're all crazy. I mean, you'd have to be to try and do that kind of thing."
"So the moral of the story is that heroes are useless and crazy?" Sam frowns.
"Well when you put it that way..." Dean shrugs. "I don't know, I guess I like both the idea that people would try and do that sort of thing and the reality of just how much that would mess you up, trying to save the world."
"I guess I can see that."
"What about you?" Dean asks. "Why Where the Red Fern Grows?"
Sam closes his eyes and says, "The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred." He opens his eyes and smiles. "I guess I like the idea that there are angels watching over us. That love and sacrifice is something they would reward. Or at least honor."
It baffles Dean how a kid who has been jerked around as much as Sam has could maintain any kind of faith, let alone believe that there's some divine being watching over him personally.
"What?" Sam asks and Dean realizes he's staring.
"Nothing." Dean clears his throat and goes back to work on the diorama. "I hope it's true." He's surprised to find that he means that.
It's a nice thought.
***
ETA: A sequel? Prequel, maybe? Happily Ever After, Take One - Here We Can Rest Safely
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5k
Summary: Dean's not sure he and Sam have a beginning.
Notes: Thanks to fish_echo and kadiel_krieger for audiencing and jay_jay for the beta. With any luck, most of the truly embarrassing typos are taken care of.
ETA: AND NOW THERE IS PODFIC!! By the awesomely awesome sadcypress (She went and made the story like a thousand times better in the reading of it, I swear!). It can also be found here and here at general_jinjur's archive. I'm more than a little bit dorkily excited about it. *grins*
When It's Done
Dean sits up in bed, blinking blearily in the darkness. The house is completely silent and he's not sure what woke him up. The dream that he was having, maybe, but it has already faded. Whatever it was, it's three a.m. and he's wide awake. Sam mumbles his name as he slides out of bed.
"Just gonna check on the kids," he whispers. He's pretty sure Sam is actually still sleeping.
The "kids" are curled up in their bed in the corner of the kitchen like good little puppies. They were Sam's birthday present from Dean. A fairly grand romantic gesture if he does say so himself. And since they were a present, Sam got to name them. Big Dan and Little Ann and Dean can't even pretend to be surprised at the choices. It was why he got a boy and girl pup in the first place.
Maybe it's the time of night or the stillness of the house, the fact that he is standing alone in the middle of the kitchen in only his boxers, but Dean suddenly feels cut off from the world, strangely alone. He's tempted to wake the puppies up just to have the company when warm arms wrap around his waist.
"Don't even think about it," Sam murmurs softly in his ear.
Dean leans back into the embrace, smiling. "Think about what?"
"Waking them up in the middle of the night. They're being very good right now."
"I'm offended that you think me capable of such a thing, Sammy. Truly." He can't quite keep the smile out of his voice and he feels as much as hears Sam's huff of laughter.
"I know you, Dean."
"Yeah, you do."
"Everything okay?" Sam doesn't sound overly concerned. He knows that if something were actually wrong, Dean would've already told him.
"You remember that weird couple from the garage this afternoon?"
Sam sets his chin on Dean's shoulder and nods, digging hard into the muscle to be obnoxious. "The redhead and the creepy mouth-breather?"
"Yeah. They asked me if I was happy."
"Huh. What did you tell them?"
"Yes."
"Mmmm." Sam squeezes him a little tighter. "Good answer."
***
Two days after Sam comes to live with them, Dean overhears him praying. He's walking down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth, past Sam's bedroom and the door is open. Dean doesn't mean to spy or anything, but Sam's words stop him.
"Dear God," Sam says. His voice is quiet, but clear. "Thank you for bringing me to the Winchesters."
Dean leans in a little closer, doing his best to peek into the room without being seen. Sam is kneeling in front of his bed, his hands folded on the mattress, his head bowed.
"Please let me stay here awhile," Sam continues. "They seem like nice people and I like Dean. I promise I'll behave this time. I won't cause any trouble for them. And I'm sorry about before. Really. But maybe, maybe that was so I could end up here?"
There's a heartbreaking earnestness in his voice and Dean sends up his own silent prayer before continuing down the hall.
He likes Sam, too.
***
Winchester isn't Dean's real last name. He was five when Mary and John adopted him, but he doesn't remember who he was before. As far as he's concerned, he's a Winchester. Family is more than blood. His dad taught him that.
***
Dean is home for the weekend but he has a paper due Monday and he left his research back at the dorm, so he has to make a trip to the library. Sam tags along because Dean's weekends home are few and far between, but abandons him after about half an hour in the reference section.
After he has everything he needs Dean realizes he has no idea where Sam disappeared to. He finds him tucked away in a random corner, curled up in one of the library armchairs, reading Where the Red Fern Grows. Again. His eyes are suspiciously shiny and he rubs them furiously when he sees Dean then tilts his head in that defiant way he has, daring Dean to laugh at him for it.
"Don't you have that memorized by now?" Dean keeps his voice mildly curious.
Sam's shoulders slump as the fight goes out of him and he sighs. "I know it's stupid, I just-" He stops, looks down at the book in his hands like it holds the answer to a very important question. "Do you think people can be that loyal?" he finally asks. "I mean, do you think they're capable of it?"
It's another one of those moments where the world shifts to the right and clicks into place and Dean realizes just how far gone he is. He squats down next to Sam's chair so that he can look him in the eye. "Sure. With the right circumstances, with the right people, I think they are. Absolutely."
"Yeah," Sam says finally. "I think so too." Then he leans forward, kisses Dean quick and sloppy and awful. His face is red when he sits back and he looks just this side of mortified.
Dean smiles and grabs Sam's chin, turns his face so he can brush his own kiss over Sam's lips. "Just like that. Me and you, Sam. Always."
Most people would consider that a beginning, but Dean's not sure he and Sam have a beginning. They just are.
***
"Hey, Dean," Dad says as soon as Dean walks in the door after school. Which means he's been waiting for him.
"He here already?" Dean asks. His parents have been doing the foster thing for as long as he can remember and Dean is used to it by now. He gets along pretty well with everyone and he likes the idea of helping people. Helping kids.
Dad nods and frowns. "I could really use you with this one. He's been through a lot. Lost his parents when he was three and been bounced around constantly since then. I think he would respond a little better to someone closer to his own age."
"Sure, Dad." Dean drops his backpack in the entryway and it hits the floor with a heavy thud. Apparently, freshman year is as much about building the upper body strength to tote around the obscene number of books they give you as it is actually learning shit. "Bedroom?"
He bounds up the stairs at Dad's nod, but when he walks in the bedroom, nobody's there. He checks his room, then his parents'. The bathroom is empty, so Dean walks down to Dad's study at the end of the hall. It looks deserted at first, but he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye and squats down to find the kid sitting cross-legged under Dad's desk, reading.
For a moment it feels like Dean's world shifts and settles. Everything is cast in a weird new perspective as the boy blinks up at him.
"Oh," Dean finally says. "There you are."
"Here I am."
He scoots out from his hiding place and stands. "Sorry. Sometimes I just." He shrugs like that completes the thought.
"Sure," Dean says. "Hey. I'm Dean." He sticks his hand out to shake.
The kid transfers the book he's holding from his right hand to his left, sticking his thumb between the pages to mark his place. "Sam," he says shaking Dean's hand.
Dean smiles. "Hey, Sam." He nods at the book. "Whatcha readin'?"
Sam looks down at his hand. "Where the Red Fern Grows."
"That's the one about the dogs, right?"
"Sort of." Sam tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "I mean, yeah. It's about the dogs. But it's also about faith and loyalty. And love."
"It's been awhile since I've read it." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "I just remember I cried like a baby at the end."
This is apparently the right thing to say. Sam smiles like it's Christmas and Dean just gave him the best present ever.
***
They have a family party for Dean's high school graduation. Nana and Pop show up first. Dean smiles when he hears Pop's bombastic, "John Winchester! How are you, son?"
"Doin' well, sir," Dad replies and Pop laughs.
"So respectful. I always liked you, John."
Which is Nana's cue to say, "Lying's a sin, Samuel."
Then it's Dad's turn to laugh. These are the times when Dean loves his family the most.
Uncle Bobby, Aunt Helen and Sam show up soon after and from the irritated look on Sam's face, Dean thinks that he wanted to be there much sooner.
Dinner is taken up talking about Dean's plans for fall quarter. Congratulations on his scholarships and questions about what he thinks he might want to study. Dean's considering Psychology, but he's not sure. He knows he wants to work with kids eventually.
Sam gets quieter throughout the dinner, though he continues to smile when Dean talks about his plans. Dean knocks his knee against Sam's under the table and says, "So, Uncle Bobby. You gonna let Sam come visit me once he gets his license?"
"Oh, hell, Dean," Uncle Bobby says, but with only a token amount of bluster. "I expect I'll be drivin' him up there ever other weekend until then."
"Good good. Just making sure," Dean says and Sam ducks his head and grins wide.
***
Sam is with them for six months before he's placed with a family who says they want to adopt him. He's there for two weeks before Dean wakes up in the middle of the night to Sam knocking on his window.
"Jesus, Sammy," Dean says, pulling him from the tree branch he's perched on and into the room. "How did you even get up there?"
"I'm a good climber." Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.
Before Dean can say anything else, he hears a creak that signals his dad coming down the hall. "Closet," he tells Sam and flops back in bed.
"Dean?" Dad knocks softly and then opens the door. "You sleeping?"
"Yeah. No. I was. I got hot," he says, realizing the window is still wide open and the room is freezing.
"Well, maybe it's cool enough now," Dad says.
"Yes, sir." Dean hops up to shut the window.
"I was going to have some ice cream. You want some?" He glances behind him and says, "Your mother doesn't need to know."
"No thanks. Can we maybe talk in the morning?"
"Sure." Dad starts to shut the door, then stops. "Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"The bed is made in Sam's room if he wants to sleep in there instead of the closet. Just tell him to use the door next time. I'd rather he not break his neck."
"Yes, sir."
Sam still waits until the door is shut before coming out of his hiding place to sit cross-legged on the foot of Dean's bed. "How did he know?"
Dean shrugs. "He's Dad."
"I don't want to go back there," Sam whispers. "I want to stay here with you."
"Okay," Dean says. As though he has any control in the matter.
***
Sam writes almost as much as he reads, scribbling furiously in notebooks that he doesn't let anyone else touch. At first, Dean thought they were journals and he doesn't ask because he doesn't want to pry. He's intensely curious, but he respects Sam's need for privacy more.
One day, they're sitting at the kitchen table doing their homework. Sam's finished his Math and he's writing again, glancing up at Dean often enough to drive Dean a little crazy, but Dean pretends like he doesn't notice until he's done with his History assignment. He sets his pen down and nods at Sam's notebook.
"Whatcha working on there, Sam?"
"It's, uh." Sam glances up at him from under his bangs. "Just a story I'm writing."
"Yeah? I didn't know you wrote stories." Dean doesn't have to feign the interest in his voice. "What kind?"
"Well, they're kind of, um. You want to read one?"
"I'd love to," Dean says and he realizes he should have asked sooner.
"Cool." Sam pulls another notebook out of his backpack and hands it to Dean. "Whatever one you want."
He ends up reading three while Sam writes. They're good. Really good, which maybe shouldn't be as surprising as it is. It's not like Dean didn't know that Sam was smart, but the stories have a depth that one wouldn't expect from an eleven-year-old.
They're horror stories, sort of. One is about a girl who finds out she's a werewolf and when she realizes she can't keep herself from hurting other people, she asks her boyfriend to kill her. Another is about a coven of vampires who don't drink human blood. The third is a woman who haunts a highway, killing people because she doesn't realize she's a ghost. That's the one Dean's finishing when he realizes that Sam has stopped writing and is watching him.
"These are-These are pretty amazing, Sam." Dean shuts the notebook and smiles at him. "Have you shown these to anyone else?"
"Not really," Sam says, looking both pleased and a little bashful. "I mean, they're just stories."
"They're good stories." Dean slides the notebook back to Sam. "I sense sort of a theme you've got going on there. With the bad guys who aren't really so bad."
"Yeah. I guess I like that idea. I mean." Sam scrunches up his face and scratches the side of his nose. "I like the idea that, no matter how bad you are, you can still make the choice to be good."
Oh, Dean thinks. He knows Sam's had trouble with his previous foster homes, but in the time that he's been with there, he's been this side of angelic. Still pretty reserved and formal with Mom and Dad, but when he's alone with Dean he's just a normal kid. Except smart, funny and caring, so maybe better than a normal kid.
"I like that idea, too," Dean says finally. "Kind of like, no matter what the universe throws at you, you still get to be the one who decides your own destiny."
Sam nods at him and smiles. "Yeah," he says. "Kind of like that."
***
After the graduation party, Dean is sitting with Dad in the study. Mom went to bed hours ago and Sam is sacked out on the couch after he begged Uncle Bobby to please let him spend the night. He fell asleep halfway through The Blob. For as much as he likes horror as a genre, the kid has no appreciation for the classics.
Dad's letting him have a whiskey drink with him, which is maybe why Dean finally has the nerve to ask, "Why me? I mean, out of all the kids you've helped, why did you decide to keep me?" He knows his parents love him, it's not that he doubts that, but he can't help being curious.
"All of the kids that have been here, they were all good kids. There was just something about you. You fit with us from the very first day." Dad smiles and rubs his hand over his beard. There's some grey in there now and it throws Dean a little to think of Dad getting older. "I wanted to help you grow into the man you had the potential to be. You haven't let me down, Dean. I'm so proud of you. Your mom and I, both."
"Thanks, Dad." Dean looks down at his glass, a little embarrassed with the praise. His dad is a lot of things, but effusive isn't one of them. "Thank you. For everything."
"Sam's gonna have a rough time when you leave." Dad says it carefully and Dean's not sure what he's angling for, so he responds honestly.
"He's not the only one." He stares at his hands and says, "I'm gonna miss him like hell and I don't-I'm not quite sure what to do with that."
Dad looks thoughtful, though Dean has no idea what he's thinking. Finally he says, "You two will work something out, I'm sure. Just so long as he's not trying to climb into your dorm room in the middle of the night."
Dean laughs at that. "Yeah. Might give people the wrong idea."
"Mmm," is Dad's only response.
***
"Hey, Dean?"
"Hmm?" Dean mostly ignores the question in favor of kissing Sam's neck. His decision to wait for sex until Sam turned eighteen had to be one of the stupidest in his life and it's been a long three years. But Sam turned eighteen yesterday and Dean drove up to see him today and after dinner and a movie they are finally, finally horizontal.
"Do you think that God has a plan for us?"
Dean presses his forehead against Sam's shoulder and takes a deep breath before looking up at him. "Please tell me you're making a very bad joke, Sammy." Dean's got his A-game going here.
"No, it's just." Sam pushes himself up on his elbows and then moves to sit up. "I was thinking."
"Oh good." Dean relents and roles off of Sam and onto his back to stare at the ceiling. This is punishment because nobody can hold a grudge like Sam can and Dean remembers the expression on Sam's fifteen-year-old face when he told him the nookie would have to wait. Sam is exactly that vindictive. Which sucks because it was mostly for Sam's sake anyway, though maybe also a lot because Dean knew Dad wouldn't approve and the chances of Dad not finding out were pretty much zero.
"Hey, come on, Dean. Look at me. I'm serious about this."
"What?" Dean says, tilting his head back so that he's looking at Sam upside-down. "You're serious about God's plan?"
"Yes. No. I mean, I was just thinking that sometimes it feels like. I dunno." He pushes his hair out of his face and sighs. "Sometimes I feel like you and I were meant to be together. That maybe, I know it sounds stupid, but maybe the universe arranged it for us. I mean, with all the shit growing up, with all the different homes I went to. Maybe it was for a reason."
So this is actually a serious conversation. "It doesn't sound stupid." Dean rolls onto his side to look at Sam properly. "It doesn't," he says again at Sam's skeptical expression. "The first time I saw you it felt like, I can't remember a time when I didn't know you. So, yeah. If there's a god out there planning this shit, yeah. You and me were a plan."
It feels like the truth in a way Dean can't really account for.
Sam's smile starts off sweet, momentarily lulling Dean into a false sense of security. Then he says, "You're not just saying that to get me into bed?"
Dean groans. "I got you into bed. It's getting you to shut up that I'm having trouble with."
"Huh." Sam tilts his head. "Sounds like a personal problem to me. Honestly, Dean. I thought you were better at this."
"How about this?" Dean kneels up and straddles Sam's lap, cupping Sam's grinning face in his hands. "I'm so crazy in love with you that I don't know where I end and you start. I don't want to know."
Sam stares at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. "Okay," he says finally. "Yeah, that works."
***
Sam runs away from three different families before Dean decides to broach the subject with Dad. "Why can't he just stay with us?"
Mom has taken Sam to pick his stuff up from the most recent family. They'd been really upset when he left and while Dad was able to work everything out, he insisted that Sam go back and apologize to them for making them worry.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Dean. Sam's troubled-"
"That's such bullshit!"
"Language!"
"I'm sorry," Dean says automatically. "But you know it's true. Sam's a good kid. He just doesn't belong with those people. They don't know him."
"And you do?"
"Yeah." Dean's surprised, though whether it's at the question or the obviousness of the answer, he's not sure. "Are you kidding me? What don't I know about that kid?"
Dad rubs a hand over his face. It's a tired gesture and Dean suddenly feels bad about arguing with him. He knows that Dad has gone above and beyond to help Sam, but Dean can't quite bring himself to accept we'll do what we can on this.
"He's not a puppy, Dean. We can't just keep him. It doesn't work like that."
Dean bites back the Why not?. He wants to argue about this, but he knows Dad's right and there's not really anything he can do about it. He hates feeling this helpless.
"You remember my friend Bobby?"
"Sure." Dean nods unsure of what that has to do with anything.
"His wife got a position at the university. They'll be moving up here in a few weeks. I've talked to him a few times about Sam." Dad nods. "He and Helen might be willing to take him in. We'll have Sam meet them and see what everyone thinks."
"Okay. That-I guess that sounds good." Dean knows this is a huge thing for Dad to do. A huge thing for him to ask of his friend. He still has ask one more time. "Why can't Sam stay here?"
"I know you care about him and I know you boys get along. I just think it's a good idea for the two of you to have some space from each other as well." He clasps Dean on the shoulder and looks him in the eye. "Your mother and I love Sam, too, Dean. You know that, right?"
"I know, Dad." This is the end of the discussion as far as his dad's concerned, so Dean doesn't say, But Sam and I belong together.
He's pretty sure his dad hears that anyway.
***
Dean occasionally helps out at the garage on weekends. He loves his job without a doubt and it's nice to think he's making a difference, helping kids who haven't always had it so easy. But after a week full of trying to work through the complexities of the human mind, it's nice to get under the hood of an old car and be able to fix it simply by replacing what's broken. And Dad has a reputation for being honest and damn good at his job, which means that he's never short of work for Dean to help with.
Sam arrived about twenty minutes ago with lunch for everyone. His latest book is going through the final round of edits, so he's taking advantage of the free time. He's currently chatting with Sarah, the receptionist, over a carton of fried rice. He also has the puppies with him and if Dean were the jealous type, he might be a little put out at the picture Sam makes at the moment, laughing with the pretty college girl like he's the most adorable thing in the world.
He's almost positive Sam would kill him for even thinking the word adorable, but between the puppies and the dimples, it's undeniable.
"Excuse me?" There's a woman standing at the entrance to the garage, looking around uncertainly.
"Yeah," Dean says. "Can I help you?"
"Oh, good." She looks at him and smiles. "In here."
A moment later a man joins her. He's wearing a rumpled suit and a trench coat, despite the warm, sunny day. "Our car is broken," he says after staring at Dean for a moment.
"It broke down," the woman says, giving her companion an inscrutable look that he completely misses because he's still staring. "I mean, we got it here, but there's definitely something wrong."
"You've come to the right place," Dean says, wiping his hands off on a mostly clean rag. "Where are you parked? I'll take a look."
The look the woman gives him is so joyful that Dean finds himself returning it without thinking. His smile just gets wider when he sees their car. It's a '67 Impala, just like the one Dad gave him for his sixteenth birthday.
Dean whistles low in appreciation. "This baby is cherry. You don't see many like it these days."
"Are you happy here?" the man asks suddenly.
"What?"
"Sorry," the woman says, hooking her arm around the man's elbow and placing her other hand on his chest. "My husband just got a promotion and it means relocating to either Portland or Denver. We're trying to decide where we want to live." She smiles brightly at her husband. "He's worried about seasonal depression."
The man frowns at her and then looks back at Dean. "Yes," he says. "The rain makes me sad."
"Um, yeah, I like it here. I can't say the rain has ever bothered me, though I know it does definitely affect some people."
"But are you happy?" the man asks again.
Before Dean can answer he hears a yip and Sam yelling his name and then Little Ann is bounding up to him, wiggling happily at his feet in that slightly awkward way that fat little puppies have. "Hey, there, girl. You outsmart Sam again?" He bends over to pick her up.
"Sorry, she got away from me." Sam walks up to them, Dan tucked against his shoulder like a baby, aggressively licking his ear.
"Man, God help you the moment they figure out just how much they own you," Dean says, handing Ann over to him.
"Yeah, yeah." Sam leans in to accept the puppy and plants a quick kiss on Dean's cheek while he's there. "Your lunch is in the fridge. You better find it before John does."
"He wouldn't dare touch my food."
"Don't count on it," his dad yells from inside the office.
Sam grins and nods at the couple, then winks at Dean. "See you at home."
"Sure. Thanks." Dean watches Sam go for a moment, laughing at the sight of the dogs watching him over Sam's shoulders. "I'm sorry, what was I saying?"
"You were telling us how happy you are," the woman says.
"Right." Dean's not sure that was actually what he was saying, but it's certainly true. "Yeah, I am. I'm very happy."
The way the man is staring at him is quickly becoming disconcerting, but then he nods and says, "I am satisfied."
Dean's pretty sure the smug look the woman gives her husband means that she just won an important argument. Sam has given him that look more than once, which kind of makes Dean want to take the guy's side, but he doesn't seem bothered.
"They would not have chosen this," he says to his wife.
Her smile doesn't fade at all. "No, they would continue to choose what they thought would make the other happy and miss each other through a thousand different worlds."
"Yes."
"Okay," Dean says under his breath. He is clearly no longer part of this increasingly weird conversation. "If you want to give me the keys, I'll pull this into the garage and see what we can find."
"Of course." The man pats down his pockets and pulls out a set of keys. "Thank you. For everything." He says it with unwarranted significance as Dean takes them.
"Sure thing, dude."
***
The first time Dean wakes up next to Sam, warm and happy and sated, he can't quite keep the goofy smile off of his face. Unfortunately, Sam is already awake to witness it and of course, he laughs.
"Man, what were you thinking just now?"
Dean stretches and wraps his arm around Sam's waist, tugging him closer. "Just wondering what horrible thing I must've done in a past life to be stuck with you now."
"Horrible? Try awesome. You probably, like, invented penicillin or saved puppies for a living or something."
"Yes." Dean laughs. "I'm sure I was a professional puppy saver."
"I bet you were," Sam says, scooting a little closer. "It would explain why I love you so much."
"Here I thought it was my dashing charm and roguish good looks."
Sam shakes his head. "They would be pretty cheap without the goodness of your heart."
"Oh, Sam." Dean grins. "That was awful. I'm a little embarrassed for you, quite frankly."
"Shut up." Sam rolls away from him and onto his back. "I take it back. You suck."
"That's more like it." Dean moves over him and brushes a kiss over his lips. "Talk dirty to me."
"I hate you."
"Sure, baby. I hate you, too."
***
"So what's your favorite book?" Sam asks him one afternoon. They're hanging out in Dean's room working on a diorama for Sam's English class. Sam says its stupid, but Dean secretly thinks its sort of fun.
"I don't know. Watchmen, maybe?"
"Never heard of it."
"It's only the most awesome graphic novel ever," Dean says before he realizes Sam might be a bit young for that.
"Yeah?" Sam looks up, giving Dean his full attention. "What's it about?"
Dean momentarily debates trying to change the subject and then decides against it. Sam's smart for his age. "It's this dystopian alternate universe where people dress up as super heroes and fight crime, except it's about how messed up that would make people. Y'know, if they actually tried to be super heroes."
"Dystopian how?" Sam asks, and Dean kind of loves that Sam's not asking for the definition of dystopian.
"Well, the U.S. is on the brink of nuclear war with Russia and Nixon keeps getting re-elected as president. Also, these scientists accidentally created this atomic guy who has godlike powers and can do pretty much anything. So we like win Vietnam and stuff."
"Huh." Sam considers this. "So what do the heroes do, then?"
"That's the thing, right? With the atomic guy, they're really pretty useless. Plus they're all crazy. I mean, you'd have to be to try and do that kind of thing."
"So the moral of the story is that heroes are useless and crazy?" Sam frowns.
"Well when you put it that way..." Dean shrugs. "I don't know, I guess I like both the idea that people would try and do that sort of thing and the reality of just how much that would mess you up, trying to save the world."
"I guess I can see that."
"What about you?" Dean asks. "Why Where the Red Fern Grows?"
Sam closes his eyes and says, "The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred." He opens his eyes and smiles. "I guess I like the idea that there are angels watching over us. That love and sacrifice is something they would reward. Or at least honor."
It baffles Dean how a kid who has been jerked around as much as Sam has could maintain any kind of faith, let alone believe that there's some divine being watching over him personally.
"What?" Sam asks and Dean realizes he's staring.
"Nothing." Dean clears his throat and goes back to work on the diorama. "I hope it's true." He's surprised to find that he means that.
It's a nice thought.
***
ETA: A sequel? Prequel, maybe? Happily Ever After, Take One - Here We Can Rest Safely