Work Text:
They follow a case down to Texas at one point, chasing a werewolf who knows the Winchesters are on its tail. After two days of driving, the chaos of Dallas contrasting with the endless quiet roads speeding them ever further south, they pass San Antonio and hit the sea.
It’s beautiful, endless sand stretching away, glittering under the sun. Dean takes a long look, sighs, and turns his back on the ocean. “
“Better find that wolf,” he says. Sam’s heart aches; they deserve a break, they need a break, but work always calls.
Once the wolf - who was completely remorseless, caught dripping in the blood of his victims - is taken care of, Sam breathes a sigh of relief. They trail back along the beach in the pearl light of dawn, marvelling at the solitude.
“Look, Sammy,” Dean says, pointing. “Wanna bet it’s haunted?”
Dean’s spotted an old clapboard house, once-blue paintwork now in desperate need of a refresh and door hanging half off its hinges. The house is alone out here; they’re a mile even from where they’d parked the car, never mind actual civilisation.
“Wow, I wonder who built that?” He says. “Who’d want to live all the way out here?”
Dean pauses, looking at the sea, glittering just out of reach, and the grass waving in the dunes. He looks down at his feet and wiggles his toes in the sand. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says softly, and Sam’s heart clenches again.
“Maybe we can stay out here a few days, take a break?” he suggests, and Dean nods. But Dean’s phone is ringing before they reach the car; Donna alerting them to a new case, and the plan is abandoned with barely a backwards look.
***
It’s months before Sam thinks of the little house again, but once he does, it takes root in his mind, refusing to disappear. Eventtually, he does some research, talks to Jody, and puts a plan into motion.
***
It’s years before they see the little house again. They’re both greyer in the hair, stiffer in the knee and body, and freer in their minds. They’re together, finally - really together. Years of angst and self-loathing had fallen away one night, just like that; and they’ve had many good years since.
They’ve finally decided it’s time to take a break, have a few weeks off after dealing with the latest world-ending crisis. Secretly Sam hopes their break will extend into permanent retirement, but he knows better than to push Dean. There’s a new generation of hunters who can carry the load; Claire, Jack, Krissy and others all old and wise enough to guide the youngsters coming through; and the Winchesters deserve a break.
“Where are we going?” Dean asks, not for the first time, although Sam fervently hopes it will be the last.
“You’ll see.”
They walk down the beach, hand in hand, their footprints mixing up behind them.
“We’ve been around here before, haven’t we?” Dean asks, brow furrowing.
“Years ago,” Sam says.
“Werewolf, right?”
Sam nods. They meander on in silence, content in each other’s company. Sam watches Dean closely, waiting for the moment he realises.
It doesn’t take much longer. The house comes into view, blue paintwork now in much better condition and no longer partly hidden by weeds.
“I remember this place!” Dean exclaims, face lighting up. Sam can feel a matching grin stretching across his own face. “Are we staying here for a while?”
“Kinda,” Sam says, leading them towards the front door.
Digging into his pocket, he pulls the key out and opens up. The front door leads directly into the open plan living-dining area, which is simply furnished, bright and airy. The big windows look directly over the sea, filling the space with a sparkling, shifting light.
“It's great,” Dean enthuses, making a beeline directly for the kitchen. “And already well stocked,” he says, laughing as he opens the fridge to find it stocked with cold beers. Sam definitely owes Jody for that.
“So, I’ve got a confession to make,” he begins. “Let’s sit down.”
Dean’s looking at him apprehensively, as Sam leads them out to the porch. With the sound of the sea in his ears, Sam takes a deep breath, and starts talking.
“So...er… we own this place,” he starts.
“What?” Dean exclaims, but Sam gestures for silence so he can finish.
“When we saw it years ago, I just, I dunno, I thought it would be a great place to retire to. So I sold something vintage from the Bunker for the deposit, and it’s been rented out for holidays ever since. We’ve actually been making money off it for a while,” he finishes, feeling a bit sheepish.
“You did all of this alone?” Dean asks sharply.
“Erm, well…” Sam stutters, trying to keep Jody out of this for now.
“Jody,” Dean says. It’s not a question.
Sam nods. “She’s been managing the rentals and coming here on holidays.”
“I don’t believe this,” Dean says, tipping his head skywards. Sam’s worried that he’s really fucked up. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.” Sam braces himself. “But you bought us a home, Sammy.”
Sam dares to look again, and to his shock, joy is pouring from Dean. His brother looks like he’s been given the world.
“So you like it then?” Sam asks timidly. He’s been dreading this part of his plan for years, and the sick feeling in his stomach is still twisting and curling.
Dean stands up and moves so that he’s in front of Sam, before he slides onto Sam’s lap, both of their knees creaking alarmingly.
“Sammy,” he says seriously, cupping Sam’s face. “I love it.”
Sam hears the unspoken words, too; the ones they never that infuse all the others.
Kissing Sam softly, Dean stands back up. “C’mon, I want to go explore.” He takes Sam’s hands and they enter the house together.