Between Shadow and Light: Part 23-25
Title: Between Shadow and Light
Author: Roselani24
Genre: crossover, friendship, drama, angst
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a little while.
Spoilers: Anything from White Collar up until 4.10 and Supernatural Seasons 1-7 is fair game.
Warnings: Some violence, gore, and at one point animal abuse. That section will have a specific warning beforehand for readers.
Summary: Sequel to Secrets in Shadow. Haunted by the case in Gettysburg, Detective Peter Burke seeks out one Dean Winchester in hope of finding answers. Peter finds Dean and a whole lot more than he expected. What started out as mutual respect soon evolves into a strong friendship. Over the years, that friendship has a ripple effect on their families, friends, and even opponents. Includes appearances from Sam Winchester, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey, and a special guest appearance by John Winchester. Story told in 25 parts.
Author Notes: First off, a humongous thank you to my beta and artist, Twisted_Slinky who’s editing, encouragement, and gorgeous art made the completion of this story possible. Be sure to check out her art work here. Thank you so much, Slinky!!!! Laughtersmelody deserves a special shout out too because if it weren’t for her word prompts at christianfanfic, this story would have never even made it off the ground. Thanks girl!
Written for the spn_gen_bigbang moderated by the lovely reapertownusa. Thanks for running the community so smoothly! :)
Story Notes: “Between Shadow and Light” is the direct sequel to “Secrets in Shadow” and picks up two months after the first story ended. This story covers the years of 1995 to 2010, after the Apocalypse is over. In my version, however, the Apocalypse ends differently than according to canon. It doesn’t matter too much for this particular story because it is not addressed until the final chapter, but I wanted to make sure readers are aware. As far as canon goes, everything up to 5.14, bar 5.06 and 5.13 occurs in the SPN verse before it goes AU.
ETA: This story started out as a series of connected drabbles that morphed into something much bigger than originally planned. That is why the story is broken down in different parts and then put together in a few compact posts. Each part is a different character segment at a certain time and place. Some are long, some are short depending on what the drabble was originally about. Hope that helps clear things up a bit.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Part 23: Neal - February 2009
He lay with his arms crossed under his head, staring up at the blank bland walls of his cell. Before, his cell had been full of drawings and pictures he’d drawn or acquired during his stay. Everything was gone now as punishment for his escape.
A knot twisted in his stomach. It would be a week tomorrow since he broke out and found Kate’s apartment empty; a week since he asked Special Agent Peter Burke to meet him. Peter would keep the meeting, Neal was sure of it. The agent was a man of his word. He would come.
Hope rose and fell inside him like the ocean tides.
There was no way of knowing just how the agent would react to his proposal. Burke knew him surprisingly, and almost disturbingly, well after a three year chase. Neal was gambling on the information he’d received about the agent’s current case to be his in.
It had to work.
He had to get out. He needed to find Kate. They weren’t over. They couldn’t be, not like this. Neal refused to believe their story ended like this.
It didn’t matter what Peter thought. It didn’t.
“They asked me what makes a guy like you pull a boneheaded escape with only four months to go.”
It wasn’t boneheaded! He had been too slow, had not escaped fast enough to find Kate and talk to her.
“Still, it only took you a month and a half to escape a supermax. Quite impressive.”
Only Peter Burke could offer praise and a rebuke within a few sentences. It was one of the many things he found fascinating about the agent. For an FBI agent, someone who adhered to a boring black and white outlook on life and the law, he could still flip things around and behave in ways Neal wasn’t expecting. It certainly had made the chase more interesting over the years.
Bizarrely, Neal couldn’t shake the feeling something was just slightly off with Peter. He tried to think of the right word to describe the look in the agent’s eyes back in Kate’s apartment. The problem was he had not been paying as much attention as he should have.
Only Peter didn’t change, didn’t understand style or know how to be charming or anything. Throughout the three year chase, he had not changed. He had doggedly pursued Neal without tiring, always right on his heels. It had been oddly comforting, even when he was scrambling to stay ahead of the agent.
Yet something had been different. The more he reflected, the more certain Neal became. Something about Peter was different. But what?
Maybe the years on the force were catching up to him, he reasoned. Or maybe it was just because he was in the middle of chasing the Dutchman when the marshals called Peter in to find Neal.
Neal chuckled, imagining Peter’s annoyance and anger at being pulled off his case. Oh, he would have loved to have seen the agent’s face when he learned Neal had escaped!
Why didn’t the nagging unease go away? As plausible as the reasons sounded, he couldn’t shake the sense it was deeper.
Neal started going through a list of possibilities.
Physical changes first.
He pictured Peter in his mind, reviewing the encounter from the moment he heard the agent’s voice for the first time since the trial four years ago until he was dragged away by the Marshals.
The older man had not changed much. Heck, he’d been wearing the exact same suit he was wearing when he caught Neal the first time! The only real difference Neal had noticed was a new line or two around his eyes and his hair was no longer as dark brown as it used to be. But all that could be accounted for, again, by simple aging. Time had a way of changing a man. There were no signs of sickness and he hadn’t heard any rumors about Peter’s health declining. Peter was active in the field after all, so physically he was good.
Okay. Neal mentally crossed that off the list.
That left something emotional. Peter didn’t strike him as a man who easily showed or talked about his feelings, being the tough FBI agent he was. The agent was a relic in so many ways. Neal supposed that was why he had always been so fascinated by him. Maybe there was something going on between Peter and his wife?
Neal turned that possibility around in his brain. A fight? Maybe. Maybe she was sick? Possibly. But Neal doubted it. Yet it something about the scenario fit...
Weary, he suddenly realized. The unnamed cloud hanging around Peter was that of weariness.
Instead of feeling triumphant, his insides twisted.
Weary was not a word Neal would typically use to describe Peter Burke. The man did not give up. Relentless, tenacious, or dogged certainly, but not weary. It fit nonetheless. Peter seemed weary right down to the bone.
Neal rolled over onto his side.
Would it affect his chances of convincing Peter to take the deal? He had no further time to ask his contacts to dig into the man’s recent life while Neal was stuck in prison.
Sure, Neal kept tabs on the agent, and even sent him birthday cards. Neal could only imagine what Peter thought about that. He would have to mention them tomorrow. It was the perfect way to remind Peter he could get information that other people had a hard time retrieving. Except he didn’t know what had made Peter seem so jaded.
Neal rolled over onto his back again. He needed to sleep.
He closed his eyes. It wouldn’t matter. Peter liked him. He would see the merit in Neal’s proposal. But on the safe side, he would have Moz look into Peter’s life over the past few years and see if there was something Neal missed.
A good con always knew everything about the mark. And when hustling, you had to pay attention to your surroundings and know when to back off. He learned that lesson well years ago thanks to a Good Samaritan.
~*~
Part 24: Elizabeth - September 2009
She loved rainy days. There was something about the swirling gray clouds and the falling water that was so relaxing, refreshing even.
Today was such a day.
Absently, Elizabeth scrubbed the bottom of the pot to remove the remains of lunch. Peter had actually made it home to enjoy it with her. A smile creased her lips as she thought about her husband. He was livelier than he had been in years. It had warmed her heart to see.
All thanks to Neal Caffrey.
Neal was a curious young man and Elizabeth could proudly claim she knew that personally. Fascinating, suave, and surprisingly young, Neal Caffrey had definitely left an impression. It was doubtful Neal realized the main one he left her with was that he was most assuredly lost. She saw the way the boy looked at her husband, how the expression was slowly but surely morphing into something akin to adoration mixed with respect. Peter was oblivious, as usual. It reminded her of another young man who had looked up to Peter and at the same time acted as Peter’s protector.
She put the pot down, bowing her head as the grief pricked her.
Had it really been over a year since that terrible day?
Elizabeth moved away from the sink, staring out the window.
She missed his laugh and his gruff voice, how he teased her and would call her Little Sister to get a rise out of her. She longed to watch him play a game of one-on-one or throw around a baseball with Peter. She wished he could still stop by and visit without warning, when the job brought him nearby, to play with Satchmo and surprise Peter and her with a meal. She yearned to feel his awkward, but warm embrace.
What would he think about the deal Peter had made on the behalf of the FBI with Neal Caffrey? Her lips curved in a tiny smile. Dean would probably call Peter crazy, give him a lot of guff, and then turnaround and take Neal under his wing, just like Peter had.
It was raining harder now. Water was pouring down the window sill like a river to the ground below.
Everything changed after he had died. Peter had thrown himself into his work and so had she. The first few months were the worst. Elizabeth kept expecting-hoping-Dean would just show up out of the blue with a cocky grin and an apology for not letting them know sooner why he faked his death. She would yell and scream, probably slap him, and then hug him senseless.
The loss hit her husband even harder. Peter would never admit it aloud, but Dean had become like family. The past couple years with contact limited to phone calls or the occasional post card or letter had been rough. It was one of the only times Elizabeth suspected Peter regretted being an FBI agent. Harder still was knowing the truth, and knowing no one would believe either of them if they went to Dean’s defense. Dean had chosen to step back as a result, to protect them so they would not be forced into such an awful position.
You never knew what you had until you lost it. Elizabeth never realized how true that was until Dean withdrew and finally died.
She saw Peter sometimes, sitting in the backyard absently twirling a basketball or baseball in his hands. Other times Peter would look at Satchmo with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. He was remembering and longing, just like her.
Never again. The man who had become like a brother to her and Peter was gone. Dean Winchester was dead.
But Neal Caffrey was changing things. Peter was more animated then she had seen him in a long time. His old bursts of inspiration were returning, as was the playful and sweet man who had pulled back into his shell after they’d learned what happened.
The other day, Peter had come home complaining that working with Neal was like working with Peter Pan. Amusingly, he didn’t seem to realize he was speaking with a tone of fond exasperation.
If Neal was Peter Pan, Dean was Aragorn, she decided. Dean was a man whose bearing reflected the nobility and scars of lordship and war but hid his true age. She smiled sadly. Dean probably would have called her crazy, said he was no king, much less noble, and compared himself to The Man with No Name instead. It fit too. As far as the world was concerned, Dean Winchester was just a man who went crazy and murdered innocents before meeting his end in fire. End of story. But to her and Peter, he was just Dean. A young man, who had slipped into their lives with no warning, changed them irrevocably and then, just as suddenly as he came, disappeared.
Riiiiiiiiing!
Elizabeth jumped. Oh goodness gracious, how long had she’d been standing there lost in thought? She quickly picked up the phone and greeted her assistant Yvonne.
She’d just put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher later.
~*~
Part 25: Peter and Dean - June 2010
It was over.
Dean wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for the next six months. Every part of him felt battered and bruised, from his toenails to the tips of his hair. Yet here he was, sitting wide awake on Bobby’s porch swing at half past one while everyone slept inside.
He rocked back, for a moment just taking in the simple rhythm of moving back and forth. After yellow eyes died, the sense of accomplishment had been immense and left him free and relieved, if only for a short time. There had been a small matter of his deal with the Crossroads Demon to save Sam to contend with. This time, it was truly over.
Naturally, there was still work to do. The Apocalypse may be averted, but the monsters and evil beings were still out there killing innocent people. A hunter’s job was never really done.
Well, for a few months, other hunters could take care of those jobs. Sam and he needed some R&R first. Bobby and Cas too. Well, the actual rest part might last a week or two at best before Dean got restless. Either way, they needed downtime, needed time to heal after all the crap they had been through. Bobby was wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Castiel was, for all intents and purposes, almost fully human and unable to return to heaven until the real end of the world came. Sam was still dealing with the fallout from his demon blood addiction, which thanks to Famine had returned full force back in February. They all deserved time to rest, to re-group, to come to terms with everything that happened.
Oddly enough, Dean felt a modicum of peace with his life. He chalked that up to Michael’s influence. The archangel had proved to be completely different from everything he had been led to believe. It was why, when the time came and a plan was in place, Dean agreed to be the angel’s vessel for a time. Needless to say it was an experience Dean both wanted to forget and remember at the same time. Having an archangel inside you certainly changed your perspective on things.
Suddenly, feeling restless, he climbed to his feet and gingerly made his way to the edge of the porch. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the vast expanse of stars. He easily found the North Star, glittering brightly in the clear night sky.
It reminded him of an old friend who loved astronomy almost as much as he loved the challenge of solving complicated puzzles and catching bad guys at the end. A dull ache spread through his chest, familiar and strong. As far as Peter was concerned, the Winchester brothers had died back in Colorado over two years ago. With his deal coming due, Dean had not seen the point in correcting that. It would only hurt Peter and Elizabeth more. That was when he thought he was going to Hell forever. He never expected to be rescued, by an angel no less. For a while he considered calling or sending a post card or sign that he and his brother were in fact alive and still doing their job. In the end, he had decided not to. How could he explain the deal he made to save Sam? How could he explain Hell, what he had done down there? Peter and Elizabeth would ask. He knew they would. They were those kind of people-they cared and were persistent because they cared. There was also the impending Apocalypse and the breaking of the seals and Lilith. In the end, shame and the desire to protect them won out, and he had never contacted them.
Maybe he should.
Dean breathed in a deep shuddering breath. Was it the right thing to do? He had been dead to them for so long. Surely it wouldn’t be right to just pop back into their lives and leave again. But continuing to let them believe he was dead wasn’t right either. He could only imagine how he would feel if Sam or Bobby or Cas had died and come back, but never told him they were alive. Peter and Elizabeth deserved to know the truth. Dean ran a hand through his hair. If he did contact them, he would have to come clean about everything that happened. And if they never wanted to see or speak to him again afterwards, so be it. Dean had made his choice years ago. He would have to live with the consequences.
He could only hope and pray that Peter and Elizabeth may one day forgive him. If not, he would bow out of their lives gracefully and never bother them again.
________________________________________________________________________________
“Hey, hon,” Peter called as he came through the front door. The heavenly aroma of Elizabeth’s famous pasta sauce was a welcome one after the last case. Kidnapping cases were not his usual fare, nor was dealing with an extremely paranoid, mistrusting, bespeckled man who drove him crazy on a regular basis. Thankfully, the case had ended well. Navarro and his goons were in prison; Gina DeStefano was home safe and sound.
He had just dropped Neal off at June’s so his CI could catch up on sleep after the past two crazy days. Peter knew exactly how Neal felt. Maybe this experience would help Neal realize how often he put Peter in similar situations and think more before he acted. A rueful smile creased Peter’s face as he put down his briefcase and took off his jacket. For a while, perhaps it would deter the young man, but not for long. The kid was too adventurous.
The silence brought him out of his thoughts.
“El? Honey?”
Peter stepped into the living room and finally spotted his wife sitting at the table. Something was wrong. Her shoulders were hunched and as he came closer he realized she was shaking. Satchmo was at her feet, looking just as distressed as she.
“Hon.”
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Blue eyes brimming with tears looked up at him in shock. “Peter! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, beginning to feel panic rising. Elizabeth rarely cried and seeing her so upset now set all his internal alarms and defenses on Def Con Delta. What happened? He had to know if he was going to fix it.
“He’s alive.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she lifted up a post card Peter had not noticed in front of her. It was a generic Route 66 postcard probably from a gas station. He accepted the card, heart starting to race in his chest. No, it couldn’t be.
Slowly, he turned the card over.
Peter exhaled sharply. He was only peripherally aware of his knees giving out as he sank to the floor. Elizabeth immediately joined him, and he wrapped his arm around her. Satchmo whined and burrowed against Peter’s other side.
The message was short but concise.
Dear Professor and Little Sister,
I’m sorry.
Below was a series of numbers that Peter recognized to be the coordinates for a post office drop. It wasn’t signed. Not that there was any need. There was no doubt who had sent the postcard.
“Dean.”
FIN
Sequel Coming Next Fall.
Part 1-3
Part 4-6
Part 7-11
Part 12-16
Part 17-22
Author: Roselani24
Genre: crossover, friendship, drama, angst
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a little while.
Spoilers: Anything from White Collar up until 4.10 and Supernatural Seasons 1-7 is fair game.
Warnings: Some violence, gore, and at one point animal abuse. That section will have a specific warning beforehand for readers.
Summary: Sequel to Secrets in Shadow. Haunted by the case in Gettysburg, Detective Peter Burke seeks out one Dean Winchester in hope of finding answers. Peter finds Dean and a whole lot more than he expected. What started out as mutual respect soon evolves into a strong friendship. Over the years, that friendship has a ripple effect on their families, friends, and even opponents. Includes appearances from Sam Winchester, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey, and a special guest appearance by John Winchester. Story told in 25 parts.
Author Notes: First off, a humongous thank you to my beta and artist, Twisted_Slinky who’s editing, encouragement, and gorgeous art made the completion of this story possible. Be sure to check out her art work here. Thank you so much, Slinky!!!! Laughtersmelody deserves a special shout out too because if it weren’t for her word prompts at christianfanfic, this story would have never even made it off the ground. Thanks girl!
Written for the spn_gen_bigbang moderated by the lovely reapertownusa. Thanks for running the community so smoothly! :)
Story Notes: “Between Shadow and Light” is the direct sequel to “Secrets in Shadow” and picks up two months after the first story ended. This story covers the years of 1995 to 2010, after the Apocalypse is over. In my version, however, the Apocalypse ends differently than according to canon. It doesn’t matter too much for this particular story because it is not addressed until the final chapter, but I wanted to make sure readers are aware. As far as canon goes, everything up to 5.14, bar 5.06 and 5.13 occurs in the SPN verse before it goes AU.
ETA: This story started out as a series of connected drabbles that morphed into something much bigger than originally planned. That is why the story is broken down in different parts and then put together in a few compact posts. Each part is a different character segment at a certain time and place. Some are long, some are short depending on what the drabble was originally about. Hope that helps clear things up a bit.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Part 23: Neal - February 2009
He lay with his arms crossed under his head, staring up at the blank bland walls of his cell. Before, his cell had been full of drawings and pictures he’d drawn or acquired during his stay. Everything was gone now as punishment for his escape.
A knot twisted in his stomach. It would be a week tomorrow since he broke out and found Kate’s apartment empty; a week since he asked Special Agent Peter Burke to meet him. Peter would keep the meeting, Neal was sure of it. The agent was a man of his word. He would come.
Hope rose and fell inside him like the ocean tides.
There was no way of knowing just how the agent would react to his proposal. Burke knew him surprisingly, and almost disturbingly, well after a three year chase. Neal was gambling on the information he’d received about the agent’s current case to be his in.
It had to work.
He had to get out. He needed to find Kate. They weren’t over. They couldn’t be, not like this. Neal refused to believe their story ended like this.
It didn’t matter what Peter thought. It didn’t.
“They asked me what makes a guy like you pull a boneheaded escape with only four months to go.”
It wasn’t boneheaded! He had been too slow, had not escaped fast enough to find Kate and talk to her.
“Still, it only took you a month and a half to escape a supermax. Quite impressive.”
Only Peter Burke could offer praise and a rebuke within a few sentences. It was one of the many things he found fascinating about the agent. For an FBI agent, someone who adhered to a boring black and white outlook on life and the law, he could still flip things around and behave in ways Neal wasn’t expecting. It certainly had made the chase more interesting over the years.
Bizarrely, Neal couldn’t shake the feeling something was just slightly off with Peter. He tried to think of the right word to describe the look in the agent’s eyes back in Kate’s apartment. The problem was he had not been paying as much attention as he should have.
Only Peter didn’t change, didn’t understand style or know how to be charming or anything. Throughout the three year chase, he had not changed. He had doggedly pursued Neal without tiring, always right on his heels. It had been oddly comforting, even when he was scrambling to stay ahead of the agent.
Yet something had been different. The more he reflected, the more certain Neal became. Something about Peter was different. But what?
Maybe the years on the force were catching up to him, he reasoned. Or maybe it was just because he was in the middle of chasing the Dutchman when the marshals called Peter in to find Neal.
Neal chuckled, imagining Peter’s annoyance and anger at being pulled off his case. Oh, he would have loved to have seen the agent’s face when he learned Neal had escaped!
Why didn’t the nagging unease go away? As plausible as the reasons sounded, he couldn’t shake the sense it was deeper.
Neal started going through a list of possibilities.
Physical changes first.
He pictured Peter in his mind, reviewing the encounter from the moment he heard the agent’s voice for the first time since the trial four years ago until he was dragged away by the Marshals.
The older man had not changed much. Heck, he’d been wearing the exact same suit he was wearing when he caught Neal the first time! The only real difference Neal had noticed was a new line or two around his eyes and his hair was no longer as dark brown as it used to be. But all that could be accounted for, again, by simple aging. Time had a way of changing a man. There were no signs of sickness and he hadn’t heard any rumors about Peter’s health declining. Peter was active in the field after all, so physically he was good.
Okay. Neal mentally crossed that off the list.
That left something emotional. Peter didn’t strike him as a man who easily showed or talked about his feelings, being the tough FBI agent he was. The agent was a relic in so many ways. Neal supposed that was why he had always been so fascinated by him. Maybe there was something going on between Peter and his wife?
Neal turned that possibility around in his brain. A fight? Maybe. Maybe she was sick? Possibly. But Neal doubted it. Yet it something about the scenario fit...
Weary, he suddenly realized. The unnamed cloud hanging around Peter was that of weariness.
Instead of feeling triumphant, his insides twisted.
Weary was not a word Neal would typically use to describe Peter Burke. The man did not give up. Relentless, tenacious, or dogged certainly, but not weary. It fit nonetheless. Peter seemed weary right down to the bone.
Neal rolled over onto his side.
Would it affect his chances of convincing Peter to take the deal? He had no further time to ask his contacts to dig into the man’s recent life while Neal was stuck in prison.
Sure, Neal kept tabs on the agent, and even sent him birthday cards. Neal could only imagine what Peter thought about that. He would have to mention them tomorrow. It was the perfect way to remind Peter he could get information that other people had a hard time retrieving. Except he didn’t know what had made Peter seem so jaded.
Neal rolled over onto his back again. He needed to sleep.
He closed his eyes. It wouldn’t matter. Peter liked him. He would see the merit in Neal’s proposal. But on the safe side, he would have Moz look into Peter’s life over the past few years and see if there was something Neal missed.
A good con always knew everything about the mark. And when hustling, you had to pay attention to your surroundings and know when to back off. He learned that lesson well years ago thanks to a Good Samaritan.
~*~
Part 24: Elizabeth - September 2009
She loved rainy days. There was something about the swirling gray clouds and the falling water that was so relaxing, refreshing even.
Today was such a day.
Absently, Elizabeth scrubbed the bottom of the pot to remove the remains of lunch. Peter had actually made it home to enjoy it with her. A smile creased her lips as she thought about her husband. He was livelier than he had been in years. It had warmed her heart to see.
All thanks to Neal Caffrey.
Neal was a curious young man and Elizabeth could proudly claim she knew that personally. Fascinating, suave, and surprisingly young, Neal Caffrey had definitely left an impression. It was doubtful Neal realized the main one he left her with was that he was most assuredly lost. She saw the way the boy looked at her husband, how the expression was slowly but surely morphing into something akin to adoration mixed with respect. Peter was oblivious, as usual. It reminded her of another young man who had looked up to Peter and at the same time acted as Peter’s protector.
She put the pot down, bowing her head as the grief pricked her.
Had it really been over a year since that terrible day?
Elizabeth moved away from the sink, staring out the window.
She missed his laugh and his gruff voice, how he teased her and would call her Little Sister to get a rise out of her. She longed to watch him play a game of one-on-one or throw around a baseball with Peter. She wished he could still stop by and visit without warning, when the job brought him nearby, to play with Satchmo and surprise Peter and her with a meal. She yearned to feel his awkward, but warm embrace.
What would he think about the deal Peter had made on the behalf of the FBI with Neal Caffrey? Her lips curved in a tiny smile. Dean would probably call Peter crazy, give him a lot of guff, and then turnaround and take Neal under his wing, just like Peter had.
It was raining harder now. Water was pouring down the window sill like a river to the ground below.
Everything changed after he had died. Peter had thrown himself into his work and so had she. The first few months were the worst. Elizabeth kept expecting-hoping-Dean would just show up out of the blue with a cocky grin and an apology for not letting them know sooner why he faked his death. She would yell and scream, probably slap him, and then hug him senseless.
The loss hit her husband even harder. Peter would never admit it aloud, but Dean had become like family. The past couple years with contact limited to phone calls or the occasional post card or letter had been rough. It was one of the only times Elizabeth suspected Peter regretted being an FBI agent. Harder still was knowing the truth, and knowing no one would believe either of them if they went to Dean’s defense. Dean had chosen to step back as a result, to protect them so they would not be forced into such an awful position.
You never knew what you had until you lost it. Elizabeth never realized how true that was until Dean withdrew and finally died.
She saw Peter sometimes, sitting in the backyard absently twirling a basketball or baseball in his hands. Other times Peter would look at Satchmo with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. He was remembering and longing, just like her.
Never again. The man who had become like a brother to her and Peter was gone. Dean Winchester was dead.
But Neal Caffrey was changing things. Peter was more animated then she had seen him in a long time. His old bursts of inspiration were returning, as was the playful and sweet man who had pulled back into his shell after they’d learned what happened.
The other day, Peter had come home complaining that working with Neal was like working with Peter Pan. Amusingly, he didn’t seem to realize he was speaking with a tone of fond exasperation.
If Neal was Peter Pan, Dean was Aragorn, she decided. Dean was a man whose bearing reflected the nobility and scars of lordship and war but hid his true age. She smiled sadly. Dean probably would have called her crazy, said he was no king, much less noble, and compared himself to The Man with No Name instead. It fit too. As far as the world was concerned, Dean Winchester was just a man who went crazy and murdered innocents before meeting his end in fire. End of story. But to her and Peter, he was just Dean. A young man, who had slipped into their lives with no warning, changed them irrevocably and then, just as suddenly as he came, disappeared.
Riiiiiiiiing!
Elizabeth jumped. Oh goodness gracious, how long had she’d been standing there lost in thought? She quickly picked up the phone and greeted her assistant Yvonne.
She’d just put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher later.
~*~
Part 25: Peter and Dean - June 2010
It was over.
Dean wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for the next six months. Every part of him felt battered and bruised, from his toenails to the tips of his hair. Yet here he was, sitting wide awake on Bobby’s porch swing at half past one while everyone slept inside.
He rocked back, for a moment just taking in the simple rhythm of moving back and forth. After yellow eyes died, the sense of accomplishment had been immense and left him free and relieved, if only for a short time. There had been a small matter of his deal with the Crossroads Demon to save Sam to contend with. This time, it was truly over.
Naturally, there was still work to do. The Apocalypse may be averted, but the monsters and evil beings were still out there killing innocent people. A hunter’s job was never really done.
Well, for a few months, other hunters could take care of those jobs. Sam and he needed some R&R first. Bobby and Cas too. Well, the actual rest part might last a week or two at best before Dean got restless. Either way, they needed downtime, needed time to heal after all the crap they had been through. Bobby was wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Castiel was, for all intents and purposes, almost fully human and unable to return to heaven until the real end of the world came. Sam was still dealing with the fallout from his demon blood addiction, which thanks to Famine had returned full force back in February. They all deserved time to rest, to re-group, to come to terms with everything that happened.
Oddly enough, Dean felt a modicum of peace with his life. He chalked that up to Michael’s influence. The archangel had proved to be completely different from everything he had been led to believe. It was why, when the time came and a plan was in place, Dean agreed to be the angel’s vessel for a time. Needless to say it was an experience Dean both wanted to forget and remember at the same time. Having an archangel inside you certainly changed your perspective on things.
Suddenly, feeling restless, he climbed to his feet and gingerly made his way to the edge of the porch. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the vast expanse of stars. He easily found the North Star, glittering brightly in the clear night sky.
It reminded him of an old friend who loved astronomy almost as much as he loved the challenge of solving complicated puzzles and catching bad guys at the end. A dull ache spread through his chest, familiar and strong. As far as Peter was concerned, the Winchester brothers had died back in Colorado over two years ago. With his deal coming due, Dean had not seen the point in correcting that. It would only hurt Peter and Elizabeth more. That was when he thought he was going to Hell forever. He never expected to be rescued, by an angel no less. For a while he considered calling or sending a post card or sign that he and his brother were in fact alive and still doing their job. In the end, he had decided not to. How could he explain the deal he made to save Sam? How could he explain Hell, what he had done down there? Peter and Elizabeth would ask. He knew they would. They were those kind of people-they cared and were persistent because they cared. There was also the impending Apocalypse and the breaking of the seals and Lilith. In the end, shame and the desire to protect them won out, and he had never contacted them.
Maybe he should.
Dean breathed in a deep shuddering breath. Was it the right thing to do? He had been dead to them for so long. Surely it wouldn’t be right to just pop back into their lives and leave again. But continuing to let them believe he was dead wasn’t right either. He could only imagine how he would feel if Sam or Bobby or Cas had died and come back, but never told him they were alive. Peter and Elizabeth deserved to know the truth. Dean ran a hand through his hair. If he did contact them, he would have to come clean about everything that happened. And if they never wanted to see or speak to him again afterwards, so be it. Dean had made his choice years ago. He would have to live with the consequences.
He could only hope and pray that Peter and Elizabeth may one day forgive him. If not, he would bow out of their lives gracefully and never bother them again.
________________________________________________________________________________
“Hey, hon,” Peter called as he came through the front door. The heavenly aroma of Elizabeth’s famous pasta sauce was a welcome one after the last case. Kidnapping cases were not his usual fare, nor was dealing with an extremely paranoid, mistrusting, bespeckled man who drove him crazy on a regular basis. Thankfully, the case had ended well. Navarro and his goons were in prison; Gina DeStefano was home safe and sound.
He had just dropped Neal off at June’s so his CI could catch up on sleep after the past two crazy days. Peter knew exactly how Neal felt. Maybe this experience would help Neal realize how often he put Peter in similar situations and think more before he acted. A rueful smile creased Peter’s face as he put down his briefcase and took off his jacket. For a while, perhaps it would deter the young man, but not for long. The kid was too adventurous.
The silence brought him out of his thoughts.
“El? Honey?”
Peter stepped into the living room and finally spotted his wife sitting at the table. Something was wrong. Her shoulders were hunched and as he came closer he realized she was shaking. Satchmo was at her feet, looking just as distressed as she.
“Hon.”
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Blue eyes brimming with tears looked up at him in shock. “Peter! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, beginning to feel panic rising. Elizabeth rarely cried and seeing her so upset now set all his internal alarms and defenses on Def Con Delta. What happened? He had to know if he was going to fix it.
“He’s alive.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she lifted up a post card Peter had not noticed in front of her. It was a generic Route 66 postcard probably from a gas station. He accepted the card, heart starting to race in his chest. No, it couldn’t be.
Slowly, he turned the card over.
Peter exhaled sharply. He was only peripherally aware of his knees giving out as he sank to the floor. Elizabeth immediately joined him, and he wrapped his arm around her. Satchmo whined and burrowed against Peter’s other side.
The message was short but concise.
Dear Professor and Little Sister,
I’m sorry.
Below was a series of numbers that Peter recognized to be the coordinates for a post office drop. It wasn’t signed. Not that there was any need. There was no doubt who had sent the postcard.
“Dean.”
FIN
Sequel Coming Next Fall.
Part 1-3
Part 4-6
Part 7-11
Part 12-16
Part 17-22